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John grunted as he dropped the thoroughly disarmed Trooper onto the inglorious heap the Krogan had made for their dead enemies, right in the storage area out in front of the towering defensive gun's command and control area. Two Krogan followed, each with a dead soldier over their shoulders - a Trooper and a Centurion - and dropped them, too, turning to give him nods as they plodded away, looking none the worse for wear after the fighting and the work clearing the bodies right after. Time to heal and alien physiology, he understood, the lucky bastards…

Though, as his eyes fell to the two larger corpses laid more neatly a few yards away, he could only frown.

"Not lucky enough, I suppose…"

"Invisible attackers." He turned as Grunt came to join him, standing and looking at the two dead Krogan. "First died before he knew what was happening. Second… Second died shoving me out of the way."

"...Good man." He answered after a second, sighing and straightening, "Galaxy's worse off without him."

"Heh." Grunt rumbled,voice quiet and somber in spite of his apparently flippant snort, and his words. "Tor was a bastard. But… Loyal, I guess."

"Yeah…" He nodded, flicking the Krogan a look he hid by polarizing his visor. "He sounds like he was."

The Krogan didn't answer, but he could tell he was more than a little upset. It was written in the way he held his jaw and tapped his middle-finger along the bottom of his bulky red and silver colored Mattock. What had happened to his other weapons, John didn't know, but it hardly mattered right now. More important was the way he slowly turned his head, one of his eyes honing in on the still bodies searchingly. Like he could find an answer there. A reason they'd died, that didn't come down to being closest to invisible throat cutters waiting for their chance.

The guilt, misplaced or not, pulled at John until he turned and asked, quietly, "How are you-"

"Shepard told me about you." The Krogan cut him off, turning to face him finally. "Me and the Chieftain."

"Right…"

"Where you… Come from," Grunt rumbled, picking the words carefully and dropping his rifle as he turned, letting it hang beside him, "they had people that did this? Snuck around, invisible? That's how you noticed it in time down there."

For a second, paranoia swamped him - his own and, quiter, borrowed paranoia - but after a second he nodded and answered simply, "Yes. They'd cut apart entire squads. I… Only ran into them once, and only three, but it was… Terrifying."

"How did you spot them?"

"You… You want me to teach you?" He pointed at the ground and swept a hand around them, "Here? Now?"

"Why not?" He shrugged, "We got time."

"I…" He sighed, thinking quickly about Krogan eyes and whether the trick he'd been taught would even work. From what he understood, when they looked forward, they more or less worked like human ones, meshing together in the brain to form a more detailed vision, which was why Krogan faced ahead when firing. So, stepping close he raised his hand a few inches in front of his visor and said, "Do this. Straight on, both eyes."

"Right…" He could see the question on his face, but Grunt obeyed regardless, turning his head to look at it with both eyes.

"Now, focus on something behind it. Something that stands out." After a second of looking at all the drab orange and brown around them, and lacking a small enough example that wasn't the two corpses, he backed away and tapped his own chest. "Focus on me. Past the hand. Does the hand… Blur, kind of? Like you're seeing it, but not?"

"Inattentonal blindness…"

"More or less." He nodded, "That distortion is what you look for in the air. Except lacking color. It blends in. You need to get used to seeing your hand there when it is, but not only seeing it."

"Watch everything for the flaws…" Grunt rumbled, "Except instead of fuzz, its… Movement in the air."

"Right." He nodded, "It isn't perfect, but-"

"Aralakh Company, this is High-Com relay, speaking for High Chieftain Urdnot Wrex." A high, vaguely flanging and very Turian voice cut in urgently, broadcasting directly into their squad-comm rather than seemingly taking the time to identify Grunt's channel and speak to it directly. "Blanket-comm silence is lifted, clearance code AU-One-Four. Any available unit, please respond."

"Urdnot Grunt." Grunt answered instantly, "Talk."

"Clearance?"

"UG-One-Four-Six. Password, Double."

"Barrel." The communicator responded in a chirp, "Identity confirmed. Be warned we are tracking a Cerberus fleet moving into low orbit. We are scrambling more interceptors, but-"

"How large?" Grunt barked, looking up as three of the surviving Krogan peered over the battle-scarred window-sills, looking down at them expectantly. Meeting their eyes, he turned away and bellowed at the same time, "Start warming the gun up to fire! How did we miss them?"

"Stealth systems - a Krogan freighter spotted the transport-destroyer and we sent strike-craft and a frigate once control of the ground-gun was reestablished." The controller answered, "Strike-craft are engaging, but the frigate was hit by stealth-bombers from the destroyer. They're holding, but five Kodiak-class shuttles were launched. Arrival estimate - five minutes."

"Understood." Grunt barked, "Reinforcements?"

"An hour out…"

"Understood." He repeated, "We'll handle it."

"You're authorized to withdraw to-"

"Krogan stand their ground." Grunt ground out, turning to head up the ramp to the control room.

"I'm registering a VIP on-site." The controller grunted as he followed Grunt into the battered control-room. The alien harrumphed and turned to him, cocking his head in question while the controller went on, "You're ordered to-"

"If you want me to run," John cut in across the line, "send someone down here to put a round in me and drag me to medical."

"Sir, you are ordered to-" The controller cut off with a squawk of interference and, for a moment, static filled the line.

Then, Wrex spoke, "Doe, Grunt- If you want to hold your ground, do it. But each of those Kodiaks is bound to have six men on board. No telling what rank or class - that's thirty men, minimum. You have what, eight?"

"Six…" Grunt corrected quietly.

"Even better." Wrex sighed, "So I'll ask… Can you hold?"

He turned to meet Grunt's gaze and, after a moment, he nodded and Grunt returned the gesture, turning to rumble, "Get us targeting coordinates for the destroyer, and send any fast-support you can to keep those Kodiaks off us. I'm sure you can't intercept them before they drop off, but I'd enjoy not having them doing gun runs if they're packing heavy accelerators. Or rockets."

"UNderstood." Wrex rumbled, "I'll do what I can, but don't- -pect- way of-"

"You're breaking up." Grunt reported, waiting a moment as static filled the air before he sighed tiredly and closed the long-comm. Turning, he asked, "You all heard. Anyone have any ideas?"

"I have one." John answered when no one said anything, "How likely do you think it is they expect all of us to be alive? Or for an inter-clan, inter-species, unit to all stand their ground like this?"

"Unlikely…"

"Give me a volunteer, and keep squad-comm online, they can't jam that." John nodded, "We're 'deserting'. They drop off, and we'll hammer them from the rear as best we can."

"I'll call if I need you to move up." Grunt nodded, turning and asking, "Who is-"

"Me." John's drop-buddy rumbled lowly, standing and rolling his bloodied shoulders. He was holding his gun with his left hand, now, the right covered in a layer of drying blood he laughed off. "I lost a couple fingers to the bitches - but I'm as good aiming with my left."

"Good." Grunt nodded, "Both of you - go."

"Yes, Battlemaster." The Krogan rumbled, turning to jog off while John lingered.

"Battlemaster." He nodded, earning a look and, after a moment, a nod from the Krogan before he took off.

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The old gun battery was surrounded on all sides by a sea of rubble but, at the back it was sheltered, and stretched out a few extra dozen feet to either side before it began to come undone. An ancient road stretched out to either side, empty on one and crammed with both ancient crates and newer, Cerberus ones on the other. One side ended in a mostly-intact wall, which told him it was storage, but the other stretched on until the shelter collapsed. And, a mile out, he could see an old exit for some sort of underground highway.

Regardless, they were able to slip out through the open side of the back end without exposing themselves terribly much and hid at its end.

"Human…" His Krogan companion rumbled, leaning a long, dual-tubed launcher with a blocky back end against the wall and turning to him. "What is your name?"

"You already-"

"Not your rank." He grunted, "Your name."

"...John Doe." He answered quietly, "From some dirt-farming colony you'll never have heard of."

"I imagine." The old warrior rumbled, humming quietly and grunting, "Formal name is Krant Tarkat, of clan Krant. Most call me Tar, though."

"A pleasure." He grunted in return, rolling his sore knee and stretching his foot where he'd misstepped earlier. The tension and ache eased, a bit, but lingered enough to be annoying. Quietly, eyes on the sky in the general direction Grunt had given them for a heading, he asked, "Why the formalities?"

"Eh, probably about to die." The soldier sighed, "Prefer to know the names of the warriors I die with."

"Yeah." He nodded, "Fair enough. That launcher looks old."

"It is old." The Krogan huffed, "Made for taking out gunships. One tube loaded, solid spear shot, the other vents the heat. Old, classic Krogan design."

"Long as it works." John frowned, "I was hoping it was a double-barrel…"

"Ah." Tar huffed, "Fair."

"Targets sighted." He warned, standing at the end of the broken road-cover, but dipping back to stay in the shadows. He counted the Kodiaks and frowned, "There's seven, though. Not six."

"Luck comes and goes." Tar growled, stepping past him and kneeling in the rubble. John offered his stomach as what support he could and Tar took it, lining up his shot and humming some sort of melody to himself. "I fire this, they'll know our location."

"I know." John grunted, "Wait until they drop a couple squads. They can't divert them to us if they're already on deck."

"Unless they walk…"

"Down the open tunnel?" John scoffed, "I can only pray."

"Hah." The Krogan grunted a laugh, "Target sighted. I'll fire when I'm ready."

The first two Kodiaks that swept in did so quickly, fanning out in front of the control room and power sector respectively and dropping five Troopers off on each. When nothing happened, two more Kodiaks replaced those and dropped lower, disgorging eight of the more bulky and heavily armored Guardians to join their brethren while two of the three others pulled back and out, towards the low ground to, doubtless, drop off units there, to secure the outer perimeter while the final Kodiak drifted by in the center of the group, over the base.

That was the one Tar targeted, punching an eight foot long spear of solid metal right through its engine compartment and sending it wheeling, sputtering Eezo and fire until the unhappy combination exploded and ripped the shuttle apart.

As soon as the shuttled was broken, gunfire erupted across the entire gun-base as Krogan John knew had been hiding came out to savage the Cerberus attackers. What was happening up there, he couldn't know, but the two remaining Kodiaks swivelled to hover in unison at the edge of the base's raised platform, their side doors opening. A pair of Nemesis snipers stood in each of the open bays, leaning over kneeling Guardians who kept them save from John's peppering automatic fire while they drew sight-lines down on he and his Krogan companion.

A breath before they fired, the one at the rear was thrown forward by an explosion that ripped apart the back two thirds of one of the Kodiaks, and swallowed the other in fire.

"Artemec heard your call and answered, ground team." Their comms crackled as a sleek, silver shape shot by overhead. Two more followed behind it, trailing off to the side as they cut down the last of the Kodiaks that tried to escape, their forces left behind on the gun platform, and John watched them pull up and away in an arc as the comms crackled again, "Fire mission complete."

"Mission effective." John reported, "We're moving to reinforce the base."

"A-firm." Artemec answered, "Withdrawing."

"Come on." He grunted, "We need to-"

"I saw one of the Kodiaks go down over there." Tar cut him of, pointing, "Mostly intact. You go ahead, I'm going to make sure we don't have any surprised waiting."

"Copy." He nodded, turning and heading up the dark, ruined tunnel back the way they'd come.

The sheltered road was relatively clear of fallen debris, but that was relative to Tuchanka. So he had to scramble between and over broken segments of road, fallen support struts, and a Tomkah laid from one end of the sheltered road to another with a spire of metal punched into its hull. What story that pointed to, he had no idea or time to consider.

Instead, he focused on rushing the ten foot shear wall a few feet ahead of him.

Leaping, he ran up it like he had in basic and grabbed at the lip of the ridge with one hand, using the other to pitch his rifle up and then dragging himself up. The sound of fighting was cacophonous now, so no one heard him as he recovered and padded over to one of a few stacks of crates scattered along the way to the ancient depot. Peering around the corner, he took stock.

Two more dead Krogan lay on the ground, one at the base of the ladder into the small storage area and the other a few feet away from the ramp up at the front, in front of the control bay. But they were surrounded by four dead soldiers each, mostly Troopers. But the one in the storage area had punched a Guardian shield through its owners' stomach with enough force to bury it in one of the ancient crates.

"Grunt." He spoke over the radio, "What's the condition inside?"

"Bad!" He snapped, "I'm down to two Krogan left in here - we're getting hammered!"

"The room off the storage area, just up the ladder," he started, "what's there?"

"Pair of Guardians and a Centurion, holding the flank while the rest push the- Fuck!" He heard Grunt snarl and the heavy echo of a heavy shotgun from the top of the stairs. "Nine, now, pushing up the stairs- Alternating fire so I can't do shit!"

"I'll deal with the rear-guard." He said, pulling a pair of grenades off his belt and slipping around the crates, keeping them between him and the rest of the base. "Then flank."

"Copy." He grunted, "Where's-"

"Clearing stragglers out in the rubble." He cut him off as he advanced on the ladder. "Cutting comms- Can't risk it."

He didn't wait for an answer, instead cutting the connection and setting his rifle against the wall at the base of the ladder. Quiet as a mouse, he climbed the ladder until he could peer over the top.

The access-area had two doors to either side of a wall with a mounted display that had long since died, where a Centurion leaned in safe cover, peeking out to assess the situation inside the control room - a valuable insight for commanding the frontal assault. His Guardians knelt in the door to either side, sheltering behind their shields while rounds bounced off them, their heavy hand-cannons tucked safely inside and heads down, below their visor slits. They'd be depending on the Centurion for spotting.

And none were looking his way.

Climbing up he primed both grenades in each hand and stepped forward, pitching each at the floor right behind the Guardians. The Centurion noticed immediately and turned, bringing his Harrier around, but John had already turned and dropped the five or six feet down from the landing. About three hundred pounds of man, equipment and armor slammed into the ground and he tumbled as the grenades went off, ripping anyone inside apart in a spray of shrapnel and debris.

Ignoring the ache in his leg, he forced himself up and collected his rifle, limping to the edge of the building and taking a breath as he peaked around-

And ducked back as a spray of fire from one of four Troopers, covered by a protective Guardian, advancing on his position ripped apart the concrete. So, the Centurion had called men back before he realised he was dead…

Great.

They had him covered, but not pinned, so he pulled his last grenade and stepped back, using his Omni-Tool to slather it in Gel and then slapping it at the corner on a remote timer. A neat little function of the grenades he'd been issued that he definitely appreciated. Retreating into the storage bay, he took cover behind a crate and leaned out, spraying a hose of automatic fire around the corner as though he were warding them off. A tactic to lure in the near-suicidal Cerberus soldiers.

The Guardian appeared first, and John made a show of spraying his shield in a burst of fire before heavy rounds ripped apart ancient, rusted metal and he scrambled away.

"Pinned!" The Guardian reported, "Flank him!"

John waited four seconds before he triggered the grenade and the world around him was awash in shrapnel, smoke and a deafening thump. But, deaf or not, he didn't linger as he finished reloading and stepped around the corner.

The explosive had killed the Guardian and a Trooper, but the armored bulk of the Guardian had taken enough of the blast that the others were bloodied but standing. He poured five rounds into two of their stomachs as they raised their weapons and stumbled. The rounds ripped apart their less-protected mid-sections and they fell, but the third managed a burst from his submachine gun that peppered along John's chest and arms, and put a hole clean through his rifle.

Abandoning it, he rushed the Trooper and drew his knife, bowling over the still disoriented soldier as he fumbled to reload his own weapon.

They fell and the more powerful Trooper drove a fist into his stomach that made him retch. But John ignored it, raising his combat knife and burying it in the man's throat. Still the Trooper fought, pummeling another powerful blow into his stomach that forced spittle and bile out of his mouth and against the inside of his visor. But John just ripped the knife to the side, opening the man's throat before rolling off of him and staggering up, clutching his stomach and reaching up to wrench his helmet off - he could hardly see, now.

Sucking in breath, he spun and raised his knife as heavy footsteps echoed in his ears.

"Blue." Grunt snapped, holding up a hand and shaking his head as he stepped on one of the dying Troopers and crushed his neck. Looking around he rumbled, "Well… Good work."

"Yeah…" He sighed, retrieving his helmet and yanking out his canteen to wash the inside out before it stuck and stank. "What next?"

"Pick-up." He grunted, jerking his head back they way they'd come. "Fifteen minutes - we'll be replaced with a garrison and ground crew. But we get to fire the big bitch before they get here."

"The Destroyer?"

"Mhm." Grunt nodded, "Figured you'd enjoy the show."

Smiling, he followed the alien up the ramp. And, true to Grunt's expectations, the light-show was positively stupendous, splattering oranges and blues across the darkening sky as the destroyer descended on them in a desperate bid to get under the firing range of the gun.

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Gentle reminder for those that will be upset by the latter bit of fighting-

John is largely unaltered Human, while to my knowledge ALL Cerberus soldiers - especially Guardians - are HEAVILY augmented for strength. So brawling with one like he does here would earn some bruises. He still won, tho.

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RandomReader :

The pods need a stronger generator because, unlike Kodiaks, they don't LAND. They CRASH. They need stronger generators for systems to mitigate that impact. In canon, when a Kodiak lands, its inertial systems almost always fail to compensate entirely. Which is fine, for a ship not meant to smack into shit. But the pods ARE meant for that.

See, negating the mass isn't an on/off switch. You're negating the effects the mass HAS in resultant physical reactions. For instance, negating the mass of an inert rock would be far easier - so to speak - than negating the mass of the SAME ROCK moving at a million miles an hour and slamming into something. Eezo generators on larger ships are larger for this purpose - a dreadnought requires more to mitigate its size and momentum than, say, a fighter.

As a slight but not really spoiler - these are also experimental and the pods' generators are JUST A BIT overtuned and oversized for their role.

Also, yeah, I like to humanize and victimize the Cerberus soldiers when I can lol. As you said, a great many are just victims. Even soldiers that enlisted prior to everything kicking off likely didn't sign up for the level of control and augmentation they were submitted to - something which is hinted at in logs found on one of teh N7 missions.

Lea :

Ye. Back to back action chapter for yall lol. As hard as THOSE always are to do.