September 28, 2186

"It's gone dark."

"So quickly?"

"They were weakened already because of the war," Garrus made a lame attempt to soften the news to the turians around him. His blue eyes drifted over the twenty or so cadets that had just come to Menae a day ago. All of them were looking at him.

He sighed and looked away from them towards the walls of their base of operation. They were strong, built into the very moon itself, protecting the supplies, the living quarters and the communications tower. The main frame was embedded deep in the camp with General Corinthus manning the seat. These new faces all came with him.

It would seem that the news about the attacks on the Batarians and the Earthlings had sent a panic through the Hierarchy. When the same news was tangled with a Turian colony, the Turians could no longer put off the threat. The reports from Palaven explained the influx of military movement. Full platoons were sent to each city to begin war-time readiness. They had always been ready, the Turians, it was in their nature to have more war-assets than any other. They were predators. Down to the last fledgling birth. Garrus knew it would not be enough.

He had voiced that to Victus, and the General had grunted out, "It has to be."

It would have to be, Garrus had decided too.

If not – then this was it.

He was under no illusion that Taetrus was the only world in their system that would be attacked.

"It's only been three days..."

"Surely it's a mistake," another cadet offered, he didn't know their names.

Would he even have time to remember them? Garrus' gaze lifted to Palaven, his homeworld, beautiful and proud in the sky above its moon and he almost felt himself mewl at the sight. As if his soul knew what his mind fought against. He shook his head, "No," he deadpanned, looking towards the others, "It's not. Taetrus went dark forty-two minutes ago. We have had no communication make it through nor any coming back."

"What does that mean?" A female cadet asked from the back.

Garrus looked at her wide yellow eyes and frowned as his own mind went to Solona. He needed to reach out to them. He had been so busy. He needed them to... what? Leave? He almost scoffed aloud at his own thoughts. They would never abandon their homeworld.

"It means," Garrus sighed, "That whatever is happening, we have to stop. Four fleets are being sent through the relay to help with the attack on Taetrus. No," he held his hand up, silencing questions he knew would be asked, "I do not know the names of the ships, they will be relayed via comms. The assault is just one of the many arms of the Hierarchy. They are establishing the Homeland Security, the stations on other worlds are being brought back to Palaven, and this moon – is going to be the last link of defense."

"Wait," the Solona-look-alike cut in, "If they withdraw military weight from our other colonies, what happens to them?"

Garrus sighed and looked her dead in the eye. "Not all will be coming to aid."

"That's no answer," another cadet sneered.

"What aren't you saying, Mr. Vakarian?"

"Tell them," the deep and smokey voice cut into the conversation. Garrus looked towards Victus and glared. He had disappeared the moment the news about Earth and Khar-shan had made airways. He wanted to punch him. He felt the tension in his shoulders all the way down to his talons that felt as if they were begging for blood. His anger towards Victus was unwarranted, he knew, but he felt it none-the-less.

"Why don't you, General," he spat and took a step backwards, motioning for the dark turian to step into his place, Garrus slapped his heels into attention and grasped his hands behind his back.

Victus frowned, one mandible shifting up then slapping down in one of his tells of confusion, it was a small movement, one that was nearly hidden in the way he had turned his head towards the gathered cadets. But Garrus saw it. Good, you should be annoyed. As am I. Garrus glared at the turian's profile.

"Vakarian has been working with Commander Shepard, of the Alliance, for the last," he paused here, looking up to the planet above them, "Four years," the words held weight to them. Garrus understood. He understood exactly what that weight was. It was the combined weight of worlds that would fall, lives that would be lost – four years too late. Four years. "The Attack on the Citadel was made by a race of unknown origins. It was believed that the Geth had hired them to help overtake the space," he shook his head, "We were wrong. All of us."

"It is not the Geth?"

"No," Victus would answer, "Do you believe that the Geth could penetrate our borders? Do you think that the Turian could not defeat the Quarian's failure? No, this is beyond Geth. I do not know that name of what is attacking, but the earthling," Victus looked towards Garrus – an apology in his eyes, "Commander Shepard," he corrected himself, "Has deemed them, 'The Reapers'."

A small chuckle came from somewhere in the mix of faces and Garrus' anger flared. "Do you think it's funny?"

Wide sea-green eyes landed on his burning gaze as he stepped towards the younger turian, "Just one," he glared hard, "Just one took out an entire fleet of humans. One, did so much damage to the Citadel that they are still repairing portions of the arms. Just one – Cadet..."

"Axens, sir."

"Cadet Axens, tell me, what do you think four of those beings can do?" He raised a taloned hand and motioned to the lot of turians standing, "An entire platoon of twenty or more?"

"But the humans ships are subpar," another cadet argued. "Turians have been in flight for centuries, our strength is greater..."

"Have you forgot the First Contact War?" Victus cut in, "They held their own as whelps against us. But we are not here to discuss our allies with distrust."

"That's what they are then?" The Solona-look-alike asked. "Our allies?"

Garrus nodded, "Every breathing being in our galaxy is our ally, the Batarians," a collective disgust echoed after the word, "The Elcor, the humans, the drell," he looked directly at Victus, "the Krogan."

"Is it truly this bad?"

Victus looked towards Garrus and answered the question directed towards the both of them, "Yes."

They paused for a moment, allowing the words to settle before Victus continued, "We will prepare, that is what this operation is about. We have planted rogue communications, within the skies around our planets – they are unmanned and minute, it's with these that whatever news we can gather on our enemies can be relayed to our allies across the galaxy."

"But, General Victus sir," a cadet that had been stoic and quiet the entire time spoke, his deep voice a sharp contrast to his smaller frame, "Apologies, for interrupting, but if it is as bad as you both are saying, what good will it be to communicate to others if they are being attacked like Earth and Khar-shan?"

"All the good in the world can be the communications given in wartime. If the humans fall, if the Turian, if the Asari – perhaps it will be the last of us to rally, the peaceful Elcor and the Hanar so deeply involved in their Encompassing – communication is knowledge, young one. It is the most important weapon in our arsenal. It can both win wars and lose them. That...that is why we are here." He pointed towards the comm tower just on the other side of the base, "This is our mission. We defend this moon – we defend that communications tower – and we fight."

September 30, 2186

He was corned in his tent by Victus two minutes ago and neither one of them had spoken. Garrus had been actively avoiding the turian. It was easy to do. The more communication of the destruction of the Batarian space that reached them, the harder it propelled the cause.

Victus sighed, "They are sending the fleets in 72hours. The General from Chatti will be joining them."

"What happened to Rocan?"

"They're gone."

"How?"

They both knew how. The Reapers were working from the outside and moving inward. They wanted to push the Turians to Palaven. As much as it irked Garrus that it was working, it was also the only way to fight against them. He knew from firsthand experience that it would take a large-scale attack against the Reapers to even have a chance at defeating them.

It worried him tremendously that if the numbers of the enemies mirrored their own – that -

"What about Earth?" he asked quietly.

Victus moved from the doorway and sat down on the cot beside him. "They are fighting," came the answer, "From what we have been able to see and intercept, they are holding."

Garrus nodded, "You disappearing is getting annoying."

"I have other matters that take precedence over the commanding of these cadets, Vakarian."

"Seems like that is counter-productive," he glared hard towards Victus, "What could be more important than this moon? For fucks sake, Victus, we both know that this dark outpost is what's going to help Palaven the most when...yes, when...the Reapers get here. And it..." he shook his head, taking off his visor and rubbing a hand down his face, "Its..."

"I was ensuring my son was not planet side."

Garrus blinked and stared at the visor in his hands, "Where is he?"

"The platoon he is Commanding is being sent to the Traxin."

"The abandoned minefield?"

Victus nodded, "Not so abandoned," one shoulder pulled upward in a very-unAdrien move. "It has stores of supplies, material really, that Palaven will need. He was ordered to move some to strategic points."

"Mums the word," Garrus nodded at the vague information given. He also felt incredibly guilty for feeling angry with Victus for his absence. He had forgotten about Tarquin. "Have you discussed the Reapers with him?"

"I have."

"Difficult conversation, then."

"Surprisingly," Victus would say, his gaze dropping to the visor in Garrus' hands, "No."

It felt like there was a whole conversation behind that one word that Garrus was missing out on. He wanted to ask more questions, he wanted all the answers, hearing Victus speak to him and not at him was doing wonders for his mental state. The truth was, if he wanted to be honest with himself (which he did not) - he was terrified. Not about the Reapers, pft, no – they would come. His fear? That his last moments with Shepard had been with her in handcuffs telling him to keep fighting.

Shepard could be dead.

Again.

And he would never truly know it. Not when the Reapers got to Palaven. He would be too busy fighting to think about her. And that thought scared him most. She was important and yet in this moment, she seemed so far away. So miniscule.

"Have you heard any chatter about the Normandy?" He asked.

"Yes."

The breath in him was promptly removed as he looked towards Adrien, "What?"

Adrien grinned, "It made it off Earth, last intel was it had made it to Mars."

"To Mars?" His brow plates furrowed, and he frowned deeply. The fuck was mars?

"It's the third planet from Sol, I believe..."

"Why would they go there?"

Adrien didn't answer, but he did reach out and take the visor out of Garrus' hands. His eyes lingered on the names etched there. He sighed, "I would like to think something important," he thumbed over Krul's name before he placed the visor between them on the cot. "If this is to be the end of things, Garrus, I hope that every decision made is important. That every race, tries."

Garrus nodded, "The humans are tough."

"Are they?"

He grinned and nodded, "They fight when the rest of us would deem the cause lost. I have followed on small, tiny little red fringed female through the Omega-4 and live to tell you about it. And it was not just her, it was not just me, it was a handful of species coming together and that – that is how we did it. That..." Garrus stilled. His mind was working a mile a minute. That is how they would win. He dropped his gaze to his visor and snatched it up, slipping it onto his head, "That is how this will play out. Not Turians against the Reapers or Humans against them – but all of us."

Victus nodded, "It will take every one of us."

"Yes," he turned his attention fully towards the General, "All of us."

"They won't work with us," he answered the unspoken topic.

"We will have to make them." Garrus vowed.

October 2, 2186

The attack on the Reapers at Taetrus had begun. The first two fleets through the relay had been total losses. The third had skirted through with heavy loss and the fourth and made it with far less. The battle, or slaughter – Garrus had realized – lasted just over seven hours.

The overall demand for retribution had the Hierarchy preparing for another assault. Garrus knew that it was a wasted effort. The intel that had been sent back during the first wave was daunting. The numbers of Reapers were in the thousands. They were slow, but they had very little else to go on. Not a single fighter or freighter had been able to get close enough to warrant enough intel to even feel like there was a slight advantage with the second assault.

But the Turian people were angry.

And if it was one thing that the Turian Hierarchy would cave to – it was the snarled voice of its people demanding blood.

October 5, 2186

With every failure – something is gained. The second wave of attacks through the relay had followed the sending of warp bombs first to clear the space on the other side. It was a tactic that helped the two fleets that went in after them survive for longer than the first wave, but they went down – unit by unit.

The images that were being broadcast by the Reapers of Vallen, the capital of Taetrus, were terrifying. There was nothing left. The great buildings constructed mirroring those on Palaven were destroyed. The rubble left was nothing but rocks and metal. The sounds of death were broadcasted through all communication channels. The screams of their brethren echoed in the Turian hearts far and wide.

It was a tactic that would have worked in the Reaper's favor, had the Turian been a weaker species. It did not make them lose their heads, in fact, it did the opposite. Their anger turned to determination; their fear turned to acceptance.

If the Reapers wanted a war – they would get one.

Military presence in the Palaven airspace became thick. The outer colonies had gone underground, the cities on Palaven were evacuating to the furthest colonies to join them. Women with fledglings were the only ones allowed to evacuate. Women without younglings were encouraged to join arms. The whelps ages 8-15 were armed. All other women and males took to posts.

The Turian people were fighters. He had told Shepard that once.

He had not heard anything more of the Normandy and he had not been able to find confirmation that Shepard had been on her. He had to hope that she was. Though with her being in 'prison' he doubted it. What was going on in the other part of the Galaxy was out of reach for him to dwell on though.

His day to day was the fortification of Menae. At least seventeen more platoons had been stationed, all beginning to build back up comm towers that would stay dark until the one before it went dead. They were strategically placed over the entire moon, if the Reapers wanted to find them, they would have to come down to the surface to search. The battle on Menae would be on foot.

Everyone knew it.

The materials that had been sent to the moon in the last forty-eight hours were proof that the Primarch knew it too.

"We just got word," General Corinthus would catch his attention, "The Reapers are moving toward the relay."

Garrus' spine tingled with the news, fear unburdened flooded through his conscious, "When?"

"They are on the move now – but," he reached over the hologram before him and motioned for Garrus to come closer, he watched as he pointed out two carriers, "Fleet Admiral Irix Coronati has come up with a plan," he pointed towards the relay, Garrus' gaze lingered on his hand before he lifted his chin to look at the relay in the distant sky. Too far away for him to see the two carriers, but the distinct shape of the relay was visible. "The Undaunted and the Resolute," the General would continue, "The two carriers will be left unmanned, and the techs have hacked the fighters to fly at the first wave of Reapers that come through."

"What good will that do?" Garrus turned to look at the General.

He smirked, "They're to gather intel, Vakarian."

He smiled slowly, "But the fighters can't communicate without being manned."

"They are distractions," the older Turian stood taller, he looked up towards the relay in the sky, "Spy drones will be released as well."

"This is a crazy last-minute plan," Garrus would comment, with a shake of his head.

"Some of the best made plans happen fifteen minutes before the breach, Vakarian, war is not linear. Its -"

Both went silent when the relay began to glow in the distance. The tell-tale sign of an arrival piercing into the sky.

The Reapers were here.

October 11, 2186

There was to be a Summit. That was all he had heard before the first forces of Reapers had been dropped on the moon.

Victus had not had time to finish what he was telling him about it before they dispatched a platoon to go take care of the first wave. It was imperative that they killed the forces quickly as to not allow information back to the Reapers.

They were lucky so far, it was only husks.

Husks were easy to put down, easy to destroy. But they were plentiful. When you killed one – three more seemed to take its place.

The battle was ongoing.

"It won't be long before more forces will be sent here," Garrus told the cadets that were manning the walls, "Do not waste," he snarled at the youngling behind the turrets, "These on the husks, use your low power rifles, no," he snapped again, "Not your snipers either – take them out with pistols and shotgun, we will need the firepower later."

"How do you know?" The turian at the turret asked as he let go of the handles, he was displeased to not be able to use the gun, it would seem.

"Because in war, the privates are first -" he frowned, "They are sent in waves to scope out the forces, to see where we are, to see where are big guns are - " he eyed the turrets and then looked towards the tower, "Where the main base is," Garrus glared hard at the youngling, "Stop showing them our strengths, Cadet – use your pistol."

As Garrus walked away from the wall, he found the sounds of pistol shots to be a lullaby. He was tired. Spirits, he should have slept more during the waiting , not that the fight was here it was ridiculous to even think about sleeping. He shook his head and moved through the camp, seeing Victus and his forty-five strong standing in front of the west entrance.

"What's this?" he asked as he came to stand beside Victus.

"Large influx of Reaper forces just southwest from here," Victus pointed toward the wall, "Reporting back that it's not just husks."

"Well, that was a nice short stint of easy," Garrus frowned. "You don't look scoped."

"I don't have a sniper in my unit," Victus sighed, "We lost our two last night. They were swarmed."

"Spirits."

Being alone now meant danger. With no one to watch your back, the husks could sneak up and overwhelm you easily.

"I'll come," Garrus volunteered. "Just give me a backpack."

It was a term coined for a youngling that shouldn't even be on the moon. They were armed with pistols and a light backpack that had rations and bullets. Their main mission was to be scouts, quick and agile.

"Zinton," Victus barked, and both watched a small female approach - the Solona-look-alike, she snapped her heels and saluted. Victus nodded once, "You're being assigned to Vakarian, watch his back, he'll keep you alive."

The blue eyes of the small thing looked up to him with a fierceness that didn't match her younger appearance, "Yes sir, General Victus."

"You take your backpack to the large canyon then; we are to go into it."

"That doesn't sound like a good idea," Garrus would tell him, frowning, "Only two ways back up from the bottom, Victus, why go down there at all?"

"They planted their own link."

He shook his head, "Already-" he looked up into the sky and glared at the unending field of Reapers. It had been a sight to watch them all pour through the relay, one by one falling into position. Even Garrus had been shocked when the intel from the spy drones had indicated that the Reaper forces had different size ships. The destroyers were the quickest, but the bigger Reapers like Sovereign, now called Capital Ships, were the deadliest. One wave of their cannons could take out an entire fleet if it were too close.

He shook his head, the last thing Menae needed was to get on their radar.

"If they establish a link and then it's destroyed," he looked to Victus, and the General's frown was all he needed to know. They would no longer be in the dark. "Lead the way."

Adrien reached out and clasped his shoulder roughly, his pale eyes locking onto Garrus', "We fight until the last bullet," he said to him, but then turned to his platoon, who all chorused, "And then we use teeth."

He was tired of hearing that. Garrus knew it was supposed to rally him, to make him want to fight. This old Turian saying. But it left him feeling hollow just the same.

October 13, 2186

"How long have you known General Victus?"

Garrus' attention was down the scope of his M-29. He had been using the Incisor since Thane had educated him on the simplicity of the mechanism. The weight was lighter as well. When he had used his widow to put a bullet in the back of Sidonis' skull – Garrus had felt as if he would never be able to use it again.

Thane had given him his second.

He wondered for a moment where the drell was and how he was doing. He frowned, realizing that he had not been able to reach anyone in a long time. Not with what was going on. The last bit of information he had had on any of them had been over four months ago.

He could only hope that – well – that they were alive.

"Since I was your age," he answered when he saw the General clear the area. His position was supposed to be quiet. Naturally. He had yet to fire a single shot. That was the goal of being the sniper in a Turian platoon.

His bullets were supposed to be the last to use.

"You realize I have no idea how old you are," she would remark, he could feel her at his back, her body heat indicating that she was closer than most backpacks were comfortable being. So far, she has been invaluable. She would rather take out the few husks that had found them with her own hands, versus firing a shot. He had watched her several times take out five or more with her small blade and brute force.

She fought like Krul. She fought in the way that the clan-less learned. Through trial and error on the streets.

"It's been a decade or more," he supplied, not fully knowing the true number of years. "Sixty." He would say – she moved with him, back-to-back sixty paces due north until he could see the entirety of the platoon again. Three different groups moving down the slope of the canyon. He had been shocked to see one of them was literally climbing down.

The two of them settled on a ledge and Garrus peered down his scope, he could see Victus in the middle of his men, commanding with hand signals. Three of his men stopped moving and settled on the path, another wave in case needed – Garrus assumed.

"My parents were on Taetrus."

Fuck. Garrus' mandibles pinched inward at her words. Another orphan. Perhaps? "They might be there still," he offered, not looking at her, focusing on the turian in his sites – he moved to angle and look around them, trying to find any enemies on their flank.

"Mom would have been killed immediately," her voice was sure, "She's a weak sort, Dad though – he may still be alive. He kind of has a bunker. End of days kind of ordeal."

Garrus smirked, "Smart to have, now, I suppose."

"Yeah, people used to make fun of him," she said with a heavy bitterness, "I bet they wished they had been kinder now."

Garrus blinked and looked over his shoulder, "If your dad were a good man, he would help all who need it."

She looked over her own shoulder at him and shrugged, "He isn't."

Well shite. He chuckled and looked back through his scope, "For what it's worth – my family is back on Palaven."

"Yeah?" He could almost feel her move her head to look skyward.

"Right in the big orange-on-fire region," he would answer.

"It doesn't feel real," she whispered, "All of this. It feels like I am stuck in a dream I can wake up from."

"Nightmare, more like it," he corrected, and she scoffed. He heard her feet shift and she tapped his right hip one, two, three, four, five, six – shit – too many, he laid his sniper down and turned his back on the platoon to stand at her back.

It wasn't husk.

It looked like – he squinted and pushed her down further into a low squat, it looked like Batarians! What in the... but they were deformed with normal bodies, but huge sacks of, was it puss? Muscle? Their skin looked pulled too tight and was bright crimson brown as if they were burned.

"What are they?" She whispered.

"Enemies," he answered and cursed silently when one of them turned their strange off-center head their way. He screamed and raised one hand – bullets flying their way. Zinton rolled to the right just as he rolled to the left. Her small body quickly got back onto its feet as she moved her pistol upward, sending three shots into two of them.

Two bullets hit the first one right in the head. The last bullet hitting a second being in its bulking sack. It screeched angrily and fired rapidly in her direction.

Garrus had to trust her. He pulled his rifle off his back and sprinted away from Zinton to get in a better flank position. If he could get them to split their firepower, it would help them be able to pick them off.

Zinton took down another one before Garrus even took a shot.

Three fell quickly once his rifle got involved, but the shrieking sound behind them caused his attention to waver. Zinton popped another two bullets into one of the batarian-look-alikes just as Garrus zoned in on another ...turian? It...no...it looked.. .he stumbled. His rifle came up to shoot at the beast.

They had morphed into a turian! It was black and glowed eerily as it moved, its fringe splayed like a crown as its features seemed exaggerated and far too angular to ever have been a living turian. He prayed that it had never been one. That it was some lab rat gone wrong. He hoped to the spirits that he wasn't shooting one of his own. One that had been taken by these beasts.

He unloaded the rifle into the creature with a bit too much anger.

Too much fear.

Too much disgust.

He distantly heard another pop pop pop from Zinton.

The enemy laid dead.

And his trigger finger felt unsatisfied.

"We need to move," her voice broke into his haze. He could feel his body shuddering, his plates trying to shift into attack mode. His talons had inched forward, his stance tall and angled. He glared hard at her when she approached. "Calm the hell down, Vakarian, let's go!"

He followed her quickly, determined to get as far away from the monstrosities as possible.

October 14, 2186

"Garrus," Victus' voice came into his earpiece.

"Adrien," he returned.

"We have a problem," came the Generals reply.

"I can see that," he countered.

They had gone down into a trap. As predicted. The only thing about this was that the Turian brood were strong, clever and were not known to be easily thwarted. The comm link that had been planted at the bottom of the canyon was not guarded. One of the techs had gone to dismantle whatever could be transmitting only to find the equipment missing. Nothing was there. Nothing but a small pulse emitter that imitated the pings of a comm tower.

"Where are they?"

"Seventy-score to the east, heading your way fast. There is another swarm behind you." He swept his gaze to note the fight going on between the husks and the platoon members that had been left on the trail. "It's all husks behind you – new enemies in front. They have weapons. Shoot the big fat one's in the head and the ones that look like us in the chest."

"Like us?"

"Yes - like us."

"Wher..." the commination buzzed out.

"Victus?" Garrus tried, a frown full on his features, he zeroed in his scope on the General and saw him trying to speak on his own headset.

Their communication was down.

Fuck.

He looked over his shoulder to Zinton, "Comms are down."

"They had seven minutes," she would tell him as if he didn't know already. Seven minutes to get it back up and running or the next comm tower would activate on minute eight. Eight minutes was a wide window – but they knew that a fight would be happening. They needed time. And they needed to ensure that the backup towers stayed dark for as long as possible. They couldn't risk losing them all so soon in the fight.

He looked back through his scope and sighed as he saw the General using the old hand signals. Stop. Post. Garrus squinted. Rear guard. Ah, so he was going to get his arse out of the canyon. Smart turian. There was no point staying down there.

Garrus heard her engines before he saw the vessel.

He would recognize those engines anywhere. He looked up from his scope and towards the sky just in time to see the Normandy swoop down and land a few kilometers in the east. At base. His entire being froze at the sight. The Normandy. His home was here. He gulped and looked towards Zinton who was watching him with a confused look on her face.

He had not realized his subvocals had roared to life. Hope, fear, love, nervousness all warred outward as he had watched the ship land. His internal battle of should he stay or should he go. He frowned. He had to stay. The General needed him. But...

"Garrus," Zinton reached out and placed her hand on his forearm, "The General needs you first."

And she was right.

"Let's get them out of there." She pointed towards the canyon, and he nodded once before settling back to look through his scope.

He watched in quiet anticipation as the platoon started backtracking up the canyon. They moved quickly, far less worried about what they might find. At this point whatever they encountered was just another thing they needed to kill. Now that the threat of an enemy comms was muted, survival was all that mattered.

"..ge..f..en!" the link tried to connect in his ear.

"General?!"

"Vakarian!" he heard and veered his scope to the end of the train of turians to zero in on Victus who was fighting at the rear of the returning platoon. The new threats were catching up, sending bullets their way. "Get those things off my men!"

Garrus shifted his attention to the turian-like creatures before he pulled his face back from the scope and glared at the fake-comm tower. He smiled, his mandibles loose, "Zinton, give me the blast-cartridge."

"Really?" Her excitement was laced in her exclamation as she thrusted her hand in the backpack and pulled out the bright orange cartridge.

He clicked to switch out his normal rounds with the blast rounds and aimed back towards the building. "Let's do this," he whispered to himself as he waited. And waited. And waited.

"What are you waiting for?!" Zinton squirmed, she didn't have a scope to look down, but even without one it was clear the distance between the more dangerous front of reaper forces and the General was becoming shorter.

"That!" He shot.

The bullet spiraled down towards the building just as one of the turian-like creatures emerged through its doorway. His bullet missed the creature but lodged itself into its weapon. Garrus grinned. He knew by the sound of it as they had been shot at the day before it was an eezo –fueled design. His grin turned into a full-blown smirk as the blasting round took effect.

It exploded in the gun, causing the creature to crash back into the building just before the blast mixed with the escaped eezo and created an explosion that rocked the very building and caused it to collapse downward on the creatures that had been moving through it.

Garrus let out three more shots, directly into the guns of the approaching horde.

They reacted like mindless zombies, he realized, no thought other than to kill. When his bullets exploded and caused more catastrophe, taking out their entire platoon in just four rounds – he realized that the Reapers were using the old-Krogan rebellion tactics. Sheer numbers were their only true power.

Zinton gasped behind him, and he looked to her and then followed her gaze up to the sky as Turian fighters flew over them, their bullets raining down on the large husk horde that stood in between Victus on the top of the canyon.

"Come on!" He would tell her as he stood and turned back towards camp.

The two of them moved far quicker this time, no reason to be stealthy. He could hear distance shooting from the opposite side of the camp, nearer to the comm tower and he wondered how much longer this base would last.

"We left the General," Zinton grunted as they ran.

"He'll be fine," Garrus assured, "We have birds in the air now."

"Why though?" She asked, "I thought this was supposed to be an unknown."

Why indeed. He frowned at her question. He honestly did not know why the fighters had come to Menae. Something must have changed. Something big. He hoped that he could get some answered when he got back to General Corinthus.

"They wouldn't be here unless they were told to be here."

"That scares me a little more than not knowing," the youngling would say as the two of them rounded a large rock, both looking to the base in the distance. His feet came to a sudden halt when he saw something flying in the sky just south of it.

"Spirits," he would say in a breathless whisper, he reached out to grab Zinton's shoulder. "Would you look at that!"

"What is it?"

"I...I don't know.." but they both knew they needed to get back to base before it noticed them alone.

It didn't take much longer before they were being let back through the rear doors, he looked towards Zinton and she smiled softly towards him before she made off towards the rations table. They hadn't had anything substantial in two days – her young body would be famished.

Hell, his was.

But he could hear General Corinthus speaking in the distance, and he moved towards him, "...succession is usually simple, but right now, the Hierarchy is in chaos. So many dead or MIA.."

He was cut off by a fierce feminine voice, "I need someone, I don't care who. As long as they can get us the Turian resources we need."

Garrus nearly lost his footing. He almost keened right there. He knew that voice. He knew that voice. It was hers. Garrus stepped forward quickly, moving to the platform with his rifle in hand, "I'm on it Shepard," he would say, looking to the General before turning to set his gaze onto her, "We'll find you the Primarch."