Chapter 52-Final Preparations

"Admirals, I can understand your concern for your people to a certain extent," Malleus said to the small gathering of Quarians before him. "But there is a line between caution and cowardice, and I'm beginning to think that you are on the wrong side of it."

The Admiralty Board meeting hall of the Rayya was silent for a moment as the leaders of the Quarian people looked carefully at the two Astartes standing before them in the small, stepped arena that they met in. They were hesitant about what to say to the massive, imposing figures before them, before the one Kullas remembered as Admiral Koris spoke; "The situation so far has been a delicate one, Scandarum Vas Valaso Darundah. We have to be certain about committing our forces and how many we can commit. We have to look to our own borders as much as any other; even in these times, pirates and slavers are a constant threat."

"As far as I am aware," Malleus said. "Most of these pirates and slavers are in the Local System fighting the Reapers, along with, of all things, the Geth. That threat is a far less credible one than it used to be. There is the far more credible threat of the Reapers, and the Migrant Fleet is the largest in the galaxy."

"Even so, the Migrant Fleet is not one of warships," Shala'Raan said from the pedestal she occupied at the rear-centre of the pit, the entire thing surrounded by suited Quarians. "We have few enough dedicated fighting vessels as it is."

Malleus nodded, before he said; "That is a fair point. But the Quarian people must do their part alongside the rest of the galaxy. Your people have a reputation as thieves who inadvertently released the Geth upon the galaxy, and contributing nothing to this war will not help that in the slightest."

"Reputation is only of so much use," one of them in a grey enviro-suit replied. Admiral Han'Gerrel, Malleus remembered. Kullas had spoken highly of him. "The fact is that we will be risking the lives of our people."

"As has everyone else," Malleus said. "We are fighting against extinction here and victory still hangs in the balance. The Quarians could well be the factor that tips it in our favour."

"I still can't see the benefit," Han'Gerrel said.

"You simply want the Geth to weaken themselves so you might have a better chance at getting your ridiculous idea of invading the homeworld through the Conclave," Koris replied. "And just when they've proven themselves willing to negotiate and cooperate with organics."

Everyone had a key, Malleus knew, something that would bring them round. For some, like Aria, it was power, for others it was money. For Quarians, Malleus knew, it was their lost homeworld. It was to time to slip it into the lock and turn.

"The Geth are indeed open to negotiation," Malleus said. "And they have made a very positive impression on the Alliance, the Turian Hierarchy, the Asari Republics and Salarian Conglomerate; I would be unsurprised if they were to be offered embassy on the Citadel should we all survive this. The Geth have come out of the shadows and offered their aid in the war and already they are gaining potential power; even the Krogan have been willing to make sacrifices, and they are getting more and more respect for it by the day. But the Quarians have done nothing but watch and wait, and should the matter of the Homeworld come up then the Geth will have the weight of the galactic powers behind them, not your people."

There was a lengthy pause, before Shala'Raan asked; "What exactly are you saying, Malleus Vas Valaso Darundah?"

"I am saying that aiding the war effort now may well return Rannoch to you once it is over," Malleus said. "Think about it for a moment, Admirals; going back to a world where you are no longer trapped by your enviro-suits, and within your lifetimes as well."

Quarians were more expressive with their body language out of simple habit, faces concealed by the darkened glass of the masks they wore, and he could see several sitting forwards in sudden interest. The Admirals tried to maintain a more neutral interest, but Malleus had them; the crowd here was large, over a hundred Quarians coming to catch a glimpse of two of the famed Astartes, and to refuse a promise like that in front of so many of their people would lead to them being ousted from power in no time whatsoever.

"You could do that?" Daro'Xen asked.

"I'm quite sure that I could," Malleus said. "At the very least I could facilitate negotiations; the chance to return to your ancestral home without bloodshed is one that you cannot pass up."

Han'Gerrel nodded, before he said; "We can't spare any vessels, but the Migrant Fleet Marines are a different matter; they're some of finest ship-to-ship combatants in the galaxy, second to none."

"We could definitely send a few companies worth," Shala'Raan said.

"They would be a fine contribution," Malleus said. "I will need as many as I possibly can."

The rest of the short meeting was easy; Malleus had them on his side, and the rest was simply working out numbers. After that, he simply had one more stop to make and then he would be on his way to Earth once more.

#

The massive cargo haulers had met the Batarian fleet in orbit above Noveria, and already shuttles were flitting from civilian to military vessels and back again, depositing at least some of the ships' payload to the crews within. Only a few hundred of the lasrifles they held were being given out, the rest being kept for distribution once they arrived at earth, and even then only for a select number; Malleus dared not trust the Batarians with weapons as powerful as them yet, and instead they were being given to C-Sec personnel and the contingent of Migrant Fleet Marines on the fleet. Most of those were spending their time positioned just by the bridges of the more important Batarian vessels, ready to move in and deal with the captains should word be given, the four-eyed aliens kept as allies at gunpoint.

The Yahg, on the other hand, had been fairly simple to deal with; Malleus simply beat their leader, a giant beast called 'Gharex', in single combat, and strong as it was Malleus had been able to defeat it with little difficulty. Apparently, Malleus was the first non-Yahg the bestial aliens seemed to respect, and currently that was enough to keep them in line. He wasn't going to trust them with any lasrifles yet, though.

Yuri Rasenkov had given Malleus his personal promise that they were up to a good enough standard, and Malleus felt confident that, in this at least, he would be as good as his word.

Soon enough, the forces that were to be armed had been equipped, and the small fleet turned for the relay, the haulers in tow. Soon enough, they would be returning to the Local System, coming back to Terra. Soon enough, the time would come for the final blow to be struck against the Reaper menace. Only time would tell as to whether victory or defeat was to follow.

#

"I can see it!" Antoinette called suddenly. "I can see the ocean, Miranda!"

"You can?" the Miranda asked, drawing the jeep to a halt as it came to the crest of the hilll. She gave a tired smile as she saw the English Channel stretched before them, sunlight catching on the crest of waves, diamonds on green-grey velvet, no longer an indistinct blur on the horizon. They were close now, too close to give up.

"Do you see anything else?" Miranda asked, scanning around.

"Over to the left," Aintoinette said. "I think I can see buildings as well. Smoke."

Miranda risked a little pain, getting out of their transport and gingerly pulling herself up on the cupola until she was level with Antoinette. A few miles away, she could see a city burning as it sat on the coast, weapons fire and artillery crossing back and forth past its limits. She nodded to herself; the Council's forces were still here, and they still had a way out of here. As she'd hoped, following the trails left by the aircraft that had streaked overhead had lead her here. Now they just had to break through enemy lines.

She turned the jeep westwards toward Calais, setting her sights for the large expanse of flat tarmac on its border where the spaceport was, still fiercely contested judging by the firefights that raged near its bounds. All she had to do was make her way across the grassy, hilly terrain before her, through that wall of fire and to safety.

"Antoinette, come down and strap in," Miranda said. "It's going to be a bumpy ride from now on."

She did as she was asked, and Miranda laid a hand on her shoulder and gave it a squeeze, flashing her a reassuring smile.

"Don't worry," she said. "I'm getting us through that, I promise."

"I'm not," Antoinette said, giving Miranda one of her own. "You're too good to let anything bad like that happen, Miranda."

The Lady Castellan kissed her gently on the forehead, and she added; "And you seem too brave to be worried. Now hold on tight."

After a moment, she broke free of the embrace, and began to drive.

It was a terrible feeling, holding the life of someone you cared dearly about in your hands while in a situation as dangerous as this one, Miranda reflected as she began to drive. The mixture of determination and fear for their safety were not ones that aided a person's judgement in any situation, and had been the very same reason why she had avoided relationships in the past. Even Jacob's death had felt more personal than she would have liked to admit, even though the brief tryst the two of them had had had been years ago. The icy demeanour she'd adopted to life had helped scare people away, she found, stopped her getting compromisingly attached before she could even start, meaning that she could get things done without any mistakes.

The road was still in good condition, probably due to the fact that it was not used much, the jeep's tyres gripping onto it easily as she drove forwards. For about a mile or so she made it unnoticed, before the sound of engines whining overhead caught her ear; above them, one of the sleek, dark-hulled Reaper gunships. No chance in relying on stealth now; she pressed the accelerator down hard, rubber screeching on tarmac as the gunship fired.

She glowered in fierce concentration as she wrenched the jeep to the left, avoiding another stream of liquid metal and pure heat as it cut into the road, the stench of treacle filling the air for a moment before she whipped past it at breakneck speed. The jeep bounced as it hit a pothole, and Miranda wrestled with the steering wheel as she attempted to bring it back into line before another beam sliced down next to her.

Wind whipped through her hair as she crested another hill, the vehicle barrelling past a burnt-out stalk tank and the wreckage of a Somme that it had brought down with it. She dodged round a crater as the gunship fired once more, tyre clipping the clip and sending once side of the jeep flying up for a brief moment before it crashed down again, jolting Miranda and Antoinette in their seats.

The ground became rougher, badly scorched and muddied as the spaceport began to near, the dropship still overhead. She pulled off the road suddenly, throwing its aim and weaving between the craters that ruptured the ground. Muddy water sprayed upwards as a tyre clipped a puddle, a shimmering coffee-coloured veil, the jeep bouncing from the dip.

She passed corpses, speeding ahead as the gunship fired once more, before something screamed overhead and smashed it from the sky with a missile, a jet sweeping upwards and back again through the air, passing over them once more.

She crested another hill, the jeep crashing downwards on the damp ground as it sped forwards. Ahead of her were a group of Reaper soldiers, turning to face the vehicle as it thundered towards them before it slammed into their rear, throwing several aside. Shots zipped and pinged against its rear as sped away from them, and she swerved to the left to throw the aim of one of their anti-tank weapon armed troopers. The beam sent a gout of steam skywards as it boiled the water in the ground away, and Miranda smiled grimly as she saw friendly lines getting closer and closer, near enough to pick out individual mass-driver rounds as they sped in both directions.

From nowhere, the ground disappeared, a deep trench appearing under the tyres, and for a brief moment the jeep sailed gently through air before metal crunch and slammed down at a diagonal. Antoinette gave a cry of pain and shock, and Miranda fumbled clumsily with her seatbelt before she pulled her free of the vehicle and dropped down beside her, cursing as her ankle flared with pain. She grabbed her assault rifle from where it had fallen in the mud, holding it in one hand and using the trench to support her. Antoinette was ahead of her, heading for friendly lines through another trench that led towards the spaceport, and Miranda limped after her.

A dark figure, huge and forbidding, dropped between them and Antoinette gave a cry of terror before Miranda opened fire with her rifle, emptying the thermal before crushing it against the mud wall with a blast of biotic power.

"Run!" she called to Antoinette, ejecting the thermal and leaving it to hiss in the mud, slamming one of her remaining two. "Get out of here, now!"

Antoinette nodded mutely and disappeared as another Reaper soldier dropped down behind Miranda. The shots that hit her barriers and armour knocked to the ground, and she gave a scream as her ankle was wrenched out of place once more, bone stabbing into flesh like a blazing spear. Despite red mist of pain at the edge of her vision, she turned and opened fire, her weapon thudding rapidly as the shots wore down her enemy's kinetic barriers. The thermal was enough to break through them, and she hurled it away with a biotic blast despite the exhaustion that was sapping at her body.

Somehow, she hauled herself to her feet, a hiss of pain accompanying every other limping step, blood thundering in her ears. She didn't have time to set the bone again, and instead fought against the pain, gritting her teeth and carrying on the best she possibly could. She managed six paces, agony blazing up before something knocked her to the ground. She rolled over in time to see a weapon pointing at her, and desperately tried to summon up some biotic power to throw her enemy away, but she was simply too tired and distracted by the intense ache in her ankle to summon anything more than a wisp of force.

Someone else, on the other hand, wasn't, a blast of biotic might slamming into the Reaper footsoldier's chest and stumbling it back. There was the sound of a shotgun firing and it was knocked to the ground by a shot that hit it squarely in the head, before three figures stepped over her, weapons scanning for any more danger.

"We're clear," one of them announced, before it asked; "How is she?"

"She's alive," came a reply, and Miranda looked up through blurry eyes to see an Asari kneeling next to her, blue skinned grimy and with bags under her eyes before the alien picked her up and slung Miranda's arm over her shoulder. "Give me a hand with her."

"Antoinette," Miranda slurred, already feeling like she might black out. "Is Antoinette safe?"

"The girl? She's fine," the Asari said while her comrade took Miranda's other arm. "Valmyra, keep us covered."

"On it," the third one said, her rifle in the shoulder.

Helped by the two Asari, Miranda was hauled to the relative safety of the Council lines.