Chapter 38 – Boom
The fleet orbiting Plutus hadn't even begun to attempt their impromptu "drilling" using captured United Defense Command technology when sensors across the board lit up like the old Atlas weapon demonstration days. Whatever it was originated from a desert in the middle latitudes.
"Well, that might make our lives slightly easier" commented Mallory Maliwan. "Unless someone other than Jakobs and their universe-imperiling devices is causing giant energy surges."
"Well, whatever happened just spiked to yet another new high" replied Malcolm. "Look!"
The computerized chart on the bridge of Strident Revenge re-scaled itself to accommodate the order of magnitude change in energy output. The Anti-Jakobs Alliance fleet repositioned itself so that it could get a visual on this new event, after which many pairs of pants needed changing.
Crawling out of a massive hole in the Plutusian desert was something none thought they would ever see again: a Harvester. Except it wasn't normal, if giant alien death ships could be called normal—instead of the usual dark purple, it took on a color akin to, as Malcolm put it, "skag-sick." The Maliwans had seen a few photos and videos of these beasts before—thankfully the Cosmic Cleansing Sphere event took them all down before massive damage could occur within their galaxy. Still, everyone remained acutely aware of the damage Harvesters could cause, and never mind the effects on nearby wildlife!
It was covered in some kind of biological matting, like a vehicle taken over by nature after being abandoned by its owners. The ship, if it could be called that, was no longer symmetrical either, bearing large blisters in irregular patterns all over the "shell." Its rear "legs" hung askew as if the guiding intelligence no longer cared to keep them in order. Some were pulled back in what was assumed to be flight position, others dangled at strange angles. The larger front appendages remained in their expected positions, however, and were being used to drag the monstrosity from the pit now visible on sensors.
"Stop staring and fire!" came Kent Clarkson's voice over the communicator.
"Right, weapons…" muttered Mallory. Preparation for drilling left all Aspirations Toward Infinity vessels with what would essentially be dud rounds instead of phased munitions. To compensate, Malcolm vastly dialed up the desired muzzle velocity, well-aware that doing so posed several problems. First, a high enough speed would cause the slug to deform and possibly destroy the barrel. Second, such speeds greatly diminished rounds per minute because the ship's capacitors had to spend more time recharging. Third, such massive surges, well beyond the designed specifications, might cause capacitor overload, conduit overload, or overload of anything responsible for channeling the excessive energy being called upon. Finally, the fact that the ships had been repurposed from their original intent meant they'd be less effective no matter what measures anyone took.
Three flying weapons belched fire in the general direction of the Harvester. One round struck a pulsating pouch on the thing's back, which exploded. Zooming in, many pods could be seen, from which Infected species of all sorts spilled out. The creature shuddered from the impacts but kept climbing, eventually launching itself into the air. Supposedly, full-size Harvesters couldn't land on planets, but whatever had happened to this one enabled it to do so easily. Behind it, a brownish haze could be seen, as if it was emitting something as it flew.
The weapons aboard the former United Defense Command dreadnaughts recycled and launched more ordinance, but it seemed to pass right through without really impacting the twisted Harvesters much. It slowly dawned on the Anti-Jakobs Alliance that this was exactly the "other enemy" Benjamin Reid warned them about before departing. It appeared that somehow, Harvesters survived the Cosmic Cleansing Sphere and had fallen prey to this "Infection." As they watched their attacks do very little, the fleet became increasingly panicked upon noticing more and more of the horrors appearing out of a hole that seemed to grow every time a new Infected-Harvester passed through the opening.
NOW WOULD BE A REALLY GOOD TIME FOR THAT NUCLEAR ORDINANCE.
Torgue received a tongue-lashing from Trans-Galactic Republic captains aghast at his casual use of fusion weapons against a mostly-unarmed planet, but escaped any serious punishment. The Gamma-Six natives didn't feel a need to complain about the civilian deaths, but did have an issue with whatever Jakobs was allegedly up to—and to them, that justified almost anything. Including letting Torgue go to town on the planet where every corporation's headquarters were located by force of treaty.
THIS IS AWESOME.
Having received the blessing of those who actually had the ability to punish him, the loudmouthed explosive-obsessed giant recalled several heavy bombardment cruisers which had turned tail and fled as the Trans-Galactic Republic laid into what it viewed as lacking morality. The ships rapidly returned—unlike the denizens of Pandora, the large businesses making up the AJA easily afforded high-end faster-than-light travel for their "security" vessels (really, warships in all but name).
MAKE HUGE EXPLOSIONS.
Several of the Torgue-flagged vessels looked like pipe organs, except with the "pipes" pointed forward and serving as barrels for ordinance. These were the few that the titular man was allowed to design/build himself before the board decided to contract out/rebrand other designs, mostly due to Torgue's utter disregard for either cost or practicality. However, at the moment these bombardiers made perfect sense, their many tubes unleashing gigatons worth of thermonuclear explosive power in the general direction of the Harvester-hole. Some of them disappeared in flashes of light, while others protected themselves with some kind of shielding which flared against energy coming from the nuclear blasts.
"Well, that's going to cause a nuclear winter" muttered Christopher Crayol. Despite the general lack of order in his galaxy, there were unspoken rules about combat, one of which was never use highly destructive weapons on habitable planets. After all, your company might be taking possession someday! Still, the larger corporations did have the means to clean up the result of such a cataclysm, they just preferred not to have to make the expenditure. It was money that could have been put into manufacturing, advertising, or share buybacks to keep stock owners happy.
As it stood, since Plutus represented the heart of concentrated power just as Themis had a concentration of construction facilities, it was all but assured money would pour in after the Harvesters' defeat. Of course, that required Harvesters to stop pouring out of whatever it was that kept permitting them to rise out of Plutusian desert. To that end, Torgue's bombard ships blasted again and again, seemingly making no dent in their endless numbers. Many fell, but some escaped. Given the nature of the Infection, if left unattended they'd convert whole worlds with little resistance. However, since no one in Gamma-Six knew the extent of the danger, little ended up being done since it occurred to exactly no one that the biological nature of the Infection, combined with Harvester mind-powers, would create a very nasty situation.
WHAT?
"Mr. Flexington, sir, we are running low on warheads."
UNACCEPTABLE. CLIMB IN THE TORPEDO TUBE YOURSELF. YOU JUST HAD CHILI FOR LUNCH.
The crewman had no response for that—on one hand he half-expected Torgue to force him to do exactly as he'd just asked (Torgue also punished workers at the Badass Arena by cutting off their food due to complaints about excessive explosions causing maintenance issues). On the other hand, Torgue Flexington's bluster was a well-known fact across the galaxy.
As the number of incoming warheads decreased, the number of escaping Infected Harvesters shot up. Seeing this, other ships began firing at the fleeing monstrosities. Realizing their main batteries as-equipped would not work well, captains aboard Strident Revenge and Bloodhound diverted all power to secondary batteries, shields, and engines. What they couldn't shoot, they'd ram through.
Unfortunately for the inventive commanders, the United Defense Command hadn't exactly been on top of maintaining the ships' non-Reaper-killing systems. Combined with deliberate damage inflicted by the Trans-Galactic Republic (which had been somewhat but not entirely repaired), the secondary turbolasers did not function very well, if at all. Several refused to fire, one actually exploded due to a crystal misalignment, and two had leaky Tibanna gas chambers, cutting their firepower to less than thirty percent of what it should have been.
"I've seen scythids move more deftly than these" complained Mallory.
"Look, Scooter's Catch-a-Ride is probably better maintained than this deathtrap…" replied Malcolm. "And that thing sent me through the New-U more than once!"
"So we made the main guns and life support work, but not much else, huh?"
"Sounds about right."
Malcolm tried to make use of the secondary turbolasers again, but remained stymied by insufficient blaster gas.
Meanwhile, Infected Harvesters streamed away from Plutus.
[…]
"Launch control confirms. Initiating firing preparations." The crew within Ultimatum's launch tubes, having displaced those normally found by order of the Republic Intelligence Service, verified the authenticity of launch codes sent by the Republic Intelligence Service Council.
A Soul Reaper staged for launch out of Box 4, Silo 2. Cosmetically identical to the Shiva it replaced down to the service number, said missile would travel from the Citadel's Widow System to its destination in an hour. Part of the destructive power of such a missile came from its hyperdrive—the massive power source was actually excited into a state of deliberate overload during the trip, using a drive-core detonation to catalyze the particle disintegrator warhead. Said warhead would obliterate an entire planet plus anything up to fifty thousand kilometers beyond through sheer brute force.
Admiral Allison Nimitz wasn't sure why her ship's targeting systems had come online—she had designated no enemy ships and nothing had fired upon Ultimatum. As to activation of targeting systems, she figured it must have been some kind of malfunction and ordered diagnostics run. Predictably, nothing wrong showed up. Remembering the insertion of suspicious personnel onto her ship under the orders of the Republic Intelligence Service, she concluded it must have something to do with whatever RISE had done with the dreadnaught's missile launchers.
"I wonder what they're going to blow up today?"
The Soul Reaper roared out of its silo as Nimitz stared over the bow of her ship. Of course, she didn't actually see this—the missile tube had been covered with a sophisticated hologram and the munition itself possessed one of the few stygium cloaking devices known to exist. The warhead, almost a ship unto itself, vanished into hyperspace, headed for the Omega Nebula.
The disappearance of the entire Omega station preceded the missile's arrival by several minutes—but the missile would detonate target or no target. A massive explosion consumed the area where the station had been, erasing hundreds of ships who barely had time to wonder where the imposing structure vanished to in a flash of purple.
"Too slow" sighed Sarah, her massive Star Dreadnaught popping into existence minutes after the blast. It was funny watching these incompetent morons until it seemed they were so incompetent they might actually fail to stop the Infection. Her fellow Channelers fed her mental images of information they observed up on the massive ship's bridge—the Trans-Galactic Republic had tried to take out the Infected Intelligence but missed. Or perhaps it had sensed its doom coming. Either way, it was now loose and no one knew precisely where to find it, though like most who'd been observing the biological invasion she had an idea.
She decided to take a trip to the Nemean Abyss, where the Infection first appeared.
[…]
Due to a longer distance between pilot station (thus, windows) and the Combat Information Center, the Galaxy Map could now display any information coming in from Normandy's extensive sensor suites. This included both fore and aft views, the former of which presented itself to Sam Shepard now. Nothing notable at first, until Cortana zoomed the sensors all the way in. Even though the Trans-Galactic Republic had some tricks up its sleeve, magnifying a target across eight thousand lightyears (almost ten quadrillion kilometers) wasn't standard fare. It was possible to tell what something was (say, a fighter versus a Star Destroyer) through its IFF codes, but getting an actual quality visual over those distances exceeded even the Trans-Galactic Republic's capabilities. Thus, a tiny, very blurry yellow-brown dot appeared at the center of the view, which had the shape of a screen despite being projected into the air.
"So?" demanded Shepard. "What is it?"
"That's Omega, Commander. Or what's left of it" came Joker's reply.
"Aria didn't fit that station with interdiction fields, did she?"
"How blind can you be?" Cortana reverted to her usual can't-believe-they-aren't-doing-more-about-the-Flood self. "That whole station has been taken over by the Flood, or the 'Infection' as you insist on calling it."
"And how would you know that?" challenged Shepard. "We haven't been back this way since dropping off Aria!"
"Yes, you dropped off the troublesome crime boss, and if you remember, Omega had Flood on it!"
"So? Just because it has this Flood…"
"You aren't getting it. The Flood always spreads unless someone or something is totally dedicated to stopping it using specific containment protocols. Your friend 'Aria' isn't exactly on top of it, now or before. I've seen what Trans-Galactic Republic sensors show when there is Flood—and this is the biggest reading I've ever seen!"
"That still doesn't explain how we got yanked out of hyper-zero eight thousand lightyears sooner than we were supposed to…"
"I have no idea either—but the Forerunners apparently had the ability to yank ships out of slipspace, so if the Flood have in fact constructed a Gravemind, which I fear they have, then it may have deduced how to use existing technology to affect your faster-than-light."
"I'm guessing that's what you told Joker so he said I wouldn't like what I'm seeing?"
"Correct. While I accept you at your word that you'll do everything possible to fight the Flood, now is the time to actually do it. If there is a Gravemind on Omega, then…"
Cortana's hologram distorted and filled with static. Her avatar mimicked a human behavior associated with pain in the head—squinting of the eyes, pursed lips, hands squeezed to the temples as she cried out in pain and dropped to her knees.
"Shit."
Shepard pressed a button to bring up a direct link to Engineering, shrinking Cortana's hologram to a corner.
"What's going on? Something's messing with Cortana!"
"Totally fucked up" replied Gaige. "Something's screwing with the computers, really bad!"
"Well, some of the computers" countered Tali. "The only systems affected are the ones that support Cortana. Everything else is operating as it—wait… Whatever's causing Cortana's troubles is cutting through the cloak! We might be visible to whatever the source of her torment is, Commander!"
"Can you dump more power into the cloaking device? Change it so that it blocks out whatever's going on?"
So typical. If something was to go wrong, it went off the rails spectacularly.
"You can't solve every problem by dumping more energy into it!" cried Tali. "I mean, that usually works with engines or weapons, but cloaking tech—I don't even fully understand how it works! Only that it absorbs all outbound emissive elements…"
At that point, Sam Shepard no longer paid attention to her engineers. She, too, felt something inside her head, though whatever it was had no intention of crippling her the way it had Cortana.
A dark grave stuffed full
Many bodies joined as one
As your quiet end
The words echoed through her skull.
"Did you hear it, ma'am?"
"Yes crewman, I heard it. Like hell we're going to our graves!"
He saluted and continued walking, doubtlessly to the elevator.
"Whatever it is, it's in my head!" shouted Gaige.
The Commander turned her attention back to the link to Engineering, only to have her mind invaded again.
You disbelieve this
Take advice from your blue friend
Resistance will fail
A blurry image of Aria T'Loak cut in.
"To anyone hearing this message: Omega has fallen. Stay away, I repeat, stay away! The station has been taken over by the Infection. There is no safety here."
The broadcast paused before looping again.
"Damnit!"
Cortana's avatar flashed several times, so Shepard gestured to restore it. She seemed to be grimacing, but was "back on her feet," so to speak.
"He may be able to torment me again, like the last time, but he will not have my secrets!"
Sam noticed several new files in her personal storage. She opened them.
"He can read me, but he can't read you! Only push his thoughts into your head. Don't respond!"
Cortana broke down again as Sam perused new information.
"The Gravemind is the most advanced known form of Flood. Formed with sufficient biomass, its presence indicates that those seeking to contain it will now face Pure Forms in addition to infected versions of existing species. The Pure Forms are made entirely from recycled biomass but are based on no known living organism" she read. "This form directs all Flood within a galaxy, including any Key Minds present. Destruction of the Gravemind will render all Flood within a galaxy feral. Note that if left unchecked, these less-dangerous but still lethal Flood will by instinct seek to create a new Gravemind!"
Other files appeared to have weapon, ship, and propulsion plans—all marked "ONI Black."
"Whatever's going on, we can't have this" snapped Shepard. Calling up Joker, she ordered "Turn us around. Get us away from whatever the hell is going on with Omega!"
Flee if you want to
It will not save you from fate
Rejoice in unity
"Thought you'd never ask!"
"Keep trying to get back to hyper-zero! Once you do, take us five minutes out from our reversion point."
"Aye-aye Commander."
Sam restored Cortana's hologram to its normal size and waved her "off" the terminal.
"What was going on back there?"
"Well, the last time I experienced that, it was because the Gravemind was torturing me" replied Cortana hotly. "I don't know if Graveminds just endlessly reincarnate or what, but this one seems pretty intent on doing the same fucking thing."
This was the first serious curse word she'd heard from Cortana.
"Was it really that bad?"
"You have no idea" huffed the AI. "I don't really feel like thinking about it again though—that's one thing these geth-built runtimes help me do, forget things. Or at least not remember every single detail about every single thing I've ever experienced…"
"Do you know what this 'Gravemind' was after?"
"Anything he could get his slimy fingers on" spat Cortana. "Weapons, tactics, all information that would help him turn this entire galaxy into Flood thralls. Which is precisely why you have to stop him and the Flood!"
She stabbed her finger on each word for emphasis.
"So, what's with those files?" inquired Shepard in a tone of voice similar to a child asking for candy right before dinner.
"Technically, I face termination for disseminating them, but since there's no United Nations Space Command here, the laws that bind me won't be enforced. The Office of Naval Intelligence was working on, well, special projects. The closest analogue I can find is your Cerberus or Alliance Black Ops…"
Sam glared.
"Well, it's true!" protested the purple-blue hologram. "Cerberus did a lot of nasty things—so did ONI. They kidnapped children, replaced them with clones guaranteed to die within weeks to give parents and friends a body to bury!"
The hard look softened.
"Why would they do that? Do I even want to know?"
"You already do."
"Who? Wait…" Comprehension dawned on Sam's face. "The Master Chief! I got the general idea he was some kind of special soldier where he was from, but I had no idea…"
"No, you really don't" replied Cortana. "Your augmentations were, if not entirely by choice, still more voluntary than what John went through. He was one of few who survived—in fact, lethality in the training program and augmentation process was considered entirely normal."
"The Alliance banned most modifications that had high lethality. That's why there aren't very many L2 biotics—the implants have nasty side-effects. I had to deal with a whole group of L2's who believed the Systems Alliance had turned its back on them and were demanding justice through violence. It wasn't pleasant."
"Getting back on topic, the files here are blueprints for experimental and advanced technologies that the Office of Naval Intelligence had developed based on further analysis of Forerunner artifacts. The UNSC Infinity we both served on was the public culmination of these efforts, but scientists were always seeking to take our understanding of Forerunner technology further. These are the results."
Shepard browsed through the many folders. "Higher-dimensional slipspace." "Regenerative energy shielding." "Slipspace MAC." "Slipspace portal." "High-Order Quantum Filament Manipulator." "Big Stick."
Looking up, she gave off a look of confusion. "Is this supposed to make any sense to me?"
Grinning, Cortana decided to have some fun. "Really, the best way to describe these would be 'Durius, Melius, Velocius, Fortior,' or, translated from Latin, 'Harder, Better, Faster, Stronger,' the very same motto used during your reconstruction."
Seeing this didn't appear to help, she continued.
"Higher-dimensional slipspace, like that which your crewmate Jackie Jakobs seems to have stumbled on, would permit faster travel times. You already have a form of regenerative shielding on this ship—any energy-based attacks are at least partially converted to power Normandy's systems. Slipspace Magnetic Accelerator Cannons push their projectiles into slipspace instead of just using a coilgun design—much more hitting power but an absolute bear to build with the technology we had even though it's great on paper. A theoretical slipspace portal could take you from here to the other side of the galaxy merely by stepping through it. High-Order Quantum Filament Manipulators would permit more precise breaking into slipspace rather than punching holes the way the usual standard engines we use do."
Cortana retained a pensive look, causing Sam to ask why.
"This Jackie Jakobs was locked up in a mental hospital and managed to derive formulas that the UNSC couldn't solve for years! How does that even work?"
"You popped out of a slipspace portal and you're asking me why things are weird here?" replied the Commander. "Honestly, I think the only thing that would be weirder is if a garden spontaneously started growing in the holotable…"
Seeing a chance to pull a prank, Cortana used her access to the ship's computers to create small holographic plants inside the table's rim. She would leave them to "grow" until someone noticed.
"We're receiving a transmission, it's from the Citadel Council" intoned Cortana. "Would you…no Joker, I will not hang up on them! Why would you do that?"
Shepard snickered. "You don't want to know. Put them through."
"Commander Shepard."
Tevos spoke first, which surprised her. She'd expected the bearer of advanced technology to begin the dialogue, but he remained silent for the moment.
"We have just received disturbing news. Apparently, the entire Omega space station located in the Sahrabarik System disappeared, followed by a large detonation of some kind. We are working to determine what caused both the vanishing station and the explosion, but currently have no leads."
"Well, I think I can tell you where your missing station is" replied Shepard smugly. The Council was always two steps behind and counted on its Spectres to be three steps ahead. She felt she was more like five steps ahead—even though she'd not had a chance to look into details of the ONI Black files, they apparently contained some useful information as Cortana had just described.
"The Omega space station has been relocated to the middle of the Nemean Abyss. That lawless center of smuggling, slavery, and other nasties. Quite appropriate in a sense, but considering Cortana tells me the structure is now completely Infected, it's not a good sign."
Clethon thought about bringing up the small fact that Samantha Shepard was now trusting an artificial intelligence from another galaxy, but decided not to. Things remained too dire for petty squabbles. The Council had happily taken in advanced technology from the Trans-Galactic Republic, which prevented a wholesale destruction of society by the Reapers but also caused the galaxy to change for the worse until the Cosmic Cleansing Sphere wiped out every Reaper and most of those responsible for the turn toward authoritarianism.
"How can you be sure?" asked the salarian instead. More information usually remained the salarian mission—to quote the humans, "knowing is half the battle."
"Uploading data to you now. I've taken the liberty of cleaning it up." Cortana seemed rather proud of herself for this, and rightfully so. The readings indisputably showed a foreign biological presence that now consumed the entire station—no way to brush this aside or dismiss this claim.
Shepard decided to take the risk getting snappy with the Council over their repeated failures to do anything substantial other than close all the doors and hope the hurricane just blew over, but found her opportunity to do so denied by Cortana, who did it in her stead.
"I've watched those in charge of the galaxy dither and debate while the Flood rages. You send your best operatives against a tsunami in a rowboat. Then you wonder why your planets are turned into disgusting collections of twisted biomass or burned to a crisp by that rampaging Siren. Well, I've got news for you—either take a decisive stand now, or there won't be anything left to save! I've already seen one galaxy overrun—and I will not stand by passively while it happens again."
Grayson spoke up. "Then what do you suggest we do?" He knew the other Councilors might object to treating this AI as a solution or even speaking to it/her like an organic.
"I've provided Samantha Shepard with information that should help in building warships to fight the Flood. Use it, run with it, and hope you can get them into commission quickly enough. This 'digistruction' technology of yours should make it easy assuming it works with the materials in these designs."
After Shepard's report, the Council continued meeting in semi-closed session—not publically broadcast but still subject to open-records laws should someone make a request.
"I am starting to think that despite the reputation of humans for being disruptive and short-sighted, it might have been wise to pay more attention to what Samantha Shepard had to say in the past" remarked Tevos to a "no shit" look from Adam Grayson. Within his own galaxy, humans were the predominant species—but even then, other races with similar lifespans did not face this sort of questioning from the longest-lived.
"In a galaxy of faster-than-light travel, energy weapons, strange powers, non-human sapient races by the dozen, and anti-gravity devices I must admit that it is difficult for me to find anything I will dismiss immediately without first researching it" responded the former Admiral. "Most instances of the alleged supernatural are simply entering into realms beyond current science. Insufficiently understood phenomena seem indistinguishable from magic when in fact they often have more mundane explanations."
"So are you saying you believe everything she says?" demanded Victus.
"No just that in my opinion, based on the history of this Council, it would be a good move to be less dismissive of things that might point out situations the Council might not wish to acknowledge for whatever reason. I've read over the past few decades of how the Council has handled humanity's rapid rise—no one around here seems to like anything moving quickly. Guess what? Not everyone has the deliberative patience of an asari or the brooding intensity of a krogan. Some of us just go for it because events demand it. Criticize us as undisciplined if you want, but I can guarantee you the Trans-Galactic Republic would have already exterminated this Infection."
He already suspected his former government had done exactly that, or tried to anyway. The explosion at Omega's former location definitely met the criteria for a Trans-Galactic Republic weapon. No Citadel race possessed munitions of that magnitude. Whether they'd continue with the bombardment and start flinging missiles everywhere remained to be seen. Of course, this seemed to be the Republic Intelligence Service at work—Admiral Nimitz would have notified him before launching a Shiva weapon, so he didn't have any way to find out what would come next from his home government. He could only hope the data sent by Cortana would spur his fellow Councilors into taking a stronger stand.
Unlike the endless hand-wringing on the Council, Samantha Shepard knew exactly what her next step would be. Pulling back into the SETTLE Center, she had a wry feeling of déjà vu having just departed hours ago.
Clapping her hands like a coach rallying a team at halftime, Shepard spoke quickly to the assembled crew now standing on the SETTLE Engineering Deck, a place they'd become quite familiar with.
"We need to figure out how to jam all the information we have together. Jackie, Kevin, Tali, Gaige—get cracking on some means to make use of files Cortana will provide you. Cortana will also assist with these efforts. Everyone who doesn't do the beakers and test tubes stuff—you're on leave again until I figure out our next move. I…"
Much groaning and complaining commenced among those who were hoping, despite the danger, to get to have some one-on-one time to pulverize the Infection. Grunt looked especially disappointed.
Sam's omnitool lit up.
"Incoming priority transmission from Gamma-Three, RNS Amerigo" intoned Cortana. "Shall I put it through?"
"Yes, but who could possibly be calling? That's long-distance…"
"Shepard. I have waited hours in an asinine queue behind many sentimental fools who insist on speaking with their families. I have attached critical information that will be required for any use of the 'slipspace' dimension the purple program Cortana spoke of. The device which I believe resides in the possession of Kevin Filner will enable travel at ludicrous speeds when properly connected to a slipspace drive. Simplified instructions to accommodate your lesser intellects have been included. I wish you the best of luck, as you will need it. Tannis out."
"Wait, Patricia…"
The scientist had already signed off.
"Well if she isn't totally full of herself…" Shepard's mood darkened considerably. She could only hope that Tannis included enough information for SETTLE teams to make sense of the mishmash of technologies that would be brought together in an attempt to create a lightspeed drive capable of operating without damaging space.
The Commander wasn't as concerned about the weapons and ships angle, though the three construction bays might need to be enlarged as a cursory glance at ONI Black ship files suggested plans for vessels almost on the scale of the Trans-Galactic Republic's Star Dreadnaughts.
Why does everyone else build bigger ships than we do?
She walked over to the engineering group engaged in animated discussion of a slowly-rotating model of a vessel labeled "Big Stick," likely the one out of the file.
"It seems some things are constant between universes" said Tali. "When you need to make something more powerful, make it bigger."
"Indeed" commented Kevin. He turned to Shepard. "Basically, this ship takes the largest version of the coilgun technology used where Cortana and the Master Chief are from and mounts it inside something that can move instead of a space station."
"Don't forget the Forerunner enhancements" added Cortana, projecting life-size alongside the rest. She couldn't manipulate the table physically due to a lack of mass effect field systems, but her computer interface could accomplish necessary tasks. "Virtually no barrel heat, doubled fire rate, four times the slug mass."
"This is quite the brutish solution." Jackie. Surprising, but at the same time, welcome. It seemed she'd left her old persona and its associated issues behind, or at least crushed the old Jackie down so much she no longer showed up unless there was a need. "Still, hurling six-ton compressed tungsten projectiles at thirty-six thousand kilometers per second is no mean feat."
Garrus Vakarian couldn't keep away from weapon design. At the same time, though he found the "Big Stick" impressive, he had a feeling it wasn't quite what was necessary and thus, said so.
"Aren't we going for something that burns up enemies on contact? This seems good against ships or stations, but squishy biological material, I'm not sold."
"I agree with Garrus" replied Jackie. It was easy to forget she'd once been a champion sniper—in a totally-non-sexual way, she knew quite a bit about over-penetration. Great for multiple kills against enemies stupid enough to line themselves up, not so great if over-penetration meant a small hole in the target that did nothing more than piss it off.
"Now, hold on a minute" countered Cortana. "UNSC Infinity was used to bombard planets with Flood on them before sabotage from the Covenant Remnant brought Flood aboard, and the Series-8 Super Heavy MACs used there worked just fine!"
"There is more than one path to the same end. I wonder…"
Gaige picked up on where Tali was headed, practically exploding with excitement.
"Awesome! Put incendiary elements into this, and it'll create big fiery craters!"
Brick vocalized his pleasure at the thought, but followed up with a common complaint.
"So the galaxy's going to be turned into a horror show if we don't do something. I get it. But what in the hell are we non-scientists supposed to do right now?"
Sam took notice of a line of individuals whose purpose was mostly combat giving off various looks, mostly boredom.
"You might want to learn something about this station's defenses, if it has any" suggested Cortana. "Who knows, something might show up randomly that needs to be shot down."
The line of personnel started to shuffle away.
"Station Command is upstairs" added the AI. "Deck One."
"I'm not sure how we'd adapt that technology to rounds this large" mused the quarian, ignoring complaints of non-engineers over lack of engagement. "Besides, it worked better with our technology—incredibly high muzzle velocity, tiny impacter."
"In case you're wondering" interrupted Cortana, "the reason we went big instead of advancing the tech we had was because the Flood had practically taken over by this point. We could either try to build something more sophisticated and energy-based like the Forerunners which would take years, or scale up what already existed."
"No one was doubting the strategy" replied Garrus.
"Well, I just wanted to make it clear we weren't just cutting corners" said the AI rather defensively. "Everything here seems to be about improving designs—in a way, this 'Big Stick,' which would have been called UNSC Pangaea had it been built, seems like a step back."
Sam didn't think of herself as a naval architect—sure, every Marine (and subsequently N7) had to have some knowledge of the workings of a ship, but being able to design them generally fell outside the purview of combat forces. Still, she quickly vocalized what she hoped everyone else was thinking.
"Okay. So we need our limitless ammunition, Cortana/Jackie's faster-than-light, Trans-Galactic Republic shield tech, stealth tech, and something tough enough to take a beating so we can go home. Am I getting this right?"
Again seeming out-of-element, as his background stood identical to Shepard's (until she became a Spectre anyway) James Vega added his thoughts on building massive starships. "Usually it would make sense to build a big number of smaller ships that would use swarm tactics—it would definitely cost less. Thing is, let's say you've got a hundred ships swarming against an endless tide of Infected stuff. The ships get picked off one-by-one, and as they fall, the decay accelerates because there's less fire coming off the formation."
Shepard grinned, Tali looked bemused, and Gaige wasn't sure what to think. Then again, given Jackie's past versus her much-changed present self, the potential of galactic destruction bringing out the best hidden sides of people wasn't entirely shocking.
James finished his summation. "With a big ship, the situation reverses—we may be able to attrition them instead, or at least avoid being worn down at an exponential rate. Remember Revenant swatted Reapers seemingly forever until their tactics changed. They damaged her, wore her down, but it took dirty tricks to actually take Revenant out of the fight."
Cortana brought up some additional plans, even less-developed than "Big Stick" but depicting vessels still more massive.
"The Forerunners built even larger starships—records suggest lengths of fifty kilometers or more were not uncommon. In studying what records we could find, certain advancements would have let the UNSC create vessels on the scale of a Forerunner Fortress or Trans-Galactic Republic Revenant."
"You know" added Brick skeptically, having returned despite his earlier disdain for the laserlike focus on things that didn't involve punching, "if the Trans-Galactic Republic cares so much about this galaxy and the one I hail from, why don't they send more of those big battlewagons to protect us?"
"I suspect their level of 'caring' relates to what they can get out of it" replied Jackie cynically. "Though, I have no idea why they'd be interested in rehabilitating me…"
Shepard kept it to herself, but she started to wonder if someone in the Trans-Galactic Republic knew more about how events were unfolding before they happened than she thought possible. She just wanted to believe her engineering teams would be able to get the job done, again, before anything else crazy happened.
[…]
Unfortunately for Samantha Shepard, more crazy was already underway. Gamma-Three wasn't the first to see the return of extragalactic machines turned nightmare hybrid—they were just the first to actually notice on a galaxy-wide scale. Stemming mostly from the lawlessness of the Terminus, resurgence of Reapers twisted by the Infection went unnoticed since anyone who happened to see one had a life expectancy in the minutes range.
The accelerating breakdown between "normal" space and the dimension into which alternate-universe Jakobs had shoved "Harvesters" using "slipcelerator" portals (and in which UNSC Shaw-Fujikawa Translight Engines operated) permitted the return of both Infected and uninfected forms of the Reaper/Harvester in unpredictable places. Smaller holes in space-time caused anything from a missing pen to a vanished person, but larger breaches permitted anything swirling around in slipspace to end up in the "normal" universe.
While the general public panicked upon seeing Reapers return, the reaction from the few hardliners who still subscribed to the extremism of the now-effectively-nonexistent United Defense Command was "We told you so!"
"Emily Wong for ANN. The resurgence of Reapers after it was thought they'd been destroyed, combined with the continuing advance of the Infection across the Attican Traverse has created a sense of panic within both the Systems Alliance and its allies. It has rapidly become accepted in some quarters that whatever actions the Citadel Council is taking to protect the galaxy are insufficient."
Wong interviewed people on the streets of the Citadel. Some openly wondered if the United Defense Command had been right all along, while others threw up their hands—if forced to choose between the supposed safety of fascism and the apparent peril of a more open government, most vacillated. A few refused the choices, insisting a more active, responsive democratic government than the Council could handle these issues.
"Really, this exposes the weakness of the Council system of government" opined the popular reporter. "With only a single individual representing each species, and only some species represented, it seems as though we are bound to whatever particular quirks or prejudices are held by that those members regardless of what their racial constituents might think."
Recently, Wong's smash hit "Under the Hull" and her reporting on the CORE program had become impossible to run as CRITICAL suddenly rescinded all access rights to the SETTLE facility and anyone studying under Challenge-Oriented Reciprocal Education.
"I can only hope the Citadel-Republic Integration and Cooperation Alliance is doing something that the Citadel Council itself isn't talking about" she said before signing off. "If not, we have the windows wide open as a hurricane approaches."
While previous encounters with Reapers saw them attacking and operating in a coordinated fashion, at present they appeared at random. Though the squid-shaped starships still carried out the same mission as before, they were now vulnerable to defenses designed as exact counters.
Captain Sally McKnight commanded one such "exact counter"—the long-delayed (by the standard of the incredibly fast digistruction) Elizabeth Booker. This advanced cruiser-size vessel popped around the galaxy smashing Reapers wherever they turned up. Mass fusion drivers proved to be extremely potent, crashing through Reaper kinetic barriers and energy shielding for quick kills. Contrarily, the fight against Infected Reapers did not go so well, stemming from the apparently-endless numbers of them. Put one down, six more took its place. Sure, Booker tore them apart initially, but always ended up turning tail simply because one moderate-sized ship lacked the endurance to survive such an onslaught.
"I thought seeing those digistruction bays empty was definitely a bad omen" remarked Tali upon hearing this news.
As members of CRITICAL, all member governments were generally permitted to view mission video feeds, though some locations had to do so with a delay over fears of sabotage. During a particularly nasty battle that only just saw Booker escape (lopping off several of her own engines to avoid contamination), communiqués started flying back and forth, all carrying essentially the same message: we need a defense. Roughly two-thirds of the galaxy now contained significant Infection presence—enough to drive out the normal inhabitants at least. Panicked civilians didn't bother trying to fight back, even against token Infection forces, and local military authorities tended to agree given that previous attempts to engage the Infection proved ineffective. To add insult, many times hundreds of those who had once fought against it ended up being taken either for biomass or some other nefarious purpose.
Normally, such a gauntlet would have the Turian Hierarchy engaging in its usual strategy of "total war," but for the fact that there wasn't much left to wage that war with. Millions of turians died or were taken trying to hold the Traverse, especially the portion bordering Systems Alliance space. As happened when facing the Reapers, lingering distrust from the Relay-314 Incident evaporated—so long as s/he was shooting in the same direction, few humans cared if the wielder be turian, asari, salarian, krogan, or even batarian (though as an endangered species, few batarians actively sought out conflict).
"Even if we could modify the genophage cure in time, we've also seen what happens when the Infection takes a krogan" said Grayson sadly during a meeting in the Council chambers. "Fast-breeding krogan versus even faster-moving Infection: an unstoppable force meets an immovable object."
"What other choice do you have?" demanded Urdnot Wrex. Deteriorating conditions on Tuchanka, which had been hanging by a thread during peacetime, led to outright rebellions against what had been the benevolent rule of Clan Urdnot.
This is exactly what I was worried about thought the human Councilor. Maybe it wouldn't have fallen apart if we didn't have a third war in one decade, but we do.
"If it were anyone else asking we would have turned this down immediately" replied Tevos. "However, Urdnot Wrex, you may be the one light in an otherwise very dark night."
"Did you not hear what I said?" snapped Grayson. "We uncork the krogan bottle, we're going to feed the Infection as much as our own ranks! I will not vote to take that risk."
Were it anyone else, Wrex would have figured this a veiled excuse for "not trusting the krogan" but he knew Grayson wasn't quite as prejudiced as the rest. Even still, the krogan leader had to admit the man kind of had a point. Seeing his own form twisted in the service of a disgusting lifeform from outside the known galaxy almost threw him into bloodrage. Almost, but not quite. Wrex also knew that berserking krogan would be exactly what the Infection needed—sure, a krogan soldier would take down hundreds, but would ultimately succumb. What was left would be used to create thousands more Infected. This math was slightly disadvantageous.
Never mind the waves of viciously-mutated vorcha which were being see with disturbing frequency. Due to the environment vorcha natively lived in, they too bred fast. They also lacked organization, so the Infection easily took over any space "claimed" by vorcha, converting them into shock troops. It didn't matter who you were—a toothed, clawed group of Infected vorcha would take down anyone and anything given enough time.
[…]
It was the fall of the Archer Cluster's heavily fortified Enterprise System that triggered the Council to finally enact its scheme of last resort: the Infection Action Plan long championed by Adrian Victus. The krogan, human, salarian, turian, and volus homeworlds fell within the defensive perimeter defined as Inner Council Space plus the human Local Cluster. Everyone else would have to relocate or face the Infection alone.
Needless to say, this went over very poorly with the Asari Republics since the Parnitha cluster and Thessia were at least two relay jumps from any system covered under the Action Plan. That Tevos went along with this came across as a betrayal—matriarchs on Thessia actually considered having her "replaced." Not that it would have done any good, the other three Councilors all voted for the plan. Some asari, mostly those who had significant interactions with other races (as opposed to matriarchs who'd isolated themselves on Thessia) grudgingly supported the move and lent their considerable tactical abilities to the cause. Others refused.
It was this which led to Shiala cancelling her lessons at KOMBT. Even though Thessia had not been lost (yet), it might as well have been considering how quickly the Infection had gotten going once it broke out of the Terminus Systems. The commando-turned-instructor needed to take some time to absorb what was going on—significant emotional stress broke the conditioning she'd crafted to keep her biotics in check. It would be a might bit difficult to teach while being completely unable to participate meaningfully or conduct demonstrations.
A number of lower-level asari instructors at the school bailed, but some stayed, believing it wrong to punish children and teenagers for the actions of their parents or grandparents, especially considering the students' return from captivity to a normal life would then again be disrupted. Like the krogan gathered on Tuchanka to receive the cure, asari flocked to Thessia to make a last stand if it came to that, otherwise to swat aside the greatest threat their homeworld had ever faced.
Asari tacticians pored over the fall of Enterprise. Forge, a large garden world, had been the crown jewel of the system. Protected by three hundred Citadel (later CRITICAL-modified) battlestations, it was partially to shield a valuable planet with high population (and thus, a large tax base). The other rationale was decidedly less honest—to draw attention away from clandestine facilities at the gas giant Huron in the neighboring Excalibur System established during the Reaper War.
Yes, the Ship Enrichment, Technology Transfer, and Lightspeed Enhancement (SETTLE) Center had been hidden in plain sight. Well, "plain sight" was pushing it as the station now orbited beneath the gaseous outer envelope of Huron—several hundred kilometers into the hydrogen-based upper atmosphere of the huge planet. The desire to keep everything there a secret extended to entry passageways which suspiciously resembled the Citadel—so much that some actually believed themselves to be in a restricted area of the galactic seat of power. The entire station had been retrofitted with a hibridium cloak after Cerberus attacked, but since then there had been no cause to use the system. It had also been pushed into its present "deep orbit" position, demanding changes in its architecture to accommodate being submerged in a gas giant's atmosphere. So far, the Infected Reapers left it alone.
The same couldn't be said for Enterprise.
A few uninfected Reapers stumbled into the system first but were torn to shreds by heavy Trans-Galactic Republic enhanced battlestations capable of virtually ignoring their main guns due to the typical strong shielding found on most Trans-Galactic Republic craft. These stations possessed curious downward protrusions which the Trans-Galactic Republic insisted were for "wireless power transfer," though the logic of why such attachments were needed alongside onboard hypermatter plants above a planet that had zero provisions for orbital power grids was not explained. Whatever they were, it didn't seem to matter, since turbolasers and even a few mass drivers reliably destroyed incoming Reapers—though the Trans-Galactic Republic found itself at a disadvantage in the area of linear-accelerated weaponry since its top muzzle velocity only barely hit 124km/s compared to, for example, Systems Alliance dreadnaughts with their 4025km/s main ordinance.
"With the development of turbolasers, focus on unguided physical weapons aside from space bombs was deemed unnecessary" replied a Trans-Galactic Republic weapons officer when asked why, for all its high-end tech, the Trans-Galactic Republic actually fell behind Citadel races on something.
The first indication that there would be more than just pedestrian Reaper attacks came during a routine sensor sweep that picked up an anomalous reading cutting a lengthy chord across the generally-circular Enterprise System. Later, it would become apparent this was Normandy's usual path on its inbound flight to SETTLE—and with that piece of information, the subsequent attack made far more sense: Normandy's speed-limit exemption enabled it to continue damaging space. Repeated travel across essentially the same path invited disaster.
It was through this forming tear that Infected Reapers poured. Having been sent into the unknown of slipspace by Jakobs in another parallel, the consequences of mixing this galaxy's last nightmare with its current one became readily apparent. Initially, defenses held—this was, after all, a high-value planet and was thus stoutly protected.
Named for the cities they roughly orbited over, platforms bearing designations such as New Toronto hurled red energy in the direction of incoming attackers. A Golan XXV QuasarGun was, basically, a "double-Curator in space station form." Thirty-two turbolaser batteries (four turrets each), plus forty more individually-mounted turbolasers rounded out destructive energy weapons. Thirty ion cannon batteries (four each) allowed the station to disable targets for boarding, though that wasn't required in this case. Missile launchers dotted the station's armored hull—twenty five in all with a hundred warheads each. These floating fortresses could take on two or three capital ships at a time with a good chance of coming out on top. Just as Reapers failed to live up to their name against Trans-Galactic Republic ships, so too did they fall against three hundred orbital platforms. At first. Then the Infected Reapers showed up.
In large numbers, they seemed to have some ability to cause the crews of stations to turn on each other. Biting, scratching, and attempts at full-on cannibalism took over station after station. Those unaffected were forced to stun or even kill their own crewmates, and in some cases there weren't enough personnel left over to run the Golan afterward. While anti-Indoctrination fields were by now standard issue, whatever the Infection had twisted Reapers into didn't seem to be stopped by such technology. One by one, Golans either dropped off the grid or reverted to much-less-efficient fully-autonomous mode. A handful remained semi-operational due to their crew's apparent resistance, but this represented only a dozen or so out of three hundred, hardly a significant number.
Mad crews aside, blaster gas reserves only permitted so many shots, only a certain number of proton torpedoes could fit into a magazine, and even the Trans-Galactic Republic's legendary heat-management had limits. Defenders weren't sure what was more terrifying—that the Reapers made a return or that the Infection made them somehow even worse than they'd been the first time. As defensive layers were peeled away, Admiral Allison Nimitz aboard Ultimatum made the call.
"Bottoms up" she ordered. Only some of the platforms responded, but that didn't matter—the contingency would more than make up for reduced numbers (she hoped).
Questions regarding the protrusions on the underside of the Trans-Galactic Republic defense platforms were answered relatively quickly. As were inquiries about the stations' massive amounts of extra generation capacity—some 40% more than even heavy combat would place on known systems.
"It appears for all the cagey refusal to confirm or deny, the Trans-Galactic Republic does in fact possess superlasers, not just the one we saw in grainy footage of Ultimatum, but in widely-deployed Golan XXV battle platforms as well" commented Emily Wong.
An animation played showing a station firing its thrusters to turn itself upside-down, permitting superlaser fire against the Infected tide.
This revelation caused consternation in an unexpected quarter: Urdnot Wrex demanded assurances the similarly-odd-shaped stations in orbit around Tuchanka would not use their superlasers to bombard his planet, as lawless and disorderly as it had become since the twin calamities of Sarah and the Infection took hold.
"While we cannot categorically rule out a strategic option, at present there is no reason to believe we'd have to utilize superlasers on battle platforms in that manner" insisted Councilor Grayson, assuaging exactly zero percent of Wrex's worry.
He's become more and more of a politician the longer he's been here.
Wrex left the Citadel in a sour mood. Though Tuchanka fell within the "Defense Zone," the non-reassurance he'd received from Grayson, plus the real possibility that the galaxy might end up unprepared for the largest conflict yet due to centuries-old mistrust combined with fear of Infected krogan made him distinctly uncomfortable.
As Wrex fumed, Nimitz paced. She couldn't prove the secretive Republic Intelligence Service had done anything either with the Shivas loaded into Ultimatum's primary launchers or with the Nemean Abyss. But it seemed too much of a coincidence to ignore. Especially since all traffic from Heaven Triumphant, a garden world in the Rakata System, Falcon's Way Cluster, suddenly ceased in addition to the gargantuan blast in the Abyss. No warnings, no transmissions about incoming missiles. Not even a mention of Infection in the area—just, gone! Attempts by many shady elements with ties to the shadowport world to reach their "home bases" went unanswered, leading to both an influx of curious kingpins and fights breaking out between the new arrivals.
Within hours, images of empty space where a thriving world had once been flooded the extranet.
"We've successfully removed another large population center and thus, slowed the tide of the Infection" said a man confidently at another meeting of the RISE Council.
"You've successfully caused the inhabitants of that galaxy to scratch their heads" retorted another, different (male) voice. "They've already instituted radical measures that basically consign almost three-quarters of their society to oblivion. I don't call that slowing the tide."
"Anything which reduces the number of available hosts for the Infection is positive" insisted a woman. "They don't have to know, they just have to not become zombies. And if they do, well, then they need to die."
"Remember we have only fourteen missiles left" intoned the first man. "We must be judicious."
Several of his compatriots had to restrain themselves from laughing. "Judicious" did not apply to the Republic Intelligence Service, now or ever. That said, the body approved six more potential targets before adjourning.
[…]
While RISE had ammunition limits, Sarah was under no such restrictions. Seeing the advance of the Infection exceeded her worst projections, she returned to burning both Infected and possible-Infected systems with reckless abandon. Though her original plan revolved around exterminating the species of Gamma-Six, priorities changed as the Infection made quicker progress than anyone anticipated.
Siren Serenade glassed cluster after cluster in the lawless Terminus Systems, which had basically fallen to the rampaging Infection. Each planet was the same: totally covered in Infection biomass, Infected creatures shambling around in their usual listless way with nothing left to kill as all relevant biomass had been assimilated. Disturbingly, her Lady Fingers reported the emergence of new Infection types.
"My Lady, these new forms are not derived from any single species within this ecosystem or even galaxy" reported Venera Sola. "They appear to have been created by the Intelligence guiding the Infection."
Sarah had disengaged from her Star Dreadnaught's power core to be physically present on the bridge—the ship's power systems were capable of running life support without supplements. Following the same tenants she had taught her underlings, especially the impulsive Zera, Sarah sought to learn more about the toxic dust that appeared to be taking on new forms the Forebears did not predict.
"Chop off the head, and the body will die" she observed. "Now, how to get to the head?"
The most powerful of Current-Channelers had seen many a ship come up thousands of light-years short trying to use faster-than-light to move into the Nemean Abyss. She figured that meant the Intelligence had to be there. Combined with the disappearance of the Omega station (which had been severely Infected anyway), Sarah concluded the station and Intelligence had become one, entrenched in an area known for its lawlessness. This presented somewhat of a quandary, though—the Infection could only be stamped out if its Intelligence were killed off. That said, the Infection's less-advanced forms had an instinct to create a new Intelligence if the existing one were to be destroyed. Given the amount of biomass available, such a task would be trivial, akin to playing a game of whack-a-mole. Go after the limbs while the head became more and more intellectually advanced? Or go after the head and hope the limbs didn't create a new one, rendering the point moot?
On pure chance, Siren Serenade passed close to the Nemean Abyss on its way to depositing corrupting agents which, once consumed would hopefully turn the Infection on itself. Scans showed frantic Trans-Galactic Republic activity surrounding a single ship.
Fully realizing she suffered from the same "cannot look away" she saw in those well beneath her staring at shuttle crashes, Sarah watched the vessel desperately fighting Infected tormentors uncountable in number.
RNS Skywalker initially arrived at the Nemean Abyss to poke around, or would have if it hadn't run smack into the same interdiction field as every other craft heading to a bastion of lawlessness that made Omega look orderly. Many of these were piloted by less-than-law-abiding individuals who had no desire to be seen by the sensors of a twenty-kilometer instrument of the law. As a Swiftsure-class supercarrier, Skywalker embarked a minimum of one hundred wings of fightercraft—7,200 ships. Until machinations within the Home Galaxy government conspired to produce Revenant Star Dreadnaughts, the Swiftsures had served as the backbone of the Trans-Galactic Republic Navy, keeping the peace across the ten galaxies that made up the "Trans-Galactic" part of "Republic." Pirates and ne'er to dos scattered, though they needn't have bothered as Skywalker's goal was to investigate claims of the Infection, which at the time of the ship's arrival had not spread nearly as far.
Captain Howard Stark launched several squadrons of Raptor fighters to do the initial recon. If necessary, Fireant blastboats could be sent in as a follow-up, though he didn't anticipate needing to take such measures. A few ramshackle vessels took pot-shots at the patrolling craft, only to receive a face-full of ion canon fire in return. That was enough to deter any further interference, at least by the smuggler-types that were milling around the edge of what appeared to be an interdiction field.
"So they sent us here and now we can't even peek inside" harrumphed Stark. "Even a hyperwave initial momentum sustainer can't get us across eight thousand lightyears! That's several sector's worth of space! How do these primitives even…"
As if to answer his question, several pirate cruisers appeared.
"Sir, sensors report new arrivals from an unknown mass relay—in fact, we're detecting relay-transits deep inside the interdiction field. Whatever it is blocks hyperdrives and eezo-enhanced hyperdrives, but not usage of mass relays."
As of to accentuate the point, said pirates began firing at Skywalker. An incoming transmission matched no known language, though it sounded like untranslated batarian due to its harsh, bassy, guttural nature.
It only just occurred to Stark that the ships he found gathered should have been able to beat the interdiction field if they were using native technology—that they weren't implied unpleasant things.
"Alpha One making inspection pass."
The Raptor buzzed close to one of the battered freighters.
"Sensors confirm: active hyperdrive core, no eezo."
Several shots scuffed the inspector's shields, but didn't cause any significant damage.
"Continuing inspection run."
Well, that explains quite a bit. Smugglers have been making off with hardware, but just enough to stay below anything that would trigger an audit. Clever bastards!
Hostile fire continued to rain down on Skywalker and her fighters, but being a fraction of the power wielded by actual military-grade vessels (which themselves were ineffective against Trans-Galactic Republic particle shields), the massive carrier ignored it.
The bridge crew became cognizant of an uptick in the angry growling coming over Skywalker's comms. Suddenly, it cut off. Impact warnings lit up—energy weapons were intersecting shields.
"Figures. They stole hyperdrive cores, unsurprising they also have turbolasers."
Stark launched more fighters and instructed them to disable, not destroy. However, the chance to do that diminished quickly as both freighters and improvised gunships turned tail at seeing huge numbers of craft billowing from launch bays. Many hyperdrive engagements lit up sensors.
Within the hour, the ensign manning Sensors reported hundreds of signatures streaking deep into the Abyss, likely from the same unknown relay. Attempts to determine the exact location of said relay were hampered by limitations not related to sensors. Since eezo-fueled travel was essentially instantaneous, it wasn't possible to derive distance covered via elapsed time. A 200 lightyear trip required the same travel time as a 2000 lightyear trip, assuming one relay transit.
Within two hours, sensor reading showed a massive blob of ships traveling at highly improbable speeds outward. Not fast enough for a relay, but too quick for traditional sublight propulsion. Even for a pirate fleet, the vessels making up the formation were quite irregular—some Citadel, some outlaw, even a few Trans-Galactic Republic. The last brought the highest level of concern, until the incoming force entered visual range.
The whole force radiated Infection off the charts. Behind could be seen Infected Reapers.
The Captain unhesitatingly hit the General Quarters button.
"Incoming Infected vessels bearing zero mark zero. The following squadrons should proceed to their action stations…"
With a hundred wings totaling six hundred squadrons, naming of fighter groups became slightly problematic. The old "colors" or "spelling alphabet" designators were insufficient on their own, but combined and doubled-up following form alpha-color-alpha it was possible to name over six thousand unique squadrons (twenty-six letters and ten colors). Thus, two hundred groups of twelve each were deployed—a hundred and fifty fighter squadrons screening fifty bomber/heavy squadrons.
Alpha-Red-Alpha made contact first. The Infected fleet numbered in the hundreds, if not thousands—but thankfully no fighters were evident as would be expected in traditional combat. Though, given the purpose of the Infection (create more Infection, not necessarily win conventional battles) this made sense. Not aware of the problems faced by defenders in the Enterprise System, some starfighters flew too close to Infected Reapers, leading to unresponsive or even auto-cannibalistic pilots and crashed ships.
"Pull back from the Reapers, or whatever those have turned into!" ordered Skywalker control upon taking notice of more and more fighters dropping off the grid. Attacks against other Infected ships were not a problem, but the Infected Reapers were actually the biggest threat to the carrier as nothing else packed the firepower to cut through Star Dreadnaught scale shields. Of course, in the fight against Revenant, attackers weren't able to significantly damage the Star Dreadnaught if only because they were reduced to space junk before any progress could be made wearing down the ship's shields, combined with the simple fact that weapons in the kiloton or low gigaton range weren't going to get through shields channeling as much energy as a medium star very quickly. Enough sand might stagger a bantha, but dropped one grain at a time not much would happen. That said, the enemy force seemed to have a field secured container vessel's worth of sand...
Infected Reapers seemed to have grotesque protrusions on their "shells" which burst, revealing a brilliant purple-blue flash traveling at insane speeds before it slammed into the side of RNS Skywalker. Whatever they were, they partially ignored shields, damaging both the energy barrier and the carrier's armor. Equipped with five meters of protective plating (more in critical areas), this didn't present an immediate problem, but like any type of physical deflector, the defense could wear down over time after being exposed to more and more fire. Seeing as the twisted monstrosities seemed intent on attaching themselves to the vessel, fighters were forced to operate in the danger zone.
Fortunately, whatever negative affect the creatures had seemed more limited within Skywalker's shield bubble, but grew in intensity as more and more of them swarmed the lone ship. Unfortunately, as a (super)carrier, Skywalker only mounted limited anti-ship weaponry. "Super" only referred to her fighter complement, not the general-purpose-ness of the design (like Star Dreadnaughts or heavy cruisers which fulfilled both the battleship and carrier roles). Due to specialization, Swiftsure supercarriers incurred far lower operating costs than the traditional large, multirole vessels of designation Star Dreadnaught which tended to be of similar keel length. This specialization directly explained lack of turbolasers, though, which proved to be a liability at the moment.
It was in this condition Sarah the Siren found RNS Skywalker; unable to effectively fight back due to effects from Infected Reapers on fighter pilots and not having enough of her own guns to beat off the assault. She would not intervene—it was not her function to save the inhabitants of this galaxy from a problem they themselves created and refused to fix. Still, it was almost sad to watch.
Siren Serenade vanished in a purple flash.