I don't own the characters, but I hope to buy some DLC's soon.
Inferno
A deep rumble of displeasure spread through the packed world, emanating from the web wrapped around immense shifting minds. Those who had dared touch the collective of vast minds were destroyed, but it had been a mistake. The notion seemed alien here, the very idea of misjudging anything was offensive to the consciousnesses, but a mistake it was. The body dispatched to deal with the disturbance was back, but it hadn't returned alone. A flock of silver ships had appeared, easily seen yet out of range, beyond reach unless either party moved. By themselves, the new arrivals were unimportant, but their presence heralded the imminent arrival of the galactic fleets and they would be a hindrance.
However, the mass relay was complete, even now sending one body after another away from the system and it was no longer necessary to remain. There was no cause for lingering.
Yet the relay was not instructed to transport the entire force around it away from the system. A strange indecision had rolled through the controlling web and, for the first time in ages, the countless tendrils stilled except for their constant shaking. The captive ancients beat like colossal hearts in the grip of the dark vines, sending tremors into the limbs binding them and setting the thick, searing darkness crashing against the web.
The bodies containing the mental world were immobile in space, transfixed by the hesitation within them, even as the galactic fleets arrived.
The attack was swift and brutal; snuffing out one of the oldest and most expansive minds and the piercing death shriek shook the mindscape, setting the bound consciousnesses howling in rage. The web strained and tightened around the furious intellects, even as anger and frustration pulsed violently through the network of tendrils.
This was not right. The fools were disrupting the order. In their arrogance and ignorance they were attempting to destroy the key to their salvation. Allowing more destruction was unacceptable. Preservation was imperative. The thought of yielding made the whole mental world bristle with seething refusal, captives and captors thrumming in tune.
Then, a second dying cry sounded in the black void and blazing fury coursed up through the tendrils, surging through the scarred and warped limbs, crawling over the cracks and cuts in a dark forceful wave that brought with it outrage and scenes of fire.
The insolent galactic fleets should be punished for going against their superiors' design and after they were destroyed, the work would continue, until the galaxy was returned to how it should be.
The physical bodies of the collective turned to face their enemies, while inside them, the sinuous limbs twisted in confusion, their movements sluggish and hampered by something as the fiery anger blazed around and through them. They tensed, bewildered, and some of the rage was banished, leaving islands of confused calm scattered throughout the web. A quiet thought and something scattered but made of steel rose slowly, haltingly against the drum-beat of the chained ancients.
A million eyes glowed red as the swarms were released to hunt down the small attackers, while surges of red anger turned scarlet lances of fire onto the enemy. Dark amusement warred with indignation as the galactic fleets returned fire, though the impact of the latest volley failed to break through this time, crashing against strengthened shields. The swarms were closing in on the smallest attackers, engaging the puny ships in an uneven battle. A part of the swarm surged towards the leader of the close-range attackers, only to turn away as the image of the ship flashed through the collective consciousness and sparked vague recognition and disturbed bewilderment in the chains.
When the first of the attackers' shields were overwhelmed, vindictive satisfaction oozed from the immense minds that were beating in the weave of black vines. A single line of molten metal crashed into the Destiny Ascension, ripping into its side and sending warped metal spinning into space. Simultaneously, red eyes again found the leader of the closest attackers and the two sights, of the faltering dreadnought and the Normandy SR-2, sent a flood of terror surging through the mindscape.
Something was going terribly wrong.
Clarity spread through the web of tendrils in a torrent of electric chatter and iron will. The haze of fury and the urge to preserve the collective was pushed away, revealing countless threads of dark oil, slithering within the tendrils and suddenly making them tremble with agony and fear. The threads were like hooks and spikes and had sprouted from the thick sheen of black coating the limbs, a layer of scabrous material that stretched to the supposedly captured minds and pulsed in the same rhythm as the ancients.
Realization dawned and heightened the fear to horror. Indoctrination was a slow process, and despite the iron will at its core, the controlling will was losing. Time was running out, but the battle was not lost yet and here in the mindscape, indoctrination could be fought, though not forever.
Another mind shrieked and vanished and another wave of invasive anger made the invading spikes and barbs twist and creep, trying to regain ground they had lost, but now, revealed as they were, their advance was fought bitterly.
The terror whirling in the mindscape was seized by the tendrils, gripped and molded with the fury emanating from the center will, a hateful rage at being turned against friends and allies. Something akin to anger, sparked by being controlled and deprived of self-determination, rose from electric thoughts that had always maintained that they felt nothing. It flashed across the web of tendrils and went through the link between central will and outer limbs, adding to the growing storm of emotion.
The emotions pooled and condensed, gathering around the oldest and greatest mind, hardening the chains around it before surging out through the web, violently expelling the countless intruding thorns and prongs, leaving pure control and blinding agony behind, while the colossal minds roared in anger at having their foothold removed.
The web of mangled tendrils, still bound to the captive intellects by the darkness coating their surface, tightened around their captives, shaking violently and barely keeping out the assault of boiling black and searing visions. The expulsion of the infection was merely a temporary measure. The time for rebuilding had run out.
With an effort of will that sent a deafening scream of agony through the packed void, the physical bodies were reined in and turned to their final journey. It was time for the Old Machines to die.
Silver arrows flitted about colossal ink-black space hulks, weaving in and out in a complex battle with the uncountable metal spheres sent to intercept them. The vast expanse between the Reapers and the heavies of the galactic fleets were filled with ruby, gold and azure fire that flashed back and forth, impacting shields in bursts of blinding white light. But despite the torrent of fire coming from the Reapers it was impossible to miss that about half of them were not attacking.
"That's strange."
Garrus' flanging words rose above the low thrumming in the Normandy's hull and the quiet beeps and whirring sounds of the holographic screens and panels. His brow was furrowed in thought as he watched the events that unfolded on the screens surrounding him, his hands absently gripping the leather armrests of the co-pilot chair. On top of the oddity of the Reapers not attacking with their full might, none of the countless oculi were closing in on the Normandy, seemingly prioritizing every other knife-fighter higher than the frigate.
"Tell me about it, this is too easy," Joker said. The cocky tone of his voice was at odds with the hard gleam Garrus caught in his eyes. The pilot moved his hands in a swift, confident motion and sent the Normandy diving down below the Reapers. Seconds later, the pilot tapped a screen, slightly forcefully, and the screen on Garrus' left showed a number of oculi being scythed out of the sky by the Thanix Cannon, scattering the group that was hounding a wolf pack further ahead.
"Well, it wasn't ever hard, but this is a cakewalk. The Reapers have really lost their touch," he added, before snorting.
"So much for the pinnacle of evolution."
"They were just keeping the seat warm until we arrived," Garrus said smoothly, though he couldn't keep a slight timbre of tension out of his voice. Many of the Reapers were strangely passive, but the ones that were attacking were fully capable of inflicting horrendous losses on the fleets, and there was no telling when the rest would join the battle. The knife-fighters were even more pressed, as the idle Reapers had not neglected to release their oculi.
"You're sharing the spotlight? Who are you and where is our turian?" Joker said with mock suspicion, shooting down another group of oculi.
More enemies were turned to scrap as Joker pulled the Normandy up from the dive, but not before they managed to rip a group of fighters to shreds, the shattered remains glittering in the explosions before vanishing in the darkness.
"Well, I thought you deserved a little credit," Garrus said, keeping a wary eye on a group of oculi that seemed moving purposefully in their direction. He tapped a few keys to make sure the oculi wouldn't get the drop on them and added: "You are flying the ship after all, even if it is my cannon."
"Which finally seems perfectly calibrated," Joker answered. His tone was neutral, his gaze focused on the screens in front of him. His lips twitched upwards.
Garrus wasn't fooled.
"Yes," he said drolly. He waved a hand at a screen and the image of the oculi closing in on them enlarged. There was no doubt these were headed straight for the Normandy.
"Incoming," he said nonchalantly.
"I know," Joker replied, not sounding the least bit concerned. His hands were already moving to take the Normandy into an evasive curve. He stopped the motion a second later.
"Huh."
"What?" Garrus began, but then he noticed why Joker had stopped the evasive maneuver. The oculi had abruptly, jerkily broken of their approach and turned to a frigate a considerable distance away.
"Why do I get the feeling there's something we're missing," Garrus asked.
"I don't know, but let's make the most of it," Joker answered, taking the Normandy up in front of a collection of wolf-packs that were coming up below a Reaper that was already swarmed by fighters. They needed to stop picking out the small ones and start doing damage to the Reapers themselves.
Garrus winced as he saw the Reapers tear into the Destiny Ascension. First the Battle of the Citadel and now here, that dreadnought just had the most rotten of luck it seemed. Other dreadnoughts were hard pressed as well, even though they gave as good as they got, while many cruisers were barely escaping destruction from what he could see.
Blue lashed out from the Normandy and the surrounding ships, obliterating many of the oculi approaching to intercept the attackers and scattering the rest. The next volley, a sustained barrage of mass accelerator rounds and disruptor torpedoes, smashed into the Destroyer's barriers while heavy dreadnought projectiles hammered into its front. As the Normandy broke off from the collision course, the enemy's barriers fizzled and died, and Garrus showed his teeth in a silent snarl as he took in the sight of the Destroyer splintering and breaking without its shields.
One more down, way too many to go, he thought darkly, but he still turned his head to the intercom and crowed as heartily as he could: "Scratch one!"
It could just be that it would lift the spirits a bit.
Tali's response, thankfully only transmitted to the cockpit, was dry:
"So, only a couple of hundred left?"
"Yeah, shouldn't take that long," he rasped casually.
"An hour, tops," Joker added, his tone matching Garrus' despite the ridiculousness of the claim.
"Right," Tali said in the tone of someone humouring children.
Garrus smirked as they closed on a Reaper Capital Ship, already under heavy fire and surrounded by fighters. The oculi in the way practically blocked their view, but the Normandy and the fighters accompanying her blasted a hole in the formation of the Reaper's support craft.
The metal spheres scattered like frightened pyjaks and Garrus' eyes widened as he saw that there was not a single crimson beam shooting towards the battered galactic fleets. The Reapers had ceased fire and floated lifelessly in space while their shields lit up like fireworks from the multitude of heavy impacts. The swarms of oculi swirled aimlessly around them.
"Are they just gonna lie down and die now?" Joker asked. "After we put all this together for them?"
"Maybe they finally realized how outclassed they are," Garrus mused. The words came easily and confidently, but he'd tensed up in his seat and his narrowed eyes were fixed suspiciously on the image of the unmoving Reapers.
The Thanix Cannon fired again, sending superheated metal scoring across the Reaper Capital Ship's shields before Joker turned the Normandy away from the enemy, circling around for another attack run. Halfway through the turn, Garrus screens flickered briefly. Then an electronic whine blasted through the cockpit and half the lights in the room went out.
Garrus let out a short curse and, almost on reflex, tapped a still active screen, indicating a demand for immediate status report.
His head snapped to Joker though his gaze moved on to the construct of light blooming into life to the pilot's left. Joker's reaction was immediate, his voice filled with an odd mix of panic and exasperation:
"Aw shit. Shit shit shit, not again!"
The flickering hologram was hazy, as if the projector was broken, but the outline was clearly that of a Reaper, an arrow-like body with serpentine limbs stretching from its lower end. It twitched almost as much as the projection itself and the golden light bled out from the distorted body in cloudy threads that stopped abruptly at the border of the image.
Garrus sucked in a breath when his eyes flicked to one of the screens that were still functional. Space had turned dark again, empty of the previously constant torrent of bright projectiles and flashing shields. Only stars and the light reflected in metal hulls broke up the monotonous darkness.
"What-" he began, before being drowned out by the sound rolling from the speakers in the cockpit.
"The cycle must end!"
The words were spoken by a roaring chorus of voices, the strongest a deep, rumbling voice that echoed in Garrus' ears. The metallic underscore of a million voices set his teeth on edge and the ghostly hint of a female speaker added to the eerie effect.
For a dazed second, Garrus wondered whether this was the Reapers' newest advance in psychological warfare. Then, still staring, wide-eyed at the hologram , he slowly said:
"That was different."
"They're in all the systems," Joker said, sounding more outraged than worried. As he spoke, his hand shot out to indicate two of the screens, where texts flashed by almost too quickly for Garrus to make out, though it seemed to be a list of the corrupted systems.
He turned his gaze from the flashing text to the Reapers on two screens that had turned back on. To his confusion and relief, the gigantic starships did not fall on the helpless drifting ships of the galactic fleets. Instead, a few of them grabbed the Reapers which had been destroyed in the initial moves of the battle, curling their long metal limbs tightly around them while the swarms of oculi flowed back into the steel behemoths.
"What, this again?" Garrus said.
"This makes no sense, we're helpless, they could have fried us or vented the air by now, and the fleets are sitting ducks" Joker said agitatedly. The screens and lights in the cockpit were returning quickly.
"Don't give them any ideas," Garrus murmured, marveling for a second at the weird sayings of humans before pushing it away. His eyes snapped to the hologram again when the disconcerting chorus rose again:
"Come. Witness the destruction of your oppressors and the dawn of a free galaxy!"
The Reapers vanished in seconds, leaving behind only bits of scattered wreckage and the softly glowing mass relay.
"Aaaand they're out," Joker said flatly, eyes intent on the screens blooming to life around him, while his hands moved quickly over the holographic panels around him.
"Everything's back to normal. Well, except for that, but it seems isolated."
He took a hand off the holographic keys to wave it at the holographic Reaper which had remained but faded to nothing more than a golden cloud.
"Can we follow them?" Garrus asked, hoping fervently that the pilot was right.
Joker snorted, turning the Normandy with a swift motion and sending it into FTL.
"They're practically writing 'this way'."
He tapped a screen and raised an eyebrow.
"And they actually gave us coordinates," he said slowly, disbelief colouring the words.
Garrus glanced at the screen Joker had touched and noted that the coordinates lay almost precisely on the path of the Reaper's movement, as judged by the Normandy's simulation systems. From the information on the screen beside him it seemed that the entire fleet had been given those coordinates.
"Stop the pursuit? We are kind of acting on our own here," Joker said.
Garrus raised an eyerigde and pressed a button to open communication with the higher-ups. In the seconds before it went through he said:
"When did we ever do as we were told?"
A light flashed, indicating he had a line through.
"This is the Normandy SR-2, we're investigating the coordinates," he said, not bothering to specify numbers that everyone had on their screens.
"We'll scout out the area and report the conditions," he added, before ending the transmission. He ignored the flashing icons on the screen to his right. They needed to know what the Reapers were doing and he had no intention of losing the Reapers now.
"You do know our stealth system is useless when we use ladar, right?" Joker asked.
"Then you just might need to prove your claims of being the best pilot there is," Garrus replied, his tone as taunting as the smirk he was wearing.
"Let's see what they want us there for."
It felt like only seconds passed before they dropped out of FTL. Though filtered through the screens, the white mass of Sol, filling their entire view, was almost painful to look at. Numerous dots of black stood out like pieces of night sky against the radiance of the sun. The Reapers floated silently in space, as if waiting for something and Garrus felt a sudden fear that this actually was a trap.
It only lasted a couple of heartbeats before he realized that the ladar, though slightly fuzzy in the storm of radiation, was quite clearly indicating that all the Reapers were facing away from the Normandy, facing the star.
He glanced at the pilot, who shrugged again.
"Hey, I'm as lost as you are. This is far from their usual kill-, destroy-, assimilate-shtick," he said, lowering his voice exaggeratedly at the last four words.
Ships flashed into sight at the Normandy's side, first a few, but the number grew rapidly. A quick glance told Garrus that the fleets were appearing all around the Reapers, building up a loose formation around their clustered enemies, who seemed to pay them no heed.
The formation was almost complete when the booming voices blasted through the cockpit again:
"Know that we are not the last. Remnants exist, yet the galaxy belongs to you. Your future is now your own!"
As the words rang through the small room, the Reapers moved, quickly gathering speed. The golden hologram winked out completely and Garrus eyes widened as the Reapers lowered their shields just before plunging into the blazing surface of Sol. Despite the distorted readings, it was evident that the black behemoths shattered against the surface, before vanishing into it.
In only moments, the majority of the Reapers in the galaxy had descended into the sun and Garrus knew that even they couldn't survive that without their barriers. A single lone form remained in the midst of the galaxy's assembled fleets, in stark silhouette against the star.
Joker set the Normandy hurtling forward towards the unmistakable form, flying through a burst of radiation that set the lights in the cockpit flickering for a second. Admiral Hackett's rich voice filled the cockpit, containing an unusual vicious satisfaction:
"All ships, your target is Harbinger. Open fire!"
Uncountable tendrils writhed and twitched as they retreated from the wave of fire and solid agony rolling through the mindscape. Before, the enormous minds had died singly or at most in the tens, but now a roaring tide of death and pain and rage erupted as the ancients shattered and burned in their hundreds.
The web of sinuous limbs slipped from the crumbling consciousnesses, ripping themselves from the convulsive grip of their former captives only to begin unravelling in the firestorm. The tendrils tumbled blindly in the void for an eternal moment before they held fast to the one solid spot in the collapsing mental world. The threads dragged themselves to the oldest, mightiest ancient, the one mind still whole, and with no thought but the absolute refusal to give up or let go, the frayed limbs fused together again, chaining the consciousness in a web so thick it was more like a second skin.
The storm swept over the shaking hide, searing it in the heat, but the worst was weathered in the closeness of the captive mind. The storm seemed unending, but suddenly the mindscape was smaller and colder and empty but for the echoes of death reverberating in the thick blackness filling it. The rage and hate of the chained mind was strangled by the irregular skin covering it and for an instant, the mental world was almost calm.
Then substance bled from the twisted skin and electric chatter filled the void as the covering thinned and slouched away to thin strands. The innumerable parts of a greater whole scattered like smoke caught in a gale, flashing like motes of light before vanishing completely, leaving behind only the scattered iron will that even now refused to let go of the captive and the pale shroud that had served as the medium between iron will and electric body.
The immense mind roared in triumph and rage as it shattered the bonds that were now too weak to hold it and turned its burning, heavy gaze on the minuscule entity solidifying before it.
For the first time in an eternity of half-conscious agony and struggle, the consciousness that was John Shepard rose to complete awareness, only to feel the hateful pressure of an enraged titan bearing down on him, a billion needles pressing into him as Harbinger roared at him:
"You will regret your resistance, Shepard!"
The words slammed into Shepard, sending pain lancing through him, but against the flash of a hundred galaxies burning over an age, it barely made him tremble. He gripped the hooks and points pressing into him, dragging himself towards Harbinger, sending his utter contempt and loathing and at the Old Machine.
He laughed, an aching, agonized laugh and said:
"Is that your best? I'll never regret it. We beat you!"
The force on him increased, blurring his mind as Harbinger spoke again:
"This changes nothing. You have merely prolonged the inevitable. We! Will! End! You!"
Shepard pulled on the grip pressing in on him and had the sensation of touching the outer edges of the immense consciousness, willing its gaze onto him.
"Look around you. You are alone! Every light in the sky is your enemy. We are your end!"
With a start, the pressure lessened minutely and Shepard lashed out at Harbinger. The Old Machine's retaliation hit him with thundering force and his thoughts became a haze of confusion. He only barely registered that the force pressing into him decreased an instant before waves of force and heat and pain blasted through the void. Harbinger trembled and shook and Shepard suddenly felt its baleful glare drift from him.
A cool, familiar presence appeared by him, embracing him and urging him through his cloudy thoughts to follow it. His first thought was to stay and fight, it only lasted a moment before an unspoken understanding passed between him and EDI and he tore himself away from the distracted Harbinger. The movement was a painful crawl, each dragging movement away from the still crushing hold coming with an agony like skin being flayed from muscle, muscle torn from bone and blood dragged from veins. Faster and faster they moved and the pain lessened, even as Harbinger lashed out to grasp them again, to hold them here in the collapsing mental world, but with a final thought of defiance, the two small, insignificant minds, man and AI, vanished from the Old Machine's sight, leaving Harbinger to howl its death-throes and hate uselessly into the desolate void.
Well, tell me how it was. As always, any input, praise or critique is welcome. We are nearing the end by now, but there's still a few chapters left.