Nevos, Teyolia System, Selian Nebula One month before the Battle Earth... Deep within Outer Council Space in the Teyolia System rests the vibrant garden world of Nevos, a centuries old old colony of 677 million that has long acted as a tropical escape for asari and aliens alike, as well as being a secluded corporate world that would make even the most secretive Noverian feel at home. Untouched by the war for months, the asari worlds have at last been assaulted by the horrific might of the Reaper fleets, and Nevos was not the exception. For nearly two months, the asari and their allies have tried to liberate the world with little success. The rumours that it isn't high on the Reapers' priority list does little to comfort the largely civilian population struggling to survive the horrors that seem to multiply by the day. In the streets of Astella, the capital of Nevos, fighting has been particularly intense. The coastal city of over 3.5 million has been particularly contested due to the heavy corporate and political presence in the city, and its designation as one of the cities with a large enough spaceport to handle the heaviest amount of traffic. Allied forces have struggled to gain a foothold for the past month, and every victory seems to be offset with a staggering loss as whole units are decimated in the streets with scattered groups of survivors attempting to regroup, as very few survive alone in the destructive urban war. Under the watch of the towering coastal cliffs that watch over the cities, several survivors are destined for a chance encounter that may lead to a turning point in the Battle for Nevos... ___________ “You should have moved faster.” The prone figure on the floor did not respond, a gaping hole in his chest giving an all-too clear reason as to the lack of response. Only minutes before, the figure had been alive and moving under fire, a fearless warrior if there ever was one. His grey armour had taken a penetrating high explosive Ravager rocket to the chest, piercing easily through the armour and the nearly diminished shields of the krogan and detonating with enough force to take out a light armoured vehicle, pulping and vaporizing several vital organs, including the redundant ones that usually gave a krogan a second chance at survival. With no heart or lungs to feed oxygen to the rest of the body, including the brain, death came swiftly, although the figure crouching over the fallen warrior’s body had not known the extent of the damage until he reoriented himself after surviving a salvo of Ravager rockets that had caused a collapse of a storefront, the cascade of heavy concrete rubble smashing through the already weakened tarmac of the storied parking lot, the collapse taking the two krogan down to the lower subterranean level, where only one had risen up to remove the rubble from around himself. It was only moments later he had discovered his partner had perished, leaving him the last of a six-man team that had been sent to scout an evac site for the wounded. What had resulted from the fated operation was a two day long running battle that had left the two surviving members of the squad far behind enemy lines and well away from friendly units. They had been too busy fighting and dodging hostile forces they had lost their orientation, and the intermittent map checks on their omni-tools only served to make things more confusing than they had to be, due to the sporadic connection issues that seemed to plague the navigation systems and maps. It was the sight of what appeared to be allied forces holed up in some condo complex that had prompted the sprint across the parking lot, and ultimately into an ambush. Given the amount of heavy debris the surviving krogan had been struck with, he considered himself fortunate to have had the foresight to wear a full protective helmet. As hard as a crest was, it didn’t do too much for you when you took a jagged piece of rebar to the eye. Three weeks into Kruban company’s Nevos campaign and deployment in the capital of Astella, Forsan Jaakbal decided he preferred fighting on Bostra with the turians. At least they didn’t whine incessantly about their planet being destroyed like the asari did. Up until the Reapers decided to hit the garden world, the biggest threat most people on Nevos faced was sunburn and getting robbed of credits at overpriced tourist traps, and then they wouldn’t shut up about it. Asari were good soldiers, for the most part, but their civilians were just insufferable. The deathly silent neighbourhoods were a blessing; better to be surrounded by piles of corpses rather than listening to some idiot cry about how the world was going to end or other shrill pyjak shit. If the Reapers were good at anything, it was giving other aliens an idea of what the day to day was like on Tuchanka. Granted, towering, near impervious world harvesting synthetic monstrosities weren’t native to the krogan homeworld, but at least they had to send their much more manageable ground forces after you if you went into shelter, unlike a thresher maw, which wasn’t discouraged by much. Everything on Tuchanka wanted to kill you; the Reapers weren’t any different, they were just late to the party. Jaakbal opened up the pouches on his comrade’s still corpse and retrieved the unused thermal clips and ration packs, deftly shoving them into his own utility compartments on his hulking Mantis armour. The weapons he left; he had his own, and there was the odd chance that some civilian or under armed soldier would come across the dead krogan and accept his final gift. Besides, most of it was cheap shit. Jaakbal preferred weapons he could bash against something until it died without knocking the sight out of alignment or breaking something important. He looked at the prone figure, his lifeless brown eyes staring aimlessly towards the hole above, almost expectantly before pulling a small data drive from a small arm compartment that most members of Kruban company’s scouts kept in case they died; a final message for the living, and sometimes even requests they wanted to have addressed since they could no longer do it. Jaakbal had one final task to complete. Removing a grenade from his dead comrade’s belt, he deactivated the safety and rocked the body over enough so he could stick the corpse on top of it, the bulk of the armour and the krogan himself keeping the pressure switched engaged. When the Reapers came to collect the corpse for harvesting, they’d be getting a bit of a final surprise from the fallen warrior. He would have wanted it that way. “Korbal.” Jaakbal said to the body, rising to his full height and giving the body one last look before turning away, walking between rows of parked vehicles in pursuit of an exit, and perhaps something to kill on behalf of his fallen comrade.