Chapter 1

"Pacis! Cover our retreat, we need to get the civvies out of here. Smith, L'Heureux, you're with him. Get to one of the extraction zones from there, I'll see you at the base. " Durand's voice rang out in his ear, harsh from the poor radio frequency.

Things have gone down in an alarming pace. Getting the civilians into the various Makos and shuttles wasn't too hard, despite the general nervous atmosphere. The human officer handled herself very well. They were met by a support unit that was responsible of defending the streets while evacs were in progress.

Once the Spectre stepped outside, he had to take a moment to let the view sin k in. The once peaceful yet busy surface was thrown into chaos: alarms and explosions pierced the air, the erratic movement of organics and synthetics as one, and most noticeable the looming outlines of Reapers landing in the city. Their immediate area was left untouched for now, but many other sectors of Vancouver already burned.

He read numerous reports about them, heard hundreds of descriptions and seen illustrations, but nothing came close to the actual sight of a Reaper. Pacis could barely even see the top of the huge ship, further highlighting their sizes. Not even Indomitable, the only Turian dreadnought the Spectre served on, could compare to them. The amount of destruction caused by one lone ship was horrifying, they were in for a hell of a fight.

But it wasn't only the size or firepower that defined the Reapers as some harbingers of extinction. Looking at the dark purple shape of the synthetic made a lump rise in his throat, but it was no fear that he felt. The Spectre felt akin of sick admiration, coupled with a gnawing feeling inside of his head. Echoes of whispers could be made out in his head, coercing him to come towards them.

It was a disturbing draw, one that refused to leave his mind. Pacis tried to avoid looking at them, concentrating on moving people as fast as possible.

That plan became invalid once one of the Reapers has decided to land a couple of streets away from them. Swarms of hostiles made their appearance less than five minutes later.

Husks.

It was an ingenious strategy, using your enemy's troops against them. No need to worry about resources, nor guilt, even if it was laughable for the Reapers. Simple, efficient, ruthless.

The deformed human infantry didn't pose much of a challenge, as they did not wield any weapons, it was more of a terrorising move. Citizens and even some of the troops were frozen in horror, staring at the abominations that were once humans.

Pacis had no such reservations, knowing the critical timing that was in stake. With a tap of his Omni tool, a dark gray holographic representation of armour appeared just on top of his dark blue heavy combat suit. The Spectre insignia on his chest seemed to come out in the slight light, the white wings giving the impression of flutter.

Pacis checked his HUD, confirming that his shield level has risen to 300%. Taking out his trusty Carnifex, the turian shot at the mindless with cold precision. The pistol has served him for many years, and despite going through numerous mods and upgrades, Pacis felt a sense of nostalgia every time he used it.

After some hesitation, he was joined by the humans, and they held them at bay.

The Spectre felt suspicious, not believing for a moment that it was going to be that easy to fend off the Reaper assault. However, it gave Durand the time to evacuate most of the citizens from the area.

His suspicion was proven correct when the second wave of enemies moved in. This time, it wasn't only husks. The first insect like creatures were easy to recognize; Collectors. Their unforgettable build and appearance brought Pacis back to when he only found out about the seriousness of the Reaper threat.

The stream of gun fire pinged harmlessly against his augmented shields but forced the turian to dive behind an abandoned car with a grunt. He reached to his back, grasping the HMWA assault rifle on his magnetic hold. No holding back.

With a quick glance at his HUD to reassure himself of his shield strength, Pacis came out of cover, raining down a whole clip towards the advancing army before getting back into safety.

While waiting for his weapon to cool down, the Spectre processed the information he acquired in that little glance. The Collectors were not the only new hostiles they faced. Another organic race, the blue glow of their four eyes indicated indoctrination... Batarians. They were stubby and unicoloured other than a few glowing spots on their corpse, it seemed as if their right arm was harshly melded into a weapon of some sort. Poor bastards.

Pacis came out of cover once again, intent on causing more damage, but he was stopped by a sight in front of him.

One of the Batarians stopped by a corpse of his comrade, crouching down and starting to devour his body. He felt slightly sickened by the sight of ripping flesh and dribbling blood, but that wasn't the thing that caught his attention. Rough plates started forming on the husk's body, steaming and shifting in an unnatural process.

What kind of insanely advanced technology were they facing?

Officers barked orders at soldiers and marines in a desperate attempt to hold off the assault, but it proved to be futile. The grown armour was just as thick as any standard issue protection, and they quickly found themselves outnumbered without the advantage of superior protection.

Which brought him to the current situation. At least half of the unit was torn apart by the enemy, and Durand was ordered to pull out. Of course, it was up for him to make sure her retreat was a success.

The turian wasn't angry at being chosen as the enemy's folly, it made sense. He was ordered to protect Earth at all cost, and that was one way to start doing that.

The two Privates, Smith and L'Heureux, seemed to be ready to give up their lives for the right cause. Good, they needed a lot of people like these two. But this time, even that wasn't enough.

Twenty.

In total, there must've been only fifteen soldiers remaining including Pacis, trying to hold the line. With an ever-growing ratio of five to one, they didn't stand much of a chance.

L'Heureux was the first to go, caught by chance, a dodged bullet meant to kill another. The human dropped down with a cry, causing his team mate to call out for him.

It was impossible to get to the fatally injured marine, and the turian had to shake Smith out of it.

"There will be time to mourn the dead." His words sounded hollow even to himself, but it was the only comfort he could truly offer.

He was rewarded with an anguished look, but Smith listened, concentrating on the enemy despite his friend's weakening calls for help.

Such were the dealings of war: friendship could mend a broken heart, but never a torn lung. Maybe that was why Pacis avoided the unavoidable amity.

The squad of the remaining ten soldiers was pinned in the long street canopied by the titan building around them. Overturned cars and nicks in the architecture offered a very decent amount of cover, but that wasn't enough. They simply didn't have enough manpower.

"We need evac right now! Shepherd's Avenue is clear of any civvies but we're getting pinned down. I repeat, we need to bail. Are there any shuttles in the area?" The highest ranking officer shouted into the radio, attempting to hail someone. He was met with silence.

Forty.

The Spectre shifted his body around, catching two ambitious Collectors that attempted to flank a trio of human soldiers taking cover behind a smoking Alliance shuttle. Pacis hasn't noticed its crashed landing in the fray.

Another man went down with an anguished cry, bringing their number down to eight. And yet, the number of the indoctrinated Batarians and husks refused to diminish, seemingly growing over time.

Pacis broke from his cover, running towards the shuttle while feeling his shields taking a beating. Crouching into a slide, he was able to shoot out a few bursts before his knees hit the metallic surface of the shuttle.

The humans flinched slightly, probably not expecting his tall frame to move with such agility towards them, but the turian didn't really care. He turned towards the officer, Sergeant Javier, addressing him, "We need to pull back; we have a better chance of trapping them between the buildings."

The man shook his head before replying, "Negative. We'd be dead before we can even start running. We need to evacuate."

Pacis didn't get the chance to reply, as a male voice filled their frequency, "We have a visual of your position, but you'll need to retreat; there's an LZ a hundred meters behind you. The shuttle will be there in thirty seconds. Get a move on!"

Well, another problem solved.

The Sergeant looked unsure of how to proceed. Being the one to decide who is left behind was never easy, Pacis sympathised.

"I'll cover you." He said simply.

There was a moment of hesitation, the wondering if it was proper leaving a Spectre to cover a retreat of a few grunts. Luckily, Spectres didn't care about proper. The message was exchanged, and the Sergeant started barking orders into the radio.

There wasn't an illusion of everyone making out alive; the chances were too deeply against them.

There was a thing called hope too, not that the turian believed in it in the first place.

His shots were much more spread when he came out of cover, trying to connect with as many hostiles as possible. But unlike any other soldier, the mindless horde was not too bothered by the possibility of death. The human husks kept running towards him with lifeless abandon while the Batarians took cover very rarely, preferring to answer the flying projectiles with their own.

A low hum made it to Pacis' ears, announcing the shuttle's arrival. A torrent of gun fire tore into the enemy ranks, telling the Spectre that they brought a gunship as well. Fancy.

Filled with foolish hope, one of the humans broke from cover to run toward the landing shuttle. He was dead before he touched the ground.

Pulling out a sphere object from his suit, he barked out, "Run!", before throwing it into the never-stopping flow of Reaper forces. The six remaining soldiers rushed towards the blue shuttle while the turian stayed put.

Sixty.

The resulting explosion sizzled against his shields angrily but Pacis held his ground, spraying fire into the smoke aided by the hovering gunship.

Risking a glance back, the Turian saw that most of them piled into the shuttle, the last straggler was limping towards it in obvious pain from a leg wound. Javier was shouting at him, but was unable to get out because of the unrelenting stream of fire, Pacis was surprised the injured man was lucky enough to be alive.

"Pacis! We're not going to wait the whole day for you. Get your ass over here." Smith's voice reached him through the radio, leaving the turian surprised. They were waiting for him?

There was no way to make the two hundred feet without getting shredded and he already spent his only grenade. The Spectre hated to rely on desperate measures, but it seemed like he didn't have much of a choice.

His specially designed(and overly expensive) armour was the only reason why he could stay out of cover for more than a few seconds. It was made for him as a congratulations gift from his father when he was promoted to a Major years ago, probably the last thing Pacis has gotten from him before...

Unlike the standard issue shields that were meant to simply provide another second out of cover, the one in his suit was much tougher. He could endure a lot of fire power, in fact if he turned up his shields to an emergency maximum, he could probably survive(barely) a mass accelerated round of a tank. However, after that, the shields would be dead until he had the chance to replace the fried generator inside of his suit.

One way or another, Pacis had no choice but to use it.

With a quick tap on his Omni tool, the dull glow of his tech shield brightened to an almost blinding intensity for a moment. Even as he was running towards the shuttle, sparks sizzled angrily throughout the interface at the high strain. Despite being shot from behind, the turian kept going, thanking the spirits.

Without stopping to consider, Pacis tackled the limping soldier, carrying him towards the shuttle. When the human was in, he realized that there was another problem: there wasn't any space left in the already overcrowded shuttle. His six and a half feet tall frame had no way of fitting inside.

Finding a nice curve, the Turian used his talons to get a good grip on the contour of the shuttle. Fending off the concerned question on the radio, he snarled, "Just go!"

Only once the shuttle started rising, Pacis realized how uncomfortable this ride was going to be. The armoured gloves covering his talons were unable to offer any proper hold, but it was better than dying down there.

Looking behind him, he could see the Reaper troops scrambling towards the flying craft, but none of them were able to get to it, thanks to the unstopping support by the gunship.

His commanding officer's words rang out in his head, "Never allow yourself to be caught against the wall, especially when securing civilians. " That was as close as Pacis came to not following his advice.

The rest of the city came in view once they rose a few hundred feet off the ground, the grim view looked like a bleeding wound from a bullet. They have destroyed it in a matter of minutes, what kind of firepower did they possess?

A foreign yet familiar hum reached Pacis' ears, making him squint in confusion. From where did he recognize this? The report of a mass accelerator cannon answered him. A dreadnaught! Inside the atmosphere? The Capital Ships were causing enough disturbance in the balance as it is, but to bring in their own? This was getting risky. Not to mention that one dreadnaught didn't stand a chance-

The sudden sonic boom accompanied by a blinding flash exploded around him, despite being very far away from the explosion. Violent shaking overtook the shuttle, and even though it was able to stabilize, the turian felt his grasp slipping. It was futile to try to regain balance, but he did none the less.

His radio has gone out of commission, not letting him hear the calls of the other soldiers as he rushed to meet the ground.

What was the human idiom? Feeling like a bird in flight. Ironic for such situation and such individual.

Blackness.