Resistance

Retaliation

….

A/N: You'd think by now that the Reapers would retaliate. After a few weeks of just going about their regular Reaper lives, they would do something about the whole futile human resistance thing.

Well, the shoe's about to drop.

On a brief side note, I was just told that The Homefront is on TvTropes's Mass Effect Recs, which is AWESOME to hear.

….

Coats

"So how much do they know about us?"

"We're not sure." Anderson was staring at the command console in consternation, his hand pinched at his chin. "It depends on whether any of their planted agents were able to get the information out. Atlas?"

The big man shrugged. In the last two days, Atlas had gathered everyone who had been successfully evacuated from Harlow district and systematically cut off and interrogated each person. It hadn't really been a popular decision among the base personnel, but it was Atlas. The agents who had tried to run but were instantly cut down and beaten. None of them had yet to talk. "There were three other indoctrinated that we were able to uncover. As far as we've been able to tell, they haven't left the base. But they could have other means of communicating."

"The civilians have been here for a couple of days now," said Clark grimly, folding his arms. "If they wanted to get word out, they had the chance."

"Can anyone just leave base?" asked Coats. "If they wanted to tip off the Reapers, the guards at the gates would have noticed them."

"I like to give the Reapers more credit," said Anderson, shaking his head. "Like Atlas said, they might have had other ways to communicate with their masters."

"Is it even possible to evacuate this base?" said Coats. If the Reapers have us made and they know we have their agents, they could quite literally come at any time. "There's a lot of bodies here. And we'd be short a resistance base to house everyone."

"It's true that this is by far the single largest base we have in the city," Anderson admitted, looking doubtful now. "And we've only increased our numbers since we built it. We won't evacuate unless we have no other options. But that deadline is getting closer."

"Our other strongholds should be enough," said Atlas confidently. "And we have contingency plans in place for this kind of thing. I'm going to go ahead and start prepping the evac."

Anderson nodded, and Atlas left the command center. "What's this evac plan?" asked Coats, gesturing towards the door. "Since Atlas isn't in a hurry to tell us."

"It's something he and I developed when the resistance was first formed," answered Anderson, looking at the both of them. His hand flew across the console and an 3-D rendering of the base appeared, floating gently above the projector.

"Since this area has become our base of operations, we made sure certain security precautions were in place before we began setting up shop here. The base is built in the rough shape of a square, with the most vital areas located in the center. But the command center isn't actually in the center; our escape route is."

The center of the base became highlighted in red. "When we send people out on missions, they usually use the north or south exits to gain access to the sewer systems. We actually have a manhole into the sewers in the base itself, but we don't use it. In the event that our people are compromised, the Reapers won't know about our backup plan. Aside from Atlas, myself, and Aron, the other captain you met, no one on base knows about this escape route."

Anderson gestured to the other parts of the base now. "In the event the Reapers attack, the base folds in on itself. Essential equipment and personnel are moved into the sewers first, followed by the next priorities and so on. Once people are evacuated, we detonate charges strategically placed around the center of the base to shut off access. Everyone moves into designated bases around the city."

The map hologram winked out and a map of the city suddenly expanded to fill the space. Several buildings dotted around the city center flashed red. Anderson pointed to the northernmost one. "That's outpost Alpha, our designated forward operating base. You and the rest of your team will report here, along with myself, the other commanding officers, and around twenty men. There are hardlines connecting each outpost so that we can still coordinate strikes. It takes a while to set all of this up, so we'll need all the time we can get, which is why Atlas is prepping the evacuation now."

"Do you think we'll need it?" said Coats.

Anderson sighed. "Our scouts in the field haven't picked up any unusual troop movements, but as you've all seen, the Reapers can move their forces quickly. We might not know until it's too late."

"Nothing we can do about it," said Clark, leaning forward on the table. "Will this affect our ability to act out Tip of the Spear?"

"It will affect the speed of execution," said Anderson, frowning. "But it won't stop us. As long as we get certain assets into place, it shouldn't be an issue."

"What's the timeline on an evac of the base?" Clark glanced around the room. "A lot of important equipment just in this room. And how can we help?"

"We'll need a couple of hours at least," replied Anderson, looking dubious. "That being said, there will inevitably be complications. Nothing ever translates smoothly from paper to action."

Anderson turned off the console. The hologram disappeared, and Coats blinked as his eyes readjusted themselves to the room's dim lighting. "The most helpful thing you can do right now is to brief your team and be ready to move at a moment's notice. All resistance operations, except for a select few recon missions, are on hold. You're all stood down until we can assess the threat. When the evacuation alert is sent out, report in the canteen just outside this room."

"Yes, sir," said Coats and Clark, and they filed out of the room. Once the door had closed behind them, Coats sighed as he put a hand on Clark's shoulder. "James, we need to talk."

"About what?" said Clark, raising an eyebrow. His shoulders were tense, though, and his jaw was set.

You know what I want to talk about."We've got to talk about Atlas. He's getting a bit out of hand."

Clark seemed to bristle, almost growing defensive for a brief moment before calming, looking almost thoughtful. "How is he getting out of hand?"

"Aside from taking unilateral action in some situations and blatantly ignoring everyone else's opinions and decisions at times," said Coats a bit heatedly. Calm down. An emotional reaction won't help your cause here. "He's also got the mentality that his choices are what's best for everyone. That's not the kind of attitude we need in a situation like this."

"And Anderson knows what's best?" replied Clark, turning around to directly face Coats. "I'll admit Jack can get carried away sometimes, but he makes the hard decisions when no one else wants to. We can't afford the time to sit back and be cautious about every move."

"That's fine and all, but Atlas is making himself out to be the absolute leader. That's the kind of thinking we can't adopt. We either stand together or fall. It's the same thing that happened to Commander Singh."

Clark shrugged. "Take a look at it from his point of view, Coats. A few weeks ago, he and Anderson were leading the resistance against the Reapers. They were being pushed hard, and supplies were running low. Then we arrive and give them some relief. Suddenly, instead of discussing resistance actions with Anderson, he's discussing it with two or three other people. Then we start telling him he's wrong and he's out of line. His concerns are getting shoved aside; he feels alienated. Don't you think that would be just a bit threatening, looking from where he stands?"

Well, it sounds like Atlas has been talking to you about this. But that's not the point here. "I doubt that things were just peachy before we came to Oklahoma. Anderson's an admiral, but he was a soldier before, too. He doesn't stand for any bullshit, and I'm frankly surprised that he's put up with Atlas as long as he has. If you hadn't noticed, Clark, Atlas likes being in charge. Not only because he think he's right, but simply because he likes being in charge. Telling people what to do. There's nothing wrong in taking pride in what you do. But it's when you start sacrificing good judgment and ignoring other people's valuable input that you've crossed the line."

Clark just stared at him. His omni-tool beeped, and the captain glanced down. "I have to go meet Atlas now," he said, shaking his head. "We'll talk later."

Clark disappeared behind the door. Coats sighed. Well. That could have gone better. In any case, he could handle the matter later. Now, he had an invasion to prepare for.

Back at the room, the others were casually sprawled around the room, but the air was tense as Coats walked inside. Four pairs of eyes followed him as he walked over to Emilia, who glanced up when he stopped next to her.

"When do we need to be ready to move?"

"As soon as possible. You need to have one hand on your backpack and the other on the door handle." At the moment, Emilia was lying down on her bed, propped up against the wall. Since she wasn't on active duty, she was dressed in jeans and a plain white t-shirt. Emilia was casually disassembling her pistol, not even looking at her hands as she methodically broke down the gun into pieces and flawlessly putting the pistol back together. Her attention, for the most part, was on Major Coats, who was leaning against one of the other bunks.

"Not a problem," said Emilia, snapping the gun into place. "I learned to stop unpacking after the last few places we stopped at. I'll just put on the armor."

She pulled the slide back and watched it snap back with a satisfying click. "You've talked to Clark?"

"He said something?" said Coats, raising an eyebrow.

Emilia shrugged. "Nah. He came in here right before you got here. Didn't say anything to us, just grabbed his pack and left. It was weird enough to stand out, I guess. I'm guessing you talked to Clark about Atlas?"

Coats nodded. "I don't think he agreed."

"I don't expect him to," said Emilia, running a hand along the surface of her pistol. "He's pretty stubborn. Plus, you know, Atlas is his friend."

"They were friends," said Coats dubiously. "They don't seem to be the best of friends now."

Emilia snorted. "I remember coming back home for shore leave after years of training and combat as a marine. Met some old friends back from high school, and I tried to get to know them, see what kind of people they were after so long."

Coats shook his head. "They weren't how you remembered them?"

"Hell no," said Emilia, holstering her pistol. She looked back up at Coats. "People change over time. Everyone does. You're not the same person you were even a minute ago. After spending so long apart, I realized that my friends and I grew apart. We had absolutely nothing to talk about. It was a pretty short shore leave. I don't even think I have their comm codes anymore."

Emilia stopped and chuckled. "Forget that. Aren't you supposed to be preparing for Reapers attacking or something, Coats?"

Coats nodded. "True. I'll let you pack now."

He stopped by Jarar and Devon next. The two mercenaries were playing chess, using a crudely drawn grid on the table as the board and various objects as the pieces. Devon knocked over one of Jarar's pieces before he looked up at Coats. "How's your head?" Coats asked.

Devon poked his bandaged head, which was wrapped to his forehead. "The docs said I just said a mild concussion," said Devon wryly. "There was some bleeding, but I'll survive. Nothing that will impair readiness." Devon set down the chess piece he was holding and looked up. "Have we been called for a mission?"

Coats shook his head. "We're all stood down at the moment. But a Reaper strike on the base is imminent, and we need to be ready to evacuate as soon as possible."

Jarar's head snapped up as he moved to his feet, a hair faster than Devon as he also stood up. "The indoc was able to get an alert out to the rest of them?" said Devon, grabbing his backpack from his bunk, not slow at all.

"There were three other agents on base," Coats quickly explained. "We're not sure if they were able to communicate anything to the Reapers. But we figured it was better to be safe rather than sorry."

"Can't argue with that."

"Where do we report to once we're ready?" said Krogh from behind Coats.

"I'm thinking you should have specialized in infiltration, Krogh," said Coats as he turned around to face the lieutenant, whose backpack was slung around his back with one strap. "We'll need to report to the canteen. I'm guessing it's one of the only areas big enough enough to hold a good number of people. But don't head there yet; wait for the alert."

Krogh's eyes flickered back and forth as he rapidly ran calculations in his head. "That's near the middle of the base. I take it we're not going out through one of the usual exits?"

"Are you going to add detective skills to your resume too, Krogh?" Coats chuckled. "There's a sewer maintenance hatch that leads straight into the sewers in the center of the base. The Reapers won't know about it and, therefore, won't be prepared."

"Hopefully," Devon grunted as he jammed something into his backpack.

"Hopefully," Coats agreed. He looked around. "Have any of you seen Tacita around?"

Krogh and Devon shook their heads. Jarar, slipping on one of his boots, shrugged. "Last time I saw her, she was hanging around the canteen."

Coats raised an eyebrow. "Tacita? In a public place?"

"Lurking in the shadows around the edge of the room."

"That's more like it."

…..

For being one of two or three turians in this base, Tacita's actually pretty difficult to find. Coats had canvassed the canteen twice now and still hadn't found her. The normally bustling room was almost entirely empty, save for the man that worked behind the counter. Everyone was working to prepare for the evacuation. I really don't want to be the one to hold everyone up just because I can't find one of my teammates. Huh. When did I start considering Tacita as one of my own?

"Major Coats?"

Completely caught off guard, his senses already on alert and his blood pumping, Coats instinctively whirled around and lashed out with an arm at the voice. A firm hand caught his arm and held it lightly in place.

"Tacita," Coats breathed, lowering his guard. The turian nodded and released his arm. "Shit, you caught me by surprise. Where have you been?"

"I have been walking through this base," said Tacita, looking around the relatively large room. "I returned to this room only moments after you passed by where we stand now. I was unsure what you were looking for until I heard you mutter my name."

I was thinking out loud? When was the last time I did that? Has that always happened? Coats banished the stray thoughts from his head. He would worry about that at a later time. "Never mind that. Tacita, you need to report back to your bunk. Pack your things and be ready to move at a moment's notice."

Tacita cocked her head. "To prepare for an imminent Reaper attack?"

Coats blinked. Did I say that out loud too? "You know already?"

Tacita gestured to the rooms beyond. "Increased activity. Constant transport of materials. Snatches of conversation. In a small place such as this one, it is not difficult to discern current events."

Coats shook his head. "Everyone's a damn detective. Just get back to your room now and get ready."

Tacita nodded and looked down slightly. "I am not sure, Major, if I should tell you something."

"Just call me Coats," said Coats automatically. "Is something wrong?"

Tacita looked up now. "I overhead a conversation between Captain Clark and Commander Atlas in this very spot. It occurred not long after the debriefing of your last mission."

Coats raised an eyebrow. "While I usually don't agree with people eavesdropping on others…it seems important enough that you bothered to mention it. What did you hear?"

Tacita shifted a little. "Atlas vented much of his frustration towards Clark, hoping to find a sympathetic ear. He expressed anger towards you, for insubordination and disruption of the resistance's operations, and also widened it to target Anderson as well. It appears Atlas has disdain for officers, which, coming from one of his background, is not unsurprising."

Coats grimaced. Well, at least I know why Clark was a bit fired up afterwards. "How did Clark respond?"

"He seemed…conflicted," said Tacita, looking down again. "As if he was unsure of his own convictions. It is common, Major Coats, for people to fall into old patterns of thought, patterns of behavior. It is easy for people to firmly entrench themselves in old beliefs, because they are familiar. Given the captain's past with the commander, it is likely that Captain Clark is affected by this, which may cloud his better judgment."

"You don't know the half of it," Coats muttered, pinching the bridge of his nose. Is everyone a damn psychologist today? "In any case, Tacita, I'll deal with it. Thanks for telling me."

Tacita shrugged. "It is no trouble for me."

Coats's omni-tool beeped, and he glanced down, frowning. It was a notification from Anderson. "I've got somewhere to be right now, Tacita. Go back to the room and get ready to move."

Tacita nodded once and headed out. Coats was raising his arm to read his message when the thought hit him. "Wait, Tacita. There actually is something you can do."

The turian turned her head slightly towards, and Coats continued. Hell, it's not like she every says anything to anyone. "If you can, I'd like to ask you to keep an eye on Atlas. Tell me…if you see anything out of the ordinary."

Tacita's head tilted back to face the door. Her hand brushed against knob as she stepped out of the room, but not before she replied, "I would not mind."

Then she was gone. Coats shook his head and read his message now, the frown on his face deepening as he read more of the text.

Major Coats, come to the command center immediately. It's about the Reapers. Tell no one that you're coming here. We may have a problem.

….

"What's the issue?"

As Coats entered the room, Anderson stepped around him and closed the door, locking it. "This doesn't leave the room," said the admiral, walking back to the center of the room. Coats frowned and then blinked as he realized that the holo-projector in the center of the room was gone. He glanced around. Most of the equipment had already been removed and likely taken to a more secure location. His eyes flickered back to Anderson, who was standing next to a table with a few papers scattered along its surface.

"Roughly a day ago, there was an attempted coup de tat on the Citadel," said Anderson grimly.

White shock speared through Coats. "What? Now? While we're fighting a war?"

The admiral picked up a data pad and handed it to Coats. "You can read the rest if you want. Councilor Udina allowed Cerberus soldiers to infiltrate the Citadel and attempted to kidnap the entire Council."

"Why the hell would he do that?" said Coats, looking through the data pad. Seeing the damages. The casualty reports. The cost.

"If I understand it correctly, something about forcing the Council to help the fight on Earth," replied Anderson tiredly. "Which Shepard has already been trying to do. This just sets us back even further."

Coats shook his head. "Humanity's best representative," he muttered. "Never fails to disappoint."

Anderson grimaced, nodding. "But that's just an update on the situation off of Earth. We've got bigger problems now."

Anderson handed Coats another data pad, and the major quickly skimmed through the information, frowning as he gisted the report.

"Scouts just picked up an uptick in Reaper troop movement just west of us," said Anderson agitatedly, leaning against the table with his hands. He removed his hat and ran a hand over his scalp, which glistened with sweat. "They've reported a large number of brutes and ravagers."

"Those are siege machines," said Coats instantly. "Ravagers to pound and soften a target and brutes to finish off what's left. They wouldn't bring brutes or ravagers for a search and destroy mission. They know we're holed up in a base and they're going to smash right through us."

Anderson nodded, and Coats's stomach tightened. "Is there anything we can do? Delay them? Get them off our scent?"

"We don't have any teams in position to try for a delaying tactic," said Anderson, shaking his head. The lines on the admiral's forehead were much more visible now, making him look much older and tired. But his eyes were burning with energy. "All we can do is to speed up the evacuation."

"Maybe we can hold them off," said Coats, his mind processes accelerating, trying to think of solutions. Ravagers have long-range capabilities and can release swarmers to harass us while they pin us down with cannon fire. And while we're all stuck and distracted, the brutes come in to finish us off. Short of some heavy artillery of our own, I'm not sure what we have that could stop them. But we'd have to try. "If you let me take enough men there, we might be able to head them off."

"It's not just there. There's a processing center five miles south of us, and there are usually a company's worth of Reaper troops stationed there. But they've moved. We don't know where they are. In addition, in the last minute, there was a sighting of a large contingent of marauder forces on our east side. Bigger than any single group we've seen so far." Anderson looked up at Coats, who was silently absorbing the information. "It's a hell of a situation, Coats."

"Damn," said Coats, folding his arms. That plan's shot then. So that leaves, what, running away as fast as possible? "What's the status on the evacuation?"

"We've moved a lot of equipment in the last two hours, but there are still over a hundred people on base," said Anderson, grimacing. "Not all of them are combatants. For the moment, we've told all of our farthest scouts to go to ground, and we've managed to recall everyone else. All of the exits have been sealed and we have perimeter guards at every chokepoint in the base. But, if the Reapers are coming this soon, we won't be able to evacuate everyone in time."

Coats frowned. Thought about it. "Release one of your guard stations and get them to help with the evacuation. My team and I can hold a chokepoint."

Anderson immediately shook his head. "We can't do that," said Anderson. "As much as I'd like to pick up a gun and help defend this place, we can't risk losing you or your team."

"And if you don't send us there, you could end up losing a hell of a lot more," Coats countered. "Your men here are good, but we are better. Three special forces marines. Two mercenaries. A special operative. Me. We can buy you more time when the Reapers come and get everyone out of here."

Anderson was frowning, and he stared at Coats as if he was trying to see something in him. Doubt, lack of conviction, anger, anything. But the admiral found nothing but steely resolve in Coats's eyes. He knew that look. It was the same kind of look that Shepard had given him when she went to go fight the Collectors in spite of the Council's intractability. Anderson sighed. "Looks like you've already made up your mind. I'll tell the east checkpoint to move as soon as your team gets there."

Coats was already tabbing his omni-tool. "They'll be there."

"The east checkpoint is located in the basement of an office building," explained Anderson, looking down at one of the papers. "The Reapers will have to cross an extended hallway and get through the basement doors to gain access into base. We've placed gun nests all around the entrance point, including one outside the actual entrance. You'll need to hold them off in the hallway for as long as you can before falling back to the basement."

Anderson paused. "If you're forced to retreat from there before we sound the all clear, you can loop around the main hallways and draw their fire, delaying them as much as possible. A couple rooms down, there's another chokepoint area where you can set up and fend them off. And if you still have to fall back, you can collapse the hallway area with rigged explosives we've set up. It won't stop them for long, but that should buy you enough time to retreat and make it back to the evac point."

Coats nodded grimly. "Got it."

Anderson clasped Coats's shoulder, meeting his eyes. "No last stands," said Anderson simply. "The moment I tell you that you need to go, you and your team need to fall back immediately. We're not risking you all."

"We will," said Coats, and Anderson nodded, stepping back.

A thought struck Coats. "Where's Atlas?"

"Overseeing the evacuation," said Anderson, looking down at the papers again. "Directing the flow of supplies. We're not informing them, though. If word gets out that the Reapers are on their way, there'd be panic. The various guard stations have been told to be on alert and the threat level has been tripled. We're taking as many precautions as we can."

"Got it," replied Coats, moving towards the door, an odd feeling of apprehension flickering through him. "Is there anything else?"

"No," said Anderson. "Just stay alive, Coats. We need you."

The door closed behind Coats. "I'll try."

….

Eastside Checkpoint

"We're the first line of defense? I love being the meat shield." Devon snapped the thermal clip into place in his rifle, and reoriented his sights. It would be one of the last chances he would have to check his gear.

"Not the first time we've done this." Jarar was leaned agains the wall, but he was anything but relaxed. His shoulders were tense, and his right finger was steadily drumming the side of his gun. The tall turian was boring a hole in the door with his stare, his stance light, as if he was anticipating the moment the Reaper troops would burst through the door. Devon shared the sentiment.

The veteran snorted. "But it's always possible that it could be our last."

Jarar grimaced, nodding.

On his left, Tacita was doing stretches. Her lithe, wiry body was contorting in positions that Devon found painful to even watch, but the mysterious female was only simply preparing her body for the battle. Devon had worked with many, many different types of people as a mercenary, but Tacita was different from all the rest. She generally spoke only when spoken to, she had yet to interact with any of the rest of the team save for Coats, and she tended to look down and away when she spoke. Not to mention how she seemed to blend with the shadows no matter where she stood, how she faded into the background. Part of that was how quiet the turian female was, and part of that was how she carried herself. For all of Devon's years of experience, he had yet to figure out Tacita.

Devon glanced around the room again and mentally reviewed the battlefield. At least there's a lot of room to maneuver around in if we need to. Their barricade was positioned at the back of the room, as far away from the entrance as possible. No cover beyond their barricade was provided anywhere else in the room, giving their enemies as few chances as possible to make it through the chokepoint. Devon was loading with incendiary rounds today, and Jarar had his grenade launcher ready to go. Close to forty feet of space separated their position from the door, where Clark, Emilia, and Krogh were waiting just outside. In theory, if they were overwhelmed, which was very likely to happen, Devon and Jarar would lay down covering fire as they fell back into the room. Devon didn't envy them one bit.

Clark strapped the Spirit to the edge of the barricade and balanced the gun with his knee as he made his last minute spot checks on the machine. Emilia glanced over at him.

"Have I ever mentioned how glad I was that you picked up that thing at the factory?" she said.

"I wouldn't mind if you mentioned it more," Clark grunted as he secured the rifle to the barricade. This wouldn't work at all if the rifle began to buck and kick while he was firing the damn thing. No, he needed every bit of ammunition and firepower the Spirit had to repel the invasion that was coming any minute now.

Krogh was loading with a shotgun. "Slug rounds, before you ask," said Krogh as Emilia began to say something. "They're going to be bunched up at the end of this hallway. I'm guaranteed to kill at least two things, if not injure more. And if that doesn't work, I've always got this. Krogh jerked a thumb towards his back, where he had strapped a miniature missile launcher.

Emilia looked down the hallway. The doors at the end of the hallway were sealed shut, barred off by steel girders and blocked by several heavy desks dragged from the office building. Emilia doubted it would last more than a couple of seconds. But every second of warning is a godsend here.

Emilia herself was loading with an assault rifle today. As per usual, her sniper rifle was strapped to her back, ready for use, but she had a feeling she wouldn't be needing it today. She needed to sacrifice firing rate for firepower here.

"Anyone know where Coats is?" said Emilia, peeking through the door behind them. No sign of Coats yet. "It's been a little while and I'm not sure we could hold this door too long with just the three of us."

"Last I've heard, he was meeting with Anderson," said Krogh, and his eyes seemed to flick towards Clark before instantly returning his focus back to his shotgun. "He said he would be here as soon as he could."

Clark remained silent. Emilia and Krogh met each others' eyes briefly before returning their attention to their various tasks. If they needed to, they could talk to him later. If there was a later.

Devon was reduced to twiddling his thumbs when Coats entered the room. The major's eyes were hooded as he glanced around the room once or twice before turning to face Devon. "Everyone and everything in position?"

"Just waiting for the fighting to break out," said Devon, nodding. "And I'm sure that when all hell breaks loose, we'll be fighting the worst of it." Devon smiled faintly. "We're probably defending the heaviest side, aren't we?"

Jarar chuckled. "Careful, the spirits might just hear your words."

Coats shook his head lightly. "Good to know we're heavy on the positive thinking. I'll check back on the both of you one last time in a minute."

With that, Coats walked past the two mercenaries and stopped in front of Tacita, who was sitting on the floor in a meditative position. "Keeping the anxiety down?" Coats guessed.

Her eyes remained closed. "Meditating. Preparing my mind and body for the coming battle. Keeping the body loose, and preventing the mind from wandering." Tacita's eyes flickered open and she turned her head slightly towards Coats. She smiled faintly. "And to an extent, suppressing my anticipation, yes."

"You're aware that the plan is to stick to their side and defend this place together?" said Coats, raising an eyebrow. "Not to go ranging off and fighting out of range where we can help you if you need it?"

They will not help you, said Spesimus. The galaxy has rejected our beliefs, our people. They can't see the truth.

But Tacita had seen other truths. Had journeyed beyond their camp on the outskirts of the city, where she had wandered in the city unbeknownst to her clan. Had stumbled upon a library, which had contained reams and reams of books full of information beyond her imagination. Much more plentiful than the sparse literature that sat in a dusty closet in a room in the enclave. When she was free and out of sight of her clan elders, Tacita visited the city and read as much as possible. Salarian research projects. Asari poetry. Human novels. Even turian history, which was the biggest surprise. It was so much different than the history books back in the enclave…

Who has filled your head with these lies? Spesimus spat. No one will help us, not against the tyrant that rules our people. Especially the humans. The cowardly, deceptive pyjaks that they are—

"Tacita?"

Tacita blinked once, and looked back up at Coats, who was frowning at her, quizzically. She regained her composure and resumed her meditative stance. "Yes, I will stay with the others." Silence fell.

Coats waited for several more seconds. Guess that's all she's going to say, he thought, and strode across the room and opened the exit door.

"Coats, you made it to the party," said Emilia wryly. The sergeant was leaned against the wall, flipping her pistol over and over in her hands.

"Party hasn't even started yet," said Coats, looking around. Krogh was siting down next to her, patiently calibrating his omni-tool. No sign of Clark nearby. Coats turned his gaze behind him. Clark was crouched on the ground, securing the straps that held the materials and objects that served as their makeshift barricade. He was silent as he worked.

Coats glanced back at Emilia, who shifted her gaze from Clark to Coats. Emilia sighed and shrugged. Coats shook his head and walked over to Clark. "Clark," he said, standing behind the captain.

Clark grunted as he tightened a particularly tough knot in the straps, and then he stood up, meeting Coats's eyes. "Yeah?"

"Everything ready?" said Coats, gesturing around the hallway. The distance between them was uncomfortably close, and suddenly Coats wished he hadn't stood so close to him.

"As I'm able to make it," said Clark, turning away and putting a hand on the top of the barricade. He glanced back at Coats. "You know this won't hold for long?"

Coats grimaced. "It's not meant to." He sighed internally, and forged ahead. "Clark, have you considered what I said?"

The captain stiffened, and the line of his shoulders tensed. Guess that's a no? "I've thought about it," said Clark. "I still don't agree with you. But I've thought about what you said."

"Good to hear," said Coats, meeting Clark's stare. I can't fight him forever. We've got to reach an agreement somewhere. But it's hard not to just point at Atlas and yell, "Can't you see what he's like?" Coats sighed. "I know you've known Atlas a while; I'm not disregarding that. But it's been several years, Clark. People change. Hell, these last few months have changed all of us. Are you sure you're not still thinking of Atlas as the person you knew, rather than the person he is now?"

Clark opened his mouth to retort when Coats's omni-tool flashed, beeping urgently to get his attention. The major raised the 'tool up to shoulder level as he opened the comm line. "Coats," said Anderson. His voice was tense, and Coats picked up on it as a knot formed in his stomach. "Eastern scouts picked up movement just outside of the perimeter. They've got to be at the front door now."

"Roger that, Anderson." Coats looked up from his omni-tool. Emilia and Krogh were standing up now, guns gripped tightly in their hands. They had heard.

"They'll be here any second. The evacuation is still in process; we're moving as quickly as possible now. Atlas is keeping everyone together. I don't think it will be long."

Coats closed his eyes briefly. "We both know that's not true, Anderson. But don't worry; we won't let anything past our checkpoint."

There was a brief moment of silence. "Remember what I said, Coats. If you're being overwhelmed, fall back. It's not worth it."

"Everything is riding on us. If we don't hold this—

A rumble ran through the hallway. Coats looked up, staring intently at the door. "Sounds like something was just knocked down," Krogh noted clinically.

Coats slid his rifle into his hands and rested it on the barricade's surface. The others had adopted similar stances. He took a deep breath, and then exhaled. It was so silent, Coats could hear his own heartbeat as he crouched there, one of the few things standing between the Reapers and one of the last hopes for humanity. BA-DUM.

The hallway shook slightly, and the walls rattled slightly as something outside and just above them moved. BA-DUM. The shaking stopped, and Coats's fingers tightened on the rifle.

BANG. The metal basement door shook from a massive force, but it held. Barely. BA-DUM. "Krogh," said Coats, not even realizing his voice had grown quiet. "Aim for the center of the horde. Emilia, make sure you shoot anything that gets even remotely close to us. Clark, sweep and mow them down. Let us know when you need to reload."

The marines nodded. BANG. The door shook again, and one of the hinges popped loose, rolling around on the floor. BA-DUM. Coats banged a fist on the door behind him and yelled through the door. "We've got enemies inbound! Ready up!" Whether they heard him or not, he couldn't tell. Coats could just barely see a sliver of the darkness outside the hallway through the crack in the doorway. BA-DUM. No more strategies. No more planning. Just the fight. BA-DUM.

When it gets down to it, there is nothing that matters but survival. BA-DUM. Take away the politics, the relationships, the dreams, the structure, the rules, and the morals, and all you're left is with the most basic. BA-DUM.

The fight to survive, the right to live or die.

BA-DUM.

Nothing else matters.

BA-DUM.

Kill, or be killed.

BA—

The door shot out of its place with explosive force, crashing and sliding across the floor before thudding against the barricade. Before the door had even touched the ground, Coats had already fired, drilling an explosive round straight into the eye of the brute that had broken down the door. The beast roared, rearing up and almost touched the ceiling with its head and arms as it flailed around, and then Clark's Spirit hummed to life as it rained several bullets per square inch all over the doorway. Emilia chipped away at the outer layer of armor with her incendiary rounds, and then Krogh's slug round punched straight through the weakened armor and into the brute's chest.

As the mutated husk collapsed to the ground, cannibals began to clamber over its fallen form, rasping and spitting bullets down the hallway. Coats quickly sighted one in his scope and fired, blowing the cannibal back several feet with the force of the shot. A cannibal reared its arm back in preparation to throw a grenade. A hole the size of a fist appeared in its chest and the husk collapsed onto the ground.

Gunfire now, from behind the brute. A trio of marauders had ducked behind the corpse of the brute and were now using its body for cover, peppering their barricade with metal slugs and forcing their heads down. Got to admit it's not bad idea—Coats's shields recharged and he raised up, expertly firing between the protruding armor plates of the brute and blowing one of the marauders' head off. Husks darted from around the brute's body and made a mad dash down the hallway, moaning and groaning. Clark swung the Spirit left and right and cut the husks in half, stopping them before they had even made it halfway. "I need to reload!" Clark yelled over the gunfire and the roars, rasps, and moans of the Reaper troops. "In about five seconds!"

"Roger that!" Coats replied, and fired the last round in his sniper rifle at a marauder in the back who was about to burn armor onto one of the husks. He let the rifle dangle at his side as he switched to his assault rifle, sweeping the gun back and forth for suppressive fire. "Do it now!"

The temporary reduction in fire was enough for the Reaper troops to make another push. Three husks ran out from the door, and behind them another brute forced its massive bulk into the hallway, roaring as it entered. The beast braced itself against its fallen compatriot and began to push the corpse forward, taking shelter behind the body. You've got to be fucking kidding me. "It's using the body as a shield!" Coats yelled. "Krogh, get grenades on that body!"

Krogh quickly detached two grenades from his belt and threw them high in the air. The grenades bounced off the walls on either side of the hallway and landed in the spaces between the corpse and the walls. The resulting explosions reduced the brute's corpse to a pulpy mess, and the second brute screeched as it stumbled back from the force of the grenades. Krogh emptied the rest of his clip into brute's chest and watched the great beast fall as he quickly loaded another clip into his shotgun.

Clark finished reloading the Spirit. "Eat it!" the captain yelled as more husks poured in from the office building above, no longer hindered by the brute's body blocking the door. Another brute forced its way into the door and snorted and growled as it slowly widened the doorway with its hulking body. Marauders riding on top of the brute fired on the marines from above, forcing them to duck even lower to avoid enemy fire. "Bring the brute down!" Coats yelled. Emilia primed her omnitool, aimed briefly, and launched her omni-tool's deadly payload.

Most infiltrator class soldiers carried weaponized omni-tools, in the event that the infiltrator was disarmed and needed a quick weapon. The Incinerate round was one such self-defense tool. The launcher drew power from the hardsuit and used a mass accelerator for propulsion. The round was made of tungsten alloy and had armor piercing capabilities, but the Incinerate was mainly utilized for its incendiary payload. On impact, the round would explode and disperse high energy plasma over the target. At that point, the detonator charge in the round would explode and ignite the plasma, lighting the target and the surrounding area with a fire that could not be extinguished easily. Some infiltrators could choose to upgrade their Incinerate, either choosing rounds that would explode in a wider radius or ones with even more charged plasma that would burn deeply into armored targets. Emilia preferred her targets to stay down once she hit them, so she had opted for the heavy Incinerate.

The Incinerate round speared through the air trailing wisps of smoke and light orange chemicals and exploded upon impact with the brute. The heated plasma sizzled as it sunk into the brute's armor and skin. Then it ignited.

The brute roared in pain and reared up, throwing its marauder passengers off as its entire body was consumed with plasma fire. The brute flailed around and Coats was temporarily blinded from the spectacle. Coats grit his teeth at the volume and quickly switched back to his rifle and fired into the brute until it finally collapsed onto the ground, still covered in flames.

More marauders firing from the doorway. The incoming cannibals were armored now; they had likely consumed their compatriots just outside the door and were now taking much longer to put down. The husks were coming in armored too. It was time they didn't have to spare.

Clark kept firing. That essentially boiled down to his best strategy. Not that anyone's going to dock me here for being uncreative. Holy shit, the Spirit is tearing through them. What would my life be like if I hadn't picked up this gun? Probably dead. Any husk that stepped into his line of fire was instantly shredded and cut down. Marauders took a few more seconds, and brutes were a commitment. Not that Clark really had to decide which to shoot. After all, there was really only one place they all could go through. Nothing's ever easy, but it definitely can be simple.

Emilia was picking off targets as they closed in. She jerked her head to the left and quickly shot a husk that had crossed half of the hallway. She swung her rifle right and cut down another approaching husk. Then she repeated the process again, and then again. "Too fucking close!" Emilia snarled, ejecting the spent clip and popping in a fresh one. "We can't do this forever. We need to back them up!"

Coats swore as a bullet punched through his remaining barriers and into his shoulder, knocking him back but not actually penetrating the hardsuit. He quickly ducked and loaded another clip into his rifle. Fuck the backup plan. We need bodies here now. "Team 2, we need assistance now!" Coats yelled into his mike. "Get your asses in gear!"

Seconds later, Devon, Jarar, and Tacita burst through the doors. Devon and Jarar immediately began to fire into the fray, and Tacita leapt to the side and raised her arm towards the nearest husk. Suddenly, the husk was lifted into the air and thrown bodily back towards the door, where it collided with a cannibal attempting to feed on a body.

"Now we're talking!" Emilia yelled as more husks were lifted into the air and slammed into the ground.

Coats couldn't agree more. "Tacita, we don't need you to slam them onto the ground! Either throw them back and block their entry or just lift them into the air. Devon, shoot at their feet. Bring them to the ground so we can block the hallway. Jarar, concentrate fire on the doorway. We'll handle the ones that get in."

Another brute muscled its way into the hallway. This one immediately reared back and began a dead charge down the corridor. Clark brought the Spirit to bear on the Brute and cut its legs, bringing the brute to a slide as its torn limbs could no longer support its weight. A sniper rifle round to the head from Coats finally put the creature down.

Tacita appeared by Coats' side now. She raised both arms to head height and Coats watched as a blue outline enveloped the brute's body, forcing its arms and legs out to stretch across the width of the hallway. Then the brute suddenly flew backwards, bowling over every husk and marauder in its path. The corpse crashed against the doorway with tremendous force, shattering parts of the surrounding wall.

Coats looked at Tacita. "Holy shit. How many more times can you do that?"

The female turian was panting harshly, and she lowered her arms as she looked at Coats. "Not very many times, I'm afraid. The brutes are very heavy, and I would need to rest for a moment before attempting it again. Perhaps not as efficient as we would need it to be."

More moans and screeches from the doorway, but a high pitched squeal pierced the air and captured Coats's attention. "Ravagers!"

The familiar bulbous orange figure appeared in the edge of the doorway. Two cannibals stepped in its path and began to fire at Coats, who quickly ducked for cover. "Shoot the ravager! I don't care who does it; someone shoot it!"

The ravager briefly took aim at the soldiers as they began to fire at the ravager. The cannibals standing in front of the insect were armored, though, and as they finally succumbed to the assault, the ravager launched its salvo. The first round crashed into the barricade and shattered one of the crates they were using for cover, spraying metal chips and debris everywhere. The second round missed and exploded behind them, knocking Coats against the barricade and briefly winding him. The third round directly struck Clark and knocked him flat on his back.

"Clark!" Coats shouted as the marine struggled to his feet.

"Shields are down," Clark panted harshly, grabbing the barricade for support. He was struggling to stand, though, and his arms were shaking badly as he managed to crouch. "But all things considered? Glad that the shields were able to take most of the hit. Someone shoot the damn thing yet?"

"It's dead," said Krogh as he emptied the last round in his shotgun into the ravager, which burst into a puddle of acid.

More squealing now. Coats raised his rifle and readied himself for the incoming ravagers. Instead, the ground beyond the doorway was suddenly writhing as a stream of swimmers entered the hallway, crawling over the bodies strewn across the floor and quickly swarming into the crowded corridor. Clark's Spirit roared to life as he swept the rifle back and forth, keeping the swarmers from advancing any further. Another ravager appeared in the doorway, accompanied by a trio of marauders, but Coats ignored them and began to fire at the ravager. The ravager managed to fire one explosive round, tearing into their barricades, before Coats finally put the insect down with a bullet to its "head". Then the marauders began to fire on his position and he ducked down again.

"This shit won't hold for much longer!" Emilia shouted, jerking a thumb at a hole that had appeared next to her while she was ducking down for cover. "We need to fall back!"

"We'll lose the chokepoint if we do!" Coats yelled back, and the crate he was hiding behind suddenly collapsed. Coats swore and rolled to the side as bullets began to punch through the space he had occupied moments before. Damn it.

"Tacita, use shockwaves!" Coats shouted over the gunfire. "Jarar, get some grenades on the door! We're falling back to the base!"

Biotic energy rippled through the air, flinging bodies and swarmers back towards the door. Then the grenades exploded, tearing the pieces into more pieces. Krogh was the first through the door and fired from the edge of the doorway as the team began to file through the entrance. Clark was the last one through, sweeping the Spirit back and forth before his rifle hissed empty and the door closed on him. Krogh quickly bolted the door and backed away, though his shotgun never left the door.

"Shit," Emilia swore, rubbing her ribs with her free hand. "I think the bullet might have hit skin here. Not too sure."

Coats wanted to do a quick check up on the team, but they had no time. "They'll be here any second! Behind cover, now!"

The team got into position. Clark, Coats and Emilia took the farthest position back, directly facing the entrance and right in front of an exit. Devon and Jarar took cover behind another barricade set up towards the right side of the room, but near an exit. Tacita and Krogh guarded the left exit behind a stack of crates.

Muffled thumps and crashes from the hallway. A bead of sweat ran down Coats's forehead and he raised his omni-tool. "Anderson, this is Coats. Do you copy? Can you hear me?"

"Loud and clear," the admiral replied. "What's your status?"

"We've just fallen back to the basement. Enemies are massing just outside the door. The evacuation?"

"We've moved most of the equipment now and are beginning to move the majority of the people," said Anderson. "Other checkpoints are holding strong. What's the situation there?"

"Heavy forces on this side," said Coats, checking his rifle one last time. "Brutes. Marauders. Ravagers. They're hitting us with everything they've got."

"Roger that. Hold them off for as long as you can."

"Already planned to."

The door shook from an impact, and the bolt snapped off the door. Coats's head snapped towards the entrance, and then to the left. "Tacita, the moment they break through, drop a singularity on that door. Use your biotics to keep them from entering the room. Clark, Jarar, keep firing on the door and don't let up. Krogh and Devon, make sure nothing gets close to any of us. Emilia and I will focus on the high priority targets and bring down their armor and shields. Not a single body gets through here, understand?"

Tight nods all around. The door shook again, and the marines and mercenaries trained their weapons/hands on the door. Silence, and then—

A brute crashed through the door and raised its arms high, its roar echoing across the room several times over. A dark bluish sphere of energy materialized directly in front of the creature, bringing the brute to its knees. Concentrated fire from Clark and sniper fire from Coats and Emilia quickly put the creature down. Then husks began to crawl over its body and the battle began in earnest.

Gunfire. Explosions. Biotic energy flying through the air and throwing any husk in its path back to where it came from. Coats swore as his rifle clicked empty and he switched to his assault rifle, not wanting to waste any more thermal clips. Steady, constant streams of fire from Clark and Jarar kept the Reaper forces from making it past the door. Anything that made it past the brute's corpse was immediately cut down with a slug round from Krogh. Emilia unclipped two grenades from her belt and threw them at the doorway just as another brute arrived, throwing the beast back. The team immediately focused their fire on the armored target and brought it down in seconds. Tacita deployed another singularity at the door, drawing four husks into its orbit. Clark turned the Spirit on the singularity and reduced the husks into black mist. We might just be able to put this off.

A scream pierced the air, and Coats's grit his teeth at the sound. Fuck. Banshee. Memories of the factory and the hospital unwittingly rose up in his head, and Coats blinked. Focused on the could just barely detect a hint of blue just outside the door. Damn it, not now. Not when we're so close.

"Everyone, concentrate fire on that door!" the major yelled as he sprayed rounds into the fray. "Tacita, warp anything that makes its way into this room! Jarar, switch to your missile launcher! Same with you, Krogh."

Then a blackened, grisly hand wrapped around the doorway and the banshee stepped into the room. Its mouth was stretched in a twisted smile as it ducked through the doorway and easily dispelled the singularity Tacita had conjured with a wave of its hand. The banshee raised its other hand and immediately a shimmering wall of blue energy surrounded it. Coats fired at the banshee, but the bullets stopped two feet away from the creature and dropped to the ground, useless. The banshee screeched and wrapped its arms around itself. The air suddenly grew heavy with something and Coats felt his skin ripple from the sheer amount of biotic energy in the air. Shit, shit, shit.

"Jarar, Krogh, launchers now!" Coats yelled. "Tacita—

The banshee screamed, and the world shattered.

A wall of pure energy exploded outwards from the banshee and reached across the room, passing through their cover and dropping their shields instantly. Coats flew back with concussive force and slammed into the wall. He collapsed to the ground, blinded and deafened. He could see Emilia and Clark on the ground on either side of him, both weakly attempting to stand again. Black spots danced in his vision, but Coats grit his teeth and struggled to his feet, firing at the banshee. The banshee cocked its head curiously at him, and it raised an arm towards him. Its arm, shrouded in whitish-blue energy, formed a malevolent sphere of energy in its palm, so bright that its entire arm shimmered in white. Then the banshee flung the warp towards him, and time slowed to a crawl. Coats felt as if his legs had turned to lead, and he couldn't move, couldn't breathe as the warp travelled through the air towards him. He couldn't dodge, couldn't duck out of the way in time. He knew he was going to die. I'm sorry, Anderson. I held them off as long as I could.

The warp shuddered and exploded halfway towards him. Coats had enough time to blink once before Tacita suddenly leapt in front of him, crouched low to the ground and wreathed in biotic energy like a mythical creature from the epics. She immediately flung a blue disc of energy towards the banshee and deftly leapt the side, throwing a shockwave now towards the banshee. The creature screeched and erected a barrier in front of the warp just as the shockwave crashed through its barriers and sent the banshee stumbling back. Tacita launched two warps and sent them crashing into the banshee from both sides, collapsing its barrier. The creature shrieked and launched another warp bomb, this one even bigger than the last. Tacita ran to the side and the warp tracked her, angling left to intersect her. Tacita slid to a stop and clapped her hands in front of her, releasing twin shockwaves from her outstretched arms. The shockwaves rippled through the ground and met the warp bomb in the middle. The first shockwave crashed into the warp and both immediately dissipated. The second shockwave continued across the room and slammed into the banshee, causing it to shriek again. The banshee drew its arms back, and Coats braced himself for another shockwave when Tacita raised her arms and created an absolutely massive ball of energy, emitting and sucking in light just above her head. Coats watched in amazement as the ball suddenly shrunk to half of its size and glowed bright blue, nearly blinding him. Then Tacita flung the sphere of energy at the banshee just as the creature unleashed its deadly payload. The flare met the shockwave just past the banshee's personal barriers. The two biotic powers melded with each other, found resistance. The conflicted energies intersected and grew unstable.

Exploded.

The resulting biotic explosion cracked and flashed bright blue, illuminating the entire room. Tacita was thrown to her feet and Coats ducked down again as biotic energy rippled through the air again, though it was much less than what the banshee had released previously. He could barely see past his elbow that the banshee's black form had collapsed to the ground, only visible as a silhouette. Black trails of smoke wafted from his forehead and the banshee screeched one last time before it fell to the ground and disintegrated into nothingness.

Then it was gone.

"Tacita!" Coats yelled as he ignored the stabs of pain from his legs and ran to her side, cradling her fallen form. The turian female coughed as she grabbed his shoulder for support and stood shakily to her feet. "Are you all right?"

"I am fine," Tacita said weakly. She held one hand over her forehead, as if she had a headache. With the display Coats had just witnessed, he wouldn't be surprised at all.

"Coats!" Clark yelled from behind.

Coats's head whipped towards the entrance. The Reaper troops had found a gap in the fire and now pressed into the room. Ravagers scuttled into the doorway and began to fire salvos of fire and death around the room. Coats looked down at Tacita and wrapped her arm around his shoulder, lifting her to her feet.

"Fall back!" Coats shouted as he backed into the nearest exit. Clark ran in front of Coats and swept the Spirit back and forth, sending the nearest Reaper troops sprawling. Coats could just barely see that Emilia and the two mercenaries had backed towards the next room.

The door slammed shut, and Coats now focused all of his energy into carrying Tacita into the next room. Clark brought up the back and kept his rifle aimed behind them at all times. "Admiral Anderson," said the captain into his omni-tool. "This is Captain Clark. We've fallen back into the next room. We're heading towards you now. What's the status on the evacuation?"

"Almost cleared," said the admiral tersely. "Just get to the evac point now."

"Roger that." Clark clicked off his radio and looked at Coats and Tacita. The infiltrator was barely conscious, having expended so much energy and taken a beating in the process. Coats felt her grip slacken on his shoulder, and he held her all the tighter. "What's the situation like?" said Coats.

"The evac is almost finished," replied Clark as they ran into the next room. Clark's eyes were constantly roving around the hallways, looking for any sign of Reaper activity. Now that the Reapers had broken into the base and past the first checkpoint, they could quite literally appear from anywhere.

"I hope so," Coats muttered as they made their way through the base. "It won't take the Reapers long to cut their way through."

Coats glanced left and motioned for Clark to follow. "This way. It's quicker."

Coats elbowed his way through the door and literally ran through a husk as it had stood motionless in front of what had been a closed door. The husk was knocked down and Coats stumbled into the room, looking around. Four more husks stared right back at him.

"Clark!" The captain moved into the room and immediately began to fire at the husks, which all howled as they ran at Coats. He shot one, two, three, and the fourth had already latched onto Coats and prevented him from firing. The husk on the ground moaned and Clark felt himself being pulled to the ground as the husk pounded on his helmet, threatening to break the visor.

Coats wrestled with the husk with one arm as he held Tacita in the other. The husk swiped at his helmet and almost twisted his neck, though the muscles were still sore as he turned back around and punched the husk in the face, knocking it back. The zombified creature looked back up and howled at him, rushing towards him again. As Coats mentally and physically braced himself for another attack, a burst of blue from his left punched a hole straight through the husk's chest and knocked it down. This time it didn't get back up.

Coats looked at Tacita, who slowly lowered her arm and unlinked herself from him. She looked at the major. "I am fine now."

Clark stabbed the husk in the throat with his free hand and slide the knife back into his belt. He glanced up at the two of them, who both stared at him. "Well, we beat them," said the captain, brushing black blood of his suit. "Let's move then!"

Back at the evac point, Admiral Anderson was waiting for the last team on base to make it back. All of the equipment had been evacuated, and most of the personnel had already left. So it was Atlas, Anderson, and a team of New Hope soldiers that had been left back in the base, waiting to close the hatch behind them.

"Where the fuck are they?" Atlas growled, looking at the two entrances to the room as if he could will them to appear now. "We don't have time for this. Reaper forces have broken through and will be here any second now. We should just go ahead and move out."

"It was because of them that we've been able to hold them off and evacuate everyone as it is," Anderson retorted. He knew it was petty, but damn if he was going to let Atlas spit on the team again.

Atlas shook his head. "All they've done is to disrupt operations and now to force us to retreat from our main base. They've caused more trouble than they've helped."

"Coats and his team saved a squad, gave us needed supplies, warned us about a new Reaper threat, and saved a hundred civilians," said Anderson, looking at Atlas now, who stared right back. "We might not even be here right now if it weren't for them."

"They foiled an operation we've been planning for a month now," said Atlas, gritting his teeth. "And they saved four indoctrinated agents that's led to the invasion now! We just lost our entire base because of them!"

Anderson and Atlas were standing not a foot away from each other now, staring each other down. "Coats and his team are one of the best hopes we have of saving this city and Earth," said Anderson, forcing himself to calm down. It wasn't working. "They care about the people here and will never, ever retreat unless absolutely necessary. They work together and they know that we need to stay unified to defeat the Reapers. We are staying until they come back; whether we're dead or alive when that happens, I don't know. But we will wait for them."

Atlas and Anderson looked into each other's eyes for nearly a minute. Anderson's stubborn, loyal personality met Atlas's passionate, aggressive one. Then the commander broke the stare and turned away, growling. "This isn't over," he muttered, stepping away.

Anderson shook his head. At that second, Krogh, Emilia, Jarar, and devon burst through one of the doors, drawing everyone's attention and guns as Krogh held up his hands. Anderson breathed a sigh of relief. "Krogh, where are Coats and the others?" said the admiral as the group began to cluster around the escape hatch.

Krogh shook his head. "We were split up," he said simply. "I don't know."

"Admiral, sir," said Emilia, stepping forward now. "We were holding the checkpoint until a banshee showed up and wrecked our defenses. There have got to be more on their way."

Anderson's jaw tightened at the mention of the husked asari. "Right. I'll tell Coats to get his ass here right now."

He raised his omni-tool and spoke. "Coats, where the hell are you?"

"On the way!" Coats ducked as another marauder appeared around the corner, firing at his position behind the barrel. Clark swept the Spirit towards the newcomer, cutting through its shields and armor easily. As the marauder fell, Coats, Clark, and Tacita began to move forward again.

"How much longer?" said Clark, looking down two opposite hallways for enemies. They were clear.

"Not much," Coats replied tightly, looking left. "There. That'll take us to the next room, and the room after that is the center room."

"Finally," Clark muttered, and the trio rounded the corner and had just stepped into the next room when the door behind them was broken down, metal against metal creating a shearing noise that had Coats wincing from within his helmet. He turned his head back.

Another banshee was standing the doorway, her grisly hand gripping the doorway as she screeched at her prey. Her lips were curled into an ugly, ugly scowl as it reached a shimmering hand towards their group. Coats took one look at its empty, black eyes and slammed the door shut behind them.

"I do not think I will be able to defeat another one of the screaming creatures," Tacita murmured.

"And you won't have to," said Coats, looking for the next door. He quickly found it and backed up. "Because we're here."

Coats's momentum carried him into the canteen, where ten guns immediately trained on him as he stumbled through and held up his hands. He looked around. They were all here: Krogh, Emilia, Devon, Jarar, and Anderson. Atlas was there as well, and Coats mentally noted that he was the last person to put down his rifle as Tacita and Clark made it into the room.

"Coats!" said Anderson, and Coats clasped his outstretched hand.

"We've got a banshee right behind us," he said tersely.

"Then let's get fucking moving!" Atlas boomed behind him as the rest of the New Hope soldiers began to descend into the tunnels below the base. Coats resisted the urge to roll his eyes and bit his tongue as he looked at Anderson. "Did you talk to him?" said Coats, almost whispering.

Anderson nodded, and then shook his head, blinking slowly. Coats sighed and looked into the hatch, where Atlas had already moved on. Clark was the last to leave besides the major and the admiral. Coats glanced at Anderson as the admiral stepped onto the access ladder himself now. "We need to talk later," said the major simply.

Anderson nodded and disappeared into the darkness. Coats looked back one last time at the door, where he knew the banshee was about to break through. His hands tightened into fists. They had finally killed one, but he still felt like he had done nothing to help. He would redeem himself. He would kill one of the soulless asari husks and end the horrors and the nightmares they brought.

Coats slipped into the escape hatch and closed the door behind him. Just a few feet under him, Anderson called out, "All clear!"

"Roger that!"

Above them, the door to the canteen was ripped open by a biotic blast. A banshee and several marauders fanned out in the room, searching for their escaped prey. The banshee looked around and its gaze slowly turned towards the object protruding from the floor. It blinked and reached a hand out towards the object. Perhaps this would lead them to their prey.

A loud beep sounded above the banshee, startling it and the husks in the room. It had just enough time to look up and see the several plastic packages taped to the ceiling and the edges of the room…

…as they exploded, shredding apart the room and consuming the base as the explosions set off a chain reaction. Room after room, hallway after hallway, basement after basement was consumed in fire and destroyed. As the structural support was destroyed, the entire base collapsed in on itself, creating miniature sinkholes around the area as the ground imploded within.

Several seconds later, the New Hope main base was gone, leaving behind nothing but debris and the tatters of the Reaper forces.