Bioware owns Mass Effect. The OC's are mine.

Chapter 1 - The End Times Are Nigh, Day 1

Gunnery Chief Royce Mason looked out of the Kodiak, seeing the surface of Menae passing underneath him. Around the shuttle, chaos unfolding as the Turian military-held moon of Palavaen became the center-stage of the war effort for the Turians. Royce grimaced as he held his M8 Avenger at the ready; the gun extended, the butt locked with the hollow of his shoulder, one hand on the grip while the other was looped around a strap of the UT-47. The men of his squad were strapped into their seat, yet he stood by the shuttle's open bay, the door having been removed, surveying the Turian moon as they flew low to the deck towards their objective. It was a simple mission; the human squad of twenty Marines were to provide a Quick Reaction Force for Turian forces as they regrouped at some firebase on what AlCom (Alliance Command) dubbed the Outpost. The militant alien race had been brutally punished defending their homeworld, and Menae was both the front line and the last line; if the moon was lost, then Palavaen was lost.

Earth needed Palaven to survive.

"Chief? Ten minutes to DZ." The pilot, Lieutenant Jeff Harbeck, said over the intercom, imposed by their location on the viewer screen, which had a blip representing their shuttle, and another for the firebase. The VI was collating everything that the shuttle's sensors were picking up; radio signals, contacts, and unknowns. There wasn't much in the way of blue and green; friendlies and allies. Lots of red, though; the Reapers and their forces were everywhere. Royce could see a Destroyer-class Reaper touch down on the moon at a good distance, walking on its tentacles, firing its deadly red beam upon the ground, some poor fool was undoubtedly on the receiving end. Turian air forces were assaulting the Reaper, strafing runs to try and knock out its shields as a Frigate came in for a salvo. The Reaper's beam went from the ground to the Frigate, and the Australian-born N6 watched as the ship was taken out with one beam, the ship exploding into half as the debris littered the moonscape. The sight had the Commando grimacing, thinking of how many hands had just been lost in a second.

"Marines, listen up!" Royce spoke into his throat communicator, addressing his men as he looked from the terrible view and into the faces of his squad. "Outpost 39 is facin' heavy opposition, and has taken serious casualties. Our job is to go in there, and relieve some of the pressure the Turians are facin'. We're part back-up, part replacements, and part go-to guys. If we want to retake Earth, we need Turian forces, and they aren't leavin' if their planet is burnin'." To punctuate his speech, he looked back at the sight of Palaven in the sky. It was obvious, even from their incredible distance, that the planet was taking a pounding. Massive fires of incredible size were dotting the surface, and it wasn't hard to see the debris of destroyed ships littering the lanes around both planet and moon.

"We fought the Turians back in the First Contact War, so we know how tough they are." Royce continued his pep talk to his men; they needed to know what they fought, and what they fought for. "These guys haven't lost a stand-up fight since the Unification Wars, and back when the Krogan dropped an asteroid on one of their colonies back durin' the Rebellions. Turians don't retreat, and they'll die to a man shovin' a gun in your face.

"And the Reapers are lettin' them do just that."

That had the men look at one another in silence. This wasn't the spoken bravado of a sure victory, nor was it the lies of a mission of desperation. Royce wasn't going to lie to them, but he wasn't going to crush them, either. Men needed hope to fight, and would fight even if that hope seemed lost. He was going to give them that hope, and that hope wasn't going to be a lie, either.

"Back durin' First Contact, humanity faced an opponent that outnumbered us, outgunned us, out-teched us, and outclassed us. We had every disadvantage covered." That brought a twisted smile to the N6's face, talking about a war he had been born after. "Yet we held the planet of Shanxi against a superior opponent who had to resort to using kinetic orbital strikes to defeat block-by-block fighters, and gunned down men using hit-and-run tactics. Our strength is our ingenuity and our adaptability, the ability to do somethin' our enemies would never suspect or expect." That had some of the Marines nodding. "We're the youngest kids in the block, yet in less than thirty years, we've went from crawl to sprint. That's human courage! That's human determination! You want to take back Earth? Start by killin' Reapers here, havin' them begging for reinforcements in Menae, so they draw their forces away from Earth, then our Fleets can sneak up behind them and kick 'em in the quads. Do you get me?"

"Hoorah, Gunny!" The Marines cried out, loud and proud. They were ready.

"What's the most dangerous weapon in the world?" Royce called out, almost as if in song.

"A Marine with a rifle in hand!" Each of his men said in unison; they knew the cant.

"What's the most dangerous enemy in the world?" The Chief asked.

"A Marine making a stand!"

"Who do you beg for when the chips are down?"

"A Marine to come save your ass!"

"WE'VE GOT INCOMING!"

Royce turned at the pilot's transmission, looking at the view, and finding something big and red heading their way, right at their rear. And fast. The N6 stuck his head out in the breeze and saw a sight that had his heart almost shoot up into his throat. He had never seen one before, but with the invasion of Earth, Alliance had tagged and identified every troop that had been a part of the enemy forces, along with their weapons, capabilities, and any known weaknesses. There were quite a few, but this one got special attention. Origins unknown. Larger than a fighter vessel. Extremely dangerous. And it could fly.

They were being chased down by a Harvester.

"Evasive maneuvers!" Royce shouted to the pilot as he grabbed the Kodiak's cargo strap with his right hand after switching his Avenger to his left, and stuck himself out as far as possible into the breeze as he began firing his Avenger with his off-hand in the hopes of either distracting the Harvester, dissuading it, or perhaps blinding it.

Known weaknesses; none apparent.

"Flap faster, Harbeck! Damn things' gainin'!" Royce shouted as he popped a thermal clip from his reserve bag on his waist one-handed by putting his Avenger in between his legs; risky, but necessary. The Marine Gunnery Chief grabbed his assault rifle and began firing again as he watched the thirty meter flying disaster getting closer quickly. "Harbeck! Seven o'clock! It's gonna hit us…"

CRASH!

The Harvester had gotten into range quicker than Royce had anticipated, and its head thrashed the side of the Kodiak shuttle. For a brief moment, time slowed for Royce Mason as he felt weightless, his feet losing their purchase in the shuttle as he went horizontal outside of the shuttle, hanging on by the shuttle's cargo strap. He could see the shuttle rocked by the jarring impact of the hit, now pointing in a thirty degree upward direction, and fifty degrees port side. For a brief moment, he saw where the head had hit the shuttle, caving in not only the rear portside panel, but hitting the port engine as well. Sound had ceased for that moment as Royce looked down and all he saw in between him and Menae was perhaps a dozen meters of air; he didn't remember them flying that low before. We're all going to die, the N6 Commando thought to himself as he floated weightless for that brief moment.

And then that moment was over.

Time and gravity returned, and Royce felt the shuttle jerk as Lieutenant Harbeck tried correcting the shuttle's flight as the Gunnery Chief flew around and hit the side of the shuttle, jarring him. It unfortunately had him lose his grip on the cargo strap when he bounced off the side of the UT-47a, and the Australian-born human felt himself falling, giving off a wild yell of surprise as he curled himself into a ball to protect himself when he landed. His descent didn't last long as he bounced off the moonscape of Menae, coming to a stop on his back. Everything hurt as the human groaned, moving his arms and leg, making sure that nothing was broken. His Kestral Armor and barriers must have done the trick, as he was still alive, and he could feel everything, unfortunately. Royce looked up to see the shuttle that he had fallen off still flying still being assaulted by the Harvester, taking another hit by the flying creature. Smoke and fire billowed from the shuttles' engines as they disappeared over the horizon, the Harvester shrieking as it swooped in for the kill.

The N6 took a few minutes to get up, letting the agony of pain slowly subside from his body as he checked through his many weapons and pieces of equipment to see if everything was functional, and to give himself a chance to come up with a plan. He first checked his M8 Avenger assault rifle, and then his M96 Mattock, satisfied with both as he put them both on his back. Then came his M27 Scimitar shotgun that was place on his back, just above his hips. Then it was the two M3 Predator pistols that were just forward of his hips, holstered backwards. Finally there were the M4 Shuriken submachine guns he had on each of his thighs. A quick check of their frames and thermal clips showed that none had been damaged in the fall, in which Royce was grateful. A quick look at his Kestral Armor and spare thermal clips showed them that he was lucky; nothing had been damaged during his short fall.

Now, where to?

Gunnery Chief Royce Mason looked at his surroundings, seeing the crags and outcroppings of Menae everywhere he looked. The view was different that it had been front the shuttle, and he admitted to himself that he had no idea where he was, or where anything else was besides the Outpost. There was no real reference as to what direction to go, no recognizable landmarks to use. The Australian saw only one thing as a means of a waypoint; Palavaen itself. The Outpost had been, more or less, had the burning planet to the right of the shuttle, at its' two o'clock position. Royce oriented himself with the planet as his means of navigation, pulling out his Avenger, and walked towards the direction of the Outpost, hoping he found someone friendly along the way.

The end times are nigh, Royce Mason thought to himself as he started walking.