Alright, new Chapter folks. Sorry for the delay, but finals left me a bit burnt. As always, a big thank you to Mivpus for both betaing and co-authoring, make sure to check out his current story The Aspect of Fire - Book II - Skyfall

Orbit of Lazarus station, Liberty-system

CNS-99 'Griffon'

Starboard Observation Deck

"Wow… a lot more ships then I thought there would be" Tyler commented, briefly gazing out the starboard window. They were in orbit around the newly constructed Lazarus space station in orbit of the sole human colony in the system, Freedoms' Progress.

Outside, a dozen ships from the Cerberus fleet were gathered. They ranged from large cruisers to small frigates and Kowloon-class merchant ships; modified for military use. There was even the equivalent of a wet-water escort carrier located in the mix. The Griffon itself was a modified Kowloon, retrofitted with a hanger in the center; which was capable of carrying a couple of gunships and shuttles, along with a company sized amount of men. Say what one would about Cerberus; they had some odd ways of procuring ships.

"Yes, there are. The Illusive Man is dedicating a lot to recovering Shepard, God knows why. This is barely a drop in the bucket." Miranda commented absentmindedly from her from where she was sitting. She was sitting Indian style on the floor, reassembling her SMG on a cloth in front of her. She was clad in a black, skintight under-suit, which left little to the imagination, with the pieces of her black and gold armor resting around her. Tyler quickly averted his eyes, and returned to re-assembling his Phaeston.

The hiss of pneumatics filled the air, followed quickly by loud footfalls. Tyler didn't immediately look up; instead, he first finished cleaning the barrel of the rifle before looking up. At the door, stood Magnus in full combat armor, sans a helmet.

"Oi Magnus!" Kraken called loudly, causing Loki to flinch at the sudden outburst. The man would never say so himself, but Tyler grew more and more certain he was related to Kenneth Donnelly, somehow… "What brings ya to our lovely abode?" he asked, motioning to the cramped observation deck where M-6 had taken refuge. The observation deck, unlike what the Normandy SR-2 would one day sport, was extremely small. Of the entire team, Miranda was the only one sleeping on the available couch, leaving the rest of the team on the floor. Tyler guessed it was something with ranks.

Magnus chuckled eyeing the group. His eyes scanned the room, watching first Miranda then Valkyrie, who was also in a form fitting under suit, though in the process of putting on the pieces of her armor. Magnus looked away, but the grin was still present. He shifted to lean against the metal wall of the room. "I just came to tell you that we're making the relay jump in two hours.

Miranda frowned at him, he steely blue eyes surveying him. "Thank you Mr. Einerson, however we already knew the jump time…" she said coolly. Tyler's eyes widened slightly at her tone. It had been a while since he had heard the 'Ice Queen' tone. Then again, Magnus was the certified "observer" of the organization, from what Tyler knew. It certainly didn't earn the man the ladies' favor.

Magnus gulped and nodded curtly, standing strait. "Yes ma'am" was all he replied before backing out of the room slowly.

Once the doors closed, Miranda shook her head. "Pig" she muttered sharply.

"I dunno, I just think he wants to buy you a drink, ma'am." Loki chuckled, though he blanched when Miranda sent him a flat stare.

"Yeh, but she'd never let 'em, poor bastard." Kraken sighed, slumped against the wall with his helmet placed haphazardly on his head, shutting out the light of the room.

"Why not, I wonder?" Anna asked, grinning slightly as she stuck her foot into the last piece of leg guard and boot. Then, she put on the helmet and became Valkyrie. Tyler never really understood how a helmet could make all that difference. She was still Anna, in his eyes, odd as the thought sounded.

"Because his name's not Jacob!" Heimdahl laughed, quickly followed by the rest of the group. Miranda turned multiple shades of red, before she used her biotics to hurl a paperback of "John Grissom; A biography" at the man. Tyler shook his head at the near-antics of the team, but somehow found he couldn't really make his eyes leave Anna's body. I really should not be staring like this. Thank God for polarized visors.

Two Hours Later

Alchera, Amada system

CNS-99 'Griffon'

Bridge

Tyler's body lurched forward as the Griffon slowed abruptly. Looking out the cockpit of the ship, the fast moving blue aura that surrounded the ship was replaced with the stillness of space. In the distance, Alchera came into view, the bleak blue of the planet clearly shown, even at the distance. God, do I hate travelling by Mass Relay…

"Captain Kubík" a female Cerberus ensign called out. "I have multiple unidentified contacts in system, over Alchera," a female ensign continued, tapping away at her holoscreen.

The Cerberus captain, a Czech by the name of Jan Kubík swiveled his seat to look at the ensign. "How many?" he asked, glancing at the screen in front of him. The captain was somewhere between forty and fifty, streaks of gray running through his brown hair, only spoiled in one spot where the scar from shrapnel still remained on the side of his head, just above the ear. To Tyler, the man reminded him a bit of someone you'd find in a drunken bar-fight, not at the helm of a ship. And yet, there was something undeniably commanding about him.

The ensign read the screen intently for a few seconds before replying. "Nine sir. Three cruisers and six frigates. Along with that, there's around ten Kowloon-class ships" the ensign replied, tucking a few loose strands of hair behind her ear. "Sir!" she barked loudly "the unknown ships are turning to face us. Warships are powering up weapons, we assume hostiles. Also, the Kowloon-class ships appear to be deploying shuttles bound for the planet surface."

"Orders from Admiral Greer!" the ships navigator announced loudly. "The fleet is moving to engage. We and the transport ships are to pull back to his carrier while the fleet deals with the Shadow Fleet" she relayed.

The Cerberus captain nodded. "Full power to shields; take up position by the Oppenheimer. Tell the marines to prepare to drop," he ordered. The assembled crewmembers nodded and quickly got to work. After a minute or so, the Phoenix glided next to the Oppenheimer on the starboard side. The Oppenheimer was larger than a cruiser at three-fourths of a kilometer. It was a gargantuan, compared to the tiny Phoenix. Pouring out of the Oppenheimer, were dozens of fighters and bombers, all armed to the teeth.

The squadrons of Tridents soared away from the massive vessels, leading the charge in V-formations. Flight-corporal Gebbert Bruno was at the point, leading his men into battle;

"All squadrons, call in."

"Warhammer-1, standing by."

"Warhammer-2, standing by."

"Warhammer-3, standing by."

"Warhammer-4, standing by."

"Alright Herren, take it steady and kick some ass. Let's show some mercs why the Hellhound of Hades is to be feared!"

Streaks of bright blue light could already been seen, as both sides traded fire. Even though outnumbered, the Shadow fleet valiantly continued to press against the Cerberus vessels. Tyler watched with fascination as the two sides dueled. For a nerd, it was the ultimate dream.

Abruptly, reality came rushing back, snapping Tyler out of his dream state.

"Taking evasive maneuvers!" the pilot barked, sending the Griffon into an abrupt bank to the right; "Hold on to your bras, this could get ug-fuck! That was close… just kidding."

In response, Tyler gripped a nearby safety rail for dear life; Blue Tooth however wasn't as lucky, the inertia from rapid turning sending him headlong into a nearby holoscreen. Seconds later, a large MAC slug shot by, shaking the small ship as it passed. Space is empty? Fuck you, whoever said that!

"What the hell was that?" Tyler yelled, as he released his death grip. Nearby, Blue Tooth groaned as he forced himself into a standing position. He was in full armor, which had absorbed the majority of the landing.

"Enemy cruiser overshot sir!" the ensign replied tersely, tightening her seat's straps. Tyler just now realized, that a fleet-battle wasn't a dream; it was a nightmare. Strapped and trapped in a can of steel, a single well-aimed slug would end them all in a fireball of sudden death.

"Shitze!" a new ensign cursed loudly. "An enemy frigate just bypassed the fleet! They're heading straight for us!" the ensign finished frantically. Well… this is how I die.

"Oh relax, will you?" Alex admonished him, leaning against the wall with nothing to hold him. Not that it really mattered, not to the aspect of War at least. Tyler found he was more than a little annoyed, and Alex's attitude didn't help; "I mean, if you die, you won't even notice it before… oh wait, that means I'll have to find a new job, doesn't it?"

Tyler tried to ignore him, gulping as he activated his magnetic boots. On screen, the image of the fast approaching frigate was clear as day. It appeared Asari by design, preferring maneuverability and shields to armor. The frigate, with a certain athletic grace, seemed to dodge each shot the Cerberus fleet threw at them. Tyler's stomach dropped. As the enemy frigate straightened momentarily, it flashed a brilliant blue, as a pair of disruptor torpedoes leapt away from the fast-moving ship.

There was a chatter of almost intelligible calls, as the Griffon's crew reacted. The Griffon shook, with the dampeners temporarily disabled in favor of shields, as its GARDIANs acquired the two torpedoes. Faster than the human eye could register, the GARDIAN-systems fired, flashes of brilliant red meeting the incoming projectiles, as well as ultraviolet beams of far greater power. The first torpedo exploded a half-second later as the lasers made contact with the warhead. The second torpedo, however, was struck on the tail, sending it spiraling away, but thankfully, not towards the Griffon.

Banking hard, the frigate turned to make another attack run on the assembled transports. As it turned however, a large blue streak leapt away from the Oppenheimer. The Asari frigate, agile as it was, didn't have time to dodge the MAC slug. There was a silent explosion as the slug connected with the frigate. To Tyler's surprise, the frigate shook visibly, its shields flaring, but it remained intact, as its armor absorbed what its shields did not. The frigate, while alive, was dead in the water, engine damage quite visible even at a distance.

Unfortunately for the frigate, a second punch soon followed, but not in the form of a MAC slug. Streaking by, two F-61 Trident fighters leveled out, on a beeline for the now disable frigate. The Trident to the left increased its speed, quickly surpassing its companion fighter. After a few seconds, two torpedoes leapt from the internal bay of the fighter. The torpedoes wasted no time in striking their target, as they engulfed the frigate in a silent explosion, eating gaping holes in its metal body. These torpedoes weren't disruptor torpedoes, instead, theOppenheimer had equipped it's fighters with plasma torpedoes, capable of cutting through heavy ship armor. Tyler, had never seen plasma-torpedoes in use before, neither had he heard of them. New technology? I guess that's kinda cool.

Before the frigate could retaliate, the second fighter closed for the kill. Two similar arcs left from its bays, making beelines toward the frigate. Seconds later, the frigate was engulfed in nuclear fire. By the time the fire had dissipated, there was nothing left but molten debris. Abruptly, the bridge of the Griffon erupted into a chorus of cheers and utterances of 'fuck yeah!'s. Over the noise, the ensign swiveled around to face Captain Kubík. She was smiling

"90% of the Shadow Fleet has been destroyed, sir. The remaining Shadow Fleet ships are making a break for the relay. Wolf packs are in pursuit. Admiral Greer wants us to prepare to deploy the Marines," she stated demurely.

Tyler stepped into the Griffon's hanger quickly, attaching his helmet as he did so. The hanger was alive with activity, as Cerberus marines scrambled around; some still haphazardly dressed in armor. Every nation and colony under the Alliance was represented in the form of Cerberus marines' uniforms, all of which had a patch on their shoulder, which designated their country or colony of origin. The only place one could have seen a more diverse collection of humans would've been Earth itself. Stopping for a moment, Tyler peered around the hanger, taking every piece of information into account.

Stuffed into a corner were three Atlas mechs, their operators doing last minute checks; looking for the smallest of discrepancies. In the center of the room sat two troops' transports that looked oddly familiar to the LAAT gunship from Star Wars. They resembled the LAAT so much that Tyler was positive that the designer was a fan of Star Wars. Knowing his own situation, someone probably stole the plans themselves from the Republic. Tyler chuckled at the thought, shaking his head. Yeah right. Let me guess, it was Kasumi, greatest thief in now two galaxies. Man, the fucked up stuff my mind comes up with…

Wading through the throngs of marines, Tyler found himself standing next to the gunship. Standing in a tight circle around the gunship, were the members of Mljonir-6, all dressed for battle; doing last minute weapons checks. Kraken, as he had since Noveria, was clad in the heavier armor of the Bulwark-variant. Tyler had nearly laughed the first time he saw the man wear it, because he thought it was a souvenir from a Star Wars Comicon. And lo behold, someone actually made the thing into real armor…

Missing from the group was Miranda, much to Tyler's surprise. He'd have thought the XO of their team would be present, since even Jacob was dressed to kill. It was a definite improvement over what he had worn when he served on the SR-2, from what Tyler remembered. Clothing, skintight even, was not the ideal armor to fight mercs in.

"Where's Freya?" he asked loudly over the bustling noise, approaching the group.

Kraken jerked his head in response, signaling toward an entrance to the hanger. Tyler followed the older man's gaze, quickly spotting Miranda Lawson. It wasn't hard for a red-blooded male to spot her after all, even with her armor adorned. She was standing in a group of three, counting her. It was almost comical, the way Tyler's eyes widened as he saw who she was talking with.

To Miranda's right stood Liara T'soni, dressed in a silver-colored version of the phase-II armor, arms crossed. She appeared tense, which, given she was on a Cerberus vessel, wasn't all thát surprising. Great, she probably already knows about the shit-storm on the Citadel, and wants me dead as well…

Beside her, towering slightly over the two, was a man clad in the Bulwark-armor that only the more seasoned troops in Cerberus wore. From the looks of his armor, which had been decorated with yellow streaks multiple places, he had had it for longer than Cerberus. A thing Tyler noted, and which unnerved him for some reason, was that the man almost seemed Maori in appearance. Slung over his shoulder was a type of rifle Tyler hadn't seen in this millennia, appearing almost like a Star Wars clone. Then again, insanity had its lines that simplyweren't crossed.

After a few moments, Miranda threw up her hands in what appeared to be submission, before stalking back towards Mjolnir, Liara and the tall, heavily armored man close at her heels.

"Alright team" Miranda began. "This is the agent who we received on the Citadel. We aren't going to use her name on the coms, just in-case the Broker manages to hack into our network. If you need to speak with her over the radios, refer to her as Blue Angel, or simply 'Angel'," Miranda said, motioning toward Liara. "This is her bodyguard, Scorch" she finished quickly.

The man, despite his heavy armor and more than grizzled appearance, grinned to Liara, who returned it with a small, fond smile. Tyler, beneath his helmet, stared wide-eyed at the two of them. He was damn sure there hadn't been any soldier in the original timeline, and not one wearing Republic Commando armor either. Either I'm missing something… or shit's really been changed.

Miranda looked around the busy hanger quietly, tapping her foot with impatience. "Now if only our pilot would be on time" she muttered.

Tyler quirked an eyebrow at Miranda's impatience. On the rarest of occasions did he see her in the state that she was in. He opened his mouth to speak, something probably not recommended for him to begin with, but he was cut off by a loud feminine voice; one that was commanding;

"Out of the way, move!" the voice shouted above the crowd. In response, the Cerberus marines made room, shuffling awkwardly to the side. With a lane open, the loud female stepped forward, allowing Tyler a good view of the woman.

She was tall, standing at around 5'8. She had an athletic, but appealing build, similar to Valkyrie's. She had olive skin, and a voice that shouted Hispanic origins. Tucked in her arm was a Cerberus flight helmet, appearing custom by design. She was flanked on both sides by Cerberus flight techs, one tall and lanky, and the other shorter and stockier. They were all dressed in combat flight suits, a hybrid between a regular flight suit and a light hard-suit in both appearance and material. As they reached the group, they fluidly snapped crisp salutes.

"Chief Warrant Officer Trudy Chacon, reporting for duty, ma'am" she announced formally.

Tyler did his usual once over, doing his best to be respectful, even behind the helmet; she was a looker so it was hard. With Cerberus practically being an Alliance Parliament meeting, he liked to learn the nationalities of everyone he came across. Above her left breast was the Puerto Rican flag displayed proudly, a Dominican Republic flag directly below it.

"This is Lieutenant Norm Spellman" she said motioning toward the lankier of the two men, "and this 1st Sgt is Lyle Wainfleet," she said motioning toward the shorter; stockier of the two. Both of the men nodded, but said nothing. On both of their chest-pieces, Canadian flags were displayed proudly. Tyler immediately pecked Wainfleet for a man of violence and war. The jarhead-haircut helped his guess along.

"You're late" Miranda said coolly, shooting the pilot a sidelong look. Behind Miranda, Tyler raised an eyebrow. Miranda seemed to be in a bad mood, but then again it could have been stress. They were going after John Shepard after all, or what it John'Shepard? He really still had some difficulties figuring it out. It was sure to put people on edge, especially Miranda, since she was solely in charge of the recovery part.

The pilot shifted nervously at the statement. Miranda's reputation had always preceded her, even though she wasn't nearly as bad as she sounded. Still, the "Ice-Queen" name, he had to admit, was often earned.

"Sorry ma'am, we we're going over last minute details; LZ and coordinating with the primary landing force" she replied, finding her shoes more interesting than Miranda steely eyes. For some reason, Tyler understood her reasons for the newly acquired fascination of her footwear.

The Australian stared her down for a moment, before sighing deeply.

"Good enough. Get this gunship up and running. I know we're the second wave, but I want to be able to go ASAP," she ordered, running a hand through her raven hair. Tyler caught Jacob looking at her from his place, even if the man wore a helmet. Love and desire was easy enough to spot, no matter how well you concealed the shit.

The pilot nodded, looking a bit taken aback. She spun on her heels abruptly. "You heard the lady, get ready for take-off" she barked sternly. Tyler watched the two with some amusement. Spellman, the lieutenant, practically jumped into the air; rushing to open the gunship's doors, before scrambling to his turret. Wainfleet simply nodded, moving at a much slower pace to reach his turret pod;

"On it, Capitan." He grinned, sending her a casual wave.

With the gunship's doors open, the team began to file in; Liara and Scorch stuffing themselves into the rear of the gunship. The rest of the team filled in the middle of gunship, attaching their helmets before entering. The interior of the gunship was Spartan, with handles above, along with small port windows that had shutters that could close quickly; before the atmosphere could vent. Looking up, Tyler gripped a safety handle, many of the other members following suit. He couldn't help but notice that their guests had placed themselves as far away as possible, and that Scorch was between them and Liara. Yep, she definitely knows about the Citadel-shitstorm… Fucking A.

For the moment, the entire team was linked to the gunship's internal coms, allowing them to hear everything the three-man crew said. The entertainment-value in the conversation wasn't lost on Tyler;

"Is anyone worried that all this is glass?" Wainfleet asked; speaking for the first time; "I mean, fuck, we're sitting out here like massive cojones on a fucking bird."

Through the coms, the sounds of tapping could be heard clearly in quick succession; radiating from Wainfleet's turret pod. Having seen the pods, Tyler understood the man's insecurities. Just as with the gunship it had obviously been inspired by, the turrets seemed to be made from clear glass, with the pilot dangling over the ground, held only by a single, if solid, set of mechanical arms.

"It's not glass, not really. It's a polycrystalline composite-" Spellman replied, going off into a detailed tangent. Tyler smiled as the man rambled, sounding as if he enjoyed informing his comrade in the other pod. Behind Tyler, Kraken muttered something about thinking Tyler was bad enough, let alone Spellman.

After a while, the pilot chimed in, ending the discussion sharply;

"Spellman, stow it. I would love to hear about it another time, but right now ain't the time for a science-lesson," she ordered. Her voice was a mix of exasperation and amusement, the later shining through more than the former. Tyler raised an eyebrow slightly at their tone. They sounded like they were in their own little world, completely unaware of the rest listening in behind them.

After a moment, word from the ship's bridge came, startling the group. It was the signal to launch the second wave. Keying up the coms, Trudy replied;

"Bridge, this is Rogue-1 requesting permission to take off, over." she stated. There was an 'OK' from the bridge to take off, and Tyler could practically hear the grin in her voice as she throttled the gunship up. "Rogue-2 fall in behind me. Let's show the Shadowy Broker-bitch who's boss" she exclaimed. Engines whirred and flared, causing everyone onboard to shift in order not to fall. Well, this reminds me of taking the bus… a big, flying bus with guns on it.

For some reason, the thought made him grin. Feeling a little optimistic, he glanced at where Liara and Scorch were standing, the massive Bulwark still between them. Liara, he remembered, had always seemed like the last person who would discriminate or outright hate someone. True, Vasir had been kicked, but she'd tried killing Liara. As things were, maybe Tyler could still salvage something of a working-relationship with the Asari.

"Hey, um… Liara, right?" He tried, making an effort of turning his voice into the most friendly and casual he could. Considering they were on an armed gunship, headed to the surface of an ice ball in order to find a corpse while fighting mercs, he thought it was a pretty decent attempt.

"Yes." Okay, so she gave him a rather flat answer. Being a technically illegal terrorist organization, he understood if there would be some distrust.

"So… you, ehm…know, I mean knew Shepard?" He tried again, hoping for a response in the two-digit word-count.

"I did."

"So… I guess you're glad we're getting his corp- I mean bo- I mean, we're getting him?" Well fucking great, just let me fuck up now. Step One, shoot Ashley. Step two, make an ass of myself in front of Liara.

"Look, buddy. Maybe you should just not talk to her, okay?" Scorch intervened. Even though the man stood perfectly still, and only his head turned slightly to look at Tyler through his visor, there was no denying the intimidating effect. It didn't help that some of the team snickered behind Tyler, obviously enjoying his failed attempt at making friends.

"Did I say something wrong? I mean, we're just trying to help out here, you know? Like, saving the galaxy and… well, we're not bad people." He said. There was no response from Scorch, though Liara did offer him a glare so cold he didn't think it possible to come from her; "Okay…sorry, I didn't mean any offence or…"

"I have no intentions of giving you the illusions that I want your company for a moment more than this is going to take. I'm here to make sure John's body isn't defiled…" And she said the word with such contempt that Tyler felt his spine shivering; "or otherwise changed, in ways that would change the man he was."

"Why'd we do that? I mean, if we'd change him, why even bring him back?" Tyler asked; "And, wouldn't that be like, sick and fucked up?"

"Tell me, trooper, have you even held a crying six-year old girl while she was being sedated? Ever held her hand as tattoos meant for cattle and regular prisoners were surgically removed? Comforted her as she cried for her mother?" The anger in her low voice, along with the sheer cold, made Tyler shift his feet to stand just a bit further away.

"I…"

"In that case, please do not talk to me again." And with thát, Liara turned back to Scorch, resuming a conversation that Tyler had apparently interrupted. Great, so Liara hates me too…

And the worst part was, he had a fairly good idea of what girl the woman had meant.

This was going to be an awkward ride…

CNS Unstoppable Advance, Amada-system.

ODST-drop pod 051

3...2...1

The numbers ticked by, tauntingly, in front of Private Holland's eyes. When the counter hit zero, her pod would drop, sending her headlong into battle; at the will of the enemy AA guns until she was groundside. It was a truly daunting drop though, one that she hadn't given much thought until her first training mission. She had lost more friends during the initial drop, than she had groundside. It was one of the few things her ODST instructor had 'accidentally' left out. The only upside, was that her death would be quick; not that she had any plans of dying. Because that'd kinda fuck up my schedule. Lets see… Monday: Don't die. Tuesday: Don't die… Wednesday: Get laid. Thursday: Don't die. Friday:… What was Friday again?

'Drop'

The words flashed across her visor, giving her a half-second's worth of warning; before unceremoniously opening a door below her pod. Gravity took over from there, dragging her, and the rest of her unit's pods, downward toward the frozen planet. Her visor displayed the time to impact, approximately sixty-seconds. It would probably be the longest minute of her life, she thought to herself; her knuckles white as she gripped her rifle for dear life. Would kinda suck to blow my own brains out because my fingers slipped…

Abruptly, her visor lit up like a Christmas tree, red warnings flashing in front of her eyes. It appeared that more than a few of her squad mates had just perished as the initial AA fire took place; knocking the pods of course, or destroying them all together. Those who died instantly were the lucky ones. If your pod was knocked off course, tumbling back into space, your chances of living and being recovered were as great as dying of starvation or hunger. Actually, that's kinda fifty-fifty.

Reading the names of the dead, Holland sighed grimly. None of them were people she knew well, mostly replacements. The ODSTs went through men at a rapid pace; leaving little room for friendship. In fact, she only had one friend, her CO; whom she had signed up with. He was a good leader, but a tad hesitant to give orders in battle. He had the weight of each casualty on his shoulders, something he didn't take lightly.

Cerberus Orbital Drop Shock Troopers were both some of the best soldiers the organization boasted, but they also held the highest rate of casualties.

The seconds ticked by grimly slow. Multiple times throughout the free fall, her pod shook from enemy AA; so close that she actually thought that he pod had been struck. Thankfully, all things did, in fact, end; her drop clock hitting zero. When it hit zero, her pod did not stop, the jarring shaking signaling that she had hit the planet. To her relief, the clock was a second late, her pod digging deep into the Alcheran snow and ice. The pod was still for a moment, before the hiss of pneumatics signaled that the pod door was opening. Holland took a deep breath, readying her rifle, prepared to jump from the pod with her rifle chattering.

When the door allowed her enough clearance for her small frame, Holland jumped out, cast into an eerie silence; as Alchera was devoid of a suitable atmosphere to carry sound. Around a hundred yards, the tell-tale signs of a firefight could be easily seen as Cerberus ODSTs traded fire with the Shadow Army. Overhead, tracer fire lit up the sky, which was still filled with falling pods; most of them intact. Streaking across the sky, a formation of six Mantis-gunships sped by, their weapons tearing into the Shadow Army's position. It didn't take long for the AA fire to cease altogether, the crews dead or the equipment destroyed unknown to those on the ground. They would find out soon enough, as their mission was to take the position; and buy the second wave time to complete their objective. While the marines on the ground didn't know the true purpose of the mission, they knew that Cerberus had dedicated a lot of men to the mission, which was a good enough reason for most of them. Essentially, it's a free-for-all slaughter of mercs. Meh, in what other job do they pay me to kill things?

"Get to the RZ! Move!" Commander Karl Falco ordered from behind Holland, leaping from his pod; rifle at the read. Commander Falco was a tall, intimidating man from Earth, the US to be exact. Under his helmet, he had well-kept brown hair and a mustache. He wore one of the Cerberus Bulwarks, which had been customized with the color of his unit; the 17th Cerberus Marine Division. The armor made him look and walk like a freaking tank, or a small mech. It didn't do much to dissuade the impression when a high-caliber round hit him in the chest, only for the man to single-handedly point his rifle, plus underslung grenade launcher at the place where the round had come from, pull the trigger, watch the grenade fly before it scattered human and Asari remains over the immediate surroundings. Yep, the man's a beast. Mmmm… definitely a beast.

Taking a deep breath, Holland kicked off from where she stood, cursing as she slipped on the ice and rock of Alchera. Stumbling forward, she managed to catch herself before she face-planted, unlike some of her fellow ODSTs. With a determined grunt, Holland propelled herself forward, finding suitable footing this time around. Her goal was a rocky outcropping, which was around fifty meters ahead of her. Unfortunately, the fifty meters in between was a flat as Alchera allowed, leaving little to no lifesaving cover. Nevertheless, Holland was determined to make it to the wall, instead of dying before she even managed to fire her weapon. Again, fucking embarrassing if that happened. I'd just die from shame if I died from… hold on.

Around half-way to the outcropping, Holland saw her shields flicker as the Shadow Army re-organized and turned to fire at the ODST marines; most of whom had yet to make it to the wall. Those who had made it to the wall had already entered the fight, laying down as much fire as they could; although it didn't appear that it was enough, as ODSTs continued to drop dead or wounded. Even the advanced Phase-II armor seemed insufficient against the barrage of slugs being poured from the entrenched forces of the Shadow Broker. Holland continued to run forward undeterred, although her expression was grim. The enemy had the advantage when it came to positioning and numbers, as well as a guaranteed advantage in biotics, what with all those Asari prancing about in their lithe, sexy hardsuits. Right… gotta get my mind straight. Come on girl, you can fantasize about smexy blue babes when you're done killing these ones.

"This is Commander Falco! We're getting slaughtered down here! Requesting immediate support!" her commander barked, bringing his rifle to bear. Why does everyone around me either look ungodly sexy or have voice that just… Fuck, get your mind out of the gutter!

Five weeks of deprivation was starting to take its toll on her sanity.

Falco was one of the few who had made it to the wall, being the kind to lead his men into battle; which would probably end up killing him someday. For now though, he was racking in kills while presenting the ideal image of the courageous soldier of Cerberus: Stoic, rough, precise and ungodly, ruggedly handsome.

The radios were silent for a moment, causing many of the Cerberus ODSTs to fear they had been jammed. Much to their relief, the radio reply came with good news. "Solid copy, Commander. Standby, air and armor support are on their way. Hold steady" an ensign aboard the Oppenheimer replied. Holland sighed, wishing she was safely on the Oppenheimer. Then she could just man a turret or something and blast death from above. Why exactly aren't we just nuking this place? Is there something down here command wants intact?

Commander Falco turned, leaning against two rocks, which separated him from death, to look toward the Alcheran sky. A formation of three Kowloon-class ships had descended into the atmosphere, forming a triangle. Falling from them, were pods and mechs; capable of surviving HALO jumps. The ground shook from the contact, as Atlas and HAS-mechs met the icy, rocky surface. Wasting no time, the mech operators jumped into action; pouring out covering fire for their fellow marines. Holland blinked at seeing the HAS-mechs in action. They were lightweights by all accounts, and were more suited for urban warfare where agility was more important than armor. Then again, what do I know. Strange thing though, using Turian mechs.

Overhead, Flight Lieutenant Girard Berger, better known as Eagle Leader, barked orders in German, telling his fellow pilots to form up for a ground attack. In attack formation, Eagle wing dove down, hugging the Alcheran atmosphere at a conservative altitude. From overhead, they could see the Shadow Army's position clearly. They were dug into a hill, even equipped with fortifications; which appeared to have been haphazardly erected in a spurt of urgency. Girard grinned; it was nothing a few disruptor torpedoes couldn't handle.

Keying up his interface, Girard didn't even warn his squadron; instead simply pulling the trigger. Leaping away from his pod, a pair of disruptor-torpedoes sailed through the air. Each held a little more destructive power than a 16" wet water battleship gun. It took the span of three seconds for the torpedoes to reach their targets. The explosion that followed was grimly satisfying, as the enemy fire that poured out stopped abruptly; the defenders lives snuffed out in an instant. Ahh, the life of a pilot. Press my button, they die. Press my other button, more die. Ach so, I have become Death, the Destroyer of worlds.

On the ground, Holland arrived at the outcropping, only to be ordered forward once more. With the fortifications gone, Commander Falco wanted the group to push forward while they could. Thankfully, they had hulking mechs on their side this time, providing covering fire if they needed it, not to mention the squadron of Trident fighters overhead. Stomping past Holland, one of the HAS-mechs pushed off and jumped through the air. When it landed ahead of her, the pilot grounded his mech, turned it sideways and started pouring fire at whatever remained of the defenders. Instead of using heat-sinks like any sane person would, the HAS-armor fired shells propelled by gunpowder, leaving a trail of empty brass casings every time it fired the oversized machinegun.

When they arrived at what remained of the fortifications, she was shocked to find that little to nothing remained of the defenders. Spread across the area, were bits and pieces of armor; along with the occasional body part, of various species, from human to Krogan. Nudging a body over, Holland's eyes widened. The figure was dressed in Phase-II armor, something that you didn't see out of the Alliance or Cerberus. So, just how had the Broker gotten his or her slimy hands on it? The Asari seemed to be the only ones still using hardsuits, but that was probably because the damn aliens only knew how to screw, dance and make love not war.

"Everyone, set up! The enemy could counter-attack at any moment. Stand ready!" he ordered; reloading his rifle. Placing a hand where his ear would be, he activated his radio. "Command, this is Commander Falco. LZ is secure. Repeat, LZ is secure. Second wave is clear to land, over" he informed the Oppenheimer, turning to oversee his men.

Up above, six medium sized troop transports, the WASP-gunships, slid out of the Kowloon-class ships present. Flanking the Wasps were two squadrons of Mantis gunships, all ready to engage the enemy at a moment's notice. Without incident, the heavy gunships glided down to Alchera's surface; moving at a steady pace. Settling on the thick ice of Alchera, the cargo bays doors slid open to reveal the transports payload.

Disembarking from the ships were Cerberus marines, all of whom wore individualized armors showing their respective units. Two of the vessels were loaded down with men wearing silver and red; the colors similar to the old roman legions. These were the men of the 3rd Cerberus Marine Division, a group from Italy who had been nicknamed the 'Legionaries'. They were a tough group of men, taking the saying 'the ends justify the means' a bit too literally at times. Amazing what technology could do for a country famed for having the planet's shittiest soldiers.

The other group of men wore gold, with blood red stripes. These were the men and women of the 9th Cerberus Marine Division. The majority of them hailed from Iberia although there were a few Frenchmen in the mix as well. This group formed the bulk of the force, being a combined group of infantry and mechs.

As Commander Falco watched the group from a distance, he grinned. The Shadow Broker's army was in disarray at the moment, something he would exploit. As soon as the fresh groups were ready for combat, they would strike. Walking toward the group of assembled ships, Falco found what he was looking for; his HAS mech which he hadn't brought along for the initial landing. It was a specially made vehicle, fitting his standards of 'bigger is better'.

Tyler jumped from the inside of the gunship, still feeling a bit odd about riding one of the obviously LAAT-inspired vessels. It was weird, to say the least. Also, he hadn't had the nicest of rides, realizing and knowing the reason for Liara's obvious dislike for him and the team. He hadn't been involved with Cerberus back then, but somehow, it made more sense now why Fisher had tried killing him with so little regret at the action.

"Fuck me, this place is colder than Noveria!" He cursed, ignoring the battle still going on just a few hundred meters up. His armor was supposed to be isolative, but the cold of the planet still somehow seeped through… or was it just his mind playing tricks on him? The planet was definitely covered with enough ice to make it plausible for even the space-worthy armor to let in cold. If that even makes sense… fuck 'sense'. Liara hates me, her bodyguard looks like a Clone Trooper, we just landed in an LAAT to find a dead Quarian Shepard, while fighting the Shadow Broker… Sense, as it is, can go fuck itself with a stick.

No one reacted to his outburst, so instead of complaining further, he yanked his rifle from his back and followed the rest of the team as they made their way towards a man, an officer, approaching them from the insides of one of the mechs.

"You M-6?" The man demanded, pointing a mechanical finger at them. Jacob was in front, being the team's leader.

"That's us. Commander Falco?"

"The one and only. Listen, I don't know why Command wants us to take this place instead of just nuking the crap out of those mercs, but I can't really question orders coming from the big man himself. So, you guys go find or do whatever you came here for. Me and my boys will make sure none of those Shadowy Bitches get too close. You need an escort, just give the word." The man said, saluting Jacob with two fingers, then grabbed the oversized rifle hanging from the waist of his mech and went back to hammering the enemy.

Tyler decided he liked the guy.

"Doctor T'soni? You know where we're headed, right?" Jacob asked, looking at where Liara was paying close attention to what went on around her. Tyler was surprised she wasn't wearing a simple breather, like he'd seen her do once… then again, this was real life. A breather likely wouldn't stop the lack of atmosphere from sucking her brain out through her ears… or something. The Asari looked at Jacob for a few moments, as if deciding whether or not he was worth her time.

"Yes. We're close enough that we should be able to see the wreckage soon." She said, then started walking without even telling where they were going. Tyler sighed, wanting to ask that she at least used the protection she had, which was them, instead of prancing off like nothing was wrong.

"Wreckage?" He asked, though he had a nagging suspicion he already knew what wreckage it was. It just wouldn't seem real unless someone told him in even words.

"Most of the Normandy crashed not far from here. We're headed for the wreck of the ship that saved the galaxy while your organization was busy breeding monsters and torturing children." The Asari said in a completely even voice, only the words revealing her distaste for them. Great… just keep stating how awful assholes we are, trying to get your commander back.

"Cerberus was investigating the Reapers with what resources we had." Jacob said, getting defensive. Tyler pressed his eyes shut, trying to ignore the argument going on.

"I see. So trying to assassinate Admiral Sullivan Kahoku was crucial to the effort against the Reapers? Just as killing my teammate was?" Liara's voice held so much professional coldness, Tyler intently lagged a few steps behind, wanting to avoid the cold aura surrounding her.

"In case you didn't notice, Thomas Fisher was very much alive and active on the Citadel, trying to kill me and all." He growled, not really meaning for her to hear him. Apparently, Asari had excellent hearing, despite lacking ears.

"Be glad you are still alive then." There was a cold smirk in her voice, and Tyler decided to keep his mouth shut for the rest of the walk. Damn, she's cold already… didn't think she'd become such a heartless bitch so soon.

That's wraps it up folks, feel free to leave a review; it pays the fanfic bills, along with providing a bit of extra inspiration. Again, credit to Mivpus for being an awesome beta/co-writer

-Tmroc725 Out!