Emerging from the light had an immediate effect on my team. They smiled, some of them crying out in joy and success. We had successfully cleared the hive and the biotics had seemingly perished en masse. All around the entrance were rapidly decaying bodies, an influx of matter energy marking their degradation. It was eerie, almost, a mixture of a bitter copper scent and almost a scorched scent of ozone, though that perhaps was due to the tesla coils.

Only three of the coils remained, the rest had been damaged beyond repair by either poor construction and running therein, or the efforts of dozens of salt harpoons from the large biotics. Along the ground, a few paths had already been cleared, Daniel leading the way in the effort by having borrowed a bulldozer’s shovel, pushing out areas as needed. As quickly as the bodies decayed, these would yet remain for hours on end.

There was a definite air of success and celebration among those of us that were responsible for the defense. And it was soon clear why.

Among the body bags that lay in even lines next to each other, almost every one of them were from the delve team.

The question why rose in my mind again and again as I helped move the bodies into the back of the large truck. Carefully, I moved them into position, leaving a middle row open to walk through. Richard, Tabitha, and the other delvers helped to load them in. We bore six wounded in all, Yomar critically so. He was alive, in spite of gruesome injuries and blood loss. There were another dozen wounded, only three of which were from our team. Mortality was proven this day, I thought grimly, noting the disparity of wounded to dead in our two groups.

Why? What needed to happen to make this better?

“Matthew,” I felt Alice’s hand on my shoulder distantly, numb. “You alright?”

“Yes,” I lied quickly, turning my attention to her, “What’s up?”

She paused, almost like she could see my grimace behind my helmet. With a small sigh, she spoke, “Fran wanted to talk to you.”

“Alright, thanks.” I nodded to her, ignoring the clear look of concern on her face. My gut flipped again as I caught sight of the truck full of dead. The delver’s shared looks of happiness, exhaustion, and a few with looks of utter devastation. I knew some of them would likely no longer be a part of the Reaper’s Legion. The haunted, hollow look in their eyes and the cowl of fear hung from them, like a present from the dark they’d survived.

I wouldn’t blame them if they left. These biotics weren’t targets that we should have had newcomers test themselves with. But there wasn’t much choice.

Was there? I thought to myself bitterly. What if I’d been wrong? What if I’d taken my team down into the darkness instead? Would it have been over fast enough that defense wouldn’t have been as necessary?

I shook my head of those thoughts. Doubting myself would do absolutely no good now.

The group dispersed among the whole, a mix of triumphant defenders and distressed delvers. Already, I could tell they would bear their experiences and let them break them, or strengthened through them. There was no other option, there hadn’t been ever since the biotics had first appeared. Even so, it was different when the one who had sent them into such a place was me. I was responsible for every success and for every broken soul.

My pace slowed at that, in spite of it all, a plan formed in the back of my mind. Perhaps later, I would address that. Giving out orders and coordinating to the best of her abilities, Fran was directing our efforts to get packed up and leave. She noticed me approach, flanked by Alice who still glanced at me from time to time. Her concern was warming, but somehow, I didn’t want it. The others needed that more than I did. I could get to feeling things out later on my own.

That was probably unhealthy, but I had more things to do as of yet.

“Fran, how are we looking at?” I asked, hoping to avoid being asked if I was doing alright.

For a second, she paused, the briefest flicker of her eyes towards the truck of bodies I’d come from. Blessedly, she didn’t bring it up, “We’re looking good. The defenses held better than we’d hoped, and the Legion has raked in a considerable sum of ME. Beyond that, it seems we have limited casualties, but I think we can attribute that to Terry’s contribution more than anything else. The tesla towers proved to be wildly successful, though we’re going to have to leave them behind for the time being.”

“Hmm?” I frowned, “Why is that?” As I asked that, however, I noted the fact that one of the trucks hoods were open, a few white spears of salt protruding from the front. Two tires on one side were out as well. “Ah, I presume that happened while defending?”

Fran had a brief look of amusement. “Yes, though it was dumb luck rather than anything else, one of the beetles was spasming from electricity and happened to hit the truck a few times. It was bigger than the rest of them by a good bit.”

Perhaps a Hive Guard? I wondered at that, they’d probably intended them to act as vanguards for more hardened targets. Strange that there was only one, though.

“Alright, we’ll send a truck out later, or get the Bulwark to do it.” I nodded, “No reason not to recommission the mine if we can get it secured anyways. It’d be better not to use matter energy on things we can get locally.”

Alice broke into the conversation with a quizzical expression, “Would that be a bad thing? It’s not like it costs that much.”

That took me by surprise, especially as Fran seemed just as interested in my logic. I hummed thoughtfully at that, “Well, I guess it’s not really a big expense now, but imagine if we had to make it every day? What if biotics aren’t as common after we clear out a few hives? Or, worse, if they get too strong to conveniently hunt? We still have no idea what might come later, so it’s best for us to get as self-sufficient as soon as possible. After all, we’re basically relying on the obelisk to take care of manufacturing for us…” I trailed off, suddenly thinking of more projects. Already I intended to have weapons made, but there really was no reason not to expand that further.

If there was a plan in place for our progression, I had no inkling of it. Perhaps we were supposed to rely on the obelisk system entirely, but I doubted that after seeing the expenses for more advanced items. We were heavier by tens of thousands of matter energy after this raid, but that’d disappear quickly if we tried to outfit ourselves with advanced alien technology. That wasn't sustainable, you’d have a handful of powerful individuals, and then a swarm of less well equipped grunts. Perhaps in war that was considered acceptable, but this wasn’t war, it was genocidal combat with an alien species that seemed only to want to devour us.

Trading lives was irrelevant. Attrition wouldn’t result in our overwhelming loss.

“Matthew?” Fran interrupted my thinking.

Embarrassed, I spoke, “Sorry, please continue.”

She smiled warmly, as did Alice, leaving me somewhat mystified. “Well, I was thinking that we would also want to consider having some kind of celebratory event. This is the first successful raid, and we can set the tone for this in the future with this. Besides, I’m sure the Bulwark would love to be able to put a face to the name of the Reaper’s Legion for the civilian sector.”

I blinked at that, and then my helmet light trembled with my heart as it skipped a beat, “You want me to do a speech, don’t you?”

Her smile became wolfish, “Of course, you are the leader of the Legion after all.”

“I think that’d be nice!” Alice grinned, “You can tell everyone how awesome we are!”

My stomach churned at that. It wasn’t that I hated public speaking in general.

Okay, I hated public speaking in general. I’d done pretty well a few times, but that was in front of specific organizations, I knew what they were looking for, I knew where I wanted to stand with them.

What about regular people? I didn’t really care about them, if I was perfectly honest. Killing biotics was the goal of the Legion, not protecting people, right?

Suddenly, a malicious gleam crackled on the light on my helmet, flexing like a grin, “Okay. I can figure something out.”

Instantly I saw Fran’s face fall to a suspicious glare.

She didn’t get the chance to say anything though, as Daniel stomped up to the group, flanked by Terry who was a full three heads shorter than Daniels improved mech.

“Matt! You guys kicked ass down there!” Daniel’s excited voice carried over the speakers. A few people looked our way at that, and I shook my head. I didn’t agree with that assessment, but I couldn’t very well dispute that without wiping out the morale that was climbing through the Legionaries.

“We did,” I nodded, mentally adding but we’ll do better next time.

“I was getting a bit nervous there, I admit,” Terry chuckled, “They were starting to swarm pretty heavily.”

“Well, the towers seemed to do a good job,” Alice piped in, “I wonder if we can do something like that for more of our groups?”

“Not unless they can carry a portable generator,” Terry chuckled. And then turned thoughtfully to Daniel, “Huh, actually, that might be doable.”

I listened to the back and forth for a while before we decided to get everyone into the trucks.

However, I didn’t sit with everyone else. I sat in the truck bed with the bodies of the fallen. More than once, my friends tried to get me to stay with them in the other trucks. But, I needed some alone time, and more than that, I felt they deserved that I know their names and faces.

As the trucks started rolling, I uncovered their faces, looking at them. Their eyes were closed now, but only a day ago each of these people had lives, possibly families if they had any left. They moved, breathed, ate, drank, just like anyone else. And just like it had been what seemed like a lifetime now, biotics had taken everything from them.

I memorized their names, uploading them to the Reaper Database. I found pictures of them when they were alive, putting together a memorial set. As I did so, I felt the truck rumble to wakefulness under my feet.

It was a simple thing, putting the memorial together, but doing so did something for me. With every name and face that I put on the memorial I felt the numbness I didn’t realize I’d been mired in loosen. I felt the raw emotion, the waves of adrenaline that burned through me long faded leaving frenetic nerves. My hands trembled, muscles tightened. As easily as opening my eyes, my helmet slid away from my head, my breath uneven and short.

Tears fell from my unnatural eyes. I didn’t tremble in terror, I think I would have preferred that. Guilt crept through my thoughts as I looked at them again and again, the responsibility of their deaths hanging over my head. I couldn’t look away, feeling forcing myself instead to bear upon myself the duty of remembrance. My breath came harder then, and the wound on my gut flared up, reminding me of my own injury.

It was strange realizing that I’d probably taken a strike that would have killed anyone else. Already I felt the reinforced tissues working to repair the damage. I pressed a hand to my stomach, realizing that the wound blended in with the armor. From dull grey to black, some kind of damp material came away with my hand, a dark red tint the only identifier that I still had blood. I grimaced at that, biosteel was in my body now, and certainly it would help with clotting these larger injuries. I shook my head, there was the chance that I’d need to get that taken a look at. Perhaps we should have our own medical facility set up. Idly, I continued with my project, feeling the need to focus on anything else that I could.

When finally the memorial was complete, I felt the tears had slowed to a trickle. It was strange, to be crying but not overwhelmed with sadness, strangely distant. Was that normal? Was that shock? I wasn’t sure, but each of these people were individuals that had trusted in me, becoming a part of my legion. I was responsible for each of them. The worst one was Ziek, he didn’t die simply because he wasn’t good enough. He died trying to save a comrade, of them all, losing him stung the most somehow, not that losing someone because they weren’t ready was at all ‘better’ for me.

I sat back in the bed of the truck, closing my eyes and donning my helmet once more. It would be a long drive back, and more than once, I could smell the tang of dead biotic in the air, disparate groups that died out in the wilderness as they’d tried to make their way to the hive. If nothing else, that answered another idle question.

The reason why that there was only one Hive Guard at the opening of the mines was because the rest of them were still leading their swarms back to the mine.

As I thought of that, I remembered the Bulwark, and remembered that they were in charge of setting up defenses properly in Gilramore.

I pressed my hand to my gut as the pain pulsed in tune to my heartbeat. We needed everything to be… better. I kept thinking of that as I lost consciousness and faded off to sleep.

And awoke seemingly moments later to a man in black armor, red light seeming to allude to a malignant eye glaring at me from its smooth onyx helmet. The bed of the truck, hard metal that had several body bags in it was now entirely devoid of any trace of its previous payload.

Of course, the part that was distinctly more disorienting was the fact that there almost appeared to be an identical truck bed where it should have ended. More than that was that in this mirror, the other me was surrounded by the bodies.

“Why do you feel sorry for them?” He asked. My gut tightened, painfully with the injury, as I processed the words.

“Because I was responsible for them.” I said, clenching my fist, “Don’t you start this shit.”

His head tilted slightly in a question, “Do what?”

“Try to point out some kind of cold logic that they knew what they were getting into. I know that, doesn’t mean that I don’t have that responsibility-”

“Please,” he waved a hand at me, “I’m not an asshole. Well, we are, but we’re at least selfish enough to not do that to ourselves. What I’m saying here is that you shouldn’t feel sorry for them.”

At that I paused, pressing the injury on my gut. A surge of pain took the sluggishness from the corner of my mind with a wince. “Then what are you… we getting at here?”

He shrugged, but before he could say anything, I felt the dream world shudder and suddenly he was sitting next to me, leaning back against the back of the cab. “Well, look at them again.”

I did so, eyeing the body bags, now lined up once more in the bed of the truck, with room to spare. Each was open, displaying the bodies in varying states of damage. With one major change.

Each of them looked like me.

“The fuck?” I felt a tremor roll down my spine, cold like the fingers of death. My alter-self put a hand on my shoulder.

“Right? Smith put it to me this way, ‘What if it were you on that floor?’ and left me with that.” He sat forward, grimacing at his own gut wound, “What if it were us on that floor?”

That was odd, Smith talking to him, effectively my subconsciousness, instead of me was strange to think about. Beyond that though, that question was just bizarre.

Still, I studied them, and that went on for a while. On some level, I felt a deep concentration on the subject, and I supposed it was because I was literally engaged on every cognitive level on the question.

And the first thing I came up with wasn’t helpful at all. The nihilistic view that we’re all fleshy bags that end up the same in the end was probably not the goal. So, not the literal sense of the question. Spiritual? Cultural? What about…

“Ah.” I clicked my tongue, “Well, I guess I’d be pissed off if someone were to be so tied up about my being dead in a world like this?”

My other self paused and stared at me for a very uncomfortable amount of time. Finally, he said, “That’s what you came up with?”

Defensively, I spat, “Well what’d you get then?”

Shaking his head, he gestured beyond the bodies, “I felt that I would want my death celebrated, not mourned. We’re in a world were dying can be just around the corner. Less now with medicine mostly back up and running, but thinking about it, I can’t bring myself to look at a corpse and regret it the way I used too. Mourning? Yeah, I get that, but why did they die? Or, more importantly, what did they die for?”

I opened my mouth to speak before I felt my jaw snap shut reflexively. The thought resounded within my ears, and though it might be expected coming from my subconscious, I found that the thought somehow just clicked.

Silently, I nodded, regarding the bodies in silence, the faces no longer my own. They foot the bill, they’d put their money where their mouth was. They were dead, but there were plenty of ways to die. They’d chosen theirs. Sure, it sucked, they could have done so much more. But that was in the past, what could be can never be again.

Yeah, that was morose and somewhat cheesy, but it was a fact nevertheless. I smiled, realizing that my trembling had subsided. These people had died, from inexperience, poor equipment, unfamiliar terrain, a clever enemy, whatever the reason was wasn’t irrelevant, but it wasn’t something to brood over.

I could move forward with this.

The Legion would move forward with this.

Seemingly only minutes later, I felt the truck under me slow, my attention coming back to reality. We would be back in Gilramore now, or at least close. I put a hand to my helmet, turning my mic back on.

No sooner than I had, did I hear “Matthew, you might wanna take a look out here.”

And I did so, and found myself staring in shock at the road leading into Gilramore.

“Can… how did… we have a wall like that now?” Alice’s words came in some kind of mismash. I couldn’t blame her, instead of a ramshackle wall built between houses, what we saw now was the complete demolishment of several large buildings, taken apart by men with the combined work effort of construction equipment and what looked like extremely heavy duty exo-suits, a skeletal frame that allowed them to move much larger objects safely. The speed was pretty remarkable too, nothing like the suit Yomar wore, but watching a building and its parts being ferried off by people like worker ants was stunning.

More than that, though, were the 10 meter tall sections of dark-grey walls that were appearing. Each one two meters wide. A sliver of metal bracing connected them to each other, one of which was being slid into place from the front, pushed backwards toward Gilramore until it lined up with large notches designed into the one to its side. They were modular in design, a wall that was fastened together with what looked like steel and some kind of concrete.

And there were already a half dozen set up, with more coming through the streets on tractor diesels, very few of which shared any kind of designating mark. The construction equipment was repurposed, most of it just from the city, with exception to a few much larger hulks that were as large as Daniel’s mech. They worked in tandem with the crane crews, moving the walls into place in minutes with what should have taken hours. Each crane, of which three worked at the same time, had small silver devices connected to several parts, the winch, motors, and certainly more that I couldn’t see from my position at all. As we passed, several of the men cheered loudly, rumbling through the sites.

Our arrival signified that the biotics were dealt with, that they wouldn’t have a sudden wave of lethal spear shooting biotics.

At least, that’s what I assumed.

With a smirk, I opened my com channel, “Hear that, Legionaries? That’s for you. Enjoy it.”

I sat back, looking to the bodies as my mic silenced. “That’s for you…” I uttered to them, swearing to honor them the best way I could.

Looking back to the ever growing construction site, I had to hand it to Doug, he’d done damn good work. And it’d be my turn shortly enough.