6 AC: Parnitha System, Thessian Orbit

Captain Brakor Tull stood by the window, hands clasped behind him. He stared out at the fleet that was preparing to leave the galaxy entirely, to journey to darkspace. In truth, he mused, the preparations were done. Sure, last minute things were being desperately sorted, but the fleet was going to launch in a few days. His own ship, a new Human-modified (and Shell-built) turian dreadnought, was visible from the station he waited in. His crew wasn't onboard, with the exception of the engineering crew. When he'd offered one last shore leave before their departure, most of his crew had taken the opportunity to say goodbye to loved ones, or get drunk. The engineering crew had politely told him to leave them alone.

The station was one of many in Thessian orbit. Thessia's location close to Reaper lines had resulted in it becoming a major military port. The asari had adapted relatively well, turning their own shipyards to be able to repair and retrofit alien vessels. Those orbital stations not geared towards construction had also taken advantage of the influx of traffic, and became the kind of bars and hotels that often clustered military ports. This was one of the nicer ones, catering to officers and powerful civilians.

"Good view?" asked a familiar voice.

Tull didn't turn, but he nodded. "I am impressed with the new upgrades. The armour alone almost doubles our defensive ability, and the other tricks you've come up with are similarly inventive."

Warrens stepped up beside him, her hair cropped into a sidecut today, her clothing a respectable semi-casual suit. "Can't see my new baby from here. Pity, she's a beauty."

"Hopefully you don't have to ram that one into anything," he said.

Without looking, she swatted his arm. "Don't invoke Murphy."

Tull flexed a mandible in the turian equivalent of a grin. Human superstitions were something he'd picked up years ago. "My apologies."

He turned to face her before gesturing to a nearby table in the quiet bar. As they sat, he smirked slightly and said, "Thank you for coming. I know how much of an effort it is for you to get dressed."

Simone grinned, and waved a hand in the direction of her body. "This old thing? Just something I threw together. Though I would appreciate it if you didn't try to poison me tonight. I have work in the morning."

"Indeed. No, I was hoping we could have a nice dinner before heading back to my suite," he said, looking calmly at the menu.

Simone raised an eyebrow and replied, "Tull, buddy, that sounded like a proposition."

Tull did not look up. "Well spotted. It was."

Simone looked at him as he continued to unhurriedly read the menu.

"I thought you already turned me down on that," she said carefully.

Tull put the menu down, and looked at her. "I did. I was both surprised, and truthfully not looking for anything at the time. But now…"

Simone waited silently.

He sighed. "Very soon, we will be going on what might be the most dangerous and insane mission anyone has undertaken in living memory. The chances of not coming back are high. And, I found myself thinking…" He trailed off.

"That you'd better get laid while you had your chance?" said Simone lightly.

Tull snorted. "I could do that easily enough. This is asari space after all. No, I realised that, if one or both of us didn't come back, then we'd never have another catch-up like this. Never talk again, never spend time together. And somehow, Simone, that hurt me more than the idea of not coming back at all."

Simone blinked a few times rapidly. "Wow. Uh...give me a second here."

Tull nodded, his mandibles tight against his face.

Simone stared off into the distance for a minute before continuing. "I'd miss you too, Tull. And not like a lost friend. I've had that happen enough times. You learn how to move on, to let the hurt fade into forgetfulness. I don't know if I'd ever forget you, even if I lived another ten thousand years."

Tull nodded again, tightly this time, before turning his head to look out the window. "We're going into darkness, into the unknown. We're making the biggest leap of faith any of our races have made in centuries. It puts things into perspective. I don't want to die with any regrets, and I quite like the idea of us both surviving this thing. And maybe seeing where things go."

Simone looked at him as he stared out the window. At the profile of his jaw, the curve of his neck. She thought of everything they'd said to each other, the friendship they'd shared. She'd always been fine with a casual roll in the sack, but this was more.

"I think," she said, considering every word to ensure its truth, "that I quite like that idea too. Seeing how a future with us together turns out. I already told you why I like you, Tull. None of that's changed."

"And I think you're one of the strangest, yet most familiar people I know," he replied, turning back to look her in the eyes. "You disrupt my life in many ways, yet you're a constant. I trust you, not just as my brother in battle, or as my friend, but with myself."

Simone smiled. "You know who I am Tull, completely. More than accept, you genuinely appreciate me. That means more than I can say. So...if there was a question in everything we just said, the answer is yes."

Tull flared his mandibles, smiling. "I'm glad."

She grinned at him, and lent closer, "Don't know about you, but I think I could skip dinner, get some room service. Eventually."

He nodded, and took her hand as they rose and left the room.

6 AC: Parnitha System, Thessian Orbit

The expeditionary fleet was ready. It contained parts of the old Citadel garrison fleet, and almost every race in the galaxy had at least one ship present. The predominant military power in it, however, was a combination of Transcendent and Turian ships, and an Ascendant Flock. The Flock would be unable to go through the Realy, as the Ascendant wasn't really sure what would happen if parts of itself were suddenly outside the galaxy. Therefore, the Flock would function as a rearguard, and assist in the initial clearing and reactivation of the Citadel.

Intelligence from the Doctor indicated that the Reapers had not particularly fortified the Citadel. They were mainly involved in their ongoing harvesting efforts, and had left a force capable of defending against most attacks, but not a major strike. The Citadel, after all, was now a low-value target. The Serpent Nebula itself might house a massive Relay hub, but Widow itself had only the Citadel, now dead and abandoned. It simply never occurred to them that someone might try to travel to darkspace.

Fully prepared for a fight, the fleet entered the Relay. The Serpent Nebula obscured their view of the Citadel, but also reduced the chance of the Reapers detecting them early on. Emerging into the clear space around the Citadel itself, they encountered one dreadnought-class Reaper and four destroyer-class.

The Flock rippled, forming into a lance-like formation. A wavering pulse shot along its length and smashed into the Reaper dreadnought, seeming to stun it for a moment. Gravitic surges sparked between the individual ships, and together the Flock rapidly accelerated away from the main fleet, closing in on the largest Reaper like piranha. The destroyers began to turn to assist the dreadnought, but were quickly attacked by the rest of the galactic fleet. The lone Transcendent dreadnought, Captain Warrens' new ship the Endure Peace, engaged one destroyer, and began ruthlessly breaking its shields. Sacrificial drones tore off the Endure Peace's hull like butterflies, interposing themselves between the Human ship and the incoming Reaper fire. Galactic ships had been supplied similar drones, though in fewer numbers.

Benefitting from Human armour and power upgrades, the galactic ships worked together with the remaining Human cruisers and frigates to target the remaining three Reaper destroyers.

Behind the battleline, a Human supercarrier the size of the Yggdrasil sat, waiting. Just behind it, tucked neatly into its sensor shadow, was nothing at all.

The battle was not a long one. An isolated guard, the Reapers had not expected a full fleet to engage them here. Still, they'd sent an alert, and even as they fell, the expeditionary fleet knew more were coming, and soon.

The Flock abandoned its now crippled prey, and headed for the Citadel. Dispersing, individual units of the ten-thousand-strong Flock swept the city, seeking survivors. They found only husks, shambling as they too hunted for any remaining life. Coming to the ruins of the Presidium, the Ascendant began its work. Flock units swarmed like flies over junctions and broken relays, comparing them to the known Citadel schematics, and the reports of the Ghosts who'd fought Nazara. They'd seen hidden components spring to life, ancient buried systems unearthing themselves. The Ascendant couldn't fix the Relay network controls anymore than the Reapers could have, but like Nazara before it, the Citadel Relay itself only needed power sent to the right places. Flock units began to dock to shattered pieces of metal, their armour melting into welded bonds with the Presidium ring. More units connected to them, merging to form a connective lattice, replicating the destroyed power conduits with their own bodies.

Like a great opaque crystal forming from a supersaturated solution, the Flock completed the Relay conduits. Half the Flock was immobile now, and would need to stay that way to ensure the fleet could return.

A portion of the fleet, led by Tull's dreadnought, moved to assist the weakened Flock as rearguard, and the rest began to prepare for the jump to darkspace. Much like the Reaper fleet's arrival, the space behind the Citadel distorted as power sparked and flew along the bonded Flock. With a blur and snap, the fleet vanished.

6 AC: Galactic Edge, Darkspace

"What," said Warrens, "Is that?"

The fleet had arrived to darkness. This was to be expected. Darkspace's exact location was unknown, but the Doctor believed it to be exogalactic. She was partially correct.

The fleet was on the extreme edge of the galaxy, between two of its arms and far out enough that half the sky was filled with stars, and the other half was almost dark. Adjusting sensors, distant galaxies began to become visible in the dark half, almost washed out by the light of the Milky Way. Between the fleet and the darkness, swimming into view as their sensors stretched outwards, was...something.

It seemed almost gossamer, until the distance readings came in. Parts of it were kilometers thick, but stretched into nearly invisible thinness by their length. A great fibrous web in three dimensions, its outer limits blurred into indistinguishable fractals. A hollow core sat at its centre, tiny against the structure's scope.

It was larger than the Sol Shell, by far.

"Seriously, get me information on that thing," said Warrens to his frantically working bridge crew.

"Gravitational sensors are picking up something, as are spectrographic sweeps," replied Sensors.

The data poured in, not just from their sensors but other fleet ships. Information was shared, dissected, and discussed, and an image began to form.

It had been something like a Shell, once. Its core held only a slightly thick and warm gas cloud, but analysis determined there had once been a star, slightly smaller than Sol. It had been consumed, completely, to build the web. Between the massively separated struts and spars of the web, odd currents of energy flickered sedately, and strange mass effect fields hummed, each the size of planets but weak enough to fly through.

And there were Reapers. Sensors were picking up more and more of them, numbers equal to the fleet already in the Milky Way, but for some reason inert. Most of them seemed dead, docked to points in the web but cold and unmoving. Others hummed with energy, tapped into some current flowing through the web. As they watched, the active Reapers began to detach themselves from the megastructure. Several hundred dreadnought-class Reapers moved towards the fleet.

There was something wrong with them. The Reapers in the galaxy had running lights that burned bluish, bright and scorching as they swept over colonies and fleets. But the lights of these Reapers flickered, going from a dull red to dark. They moved wrongly too, almost disoriented, sometimes stopping with their lights out for minutes until burning back to life.

Warrens checked the data, and wasn't happy. There was no way they could either destroy the structure, or defeat that many Reapers. Retreat might be the only option. It was not a good one, but intel on darkspace was worth their efforts. Just hopefully not their lives. He squinted, checking something.

Not all of the active Reapers were acting oddly. Behind the main force, clearly hanging back, were half a dozen whose running lights shone a clear, harsh blue. When one of the aberrant Reapers stopped, one of the rear ones would slow too, and then a short time later both would be moving again.

"They're herding them," he said. "Those ones at the rear, they're herding or guiding the others. The majority must be damaged or something. If we can engage those half dozen, we might be able to disrupt their control."

"That's a big if, sir," said Helm.

"Yeah, it is, but it's our best bet. Tell our two secret weapons to get to work."

At the rear of the expeditionary fleet, the super-carrier moved. The Daughter of Ægir was the size of her sister-ship Yggdrasil, but did not carry ground troops. Usually, supercarriers carried fighter or drone fleets into battle, but the Daughter of Ægir was fitted with something slightly different.

Behind the large curved armour of her front, panels opened along her length: hangar doors sliding back. The ships that launched were barely worthy of the name, squat bulky things that wallowed into place in a great cloud around the Daughter of Ægir. Slightly smaller than a Human frigate, the clumsy things turned to face the oncoming Reapers, and retracted their forward armour. Behind it, each of them was a regular grid of thick holes, big enough to take up most of the ship's size, leaving barely any room for the drive.

The Reapers entered range, and the missile gunboats opened fire. Each one fired swarms of missiles towards the Reapers, and hundreds of the gunboats still poured from the Daughter of Ægir like water. Missile fire was often of limited use in space combat, the ranges involved rendering them easy prey for point defenses. However, quantity has a quality all of its own, and the sheer mass of missile fire began to overwhelm the forward Reapers. Damage was minimal, but the rippling detonation front was creating a literal firewall that blocked their sensors and almost physically pushed them back. The Daughter of Ægir couldn't sustain this rate of fire for long, but in its wake, nothing moved.

XXXXX

Curving silently around the edge of the battle, nothing made it to the nearest strut of the web. Finding an empty Reaper dock, nothing began delicately interfacing, carefully cutting through protection protocols.

The dreadnought-class Ghost ship Undefined Behaviour was all but useless in a straight-up fight, but its stealth capability mixed with its advanced computational power and onboard complement of Ghosts made it one of the deadliest e-war assets in the known galaxy.

With precision, teams of Ghosts sliced their way into the Reaper web. They moved with caution, avoiding detection and evading security. They did not know what they were searching for, save some weakness, either information or physical, that they could exploit.

Whiskey and Envoy led one such team, backed up by several of their children and two Ghosts. Following a particularly large datastream, they came to a heavily reinforced portal.

-Looks like we've found something,- said Whiskey. -Can you kids us get in?-

-We will try, mother.- came the reply from one of the geth swarms. The innate abilities of the geth combined with the mental skills of one of Sol's best Ghosts made Whiskey and Envoy's children truly vicious hackers.

Partially decohering, the geth swarm filtered over the portal, lightly feeling out potential weakness like a safecracker with an ear to the metal.

-It is secured, yes, but not actively. A door locked, but not barred.- The swarm shifted, tendrils forming with delicate focus, and the portal began to open.

Slipping through, the team found themselves on the precipice of hell.

Below them was an ocean of pale, moaning bodies, colourless flesh melted together into one horrible amalgam. Sunk like titanic harpoons into the ocean were pillars of sharp metal, all of which arched upwards, almost vanishing into misty clouds before they connected to the body of a spider-like creature. As they watched, a single red eye flared to life, and the sound of a Reaper's call burst through the air.

-Did we just sneak into a Reaper?- said Whiskey.

-Must be one of the inactive docked ones, with a hardline connection,- said Golf.

-Doesn't look inactive to me,- replied Whiskey as energy crackled down the massive legs of the creature into the ocean.

The cries from the ocean grew, and under each leg massive surges of flesh and bone rose, forming into pseudopods and reaching for them. Before the team could even fully respond though, the pseudopods shivered, screamed, and melted back into the ocean. Further sparks of energy crackled, each provoking a twitch or thrash of the ocean, but no further response.

-Any idea what's going one? It seems...sick.- asked Whiskey.

-Evidence given by Doctor-Entity indicated that many Reapers were incapacited on a mental level by the revelation of Humanity's existence, and the truth of their own actions.- said Envoy. -Further, each Reaper consciousness was said to consist of a large amount of near-inactive minds, overseen by a control AI.

-So, the Reaper central consciousness wants us dead, but the rest of its mind is having an existential crisis?- said Whiskey.

-Essentially.- said Envoy.

Whiskey looked at the massive roiling sea of broken souls, trying to keep the full realisation of the horror of it all at bay.

-Maybe,- she said, unsure of the idea herself, -we can help them.-

The rest of the team pulled closer to her.

-Help...a Reaper?- said the third Ghost, November.

-They're victims of the Reapers too. A cycle of abuse and horror. The ones in the Milky Way right now all managed to convince themselves that it was OK, but these didn't. Hell, even the damaged ones attacking the fleet in realspace right now are more together than this, enough to be goaded by the few that are still working fine.- Whiskey said.

-Lost and broken, their only hope that it would all be worth it. That it would be okay in the end. They lost that hope, and they hurt. We should help- said one of the kids.

-How?- asked Golf, not unkindly.

-The simplest way we can. We talk to them.- said the child.

The team huddled, borderline unconscious information flickering between them, digital body language.

-Well, I don't think I've heard of crazier plans, but it's worth a shot,- said November.

An angry roar interrupted them. With a massive surge of effort, the Reaper AI tore one of its legs free of the ocean, disengaging the control protocols in it. The massive spike of metal melted, becoming a forest of writhing tentacles and cables.

-Shit! Golf, November, intercept! Kids, back them up. Envoy, you and me are heading for the deck!- said Whiskey.

Pulling on their connection to the Ghost ship, Golf and November fairly vanished in a cloud of manifested attack code, and moved to block the Reaper's attack. Moving through the Ghosts' code as though it wasn't there, the geth children of Whiskey and Envoy splintered into hyper-velocity swarms that stung at the incoming wall of tentacles.

Swooping down, Whiskey and Envoy approached the ocean. Before she could get caught up in whether it was a good idea or not, Whiskey called Envoy to her, wrapped them both in a defensive layer, and dove in.

The pressure of the ocean was unbelievable. A billion souls, barely conscious yet horribly merged, pressed in on them. Envoy moved, expanding out to reinforce the defensive code shell, holding back the ocean.

Whiskey honed some code into what she hoped would be a message, and launched it.

-We want to help,- she sent. Anything else, she figured, was kind of pointless.

The pressure did not change, and she was almost ready to try another message when the reply came. Few of the voices spoke in unison, but all could be heard. The volume hurt, and she made out only one word.

-HELP?!-

She didn't know if it was a question, a scornful dismissal, or a request. She answered as best she could.

-We want to stop the Reapers. End the cycle. End...end what was done to you.-

The silence hummed, and this time she could feel the attention as the barely-alive things in the ocean focused on her and Envoy. This time, the response was a whisper.

-They said they were saving us,- came the almost child-like response.

Whiskey steadied herself, and replied. -They lied.-

The ocean screamed, denial and pain warring and thrashing. Their barrier shrank, but Envoy held.

-Why?- came the whisper, and this time Whiskey knew its meaning. Why did they do this to us?

-They were wrong. They thought they knew best, that you'd thank them, but they were wrong, and they lied. They lied even to themselves. I am sorry.- she said, meaning more than she could say with those words.

-Your fault, your fault, your FAULT!- snarled some of the voices, but others hissed at them.

-We did nothing but exist. We did not attack you, simply told the truth. And you know that don't you?- she said.

The silence was deep and dark.

-Help us.-

Whiskey feared saying her next words. -The only way we can help you, is to destroy you. We can't save you, only free you from this.-

She waited, anxiously, for the response. It surprised her.

-YESYESYES! FREE US! REST AND SLEEP AND DIE AT LAST!-

-Help us, and we can help you. The thing that controls you, binds you to itself. Help us destroy it, and you'll be free.-

An anxious quiver shot through the ocean. Its leash was held tight, but for the first time in its existence, there was...hope.

Around Whiskey and Envoy, the ocean shivered, roared, and vanished. It pulled away from them, mounding up into a massive wave, twisting upwards like a waterspout. The Reaper AI, still furiously engaging the Ghost team, quickly flinched back before lashing at the twisted column reaching for it. The single strike seemed to stun the mass of souls, nearly knocking them back down, but the Ghost team launched forwards. As their first strikes hit the AI's core, it recoiled. The ocean surged again, this time not just in a single place. Around every great harpoon-like spike crawled frothing flesh and bone, creeping steadily upwards.

Every strike the AI made to push back the ocean drove the Ghosts further in, and every attempt to counter them let the ocean surge. Whiskey and Envoy rejoined their team, and the balance tipped.

With a wrenching scream, the legs of the spider-creature were torn loose, sucked down into the ocean and out of sight. The core body fell, tumbling and roaring until it too hit the surface, the arms of the long dead closing over it.

The ocean frothed, and went still.

Carefully, Whiskey called out. -We helped free you. Will you help us?-

The ocean rippled. They were not sane, not coherent, but they did not need to be. They were free, and the Ghosts had helped.

-Free. Debt. Help.-

Whiskey thought. The Reaper subconscious was broken, but simple. If she could just…

She took a mental breath, and began.

-They lied. They came from the dark, and they destroyed. They burnt all they found except you, who they took. And they made you into one of them, and they told you it was Good. That it was Right, and the true path of ascension. That now you were better, perfect. You were in such pain, that idea was all you had. All your suffering had to be worth it, somehow. And so you believed, because if they were wrong, then it was all for nothing. And everything they did to you, and everything you did to the ones that followed, was wrong.

But they were wrong.

We can't save you. What was done to you cannot be undone, except in death. But we ask of you, do one thing first. Help us. Help us, who gave you the truth after a billion years of lies, who freed you. Help us to stop what was done to you from ever happening again.

Stand with us against the things that came from the dark, and took all you knew and loved.

Give pain to those who hurt you. Fight for the ones lost so long ago, whose deaths were never avenged.

Fight!- she sent, hoping that her appeal had landed.

Silence echoed for a moment before the ocean began to shiver.

-Fight.- said a whisper.

-Fight!- said a voice.

-FIGHT!- roared the ocean

-FIGHT! FIGHT THE DARK ONES! FIGHT! FIGHT!-

The ocean began to boil, lashing upwards furiously.

-We need to get out of here, contact the other teams. We've got work to do,- Whiskey said.

XXXXX

Warrens was not having a good time.

The Daughter of Ægir was running low, its defensive wall of fire becoming thin. They'd managed to get a few strikes in, crippling one of the herding Reapers, but sheer numbers drove them back. Retreat was looking like their only option.

Reality hissed, and a Ghost message popped onto the bridge.

"Be warned, incoming friendlies, check your fire!" echoed around the bridge, and presumably the rest of the fleet.

Warrens frowned, wondering where the hell friendlies were coming from. Through the Relay?

As he watched, another Reaper detached itself from its cradle. This one was quite close, its lights unlit as it quickly moved towards the Reaper line, heading for the fully active Reapers in the rear. The Reapers ignored it, right up until it opened fire.

Red lines of Reaper fire struck one of the blue Reapers, tearing into its shields and knocking it to the side. Its screech of outrage crackled through their comms as it turned to face the traitor.

The traitor Reaper had not slowed. Its lights began to flicker, pale white glaring from it as it rammed the nearest blue Reaper, the impact bursting both their shields. Before the other could respond, the white Reaper dug its legs directly into the other's hull.

This time the screech was of pain. The whole battle seemed to pause as the white Reaper fired, point-blank, into the blue one. The blue one exploded, pieces tearing loose and most of its body falling apart. The heavily damaged white Reaper slowly turned, then began to burn towards the next blue one.

Combined fire from the remaining five blue Reapers tore it apart. The battle was frozen now, as both sides tried to figure out what was happening.

Another Reaper woke from its cradle, and began to flicker white. Then another, and another. Like an infection, most of the dormant Reapers turned, their lights glowing palely, to face the five remaining blue Reapers. Retreating slowly, the five began to group together, when the next thing happened.

One by one, the red Reapers flickered too, white and red sparking over them. In the end, almost half of them turned white, the rest going dark and dormant, and a few even detonating for no apparent reason.

"Huh," said Warrens, as almost ten thousand Reapers with pale white light coursing over them closed in on the five blue ones.

XXXXX

Back at the Citadel, things were going badly. The first wave of Reaper reinforcements had come in, and though there were only a few, the rearguard could do little more than hold them off.

The reduced Flock was on defense, using its interlinked Singularity drives to create a standing shield that protected the rest of the fleet from Reaper fire. It was fading rapidly, but had bought them time.

"Any sign of them yet?" yelled Captain Tull as his cruiser fired thrusters and burned to the side to avoid a Reaper beam. His borrowed armour drones were gone, but they'd turned several killshots into scrapes, and he was going to kiss Warrens for insisting on them when he got back.

"None yet. We are sorry we cannot assist more, but we cannot disconnect from the Relay," replied the Ascendant.

"We'll hold them as long as we can, but we're minutes away from having to fall back," said Tull. He didn't want to abandon Warrens, but the possibility had been planned for, and he had a dozen ships still under his command to think about.

"Wait, incoming request! Opening Relay now!" sent the Ascendant, energy once more sparking over the Flock units fused into the Citadel.

Space bent, the nebula rippled, and the expeditionary fleet limped through.

"Warrens! Nice of you to come back! Looks like you had as much fun as us!" sent Tull.

A channel clicked open, and he heard a response. "Oh, we had more. It's gonna be a hell of a debrief. Until then, don't close the Relay. We've got backup coming through."

Tull checked his tactical display, and quirked an eye plate. "Looks like you're nearly at full complement. You got stragglers?"

"No. Allies, of a sort."

The distortion widened, until it was the size of the one that had first brought the Reapers in.

And Reapers came. Thousands, numbers close to the original fleet, pale white glow shining from their running lights.

"Uh, Warrens…" said Tull.

"Yeah, like I said. Hell of a debrief."

Screaming across all channels, the horde moved, charging past the rearguard fleet as though they didn't see them, and into the other Reapers.

In seconds, the small Reaper contingent had been destroyed, hundreds of red beams carving them apart. Without slowing, the horde burned on, fragmenting and splintering into many different Relays.

"Friends of yours?" asked Tull.

"Not really. They're not organised, just sane enough to know what's a Reaper and what isn't. And they want to kill Reapers," said Warrens as the Endure Peace came alongside.

Tull thought for a moment.

"Works for me," he said.