*FEROS *
THESEUS SYSTEMS
ATTICAN BETA
"My lord?"
I turned to glare at the batarian to my right.
"I am not a ha'diq, Renin," I corrected.
"No, sir," the batarian admitted, "But you are above 'captain,' and by your own insistence, are not Imperator or Seneschal."
His head was bent slightly to the left in deference, but there was a small smirk on the batarian captain's face. I exhaled through my nose, and waved a hand impatiently.
"We'll have to return to this discussion at a later time," I relented. "For now, go with Commander."
Renin nodded in acceptance.
"According to long-range sensors," he continued. "We have detected a single Reaper is in low orbit above Feros, coordinating the invasion."
I nodded, "Relay to the other commanders: Engage on my mark only."
Captain Renin nodded and turned to the comm station to transmit my orders.
"Gun crews, stand by," I said, forwarding a data readout to each of their consoles. The image was that of a standard Reaper. "Target here, here, and here." Three areas lit up on the holographic image, signifying the most common weak areas on a Reaper Behemoth.
The Agamemnon still acted as my flagship, despite it not being as large as the Pequod or the Tellez. Nakmor's Fury and the Iswanee were also still attached to my fleet, as well as a few other ex-pirates and smaller raiders. With a whoosh, the swirling stars streaking by snapped into focus, bringing the sight of the planet in clarity, including the sight of a single dark cuttlefish/squid shape juxtaposed against the other much, much smaller dark specks in a low orbit.
"Sir," Renin turned to me again, the good-natured joshing now gone from his tone. "We are being hailed."
"Source?" I asked.
"The… Reaper, sir."
A shiver traveled involuntarily down my spine.
No. Ignore it.
We need to know who we're dealing with.
"Have cyberwarfare crews purge our systems every seven… no, every 5 seconds," I ordered, formulating a plan of action, "For as long as the connection exists."
Renin nodded, then pressed a button to accept the hail.
"SENESCHAL."
The voice was long and drawling, like a humpback whale's song, or a cello's low note, quite distinct from Harbinger's authoritative boom, or Nazara's synthetic mono-syllables. Revulsion filled my thoughts, and to my complete and utter surprise, a tidbit of information, volunteered to my subconscious by the hitherto-absent Ko'le.
I know that voice…
"Mocroi."
"BEEN A LONG TIME," Ko'le onetime adversary continued, "AND HERE I WAS AFRAID I WOULDN'T FIND A PROPER CHALLENGE. YOU CAN'T IMAGINE THE DISAPPOINTMENT THIS CYCLE'S WARRIORS HAVE BEEN SO FAR."
"One word of advice I will give you, Mocroi," I answered, my voice growing hard and ice-cold. "Run: Run away back to the abyss from which you came. Run, and live."
"DO YOU KNOW THE BURDEN OF IMMORTALITY, SENESCHAL?"
Father save us, an existential Space Shrimp.
"Sheer and utter boredom?" I mocked.
"BRAVO! YES!" There was honest surprise in the tone now, missing the derision in my answer completely. "PERHAPS YOU DO BEGIN TO GRASP THE MEANING OF IMMORTALITY AFTER ALL. METHINKS THAT AFTER TODAY, ONE OF US WILL RELIEVE THE OTHER OF THEIR BURDEN.
MAY THE BEST…"
"FUCK YOU, you moronic space-slave!" Ko'le's commanding presence was suddenly in control, cutting off the condescending tones. I'm not sure who was the more surprised, me or the interrupted Reaper.
"You are nothing more than the failed experiment of Masters far superior to yourselves! Die in disappointment and mediocrity!"
A snarl of raw and dark fury sounded before I cut off the transmission.
Impressive. You got him angry. That will make him stupid.
There was no answer as Ko'le withdrew to the dark recesses of the Mind-Palace once again.
Thank you, Patriarch. Your words of wisdom echo from beyond your grave.
"Activate the Pleiades."
Renin nodded at my order, the smirk back on his expression, matching the amused grins of everyone else who had heard my exchange with Mocroi.
The seven small ships, each of them named after a daughter of Atlas, were a special construction of the Conclave shipyards at Irune. They were definitely the smallest vessels in my task force, smaller even than the Ohulu-class freighter Iswanee.
The left arm of the captain's chair lit up, and a holographic bust of a uniformed turian appeared.
"Sir, the Maia is fully charged and the focusing dishes are primed."
"Very good, Captain Lokir. You may fire when ready."
Lokir nodded, then ended the transmission. The seven ridiculously-small vessels drew ahead of all the rest, almost looking like personal fighter vessels. Each one was only large enough for eight crew and two pilots, reminding me with a pang of longing of my own Comet.
I wonder where she is, or if that ship's survived this stupid Terminus War.
The other six ships drew back behind the Maia, then all of them opened fire, a steady beam of a Thanix cannon coming from each of them. The six beams struck the six giant satellite dish-looking focusing arrays built into the back of the lead ship. There was a moment's pause, then a massive beam fired from the array, striking Mocroi directly between his "eyes" and traveling upward, ripping a massive gash in the body of the ancient construct.
Something exploded deep in the body of the Reaper, then in a massive flash of light against the blackness of space, the body was ripped into pieces, several of the fragments striking nearby Indoctrinated vessels in much smaller explosions.
A rousing cheer broke out from the crew on the bridge, and, I did not doubt, from every member of the fleet. The war was in its early stages, so perhaps this was the first time any of them had ever seen a Reaper die.
You should have taken my advice, Mocroi.
Damn you to whatever eternity awaits you.
And rest to whatever trillions of souls that went into your creation, Mother-only-knows how long ago. Take them unto your arms, Father, delayed and denied for so long. Let their suffering be at an end, finding comfort in the rest of your embrace.
"Excellent shot, Captain," I congratulated sincerely. "Knighthammer, move to cover the Pleiades' withdrawal. Nom, Chell, engage those troop transports. Everyone else, Formation Seven, close pattern volleys."
"Would you like us to support your battle group, sir, or Captain Rota?" Lokir asked eagerly.
"Neither, captain," I answered calmly. "As soon as the Iswanee and Fury clear a path, I need the Pleiades to assume a position in low orbit. Scan the battle below. While Mocroi may have been the only Behemoth, there might be Crawlers or Harvesters below. Target as many of them as you can, then stand by to cover our landing approach."
The turian brought his fist to his chest in a Conclave salute.
"It will be done, sir."
Even as the remains of Mocroi drifted towards the planet's atmosphere, drawn by Feros' gravitational field, more ships began to move towards us, Reaper-converted turian or Hegemony vessels, from the look of it. It wasn't the overwhelming numbers the Reapers usually employed, but enough to give us pause.
"Follow my lead," I relayed to the fleet. "And… HARD TO PORT!"
The Agamemnon banked left, taking the lead in a long train of ships that now played "Follow the Leader." As the starboard batteries fired, the Agamemnon banked down and to the right, bringing her port batteries to bear against the enemy. Dipping low allowed the ships behind to continue firing, without a friendly ship entering their line of fire. This particular formation essentially built a wall of ships in space, allowing for three-dimensional orbital combat. What set great captains apart from good ones was the ability to plan battles outside of just head-on fights, like the ocean-going ships of old. If any of the enemy ships tried to turn to follow the Agamemnon, they would expose themselves to the ships above. Likewise, if they didn't, my ship's cannons could rip them apart from below.
The enemy also made the mistake of targeting the largest vessels first. While shot after shot had impacted uselessly against the Pequod's and the Tellez's shields, the rest of us had targeted their smallest ships first, then moved up from there. Without escorts, capital ships and frigates were bulky things in space, easy to be brought down by the faster corvettes darting in on torpedo runs.
The fact that a half-dozen of the ships abruptly wheeled and began running for the cover of the distant asteroid field showed that at least some of the enemy captains were still not so indoctrinated as to be fanatically suicidal. The rest of them, however, seemed eager and willing to die for their new masters.
We obliged them.
A cheer broke out from the crew of the Agamemnon as the last of the remaining ships lurched sideways, disabled. The hull had been breached, in several places. Whatever crew had survived the almighty pounding they had received had been vented out into the cold vacuum of space. There was no point in sending boarding crews. This was a job for salvage ships, which had already been sent for from Skyhold Station. The derelict station had turned into the capital of our little alliance, already called "The Association" by many, in order to distinguish it from the Earth-centered human government.
There had been nothing so formal as a declaration that had followed the Conclave's founding four years ago, so much as nobody had offered an alternative, or said that we weren't the
Association.
"Alright, alright!" I called out, over the cheering. "This battle's not over! Captain Renin, move us down into an entry pattern. Gun crews, pick your targets, and recalibrate your weapons for atmospheric use. Marines, get your shuttles!"
"MOVE, you chenethic useless bastards!" Renin bellowed, sending the already-scrambling crew into frenzied motion. "PILLARS damn you all to the sands, back to your stations!"
In the half-hour or so that our space engagement had taken, the Nakmor's Fury and the Iswanee had moved in against the slower, bulkier freighters that had been converted to Reaper troop transports, to devastating effect. Hundreds of Reaper troops were now burning as they fell from low orbit back through Feros' exosphere.
The Pleiades Group had only managed to fire, recharge, and was preparing to fire only its third shot of the battle as we moved towards an entry pattern. That was its one weakness: splitting the turbolasers among the seven vessels allowed for faster movement, but it time to recharge between shots.
"Any luck?" I asked the Agamemnon's communications officer. The young man shook his head.
"No, sir. No signals coming from the colony."
I pursed my lips and blinked slowly.
"How do you want to do this, sir?" Renin asked me, his stance respectful, while keeping his tone neutral.
"Well, Captain," I said simply, "I intend on heading to the location where the largest number of people are shooting at each other. Then I and the marines will disembark, and kill every indoctrinated bastard that shows itself. The fleet will stay on the lookout for Reaper reinforcements and provide support cover for our ground forces. We will light up any targets for your orbital fire."
Renin nodded approvingly.
"Very good sir. Beauty in simplicity."
Zhu's Hope looked surprisingly like it did the first time I had arrived with Shepard and the Normandy. Figures darted from a clearly-improvised trench and firing platform, laying down a field of fire for the hordes of Cannibals and Marauders to cross. That was the bulk of the enemy that I could see from here, but…
"Put us down, there!" I called out, double-checking my Battle Rifle, the veteran fighters around me doing the same. The shuttle touched down on the right flank of the colonists' firing line, Conclave Marines moving forward with an eclectic mix of Terminus mercenaries, and a good smattering of my Omega cultists.
Muerta'Harel moved left, her pistol up and firing over the Omni-Shield deployed on her robotic arm. Zynt's sniper rifle boomed twice to cover her, and two husks slumped over, identical holes bored in their skulls. On the other shuttle, I saw Nakmor Chell leap while still fifty feet up, scattering foes in an impressive biotic smash.
Krogan Airdrop.
"FUCK. THEM. UP!" the female roared, her crew pouring out to support their captain.
Catchy battle cry.
At my motioning, we moved westward, I instinctively sending a shockwave ahead to clear a path, only to be slightly unnerved myself at the massive black wall sending Reapers tossing.
This feels… it feels so….
RIGHT! KILLING ABOMINATIONS, SLAUGHTERING THE REAPERS! FOR THIS REASON, I WAS MADE!
It took nearly all of my focus to prevent Beast from just charging ahead, killing everything. There was much more at stake here than just killing things. I moved over a pile of rubble, trying to make my way to four black-armored colonists.
"WHERE is your COMMANDER?" I asked, yelling to make myself heard above the explosions and gunfire. One of them simply turned around and brought both hands on either side of my quarian helmet. Even beneath the polarized helmet lens, I could see two eyes glowing faintly.
Whoa.
I heard them.
I heard ALL of them.
Thousands of colonists, moving across several dozen square miles. Each of them relaying information via the Vine-Speak, instantly and effortlessly:
Troop numbers.
Enemy strength and position.
Falling back in Bravo Sector.
Need more snipers in the Tower.
Get the wounded back to the Cistern.
"Seneschal?" a deep voice rumbled, surprise and incredulity evident, even on the mental plane.
"Hello, Protector," I managed, trying to remember how to zone out all the extemporaneous noise. Without Ko'le's experienced help, it was difficult.
"It is a drink from the Deep Wells to hear your voice again, my friend," the ancient Thorian said, joy radiating in every syllable. "We had almost despaired of succor or aid."
"Ko'le!" came another voice. "You're alive!"
Reyna.
"Barely," I answered back, sharing in the joy of reunion. "I…misplaced my good looks, and gained a few extra bits, but it's still me."
"Good to have you back, sir."
A young man's voice this time, the clear sub-harmonics fluttering under the initial tones of his words.
"Kolyat! You're here too?"
"Affirmative, sir," answered the son of Thane Krios. "I was accompanying Representative Konstantin and Rey…and her daughter here when the attack came."
"Are all the colonists here connected in the Vine-Speak?"
"It was necessary," Protector's deep bass voice rumbled. "The Old Adversaries blocked our traditional communication methods, throwing us into chaos in the beginning. Fai Dan and Shiala came to me to request my aid. This time, the Joining was voluntary for all, and much more… harmonious."
"Fascinating… but I'm afraid our reunion and questions will have to wait. Where do you need my troops?"
Within seconds, I was caught up to speed on the battle and its movements, who was spread thin, who could hold, and who was being overrun. It was a strange sensation to disconnect and use the relatively clumsy form of speech to communicate with the rest of my incoming troops, redirecting troop transports and shuttle-drops. The Iswanee touched down at the Command Center, its cargo of medical supplies and weapons being unloaded by quick and efficient hands.
"There!"
Muerta pointed at a giant winged creature that looked like it had just crawled from the realm of nightmare. The giant beast touched down and its belly disgorged lurching husks and Scions on the colonists' right flank.
Harvesters.
"Bring them down! Bring it down!"
A giant ball rolled past me, the elcor gunner coming to all fours as he straightened from his rolling charge. A pair of mini-guns unfolded from its back, opening fire on the unholy dragon from hell. The creature threw a metal-encrusted wing between its face and the elcor gun, sparks flying as pieces began to be shredded off the limb. A red line appeared from the mini-guns, training on the stumbling Harvester.
"Kapena?"
"Impatiently: Firing."
The red laser forwarded targeting coordinates for Kapena's back-mounted cannon, as well as the weapons of three other elcor gunners in the vicinity. In the same instant, all four of their shots slammed into the creature from four separate angles, giving the creature no time to adjust barriers or modulate shields. A wing and a leg sheared off entirely, causing the creature to flail wildly as it lost balance and tumbled off the edge of the high-rise walkway, down the many thousand feet to the ground below.
A colonist, looking like a young girl no older than maybe twelve years old, ran over and reached up a hand, her oversized helmet rattling as she did so. I took the hand, her eyes and mine flaring white for a moment.
"Reinforcements inbound to your location, Seneschal," Shiala Konstantin's clear baritone voice sounded via the Vine Speak. "They will clear the path ahead."
I looked over my shoulder to see a number of grey, skeletal figures coming at a dead sprint towards us. Lifting my hand, I signaled my troops to lower their weapons, using biotics to forcibly lower some of their rifles around me. In contrast the husks just opposite, these figures' movements were lithe and effortless.
Thorian Creepers.
The zombie-like Thorian extensions took the husks at a dead run, tangling with their Reaper counterparts with guttural roars and screeching howls. All fire from our side ceased, most of us unable to do anything but stare at the odd face-off occurring just in front of our eyes.
"Sir?" Nakmor Chell asked, pulling one of her javelins from the skull of a Brute, "You're seeing this too, right?"
"See it," I confirmed, "Don't know if I'm quite believing it, just the now."
The husks' electrical discharges would have torn down any shields they would have encountered, but these gray-green Creepers had no such protection, instead engaging them with their acidic projectile vomit, the green bile burning through the husks' skin and cybernetic implants. It quickly turned into a bizarre slugfest, each unit trying to simply tear the other apart by brute strength alone.
"Forward!" I commanded, vaulting over the rubble, blasting the nearest husk down to the ground with the Battle Rifle, leaving it to the Creepers to finish off. Muerta launched a throw field, following my example. Chell replaced her javelin in the thigh quiver she had apparently built for just that purpose, and pulled out a shotgun, clearing a path at the head of her troops.
"Cover! Cover!" came a panicked call over the radio. A Reaper Destroyer loomed ahead. At only a hundred-and-twenty feet tall, the Destroyer wasn't nearly overwhelming as a Behemoth, but it was still a twelve-story gun-platform on legs. The Destroyer ahead opened its focusing array, the all-too familiar high-pitched whine foretelling what was about to come.
Fuck.
"GET DOWN!"
With a deafening WHUMMMMMM, the massive red laser fired out, scattering the Thorian Creepers that had continued their charge forward, even as the rest of us threw ourselves behind the largest pieces of rubble we could find.
The slightly acrid scent of charred air brought back a host of memories from Beast's battle-scarred mind.
"Gun captains, laze target!" I called out over the speakers. "Light that bastard up!"
Several red beams of light began to shine towards the massive Reaper. Smaller explosions from elcor-mounted cannons rebounded off the giant purple-black body. There was an impossibly-deep WHIR WHIR WHIR WHIR of the Reaper's weapon reloading, but also very akin to an automated laughter.
Yeah, yeah, laugh it up, dumbass.
Suddenly, the noise ceased mid-chuckle, and the massive creature looked up at the sky, and looked for all the world like it was cringing, trying to gauge a leap to the side or backward, anything to escape the certain death that descended upon it.
In that moment of indecision, a massive beam fired from the Pleiades struck it right in the 'eye', burning a hole straight through the space squid, striking the ground underneath and scattering the Reaper horde that had been trying to rally behind the destroyer. With a groaning shriek of twisted metal, the destroyer toppled, raising a dust cloud that obscured all vision. All weapons raised, ready to track any shape that might show itself through the obscuring whirlwind. But when the dust cleared, there was nothing but the bodies of the fallen. As the great red light in the destroyer's eye faded, the air seemed to clear, as if a ringing in the back of your head suddenly ceased.
"They are falling back, General," came the word from one of the snipers, their vision now cleared as well, "Back towards the canyon."
"Break off pursuit!" I ordered. "We could lose an army in that maze of rocks. Lieutenant Korban, do you read?"
"We read you, sir," came the volus pilot at the head of the flight-wing of fighter/bombers. "The battle up here is more than over. Just grunt slug-work left."
"Well done," I congratulated. "I need bombing runs on the retreating enemy forces. Bury them in those canyons, lieutenant."
"With pleasure, sir."
A whoosh sounded as the bombers came overhead, after the retreating husks, now more than likely feral with Mocroi no longer here to direct the invasion.
Feral, but nonetheless dangerous.
Several soldiers around us were taking off their helmets, or throwing themselves down and panting for breath. Muerta simply sat and began to go through her routine of taking her pistol apart and putting it back together again, loyal Zynt in tow. I turned and made my way towards the colony troops.
"How are all of your people?" I asked aloud. All four soldiers reached up and removed their own helmets, turning to face me. All four of them were green asari. Two bore Shiala's face, the other two strangers to me.
"We greet you, Seneschal," they all said in perfect unison. The other colonists began to remove their helmets. All of them, human, drell, salarian, turian and asari… they were ALL a bright and vibrant green.
Ahh.
"Thorian copies? Seed-born?" I asked, struggling to remember the Thorian term for creating a carbon copy of a Joined.
"We are… extensions of the colony's will," came the answer, magnified by fifty voices all around us. "Born of Protector-of-the-Weak."
Many of the Conclave troopers had leapt to their feet at the somewhat unnerving revelation that the green-skinned colonists had been.
Ahh.
You should stop saying that. It makes you sound like an idiot.
Leaving Nakmor Chell to set up a fire-line to guard against the possibility of the Reapers coming back, I summoned a shuttle to my location, and set out towards the designated Emergency Command Center. I expected to feel… something: elation at victory, sadness at the destruction all around me, or perhaps even confusion at the revelations I had just witnessed.
Instead there was just a dull numbness as I dismounted from the shuttle. Nom Rota and the volus EXO-Atlas troops had now laid aside their rifles and were using their suits to unload large crates of supplies and weapons.
"Sir?"
I turned at a touch to my elbow to see a young human girl, probably eighteen or nineteen, if my guess was correct. She was in a suit of light armor, but that face…
"Aara al Kader," I said, smiling when I contrasted her with the somewhat-gangly fourteen-year-old who had guided us from the Normandy on our first visit to Zhu's Hope colony.
The stunned look of surprise, followed by the beaming smile confirmed my thought. "Yes sir! Though, it's 2nd Lieutenant Kader, now. Um… Fai Dan and Protector asked me to lead you to the Joining Chamber. Though… I think you'd've known the way."
I smiled, and raised a hand to gesture forward.
"Lead on, LT."
The girl (young woman, I corrected myself) led on to a building that was atop where the Borealis had been parked on my last visit. Inside there was only a flat open square, with a set of stairs leading down.
So that's where we're headed.
The stairs back down to the Thorian chamber had been cleaned up considerably. Now the stone steps had been polished to a bright sheen, and flowers bloomed in the alcoves.
Right above the colonists.
In each of alcoves, a colonist reclined peacefully, vines enveloping their arms and torsos, entwining around their foreheads like daisy-chain crowns. I recognized some of them: there was the turian, a salarian (wasn't he the merchant from the first game? wondered Kevin), and a few other asari. Then we passed Macha Doyle, and May O'Connell. Then there was David Al Talaqani. As we neared the bottom, I saw Arcelia Silva Martinez, the one-time ExoGeni security guard, with her hands folded across her chest, bright orchids blooming around her. Then there were only two alcoves left: one held Fai Dan, Conclave governor of Feros. The other held Shiala Konstantin, Representative of the Traverse Republics to the Conclave Circle.
And Aara made a deep obeisance to the towering Thorian Vine where it hung in its place of honor. Then she turned, nodding once at me as she made her way back up the stairs. Protector of the Weak heaved, and then a humanoid figure emerged from the mouth of the Thorian: an exact copy of Fai Dan.
"Hello, Imperator. 'm sorry I cannot speak to you with my own body," the vine-clone said in a grave tone, gesturing to the governor's alcove. "But if were to sever my connection to the Vine now…"
"… all of your Thorian clones would die," I nodded understandingly. "I congratulate you and your people on your willingness to undergo such an ordeal."
"It made sense at the time," Fai Dan answered. "My clones usually adopt a command or administrative role. Aurelius was an engineer in the Hierarchy before he came here, so it was only logical to include him. Macha is a skilled engineer, as is Ledra."
"Makes sense," I agreed. "Gets around the whole 'I can't be everywhere at once' problem."
"Just so, Imperator," Fai Dan chuckled.
"I am not Imperator any longer, Governor Fai," I corrected. Protector of the Weak heaved again, and a Shiala clone emerged.
"You are Imperator to us, Ko'le," she said, "Petrovsky and the Eighth Battle Group was here, 'to defend the colony' he said. He took the Star-Flowers that we had cultivated, and Javik and his Protheans took every scrap of data they could scrounge from the ancient data-banks and archives."
"Then they left."
The three of us turned to see Reyna descending the stairs, with Kolyat at her side. But Reyna's asari-like crests had grown long, arching up from her head in a distinctly tree-like appearance. Her dress also was completely organic: layers of bark one on top of the other, sprouting a trail of flowering vines that followed her like the train of an elegant ball gown. Leaves also sprouted from her fingers, overall styling her very much more like a Vine-Daughter of the Thorian court from the days of Charn, rather than a Thorian copy of an asari. She quickly strode across the room and threw her arms around my neck before I could do or say anything. Kolyat folded his arms behind him and gave me a deep nod in a display of stoicism very much like his father, but the corners of his mouth quirked up in a wry smile.
"It is so good to see you all," I said, wrapping my arms around Reyna somewhat awkwardly, given my new hands' size.
Shaila smiled as Reyna continued the fierce hug. "It is good to see you too, Ko'le. This makes the second time you have saved this colony."
Fai Dan nodded, "A few more hours, and we might have been overrun. We didn't have any cannons left operational that could make a dent in that Reaper."
I sighed deeply, then turned to the others. "I'm sure you all have questions…"
Reyna shook her head. "Not really: Dad filled us in on what he had gleaned from you during your time in the Vine-Speak. Put together by Leviathans, who you really don't trust, but you're fairly sure you're still… you, right?"
I blinked once.
"Right."
"And you came back for us," she continued, "And Petrovsky and Javik abandoned us, leaving us practically defenseless for when the Reapers did arrive."
I furrowed my brow in confusion. "They just left?"
Kolyat moved his hands to cross them across his chest. "No warning, no justification, nothing. One minute they were there, and the next they were going for hard burn for the Relay.
Suddenly Fai Dan's eyes turned a bright green, and Protector spoke in the soft bass voice:
"Before he left, Avatar Javik spoke to me, joining me on the Vine-Speak. He sought knowledge of 'the End': a weapon of terrible power to end the Cycles and destroy the Reapers forever."
Like the Inusannon Hammer and Anvil?
Javik isn't the suicidal type, though.
He wasn't the back-stabbing type either, was he?
"Show me," I said slowly, raising a hand. Fai Dan walked over and joined mine, palm to palm. My own eyes flared white, and then there was a rush of images:
Javik kneeling in this very chamber: his hand against the Vine, his eyes white.
Javik conversing with Petrovsky at the Conduit of Ilos, with Vigil standing just off to the side.
Javik and Kai Leng exiting the Mars Archives, passing a datapad between them. And on the screen was…
NO.
Father and Mother, NO.
Javik… what have you done?
With a sudden snarl of fury and anger, the connection was severed. I whirled and snapped an order to my one-time drell aide:
"KOLYAT!"
The drell shot to attention, ready for anything.
"Get word the Agamemnon. And the Iswanee, and the Fury. We will be preparing to leave at once."
I turned back to Fai Dan, the eyes of his Vine-clone normal again.
"The remainder of the fleet will remain here, to coordinate the defense of the colony and to bear Representative Konstantin to Skyhold. DAMN me, DAMN me for a bloody fool for not seeing it sooner! FATHER and MOTHER bear witness…"
Shiala and Reyna both stepped forward, each of them grabbing an arm.
"What is it, Ko'le?"
"What did you see?"
I had to take a second to get my breathing under control.
"The Citadel will soon be under attack. If it isn't already."
I continued, despite their incredulous faces.
"That is Javik's plan, and Petrovsky's madness. They need it for the Crucible, which is the doom of us all. "
Author's Note:
We have one Circle member rescued, two to go…
Next week: Stormclouds: Temple Run
And afterwards:
Stormclouds: Meetings and Partings
As a special thank you to all my reviewers: If we can get this chapter fifteen reviews, I'll go ahead and post the next chapter early! ;)
You guys ROCK! Never let anybody tell you otherwise, especially yourselves!
Thanks everybody! Leave me a review letting me know what you think! Even if it's just as simple as "Good job, I liked it," hearing from you guys always brightens my day!
-Tusken1602
Reviewer Responses:
Squadpunk 2.0 – Maybe it would…
DaToskin, maesde – The Normandy reunion will be a tough moment, that's for sure. Can Shepard trust Ko'le? Can Ko'le trust himself?
griezz, BJ Hanssen, METALHELLSPWN– So we've got at least a few answers this chapter! I really loved bringing Drot back, along with Klaang. *hats off for Zaeed. Morinth has been a lot of fun to flesh out. IMO, she's the most under-used character in the ME series. Canon-Morinth is a really… boring character. Yeah, she's oh-so-spooky space vampire, but what does that mean? How does that affect her? Wanted to answer some of those questions in this fic.
And yeah, I think Ko'le/Kevin/Beast put 'Fighting the Normandy' as absolute 'Worst-Case-Scenario.'
maesde – Right now, I have no plans to include Andromeda.
Toothless is best – I agree.
jackli10345, Pietersielie – ME3 is overall a darker story than the other two chapters, and I don't want to get lost in the depressing depths, but that kinda is the struggle, isn't it?
Deathknight999 – Probably more than 25 *wink* Melding with Ardat-Yakshi is still bad idea though, if you wanna live.
May the Father below accept you when your time comes, and until then, may the Mother keep you always.
EE-RAH!