Commander Jack Harper had a habit he performed every day without fail. Harper was a creature of habit, mostly due to his work. At five o'clock in the morning, Earth Standard time, he would wake up. Half an hour was spent reviewing any transmissions, mission reports or other messages he would receive overnight. After that another half hour would be spent preparing for the day: cleaning, dressing, and eating. Then he would head for the memorial.
In the year twenty sixteen, when XCOM was first founded as desperate move to combat the Ethereal army, the soldiers of XCOM had created a small shrine to their fallen comrades. In the beginning it was little more than pictures hung over a dresser in the barracks. As the number of fallen rose, the set of pictures grew until an entire wall was covered. The war was long and the losses were immense. No matter how well the XCOM teams performed, it seemed there was at least one death a day. Sometimes a team would fail, and no-one would return.
When Luna was converted to XCOM's headquarters and Humanity's primary starport the little wall was remade into a grand memorial. Reminiscent of the American Lincoln memorial, it was a grand chamber with the names of the fallen thousands who served in XCOM. Not just those who died in combat, but those who died from old age or illness. The names and images of each member was enshrined, never to be forgotten.
Commander Harper's habit was that he would enter the memorial every day, and spend one hour every day reading the names of those who served in the past. He would memorize every detail, their names and faces. It was his motivation, his driving force. When he stood in the room he felt the souls of the honored dead judging him, leading him, and urging him. Pre-war paranormal fans believed that a psychic could speak to the dead, that they could call out to those who had passed on and use their knowledge to aid the living. When humanity gained psychic powers that vaunted ability was quickly debunked. Jack Harper still liked to believe however.
The commander was only twelve minutes into his daily ritual when the communications piece in his ear began buzzing, with narrowed eyes the only sign of his annoyance, he switched on the link. "Central, give me an update on Shanxi."
"Commander we have received word from the forces stationed at Shanxi. Alien ships have been detected in the system. We count only fifteen hundred ships, five of them are around twenty-two hundred meters in length. They match our Intel for Turian dreadnaughts, the rest are around thirteen-hundred to sixteen hundred meters. Intel suggests that the largest are Turian style carriers and medical ships the others are battle-cruisers."
Jack Harper lit one of his trademark cigarettes, swiftly walking out of the memorial, "Whats the status of Shanxi's defensive fleet?"
"Shanxi's Archangel Network is active and ready, the Particle beams are set to intercept any landing forces mid-air. The First and Second Fleets have arrived and are prepared. Psi-ops teams are ready to form the merge when needed. With Shanxi's personal fleets in place we have eleven-thousand two-hundred and fifty six ships combat ready. One hundred Dreadnaughts of various levels are combat ready."
The commander took in a long draw from his cigarette. "What about the evacuation plans? Are the civilians ready in case the Turians do secure a landing zone?"
"Commander, the civilians are ready but I don't think-"
"You don't think. You relay reports to me. "Harper cut him off, crushing the remains of his Cigarette into ruin, "We have been caught by surprise already and I will not allow our people to die or be trapped in a war zone because we felt superior! The moment even a half-dead Turian enters Shanxi's atmosphere the Civilians will be evacuated and on their way to Mars."
"Understood, Commander." the central officer replied meekly.
"Glad you understand. What's the Status of the capture and infiltration teams?"
"Perfect mission across the board commander. No losses in any of the teams, and Dr. Knives has ninety-seven Turians captured and in containment."
"If we had a perfect mission, how do we only have ninety-seven instead of one hundred?" The commander questioned, not angry but curious.
"According to the reports over a dozen Turians attempted suicide during transport. The teams had a difficult time keeping the prisoners sedated or properly restrained. During the transfer into the Science Vessel, the Athena's Pride, Several Turians made a last ditch escape attempt and seized a grenade. Eight were injured in the blast, three died from their wounds."
"Has the autopsy on the corpses been completed?"
"Yes sir, Dr. Knives team has already started development on two new gene mods based on what they could learn from the Turian's DNA. The Doctor wanted to wait for confirmation before he started employing any interrogation methods."
"They attacked without cause or provocation. Tell Knives that I'm approving use of both Advanced and Psychic Interrogation. No limits. They have critical information we need." The commander's face held a small grin, "Besides Human rights only apply to humans after all."
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Saren Arterius was in pain. Turian soldiers were trained to resist pain in various forms, but this was just monstrous. Saren struggled against his restraints with what little strength he had left. His body was bound to a large slab with massive metal restraints on his feet, hands, and waist. Rather than like straps or cuffs the restraints completely sealed what they held and allowed no room for movement. The imprisonment didn't end there. Dozens of needles were inserted into Saren's body, not just under the skin, but into the muscles and bones as well. The primitives that stuck them in were not gentle nor kind, several times Saren passed out from the pain. The needles were attached to various cords, some clear and hollow, others were attached to metal cords. All of the cords ran back to the walls of his cell.
Several times a primitive would activate the lights in the cell and look in at him using a slot in the door. They didn't enter. They didn't respond when he yelled for answers. This was not how a civilized species fought! Chemical or biological weapons and cruel interrogations were banned by the Citadel! Didn't these primitives know anything?
For the first time since he awoke, Saren's cell opened. The door slid into the wall, allowing a white cloth clad primitive to enter. The primitive was thin, and when it moved the light chime of metal rang out from its sides. Saren eyed the area, was the primitive carrying knives or a projectile weapon? The primitive examined the needles and restraints, picking at a few causing a stinging pain in Saren's limbs.
The primitive made a show of searching it's clothes for an item. With a flair the primitive pulled out an Omni-Tool, one of Turian design, before slipping it on it's wrist. "Hello there, can you understand me?" It asked.
Saren's mandibles widened in disbelief, "Primitive... How...?"
The mouth of the primitive widened. "How did I use this Omni-tool? We've been collecting data on your species for some time. Surprisingly for a self-proclaimed 'advanced species' you Turians are absolutely dreadful when it comes to Cyberwarfare. No wonder the Salarians' STG keep succeeding in spying on you."
Saren felt a cold chill of fear wash down his spine. The primitives knew far more than they should. "What do you want?" Saren croaked out, weakly.
The alien made a short repeating noise that Saren would bet was an indicator of amusement, "First, let me introduce myself. My name is Doctor Kevin Sebastian Knives. I am the Head of the XCOM Research and Development. My Job is simple, learn everything I can about any alien species humanity will encounter."
"What does a scientist want with me? I'm just a soldier." Saren groaned out, it hurt to talk, but if he could steer the conversation he could learn some critical Intel and try to escape and report it back to the Hierarchy.
"You misunderstand. I'm not just a scientist, I'm also an interrogation specialist." The primitive made the noise again, "You see, I know you intend to act defeated, and intend to try to escape to alert your hierarchy. I just want to make it clear: you will not escape, you will not resist, and you will tell me what I want to know. It's all a matter of how much you want to hurt before you answer."
Saren prepared to launch a wad of spit at his captor, but before the drool could do more than gather all of Saren's senses became pain. He heard colors as the taste of burning assaulted his mouth. Saren was more aware of the needles in his skin as they became silver worms that burrowed and bred in his flesh. Turians were trained to resist pain, but as Saren quickly determined, this was beyond pain. The Turian mind was only meant to endure so much, before shattering and Saren's was quickly reaching the point of madness.
Just as the insanity began, it cut off. Saren's ragged breathing was the only noise in the cell, sweat poured from his clammy flesh. "How do you like it?" The scientist primitive asked, the amused tone still present, "My 'mind-fray' technique isn't as destructive as one of the other Volunteers, however I have much greater control over it."
"What?" Saren gasped, his brain ached like never before, even having his skull squeezed by a Krogan warlord didn't hurt as much, "What was that?"
The primitives' mouth tightened, the eyes narrowed, "You don't listen well do you Saren? My species have advanced mental abilities. A side effect of a previous war. Think of it like an Asari's meld, just no touching, and with a much wider variety of applications. You shouldn't try to spit on me, do it again, and you'll undergo the technique again. If your alien fluids manage to touch any part of me, I assure you that you will beg me for the technique before I'm done with you."
Saren's fear nearly consumed him right then. What in the name of the Spirits had they done?
"Now," the primitives commanded, his flesh glowing with a violet aura, "Tell me about your people..."
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General Williams was alert and prepared. The Turian invaders were on route to Shanxi and the Alliance fleet was in a loose blockade formation. When the Turians arrived they would be crushed. Over ten thousand battleships held position above Shanxi, the Archangel network was calibrated to disable any Turian ships that came within range.
Williams sat in the command seat of the Flagship, Gaia's Shield, The five kilometer Super-carrier carried little more than basic defensive weapons, the Shield's real threat was The Six-thousand unmanned Hellfire interceptors. The Drone fighters were armed with a wider variety than their maned counterpart, Without the need for the cockpit the Hellfire drones were loaded with two plasma cannons, two dual laser cannons, an EMP cannon and a Mass accelerator Fusion Lance. The drones were only lightly armored, but their maneuverability was unmatchable.
Intel from XCOM had been pouring in after the capture of the Turian prisoners. According to the Intel, the Turian fleet held only three advantages: longer range, the shield piercing ammo, and rate of fire. While the Turians couldn't fight one on one , if they played defensive and focused fire the Alliance would take some real damage before the battle was over. The main gun on a Turian Dreadnaught would be able to decimate any Alliance ship long before it got into range.
"Victory, How long until the Turians are expected to arrive?" Williams asked, addressing the Ship AI.
The Primary combat AI, Victory, responded instantly from the Command deck speakers, "At their current pace, the Turian ships are ten minutes away. Forward scouts are detecting active energy emissions, it is believed they are on route with weapons active. "
"Victory, What's the status of XCOM's going away present?" Williams questioned, bombs hidden in an enemy fleet would be incredibly useful. If they were still active.
"According to the Hyperwave transmissions, all one hundred packages are still functioning properly and awaiting the detonation signal." Victory informed.
"Send the order to the fleet, all ships to battle stations, we have incoming hostiles. All Dreadnaughts are to focus on disabling the enemy dreadnaughts. Any and all Psi-operatives available and in range are to use terror tactics. Carriers are to launch all interceptors and target the enemy engines in five! I want all cruisers and frigates to make destroying any and all ships that appear to be deploying ground forces. I don't want a single drop of Turian blood to touch Shanxi's pure soil!"
"Affirmative, commander."
Orders Sent out, the General sat back in his seat, his mind reaching out to his crew. The mind merge was a skill poorly used by the Sectoid shock troops during the Ethereal war, but with a century of training the Alliance used it to its greatest potential. Across the Alliance armada, the commanding officers started linking their minds with the crew of their ships, who would link their thoughts with the others. Within seconds, the crew of each ship was linked by a hive mind. Thoughts, orders and status reports were sent and received with the speed of thought.
Guns were loaded, targeting computers were calibrated, engines activated, and other preparations completed. A threat was coming and the Alliance was prepared.
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Alliance Interception squadron Eagle-04 led by Captain Stephen Hiller was the first to encounter the Turian forces. The sleek silver disks swimming across the void at their targets. The dual pilot system was designed for one pilot, one gunner, the two would merge minds during combat, allowing a wider range of view and increase the likelihood they would survive the battle.
"Boys," Captain Hiller addressed his comrades, "For the second time in mankind's history we are under attack by an alien force. Our boys in XCOM had the joy of terrorizing these bastards, but they ignored that warning and are on their way to attack our home. I say we sent these bastards packing! Eagles! Take down their engines! Focus fire on the command ships! Send these alien motherfuckers to hell!"
The Turian defensive lasers were designed for short range ship to ship combat, not shoot down speeding interceptors. The Eagles attack run ran down the length of the closest dreadnaught, the lasers doing no more damage than a bee sting to an elephant. The small ships targeted the defensive turrets, working to disable the giant ships before they met the fleet. Captain Hiller wasn't happy with the combat data coming in. Despite the speed and maneuvers of their craft they were already reporting losses. Eagle-04 still had twenty-four out of twenty-four, however other squads like Wolf-07 were almost entirely wiped out.
The engines of the Turian dreadnaughts were as massive as the ships they moved, making them easy targets for the Alliance Hellfires. Like furious hornets the fighters rushed in, drilling into the hull with the metal melting lasers. Seconds past as minutes as the interceptors were shot down by Turian lasers and mass accelerator rounds. Several small explosions erupted from the damaged engines, yet the dreadnaughts showed no signs of slowing at all. "Eagles keep focusing on the engines! Command wants the command ships out of the fight!" Hiller commanded, "Wolf teams, get those defensive turrets off our back!"
"Captain Hiller!" one of the Eagles reported in, "The Dreadnaughts are breaking off with a set of cruisers! They're moving to cut us off from the rest of the fleet!"
"Confirm, how many are breaking away?"
"Captain, Fifty cruisers at least! The rest are still on route to Shanxi!"
Captain Hiller opened a line to the "Command, we have intercepted the targets, however the majority of the enemy fleet is en route to Shanxi. We count at least one thousand vessels. Maybe more."
General Williams was not pleased by that news, "Are the Dreadnaughts disabled?"
"Negative, Sir." Hiller replied, dodging another burst from a mass accelerator, "The dreadnaught's armor is too thick. Are lasers are penetrating, however we just aren't doing enough damage. The majority of the dreadnought's rear defensive guns are destroyed however."
"Captain, those dreadnaughts cannot enter this fight." The general scowled, "target the command deck if you have to, but those ships will put too much at risk!"
"Understood General." Captain Hiller changed frequencies from command to the interceptors, "Orders from command, the dreadnaughts cannot enter the fight at full speed. The engines must be taken out, all forces are to make attack runs on the dreadnaughts. Hit and run boy and girls! All squadrons focus fire on my target!"
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When the Turians were within range, the Alliance was ready. A charge was led by the six-thousand drones of the Gaia's shield, the VI systems targeting aiming for the defenses of the invaders, weakening them for the rest of the charge. The Alliance dreadnaughts were making a slow charge, with their targets hidden behind the line there weapons were brought to bear upon any who would came close to Shanxi, their ship long fusion lances charged and prepared to obliterate anything that crossed the battlefield.
The Alliance cruisers outnumbered their enemy ten to one, and the advantage of numbers was not enough to negate the Turian's weaponry. As the cruisers approached hundreds of the disruptor rounds shattered shields and scarred ships, several were struck down before Alliance artillery could fire upon their foes. Once the cannons were in range, the battle became much more active. Turian ships knew the enemy's weapons would pierce them, and took the only path they thought they had: moving between the enemy ships forcing them to cease fire or risk hitting there own vessels.
Before the Turian vessels could fully enter the Alliance line, the forty-six infiltrated Turian warships had a sudden and unfortunate explosion devastate the inside of their hulls. The detonation of a small yield nuclear device inside a pressurized hull. The shock waves from the blast disrupted the navigation systems of the nearby Turian allies, crippling shields and armor alike. Several desperate captains rammed their dying hulls into the Alliance defenders. The Alliance formations had no choice but to separate or be torn apart by the fallen ship's debris field.
With the tight defensive formations separated a dozen ships were picked off by concentrated disruptor fire. The Turians had no chance of winning, but they put up one hell of a fight. They used the debris field as a shield, sticking to the sides of the Alliance vessels and forcing them to fire upon each other to get at the less plentiful Turian vessels. With all of the debris and swerving, the Alliance VI's and targeting computers were making errors striking friendlies. They could only calculate for so much before mistakes were made. For every ten shots, three would miss, potentially striking their allies. Exactly what the Turians wanted. As long as the Alliance vessels had their shields they couldn't harm each other, and the Turians settled the issue with disruptor rounds, keeping the Alliance vessels unshielded, allowing friendly fire to do the damage they couldn't themselves.
With the Turians at such close range the advantage of laser weapons was negated. The Turian lasers were quicker and more numerous, melting whatever armor the mass accelerator rounds couldn't pierce. The well trained soldiers of the Hierarchy were fighting a losing battle and did whatever they could to inflict damage upon those they saw beneath them.
By this point the Turian's hit and swerve tactics were all they had. The moment they moved away from the Alliance ships, they would be destroyed by the waiting lances of the Alliance Dreadnaughts. The three-hundred dreadnaughts still remained untouched by the battle, hovering over Shanxi like a shield. Commanding officers waited patiently, the Turian tactics were clever, but they lacked the numbers and firepower necessary to reach their goal. It would take time, but Shanxi would not fall yet.
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"Central, this is Captain Stephen Hiller, the mission is a failure, the dreadnaughts are moving towards Shanxi! I repeat the Dreadnaughts are moving towards Shanxi!"
Superior evasions could only keep you alive for so long, and without superior numbers to cause panic, the Alliance interceptors were dying fast. The Dreadnaught's guns were lethal by themselves, but when you had to swerve around constantly moving cruisers that focused everything they had on moving you down the death rate increased dramatically. Fighters were shot down by the rapid firing mass accelerators. From the thousands they started with barely a few dozen were left.
With teams dropping like flies Captain Hiller had a mad idea, it was suicide whether it worked or not. "Jimmy, " Hiller addressed his gunner, "Remember what they tell you about not overloading the Elerium Generator?"
Jimmy chuckled, "It's been a pleasure working with you Captain. Overloading the core now. You've got fifty seconds to get us somewhere good!"
Hiller turned on his Comms. "Boys and girls, if this does anything Overload your Elerium cores and dive in to the nearest Dreadnaught!"
Miller's fighter dove steeply, the hull of his targeted dreadnaught had several openings near the engines and the shields had long shattered under the interceptor's combined firepower. The hellfire swooped and swerved, dodging the furious shots of the Turian vessels. Captain Miller knew how he wanted to go out with style. Dodging alien fire with a mad idea to suicide bomb the enemy with a beyond nuclear explosion was definitely a way to go.
The Hellfire ripped into the hull, piercing what little remained and tore past several decks, coming to rest next to a giant glowing blue orb. Hundreds of pipes led from the device. Heller's mind reached out to his remaining comrades, giving them a rough hint where to hit. A chance for dramatic last words was blocked by the blood filling his lungs.
A Turian was staring at him in shock, having rushed in to determine the cause of the noise. Miller flipped him off as his fighter exploded.
The Overloading Elerium core explosion, caused the Element zero core to detonate amplifying the already nuclear explosion. The Turian dreadnaught was atomized, the force of the blast flinging all nearby ships aside. The Turian dreadnaughts were large and armored enough to withstand the blast wave. Cruisers took major damage, but were still capable of fighting, but the interceptors were ripped apart by the distortions.
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Primarch Fedorian was not a happy leader. Live-streams from The battle with the Primitives was showing disastrous results. The dreadnaughts were being outmaneuvered and taking damage from a large number of fighters, the thousand ships sent in were getting destroyed, and they were losing. This was a travesty! For nearly two thousand years the Turians were the pinnacle of military might in the galaxy, and now some no name dirtball primitives who had barely traversed the stars were beating them! It didn't matter that they had Ten thousand ships! The Turians should have crushed them in the opening salvo then taken the planet with no resistance!
Fedorian sent a command to Palaven command. All available fleets were to head for the 314 relay and reinforce the fleets already in combat, the Primarch signed the order as a priority command. The nearest fleet was the fifteenth, which was two hours away. At that rate the primitives might actually have won and regrouped! Fury was clouding his mind, but this disgrace had to be corrected.
