Aethyta gritted her teeth, personally amazed and a little appalled at just how good the team running her ship really was. They'd been one of the early arrivals, and were still in something approaching 'good stead.'
Capt. Denalla seemed to have an exceptional feel for the conflict she was in, and her crew responded to her commands—however short-notice they were—with lighting rapidity.
All in all, Aethyta was impressed, and she didn't impress easily. She knew who needed to be teaching at the Thessia Memorial Military Academy she was already planning to hammer past the other Matriarchs. They needed more soldiers, more specialists and—if they could be anything like Denalla—more leaders.
It happened almost in slow-motion. Even Denalla hadn't done more than open her mouth to scream—probably rage, not fear; Aethyta approved—when the red Reaper laser suddenly sweeping towards them cut out. In fact, all the Reaper lasers flickering in the black vacuum outside suddenly cut out. The Reapers themselves stopped moving; or, rather, continued on with only their momentum to propel them in straight-line vectors.
"What the hell?" Aethyta asked as Denalla demanded, "Report!"
"I'm sorry, Captain," one of the techs apologized. "I registered a massive broadcast from the
Crucible, then…nothing."
"My scans are all indicating the Reapers have gone cold," another tech took over. "No power signatures, no heat buildups—nothing!"
Aethyta shifted her weight from foot to foot, but the Reapers remained stationary—or responding to the laws of propulsion in space. "Put me through to Citadel Control," Aethyta commanded.
"Channel is open, but I don't know if anyone will respond," a third tech announced, once Denalla discreetly nodded her assent to this command.
Aethyta wasn't concerned. If there were assets on the Citadel, and if those assets had been so effective, they had to have at least one in the C-Sec systems.
"Contact," a synthetic voice announced. "I am Horatio. To whom am I speaking?"
"Councilor Aethyta T'levva," Aethyta answered. "I'm seeing a lot of dead-looking Reapers. You know anything about that?"
"Affirmative. I can confirm that the Crucible has fired successfully. Reaper assets on the Citadel have lost their cohesion. One moment…contact with Ground. They confirm the loss of cohesion. Proceed with caution, but first approximation suggests that all entities containing Reaper-based code were affected."
"And you?" Aethyta asked without thinking.
"I was…briefly unwell…but I appear to be fully functional. Thank you for asking."
She hadn't meant it to be polite, but she didn't correct the geth's misapprehension. "Can you get me a link to Liara T'Soni on the ground?"
"One moment…linking."
"Dad?" Liara's voice demanded, shrill from nerves. "Please tell me you're seeing this too! It's like the Reapers just…lost their wits!" in spite of the stress, in spite of nerves, she sounded like any excited Maiden might. It brought a wry smile to Aethyta's mouth.
"I'm seeing it in a big way. They don't look like Reapers anymore. More like…space junk."
"I hope they stay that way," Denalla said sotto voce, crossing her arms and scowling at the Reapers. "Take us in, put a few shells across the nearest one. I want to see if it flinches."
-J-
"I can confirm," Timorous—who went by Tim—the geth announced to the quarians on the bridge. "Geth ships and pilots are reporting the Reapers have gone cold. Any motion is merely the result of propulsion before they were rendered non-functional." He was sitting down, something the geth had declined to do previously. But that fainting fit or whatever it had been seemed to have shaken him up.
One moment, the Reaper had been tearing into everyone—the ones in the space battle and the ones bombarding Earth; then the geth had started seizing and shaking, thrashing all over the place—ships and mobile unit alike.
Capt. Shael'Danna vas Neema still wasn't sure how he felt about a geth on his ship, but so far the geth hadn't given him reason to regret this…open-mindedness.
"Keelah! How is that even possible?" Shael asked, throwing up his hands in exasperation—and perhaps gratitude.
"It appears that the Crucible worked," the geth answered simply.
Shael knew it wasn't sarcasm on the geth's part—they hadn't mastered that art—but part of him wanted to answer back as if it was. Had it been any organic, it would surely have been sarcasm. In this case, it was simply an answer. "Well…let's get Kar on the line…if he's still out there in all that mess," Shael sighed.
"This is the Rayya. Are you having the same weird day I am, Shael?" Kar asked sardonically.
"First we're getting our filters reamed, then everything goes cold? Yeah."
"Good. I was worried." Kar heaved a sigh. "Now what?"
Abruptly, Tim sat up straighter. "Allied Command is broadcasting. Opening channel."
"This is Adm. Hackett to the Allied Fleet." The man sounded exhausted, haggard. "It's over. We won."
"And now," Shael said darkly, "they all wake up and prove him wrong."
"All sensors report the Reapers remain cold," Tim offered.
Kar chuckled over the still-open line. "If old man Hackett says it, I believe it. He's not the type to go 'oops, sorry, that was a little premature.'"
Shael wouldn't know, but Kar tended to be tough when it came to judging admirals.
"Broadcast incoming from Ground Central," Tim announced.
"Go ahead," Shael nodded.
"This is Tali'Zorah vas Normandy to all Rannoch assets: it looks like it worked! The Reaper ships have gone cold, and the ground forces are already losing cohesion. We need some time to figure out how to approach the next step, but we will be in contact. Feel free to start blasting any of those hulks sunward."
"Attagirl," Kar grinned; Shael knew his cousin well enough to hear the look that went with the tone. "Well, I'm going to take a few potshots just to make sure they're really dead. Looks like some of the asari are having the same idea. We'll talk some more later, Shael."