Menae was Palaven's largest moon. Despite its relatively high profile in the ranking of celestial bodies within the turian home system, it had been shrouded in secrecy since the dawn of the turian space age. It was rumoured that its secrecy stemmed from a fear that the krogan could use Palaven's moons as weapons by smashing them into the surface after the Krogan Rebellions. Still, some information had occasionally leaked. Military bases and developed architecture for subterranean travel had been glimpsed, so there was little surprise when it was announced that the turian primarch had been pinned down on Menae.

While on the route, the war was brought into bright clarity on the small screens within the shuttle. Like on Earth, the surface of Palaven was burning; massive fires on the surface were visible on the planet's dark side. The Reapers, benefiting greatly from their colossal eezo cores, could easily absorb the combined fire of a fleet of the defending turian warships. Occasionally, a Reaper tendril extended toward a cruiser or carrier, and the defending turian ship would shatter in the vacuum.

"Oh no… no… Palaven," Liara whispered, watching the growing carnage from her seat.

Arius was standing, also watching the real-time intel stream down the screen. "The turians are getting decimated."

Shepard could not help but let out an audible sigh. "Strongest military in the galaxy, and the Reapers are obliterating it."

"Was it like this on Earth?" Liara asked.

"Yes."

"Shepard… I'm so sorry."

An apology for losses of such magnitude, even from a sincere place, seemed to Shepard impossible to respond to. "Yeah," was the only thing she could say. In the back of her head, though, a voice quietly asserted that Thessia would soon follow,but such a belief would do no good for the already dismal morale.

Alliance pilot Steve Cortez was in the shuttle driver seat, whose voice crackled over the comm as they approached the landing. "Commander! The LZ is getting swarmed!"

Shepard raised herself from her seat and steadied herself. They were to fight before they landed without truly knowing what they were up against. Such was the outcome she had feared since the first images of the Prothean beacon had burned themselves in her brain, and here she was, years later, feeling just as unprepared against the Reapers as the day she had stumbled upon Saren's plot. Still, some things had changed: She knew more now that she had and was physically and mentally better prepared. The Normandy was bigger, as was the reach and number of her team. Liara was no longer the bookish researcher trapped in ruins and was now the galaxies' premier information broker, an incalculable resource in any circumstance. Arius was their ancient, secret weapon, an old opponent of the Reapers that they weren't expecting.

She glanced at Arius' loadout in the dim lighting of the bumping shuttle. Dark, blemish-free armour plates covered him, his sleek combat suit looking almost brand new. Only one or two original plates still looked like they remained on his person, looking much worse for wear compared to the pristine condition of the rest but remain they did; the originals once carved from a Reaper's hull. The artifact-sword was on his back for only the second time since their introduction; the first had been when he had sought to free her from The Project months prior.

"You decided to bring it along with you?"

"It's time," he answered her. "The enemy is at the gates. There's no longer room for error; We win or die."

Shepard took her newest weapon from her back, and it expanded in her hands. It was the refurbished M-7 Lancer Arius had rebuilt for her. It still felt too light to her hands, but she had no doubt that she would need every ounce of her strength and stamina available going forward. "Arius, open that hatch."

He did, and Menae's rocky plateau and cliffs zoomed under them. The moon, representing all that was obscured from the dark and day alike, ran beneath them in the physical. There was minimal light cast over the barren, rocky landscape of the moon, and solid shadows crawled in the cracks between the harsh light of the unfiltered starlight and the pure black of lightless space. Prefabbed battlements were constructed along front lines lit with high-powered torches pointed towards the peaks and valleys of the utterly inhospitable landscape, on the lookout for the enemy. There was no vegetation, animal of any kind, water, or even soil. There was no substantial atmosphere to scatter the incoming atmospheric light, and the clarity of the ground level seemed just as clear as being in a vacuum. When they descended, however, a whitish haze appeared on the horizontal, and there was air they could breathe inexplicably. Shepard wasn't sure if this was a result of serious terraforming efforts or just a plain pump and dump of atmosphere from some other sources, but due to its secrecy, she doubted if many knew the answer.

From their hovering vantage point, she could spot groups of husks scaling the sheer rock cliffs with frightening speed towards the defending turian squads, whose mounted light sources could not be thrown far enough to see what was rushing toward them. The gun in her hands proved itself seconds later when she lined up the sights with the crawling forms as they advanced upwards on the sheer face. From the shuttle's open door, she burped steady fire from the Lancer and tore through the husks with so little effort that it seemed like a video game. Her muscle memory inadvertently moved her hand to check the weapon's heat sink but then remembered mid-motion that the older models didn't have any. The accumulated heat buildup from her controlled fire hadn't even made a blip on the weapon's thermal indicator either, as it had dissipated as quickly as she had fired. It was a fabulous surprise to an otherwise dreadful day, and she noted that she could afford to be a lot more liberal with her fire if the need arose.

With the LZ cleared, the shuttle could be landed, and the trio jumped out.

"All right–get in, get out. Let's move!"

Above them in the sky, burning against the pitch backdrop of space, was Palaven.

On the moon, just kilometres away from them, was a full-sized two-kilometre Reaper walking on its surface. It was so close to them that Shepard realized they could have probably shot the Reaper with their present arms where they stood if they hit the right angle. To their right was a turian soldier, watching the cliffs for advancing husks. "Soldier! Which way to your commanding officer?"

"Straight ahead and around the corner– past the first barricade."

They advanced, and past the barricade was an entrance to the makeshift forward command center.

"Hold your fire! Friendly inbound!" yelled a turian soldier manning the barricade, and they were granted access. They caught snippets of conversations as they searched for the commanding officer within, none of them good.

"Try them again."

"Nothing, Sir. Just static."

"Try them again."

"Respectfully, sir, we've been getting nothing for– "

"That's an order."

Then another:

"Sir, the shuttle carrying the fighter mechanics has not arrived. Presumed MIA."

"How many fighters are in for repair?"

"Twenty-nine, sir."

"Have the crew make only critical, level-eight repairs. Every serviceable fighter is in the air ASAP. Got it?"

"Yes, sir."

They found the commanding officer shortly. He was a turian General with blood-red accents on his armour, hurriedly typing away at a battlefield console in front of him when they approached. Although he glanced upward briefly from his task, he recognized Shepard immediately.

"Commander Shepard. Heard you were coming, but I didn't believe it. General Corinthus," he greeted, not looking up from his console.

"I've come to get Primarch Fedorian."

The General paused his typing and straightened slightly at the mention, looking forward. "Primarch Fedorian is dead," he notified them, looking back down at his console. "His shuttle was shot down an hour ago as it tried to leave the moon."

"That's… going to complicate things. How bad is it, General?"

"We lost about four hundred men in half an hour. We set up camps on this moon to flank the enemy in an advanced position. A sound strategy. Just…"

"Irrelevant," she finished.

"Exactly. The sheer force of the Reapers seems to make them immune to that sort of tactic. The primarch and his men found that out the hard way."

"I'm sorry. I hear he was a good man."

"And a friend. He would have been an outstanding diplomat."

"So, what happens now?"

Liara stepped forward. "The turian hierarchy provides very clear lines of succession."

The General nodded. "With such heavy casualties, it's hard for me to be certain who the next primarch is. Palaven Command will know." He booted up his omni-tool to connect to the turian battle net, but errors appeared on the interface. "However, at the moment, contacting them is impossible. The comm tower is out." He put away his omni-tool. "Husks are swarming that area–we can't get close enough to repair it."

"Don't worry, General. I'll get your tower operational."

"Thank you, Commander. I'll take care of things on this end."

"Alright, let's go."

.

The tower repair was trivial. The three of them ventured just past the encampment to where the comm tower was situated, and Arius had climbed the tower to perform repairs while she and Liara had defended it from the crawling husks all around. Within moments, the tower was operational, with the two biotics barely breaking a sweat. As usual, something changed right after notifying the General of the successful repair; husks began to be airdropped into the battlefield right on top of them. She wasn't sure if they could simply survive the drop from orbit due to the lower gravity of the moon or if there was another mechanism responsible, but she couldn't stop and sightsee while the twisted forms landed among them in all directions. Mercifully, the General quickly returned with a summons back to base to relay the information from Palaven Command. They rushed back, aware that they were burning valuable time.

"What have you got?" She asked, mounting the raised platform the General was waiting on.

"As your partner said, succession is usually simple. But right now, the hierarchy's in chaos– so many dead or MIA."

She shook her head. "I need someone– I don't care who, as long as they can get us the turian resources we need."

Before the General could answer, a second voice arose from behind the General, and a familiar turian with blue facial colony markings walked up to them, blue rifle in hand. "I'm on it, Shepard. We'll find you the primarch."

"Garrus!" The surprise of seeing him here was marked but incredibly welcome.

The General, startled by the arrival, turned to address him. "Vakarian, sir– I didn't see you arrive…"

Garrus nodded to the General. "At ease, General."

The trio, all grateful to see a familiar face, moved to welcome him. "Good to see you again, Garrus. I thought you'd be on Palaven."

"If we lose this moon, we lose Palaven. I'm the closest damn thing we have to an expert on the Reaper forces, so I've been… advising."

"How's the rifle been holding up?" Arius asked.

"Arius. Like a dream. Good to see you too, Liara."

"Good to see you in one piece, Garrus."

Morale had improved instantly, and smiles of gladness or their equivalent were plastered.

Garrus turned back to her. "General Corinthus filled me in. We know who we're after."

"Palaven Command tells me that the next primarch is General Adrien Victus," added the turian General, managing comm lines off to the side.

"Victus?" Liara repeated, "His name crossed my desk."

"You know him, Garrus?"

"I was fighting alongside him this morning. Lifelong military. Gets results, popular with his troops. Not so popular with military command–has a reputation for playing loose with accepted strategy."

"What do you mean?"

Liara, now with fingers on the pulse of every significant happening in the galaxy, filled her in. "On Taetrus, during the uprisings, his squad discovered a salarian spy ring about the same time after the turian separatists did. Rather than neutralize the ring, he fell back. He even gave up valuable fortifications, which the rebels took."

"Then the rebels attacked the salarians," Garrus continued. "And when both groups had worn each other down, Victus moved back in. Didn't lose a man."

"Bold strategy, but wild behaviour doesn't get you advanced up the meritocracy," interjected the general.

"Think he can get the job done?" Shepard asked.

Garrus nodded. "We both know conventional strategy won't beat the Reapers. Right now, he could be our best shot. And I trust him."

"Okay. Let's get him on the shuttle and get out of here."

As they grabbed their gear, Joker's voice arrived at her headset. "Commander! Shepard, come in."

"Can this wait, Joker? We're in the middle of a war zone."

"We've got a situation on the Normandy, Commander. It's like she's possessed–shutting down systems, powering up weapons. I can't find the source."

Just what they needed. "I need the Normandy standing by; we may have to bug out," she announced to the present gathered.

"Should I go back and do it?" Liara volunteered.

"Do it."

While Liara took off to get back to the waiting shuttle, Shepard turned her attention back to Garrus. "Garrus, you said you were with Victus this morning?"

"Yeah, but we got separated. He went to bolster a flank that was breaking. Could be anywhere out there."

The General was still listening and tapping some commands on the battlefield console. "We're trying to raise him, Commander."

While Arius silently listened to the exchange off to the side, he noticed a flying form approaching them. The unmistakable long neck of the huge creature swooped in the air as its wings beat the air, and once It saw them, it began to dive. "Corrupted Harvester incoming!" he yelled to them.

The blue and white, hideous, flying abomination flew straight towards them and took a swipe at them with its four legs despite the fire being thrown in its direction. Narrowly missing them, it gained its lost altitude and headed toward the airfield.

"General, tell Primarch Victus we'll rendezvous him at the airfield. In the meantime, let's go take care of whatever that thing dropped off. Coming, Garrus?"

The turian rebel popped his heat sink. "Are you kidding? I'm right behind you."

.

Shepard reflected on the Reaper's tactics after the group rounded the rocky trench into another small clearing. Aside from the surprising, overwhelming force, what made them so terrifying was their exploitation of their enemy to their own ends. Organics in their path were twisted with their technology, becoming obedient, horrifying, deadlier versions of their former selves. The Normandy crew had previously seen human and batarian husks and those of the Prothean-turned-Collectors. The squads' lunar foreway was shining a dim light into the newest dark corners of the war: first were the animalistic Harvesters, and now in front of them stood twisted turian soldiers, looking part mechanical, part organic. Unlike the husks already encountered, the turian husks still retained their ability to fire a rifle and lead their own squads, which now made the mid-range deadly.

There was a moment while looking down the sights of her rifle at an undead turian, who, at the exact moment, was looking down their own gun at her, that a conversation the three of them shared on the way to Liara's apartment a few short months prior flittered through her mind. Arius had recommended prompt burning of remains should any in her team fall to Reaper forces citing that the Reapers had no qualms in exploiting clemency. 'I have seen the strong unwilling to stop their loved ones from murdering them,' he had told them, and the sudden, real possibility that she would be in the same scene, looking down her sights at one of them, unnerved her. Her finger still pulled back the trigger and the synthetic turian crumbled under her gunfire, but it had been a weak pull, lacking the steely determination she had a minute ago.

"Incoming!" came a yell from Garrus, and a hulking ball of metal and flesh slammed into the ground in front of them. A roar erupted from the massive thing, standing taller than them and wide with corded muscle and metal running along it. Its huge chest cavity was exposed, with the ribs of the previous host opened and flared wide. From the exposed spinal column snaked a long mechanical neck, at the end of which the top half of a turian skull bobbed. It roared with such an intensity that it staggered them, then ran toward them in a flash, its bulging legs propelling it far faster than they expected. Though the creature surprised them, the team was quick, and the creature missed its launch, slamming itself into the prefab barrier next to them. Enraged by the evasion, it threw itself around while they fanned out to put distance between them, slamming itself into the ground and pounding its mighty fists into the rock to propel it forward. The team focused their fire on it from three directions, trying to hit its backside from any direction where it was unarmored. Someone had the right mind to fire a charged shot into the chest where it was open, and it went down without getting close enough to do real damage.

Arius approached the body and booted it with his foot to turn it over. It wasn't completely dead. Post-mortem, the metal claw in its right arm made a swipe at him meant to crush. Shepard was sure he hadn't time to move out of the way, but he jumped back through the closing jaws of the claw just in the nick of time, and they all collectively emptied their clips into it to put it down for good. More cautiously this time, he reapproached the body and made a scan on his omni-tool, and after looking at the results it produced, muttered to himself ominously.

"What is it?" she asked.

"It's comprised of turian and krogan," he informed them, shaking his head. "How they managed to fuse dextro-protein turian tissue with levo-protein krogan tissue…. that explains the blood rage. If this is any indicator, the Reapers have already hit korgan worlds."

They continued. Ahead of them, one of the moon-walking Reapers was drawing closer, as as it did, they were reminded about just how small they were in comparison.

"Damn it. Look at Palaven," Garrus pointed out, looking at the angry, red splotch slowly spreading over the planet's surface. "That blaze of orange–the big one–that's where I was born."

"Still have family there?"

"My dad, a sister."

"How bad is it?"

"Three million lost the first day, five the second."

Earth's numbers were worse.

"How's your military holding up?"

"Look around. That should give you some idea."

"You're putting up a good fight."

"For now. But how long's it take before the fight's kicked out of you?" Garrus grunted as they scaled up a rocky ledge. "If they'd only listened to your warning about the Reapers. We might have been ready."

"Preparing for something like this is…. difficult, physical preparations aside," Arius offered. "For the average person, the concept alone logs as a work of fiction."

Off to one side, a turian cruiser was hovering above the moon's surface, firing everything it had at a Reaper turned away from it. The Reaper wasn't even bothered by the volley of fire and continued to raze whatever had its attention on the surface, ignoring the attacking ship entirely, its shields soaking it all up.

They passed patches of gunfire, turian squads each facing off against their own hell. A massive form got dropped in the direction of the airfield in the near distance, and Shepard understood that one of those brutish krogan/turian hybrids had most likely just landed near her primarch.

"Okay, double-time! No Reaper's taking this primarch from me!"

"Right behind you!"

The trio burst into the camp, guns blazing. It was getting overrun by hordes of husks, with the turian defenders trying to hold their own against the force outnumbering them.

"Move into the compound!" she ordered them.

Their combined fire raked across the rocky field, skillfully picking off a few at the time, trying not to get hit by the returned fire. A Brute, the same one dropped moments earlier, came charging towards them with high speed, arms outstretched to crush them. They all evaded, and the hulking form crashed into a command pod.

"Okay, boys! Now's our chance! Give it everything you got," came the rallying cry of General Victus, and the combined fire of the scattered turians in the camp, some hidden behind rocks, some perched on the tops of prefabs, burned through the Brute's exposed back, ending that threat. There were still many engaging enemies aside, and the focus was returned to them.

While sweeping the area for Marauders, they heard a screech from up above, and another Brute was dropped on top of them courtesy of a flying Harvester. The twin cannons mounted on the Harvesters head rained down on them as it passed, singing her armour with heat and shrapnel. When it pulled away, she saw Garrus pull off a fantastic shot; a high-calibre round clipped the Harvester's wing, and it could no longer sustain its flight. She was ready when the creature touched the ground with a warp, and her biotic pressure cracked the creature's armour. Vulnerable, she emptied her rounds into the exposed flesh.

"Let's bring the goddamn bastards to their knees!" cried the General, and a short cheer went up.

Meanwhile, the dropped Brute was crashing into as many posts as possible, knocking the turian defenders off their feet within the protective pods and off the roofs before they could get shots in. A soldier, trapped and unable to flee, was grabbed with its claw. The Brute raised the body above its head and smashed into the rocks at its feet, reducing it to a bloody paste. Spurred by the bloodlust, it roared and reached for another.

It didn't get a chance. The dark silhouette of Arius, whose suit blended with the harsh shadows of the rocks, had run toward it with the artifact-sword trailing in hand. Using the momentum of the sprint, he swung the ancient weapon in a wide arc over and down, severing the creature's extended neck, jutting ribs, distended belly, and outstretched arms in a single downward swipe. In fact, the crude-looking artifact had produced such a fine, clean cut that the front of the creature fell away from the rear in a spray of gore, and they could see every twisted organ and synthetic addition cross-sectioned within.

Arius jumped back and dropped an inferno grenade into the remains, not risking another post-mortem attack. It did not get up, but the cheer from the turian defenders did.

With the last linchpin of the enemy destroyed, the remaining Reaper forces retreated, giving a brief interlude for the turian defenders. Spotting the General, she made her way over, wasting no time.

"General Victus?"

"Yes?"

"I'm Commander Shepard of the Normandy."

"Ah, Commander, I know who you are," he told her, stowing away his rifle. "I can't wait to find out what brings you out here." He turned toward Garrus. "Vakarian–where did you go?"

"Heavy Reaper unit on the right flank. I believe your exact words were, 'Get that thing the hell off my men.'"

"Appreciate it."

She stepped to. "General, you're needed off-planet. I've come to get you."

"It will take something beyond important for me to leave my men, or my turian brothers and sister, in their fight."

"Fedorian was killed," Garrus notified him, "You're the new primarch."

"You're needed immediately to chair a summit and represent your people in the fight against the Reapers," she informed him.

She could tell the news came as a shock, and he stood for a moment without expression. He walked past them a few steps, looking up at the burning Palaven in the sky, the enormity of his task weighing on his shoulders. "I am primarch of Palaven? Negotiating for the turian hierarchy?"

"Yes."

He turned away from the planet to face her.

"I've spent my whole light in the military. I'm no diplomat… I hate diplomats."

"What makes you think you're not qualified?"

"I'm not really a 'by the book' kind of guy… and I piss people off. My family's been military since the Unification War. War is my life. It's in my bones. But that kind of passion is… deceptive. Can make you seem reckless when you're anything but."

"War is your resume," she reasoned. "At a time like this, we need leaders who've been through that hell."

What she said must have struck a chord in him, for he nodded. "Hmm. I like that. You're right."

"And honestly, uniting these races may take as much strength as facing the Reapers." She lifted an arm, gesturing to the carnage of downed turian craft. "See this devastation, Primarch? Double that for Earth. I need an alliance. I need the turian fleet."

He spent a few seconds thinking, but there wasn't much choice in the end. He nodded. "Give me a moment to say goodbye to my men."

After the General had left to talk with his men, Garrus joined her.

"Without him down here, there's a good chance we lose this moon," he told her.

"Without him up there, there's a good chance we lose everything."

A Reaper in the distance, its feet a cloud of lunar dust, was firing its weapons at something on the surface, probably another military base.

Garrus threw his hands up. "Look at that! And they want my opinion on how to stop it?" he sighed. "Failed C-Sec officer, vigilante… and I'm their expert advisor? Do you think we can win this, Shepard?"

The most she could give was a shrug. "Yeah, I don't know, Garrus. But I'm sure as hell gonna give it my best shot."

"I'm damn sure nobody else can do it. For whatever it's worth, I'm with you."

"Welcome aboard." She extended her hand, and he shook talons with her for the third time.

"Are you ready, Primarch Victus?"

The primarch broke from his group and rejoined them. "One thing. Commander, I appreciate your need for our fleets, but I can't spare them. Not while my world is burning. But if pressure could be taken off Palaven…"

He settled into his role quickly.

"That's a pretty tall order."

"We need the krogan. I can't see us winning this thing without them. Get them to help us, and then we can help you."

Shepard wished it was as simple as a call, but it wasn't that easy. The krogan had never forgiven the turians for spreading the genophage or the salarians for designing it.

"The krogan…"

Garrus chuckled darkly. "Looks like your summit just got a lot more interesting."