On one of the parapets of the massive walls of the last defensive line, David Anderson was overlooking the column of refugees flowing past a checkpoint to safety, taking in the desolation all around him.
So much of the colony was in ruins, abound with the blackened skeletons of buildings, with ash, dust, and rubble littering the streets. The air reeked of ozone and death, and he couldn't help but feel a profound sense of empathy for his ancestors during the Third World War, two centuries ago.
Is this what they went through?
His family prided itself on their long history of service spanning generations, and now he felt like he could truly understand the depth of what they endured, of what they had to sacrifice.
Suddenly, the ground quaked, and he nearly lost his footing. On his combat skin's HUD, he received an urgent comm-request from Hannah. And he accepted it.
"Anderson," she said, "shit has just hit the fan. The Silent Ones are coming fast from the northeast. Hold on while I update your HUD."
"Well, you would you look at that," Zaeed said, pointing at something in the distance.
He looked toward what Zaeed was pointing at, and he gasped. His blood ran cold, and for a moment he struggled to breathe.
Far off in the distance, he spotted an Emperor class construct approaching his position, at the head of an ocean of Silent One construct, at a tide of enemies far beyond anything they had encountered so far.
Suddenly, the Emperor Class construct unleashed a blinding energy lance from its central eye that vaporized everything in its path, melting through armorglass and plascrete like a white-hot lance through soft flesh. Seconds later, it reduced a cluster of buildings and fortifications to ash and smoke in a deafening boom. And he couldn't help but marvel at the technological might they were up against.
Zaeed chuckled. "Looks like we really struck a nerve."
How did they rebound so quickly? No matter how, it did not matter. He would do his duty. "Seems so."
Finally, his HUD's minimap updated and showed a battalion's worth of Silent One constructs approaching fast. He activated his comm-link, broadcasting to all platoon leaders. "Alpha, Bravo, Charlie, this is Anderson. Sync your watches; we move on my mark. Just like we practiced, never forget that continuous updates are crucial. If there's any change in enemy movement, I damned well want to know about it."
With a thought, he sent them the coordinates of the incoming enemy unit, and then those of a fortified position from which his platoon could pin the enemy down. "My platoon will hold the line here…" He sent the coordinates of two nearby alleys, "...whilst Bravo and Charlie flank from these alleys. We'll catch them in a crossfire, disrupt their advance. Remember, timing is crucial here – we fire when they reach the choke point. And Jack…"
"Yes?" Jack asked.
"Get the refugees out of here," he said. "Our platoons will cover yours."
"Right ahead of you," Jack said.
He sighed. On the way to this world, Khaen and Shaani had relentlessly drilled them in preparation for this kind of scenario. Now was the time to make them proud!
"Let's move!" he commanded.
And at his word, they scrambled into action. After making it down to street level, they hopped into the few Raptor X9s still remaining, then zoomed off to their assigned positions.
On the way, he opened up a comm-link to Hannah. "Hannah, we're going to need air support. See if you can get Zhoru to spare us some."
"On it," she said.
Soon, they came upon the column refugees, and their terror and desperation were as palpable as the thick smoke hanging in the air. But then Jack Harper got out his Sonic Resonator and started barking out instructions.
"Alright, listen up!" he said, his voice commanding their attention. "If any of you want to survive what's coming, then you will do as I say exactly. Follow…"
Moving onward, he tuned out what Jack was saying. As he walked passed them, he couldn't help but notice the looks in their eyes. Goodness, they were so heartbreaking. Just do your duty. And this will all be worth it.
Soon, they arrived at the fortified position, strategically located on a ridge that provided a commanding view of the main thoroughfare leading to the refugee columns. Quickly, he assessed the layout: to the north, a narrow pass funneled the enemy's approach, ideal for concentrated fire; to the south, a series of demolished buildings offered cover for a potential flanking maneuver.
Again, Hannah contacted him. And he answered."Anderson, I've got some good and bad news."
He sighed. Damn it, of course, there'd be bad news. "Tell me the good news first."
"The good news is that air support is coming," she said.
"And the bad news?"
"You'll have to wait quite a while for it," she said. "Right now, nearly every active drone is doing everything possible to stop that fucking Emperor class construct." Briefly, he looked out into the distance and saw another swarm of drones bombarding it with missiles and all manners of energy beams, but hardly leaving a dent in its shields. " Zhoru said he's working on a solution though. So hang tight."
He gritted his teeth. Damn it. "Will do. Keep us updated."
"What's going on?" his XO, Sergeant Carter, asked.
"We're on our own for now," he said, a tinge of resolve in his voice.
For a moment, he could see and feel the dread on his XO's face. But then Carter shook his head and looked him in the eye. "Understood."
Without hesitation, his XO began barking out his orders. "Alright, you heard the Commander! Positions, now! We have…"
As he watched Carter, he smiled. Back on Seti'a Prime, Carter had graduated among the top cadets in the colonial militia, and according to Mark, he was leadership material. I can see why.
But regarding the situation, they had to do the best with what they had. "Alright, everyone. Positions! Positions!"
"Yes, sir!" they said in unison, through the comm-link.
And within seconds, they were mounting the plasma cannons, or taking cover, aiming their pulse rifles at where the enemy would approach. Together, the enemy would have to face multiple fields of overlapping fire.
Meanwhile, on his HUD, the enemy was approaching closer…and closer…
For a while, time slowed to a crawl.
"No matter what, we hold the line!" he said, his heart thrashing in his chest. Images of the coming fire, death, and destruction reeled through his mind. He gripped his pulse rifle tighter. "When the enemy comes, let us be the anvil upon which these bastards break themselves! For Mindoir!"
"For Mindoir!" his men shouted in unison.
He smiled. That's the spirit!
For a while, time seemed to grind to a halt. But then…
A cacophonous series of distorted, bone-chilling wails filled the air. And then the enemy came pouring through the narrow pass, in a relentless tide.
"Open fire," he ordered, and they unleashed torrents of plasma bolts, missiles, and tungsten slugs at the enemy. Without hesitation, the constructs returned fire, and torrents of fire and death whooshed past him.
Amidst the exchange of fire, countless constructs stumbled into mines that blew them apart into gobbets of gore and machinery. Meanwhile, he noted the dwindling ammo count on his HUD. "Conserve your shots, aim for the weak spots!" he shouted. And his men began triggering the smart wire traps, strategically, letting them slice the enemy to bloody ribbons.
As the battle rage on, he opened up a comm-link to Jack. "Jack. Give me an update."
In the background, he could hear the screams and panic of the refugees. "My men and I have everything under control. Whatever you are doing, don't stop now!"
"Roger that," he said.
Soon, an enemy missile struck a nearby building and obliterated a chunk of it in a thunderous boom. The shockwave threw him to the ground, and the blast nearly burst his eardrums.
"Anderson, we can't hold them off forever!" Carter said, "we need air support. We need the other squads to flank them."
Groaning, he got back to his feet and then scrambled to cover. "On it." He opened up a comm-link to Ghor'Reegar and Zaeed. "Ghor, Zaeed, where are you?" On his HUD, he could see that something was stalling each of them.
In the background, he could hear the sounds of battle raging. "Bah, looks like the enemy had the same idea as us." He could hear Zaeed take a moment to fire a few shots at the enemy.
"The Emperor Class construct, it is altering the battlefield," Ghor's voice crackled over the comm-link, his words laced with urgency. "It's using that det kazuat beam to carve through the rubble, to open flanking routes for its forces. We need to adapt our positions, and reinforce the eastern flank!"
He huffed through his nose. Just what I needed. Damn it, things were turning bad fast. Outnumbered and outgunned, their fortified positions wouldn't last forever. So what should he do? "Keep guarding our flanks. In the meantime, I'll get us air support to cover our retreat."
Amidst the battle, enemy fire shredded one of his men to pieces and wounded another. As he screamed in agony, the platoon medic rushed to his aid. No time to mourn, he thought, even as his heart ached. Focus on the living.
Gritting his teeth, he opened fire with his pulse rifle with a fresh fury. Damn it, where was the air support? Without hesitation, he contacted Hannah. "Hannah, where is our damn air support? We can't hold this line forever?"
"It's en route now," she said. "Just hold on a little longer."
Every second, constructs continued to die and wet the ground with their bloody remains. But through the slaughter, the enemy pushed and pushed, trampling over their own dead, pounding their fortifications with storms of fire.
A plasma bolt blew another of his men, one of the local militia to pieces. Soon, several tank constructs came into view and aimed their main canons directly at them.
His heart sank into his stomach. And a freezing cold pain raced down his spine. Oh no…
Charging their canons, they were about to fire. But then…
"Not today, you don't!" Hannah's voice shouted over the comm-link.
Just as she said that, something swooped down from above and obliterated the tank constructs to atomic dust in a series of titanic booms. The ground quaked, sending clouds of dust and debris into the air. And for a moment, he struggled to gain his bearings. Yes, now, they could not hold the line any longer.
They had to fall back.
"Let's move!" he shouted. Yes, under the cover of air support, this was the perfect moment. "Fall back! Fall back!"
At his word, they abandoned their positions and began an orderly retreat back toward the massive gate through which the remaining refugees were escaping. Sprinting, he opened up the comm-link to Ghor and Zaeed. "Give me a status update."
"Air support has got them bogged down," Zaeed said. "Falling back."
"Falling back," Ghor said.
Soon, they came upon the panicking columns of refugees rushing toward safety, with Jack Harper and his men barking orders at them.
"Go! Go! Go!" Jack said. "To the gate! To the gate! MOVE!"
Behind him, a series of thunderous booms shook the air, and countless refugees screamed in terror. Just seconds later, a tide of Silent One constructs came rushing through a massive gap in the defenses.
"Contact!" he said. And he and his men sprang into action without hesitation. As they had drilled, they used fire and maneuver as they scrambled for cover. All the while, they gunned down tides of assault constructs.
But amidst the chaos, the refugee columns lost all semblance of order. Their cries of panic and terror filled the air, overlapping with the relentless clatter of weapons fire and the whirring of drones overhead.
"Hannah, we need support!" he said over the comm-link. "We need another attack run!"
"On it!" Hannah's voice crackled back, strained but determined.
Soon, the quarian fighters whooshed above and unleashed another barrage of destruction that shattered the enemy lines. Buildings crumbled like sandcastles and collapsed in clouds of dust and debris.
Yet still, the enemy was pushing on, relentless and unfazed.
"They just keep coming!" Zaeed said.
"We can not endure this forever!" Ghor's tone betrayed a rare hint of despair.
His mind raced, his heart thrashing in his chest. The weight of the situation, of the overwhelming odds, bore down on him like a mountain. And a part of him wanted to submit to defeat, to surrender to the fact that they were all going to die.
But then his N7 training kicked in.
Grinding his teeth, he peeked out of cover and opened fire once more. NO! "Keep firing! We can do this!"
Amidst the carnage, he began to relish the sight of every construct he gunned down or blew to pieces. At the beginning of this campaign, he had felt indifferent to the enemy – just like a proper N7. But now he truly hated them. Yes, how dare they kill his men! How dare they bring suffering and ruin and devastation to this world!
He would return it all upon them in equal measure!
Suddenly, a high-pitched whine cut through the air, followed by a bone-rattling explosion a few meters behind him. The ground shook violently, throwing him off balance. And behind him, the screams intensified, now filled with a new layer of horror and desperation.
His stomach churned. Those screams could only mean one thing…
More innocent lives lost.
Again, the weight of the situation, of command, of his responsibility for those lives, bore down on him. And under the pressure, his inner warrior retaliated.
NO!
He would not break!
He would not crumble!
He would act.
Just then, he hurled a plasma grenade into the enemy, and it denoted with a blinding flash, vaporizing several constructs to ash. Again, he opened fire, gunning down one, two, three, and then four assault constructs within seconds.
"For Mindoir!" he roared.
"For Mindoir!" his men echoed, whether quarian or human.
His heart swelled with pride, with the ferocity in their voices. One soldier at a time, the enemy was grinding down their numbers. But nonetheless, even if they fell here, this was a glorious way to die.
Just then, Hannah's voice burst through the comm-link again. "Anderson, a squad of Malukors is on their way to cover you. Just hang on!"
"Understood!" he replied, his voice a mix of relief and urgency.
Soon, another wave of attacks from above obliterated more enemy ranks.
"Fall back!" he ordered. "Fall back! To the gate!"
Once again, they abandoned their positions, under the cover of the attack run. But then his eyes came upon a sight from his worst nightmares.
Ahead lay the aftermath of the bombardment – a grotesque tapestry of charred, brutalized, or dismembered corpses. Among them, some were still alive, trapped beneath piles of rubble, screaming in agony, begging for help.
The sights and sounds around him raked and clawed at his heart and mind. Violently, his stomach churned, and he wanted to puke. And for a moment, he struggled to process the horror of it all, of so many men, women, and children reduced to…
Suddenly, the sound of a boy screaming snapped him out of his reverie.
Briefly, he looked toward the sound, and the boy was wailing beside the lifeless forms of what must have been his parents. The sight tore at his heart, the boy's anguish echoing his own deepest fears.
For a moment, a war raged within him. Damn it, he couldn't save everyone, and he had his men and the refugees to worry about. But this boy…
Just then, the boy started clawing at the rubble, as though trying to dig out his parents.
Clenching his jaw, he surrendered to his conscious.
"Cover me," he ordered, his decision firm. Holstering his pulse rifle, he sprinted toward the boy, then scooped him up in his arms.
"NOOO!" the boy wailed, sobbing, thrashing in his arms. "NO! LET ME GO! LET ME GO!"
He ran on, the boy's sobs and protests muffled against his chest. Desperately, he wanted to offer any words of comfort, of safety, but they only got stuck in his throat. With enemy fire whooshing and whizzing past them, they had to reach safety first.
Soon, he spotted four towering, bulky silhouettes through the smoke and dust ahead. And he smiled. Finally, the Malukors arrived, and they opened fire with their massive plasma rifles with deadly precision, carving a bloody path through the enemy behind them.
"Move humans! Move!" one of them commanded, firing into the heart of the enemy. "We will cover your escape!"
He didn't need to be told twice. Without hesitation, he hastened toward the entrance to the safe zone, the boy clinging to him tightly. Around him, the refugees were surging forward in a panicked tide, their cries mingling with the relentless sound of battle.
"Form up!" he ordered, and his men quickly organized themselves, taking positions to provide extra covering fire for the refugees from nearby fortified positions.
As they moved into action, he contacted Ghor and Zaeed. "Let's get this under control."
"Right ahead of you," Zaeed said.
"Affirmative," Ghor said.
Just then, he turned to the refugees, his voice rising above the chaos. "Keep moving! Head to the gate! We will protect you!"
His words seemed to instill a flicker of hope in the terror-stricken faces. And his heart hardened with resolve. Yes, they might be outgunned and outnumbered, facing impossible odds.
But they would fight until the bitter end.
As the refugees retreated to safety, he glanced behind him, at the sight of the enemy breaking themselves against just a single squad a Malukors like waves against a sturdy rock. And then he looked at the boy in his arms. Finally, the boy was still, exhaustion and shock overtaking his sobs.
We'll get through this…He exhaled, then gulped. We have to.