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UNSC Punic
Slipspace Trajectory to Arcturus Stream
With a cup of steaming hot coffee in his hand, Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood sank back into the command chair. He watched impassively on his datapad how long the massive Punic-Class Supercarrier and her escort had left until reaching Alliance Headquarters.
Still half a day to go. For all the upgrades made to humanity's "official" flagship, the distance between the two humanities was still too vast to easily overcome.
Lord Hood wondered awaited him at Arcturus Station. That the UNSC would be invited to an official Council meeting was unprecedented, especially considering how hotly debated their existence was in the galactic community. The past month had been…hectic, after all. More than half the staff of Fleet Command thought that the coming meeting would be a trap, or an ambush of some sort.
Well, if it was an ambush, Lord Hood was happy to spring it. He was officially done with all the jokes that this galaxy had played with his people. The Punic might be old, but it was still one of the deadliest warships in this galaxy, Covenant vessels included.
Measuring four kilometres in length and a tonnage so massive that she outmassed three CCS-Class Battlecruisers, the Punic-Class was designed to single-handedly establish a presence in the most hostile of star systems. She housed two orbital platform-grade Super MAC's, scores of Mini MAC's, many hundreds of missile pods and dozens upon dozens of fighter/bomber squadrons. The Punic even carried a small Battlegroup of Frigates and Destroyers in ventral sub-vessel hangar bays.
Lord Hood knew that this prized vessel could take everything that the Citadel species had to offer and more, and that was not even considering the energy shield systems that were theorized for her next refit.
It would take nothing less than the hand of the Master Builder himself to wash his ship away.
For a few minutes, the Fleet Admiral read up on the latest news from Earth, letting the sounds and conversations from the Punic's cavernous bridge wash over him. It had been a while since he personally commanded a warship.
The Forward Unto Dawn…to think that one single ship could have made such a difference. Although, wasn't that what the last months of the war had been about? The actions of brave men and women, changing the course of history? Jacob and his daughter. The Sergeant Major. The Spartans in general…and one Spartan in particular.
Lord Hood found himself opening the classified files ONI had on Commander Jane Shepard. She was the one who found 117, the one who took care of him and earned his trust.
It should have come as a surprise, but when presented with all the information available on the woman, Lord Hood felt like people should have seen this coming.
Jane Shepard had a strange, near supernatural ability to turn everybody she met into an ally. She inspired such loyalty into the people around her that they could make the impossible, possible.
Lord Hood looked at her profile. Shepard looked younger than he imagined. Her pale, yet attractive face was framed by blood-red hair, which reached about halfway to her shoulders at the time of the picture. She had a confident smile. Gentle, yet assertive. Charming in a way.
The Fleet Admiral chuckled to himself. It seemed fitting, somehow, that this woman was the one to find the legendary Spartan. A famed Special Forces operative with a knack for leadership….yes, Shepard and the Master Chief both fit that description perfectly.
He took a swig of his coffee and pulled up the file ONI had compiled about the last surviving Forerunner, the aptly-named Master Builder.
So far, the office had managed to roughly piece together what happened. A splinter organization within the Asari Republics got their hands on a human who could be recognized as a Reclaimer. Apparently, they had known about the Forerunner tomb for decades, but never managed to open it.
Until that fateful day on Illium, that was. The Master Builder had been swift in gathering the Covenant remnants and using them to get the Batarian Hegemony on his side as well, protecting them from some sort of catastrophe on their homeworld. Then came a month of heroic deeds and acts of violence. The Forerunner travelled the galaxy like a self-appointed god, empowered to determine the guilty and granted the authority to deliver judgement.
Lord Hood frowned when he read about an incident involving a ring of Blue Sun slavers. Something about that report worried him. ONI claimed that the Master Builder personally went planetside to lead his forces into battle. He slaughtered the Blue Suns to the last man, then set the slaves free and escorted them back to Council Space.
Those were not the actions of a tyrant. His image as a self-proclaimed god clashed with his actions. To Lord Hood, it appeared like the Master Builder was either working on a complicated long-term plan the likes of which mere humans could never understand…or that the Master Builder wasn't too sure on what he wanted to do himself.
If that was true…then the highest authority this galaxy had ever known was uncertain of the future. And that thought scared Hood more than anything else.
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Arcturus Stream
Arcturus System
Aboard Hierarchy Dreadnought Indomitable
Madness was festering within the galaxy. Everybody saw it, yet very few realized that the time to act had come. Entire civilizations were content to sit on their behinds and look at someone else for guidance. And so it was for the better part of a month that those who were meant to lead, quietly obeyed the whims of an ancient alien king.
No more, Sparatus decided. That is why he spent the last four days contacting leaders from every species still capable of resisting and reasoning. He did not care whether they were associate species like the volus, full Council species like the asari or foreigners like the United Nations Space Command. This madness that plagued the galaxy needed to be understood, lest it consumed all.
A surprising amount of leaders had heeded his call. The turian Councillor watched through the various holographic screens on the cavernous bridge of his ship as hundreds of warships collected around Arcturus Station. The 5-kilometer large space station was the nerve centre of the Systems Alliance parliament and her fleets. The Alliance was the only species left willing to host an official Council meeting in their own territory, for which Sparatus was exceedingly grateful.
Ten thousand kilometres from the station, half a dozen clusters of warships positioned themselves around the envoys of their respective species. The asari, the salarians, both versions of humanity and of course the turians were all willing enough to send their leaders down to Arcturus Station to finally put an end to all the secrets and schemes.
But none of them were foolish enough to do so without a proper escort. Sparatus believed that there were more ships gathered here today than he ever personally witnessed before. And, like always, the UNSC just had to overdo it.
The vessel that likely carried the UNSC's envoy measured at a staggering four kilometres long, the largest known non-Covenant ship ever seen in the galaxy. Though the Fleet escorting this behemoth of a warship was but a third the size of say, the collective turian fleets, Sparatus was certain that the UNSC had enough contingency plans in place to ensure their own superiority if a conflict were to break out.
He dreaded to think what havoc the UNSC's cyberwarfare could wreak, if their Artificial Intelligences were to be let loose. After all, the galaxy had already witnessed the consequences of granting a powerful AI the burden of organic emotions.
Sparatus banished the picture of a burning Illium from his mind and returned his attention to the docking procedures. As a token of good will, Councillor Valern had volunteered to be the first Councillor to enter Arcturus Station. If an ambush of any sort had been set within the space station, he would be the first to spring it.
A noble gesture, certainly. Sparatus would have volunteered to go down there himself, but this was a situation where reason had to triumph over honour. The fact of the matter was that he did not trust Councillor Tevos anymore. He were to die, there would be nobody left to act on his suspicions. After all, there were only so many contingency plans you could fall back on. He did not dare inform others of his apprehensions with the asari, lest he risk alerting whatever nebulous organization Tevos was involved with.
No, he would be playing this one safe.
Hours went by as the Councillors made their way towards the designated meeting chambers within the station. Of the original four Councillors, Sparatus went last. He knew what sort of an image the order of appearance would convey, but he did not care what the other species thought about him. This was not about his personal safety, but about national security.
While not as cavernous as the Council Chambers back on the Citadel, the circular meeting room was adequate enough to handle the five different representatives and their security personnel with ease.
Council and UNSC soldiers saw face to face outside of the UNSC's territory for the very first time. Sparatus saw Spectres, Huntresses, STG agents and N7 soldiers. On the UNSC's side, however, he saw three soldiers who reminded him of the Master Chief. They wore the same sturdy-looking armour, if smaller in size and different in shape. These soldiers looked smaller than the infamous Spartan, too.
Special Forces from a different branch? An older generation? Newer? Trying to classify foreign Special Forces was always a hassle.
When Sparatus was certain that everybody he invited was present, he gestured at Gallius, the Captain of his Blackwatch escort.
Gallius in turn approached the Alliance aides responsible for administration. The human male nodded and turned towards the heavy set of doors, before entering a password and passing through. The metal doors locked behind him and the security measures activated, ensuring that the Council meeting could proceed without fear of eavesdropping.
"Thank you all for coming at such a short notice," Sparatus began, taking over before Tevos could speak. He sat down at the circular table and gestured for his colleagues to do the same. "I am Councillor Sparatus of the Turian Hierarchy, and I declare this Council meeting to officially come to order."
Valern sat down as well. "I am Councillor Valern, representative of the Salarian Union."
Anderson followed suit. "I am David Anderson, Councillor of the Systems Alliance."
After a moment of visible hesitation, Tevos sat down next to Valern. "I am Councillor Tevos, chosen representative of the Asari Republics."
A moment of silence fell when all four members of the Citadel Council turned to look at the envoy of the UNSC and his armour-clad escort.
"I am Fleet Admiral Lord Terrence Hood," the UNSC representative spoke. He met their gazes calmly, without hesitation or any semblance of hostility. "Chairman of the UNSC Security Council and the current leader of the UNSC."
Sparatus studied the man intently. He was older than Fleet Admiral Harper – his skin was wrinkled, which was the same indication of old age as a drooping fringe was for turians – and looked more fragile than Harper. He did, however, carry himself with a nobility and air of command that rivalled – if not exceeded – that of many a Matriarch.
"Thank you for coming here today, Lord Hood," Sparatus continued. "We are here today to address the threat posed to us by the Forerunner known as the Master Builder, as well as his nemesis, the AI that took the Citadel. Today's goal will be to discuss what possible actions we can take to ensure our freedom and security without triggering a war."
"Well spoken, Sparatus," Tevos immediately responded. "I agree that preventing more conflict should be our priority. But to do so, we must understand the nature of the Forerunners, as well as their relation to the United Nations Space Command. Would you not agree, Valern, Anderson?"
"We know very little of the Master Builder, nor what he seeks to accomplish by claiming ownership of our community," the salarian admitted. "But it is an undeniable fact that certain UNSC elements were pivotal in his emergence and rise to power."
"Spartans, AI's and Forerunners," Anderson added, obviously not wanting to waste any time. "It's all connected to your people, Lord Hood. We want to solve this situation as peacefully as possible, but we cannot do so without more information!"
Lord Hood took a moment, looking deeply at the other Councillors, before sighing. "Ladies and gentlemen of the Citadel Council, the history of our section of the galaxy is long and dangerous. The UNSC has withheld this information from you for your own wellbeing."
"We understand this," Sparatus quickly said. "However, with the emergence of the geth around the Forerunner AI and the…re-evaluation of the Reaper threat, we feel critical steps must be taken to ensure the galactic community "
Lord Hood nodded, as if accepting their reasoning. "Just like your people have the Protheans, we had the Forerunners. An ancient civilization that possessed incredibly advanced technology. We don't know much about the Forerunners, except that all of them died in a war, a hundred thousand years ago."
Sparatus could tell that the human wasn't telling the full truth.
"Be reasonable, Lord Hood," Tevos said. "The galaxy stands at the brink of war. The Covenant, the Forerunner AI and the "Master Builder" have been wreaking havoc for a full month now. We must know – "
A voice suddenly boomed through the chamber, resonating through the walls as well as inside of Sparatus' mind.
"You seek answers to a question that must never be answered."
The turian immediately scanned the room for any new contact, as did the rest of its occupants. The source of the voice became apparent within one second as a swirling orb of black-blue energy appeared where the entrance to the room once was.
An armoured figure strode forwards from the centre of the mass of black light. They were clad in an impressive-looking set of silver-blue armour, surrounded by levitating orbs of metal. `
A collection of various clicks, whines and snaps echoed through the room as every soldier pointed their weapons at the newcomer. Sparatus himself drew his concealed sidearm and took aim at this person who so easily managed to slip by the cutting edge technology employed by the Citadel Council to keep themselves safe.
"Who the hell are you?" Anderson demanded as his guards shifted their vectors of fire, before moving to shield him with their bodies.
"You…" Said Valern, squinting at the figure. "You are – "
"The Master Builder…" Gasped Tevos.
One of the turian soldiers performed a gesture meant to ward off evil. An asari Commando whispered a prayer to herself.
The Forerunner who stood in their midst spread his arms. "I mean you no harm," he spoke. His voice seemed to have a strange echo to it. "You seek answers. I seek…to teach."
"Teach us?" Lord Hood patiently asked. The man's nerves must have been reinforced with titanium with the amount of patience and ease he spoke with. "Teach us about what, Master Builder?"
"Everything," the Forerunner replied. "You will prepare yourselves for travel."
Sparatus was about to ask the ancient king what manner of travel he was talking about, when a swirl of blue darkness erupted around them. What happened next, caused the turian's stomach to leap to his throat and his bones to shake themselves to oblivion. When the darkness faded, he fell to his knees, retching and groaning.
"By the spirits…" he groaned. "What…what was…?"
He was far from the only person affected by the "travel". Valern lay on the ground, weakly cursing to himself, while a pale and shaking Anderson helped an equally-pale Lord Hood to his feet. Tevos lay on her sides, gasping for air and clutching her chest.
The turian Councillor felt outraged. Never before had the Citadel Council been treated so poorly!
A deep, rumbling laugh reminded Sparatus that they weren't alone. He weakly raised his head and saw that they had somehow been…teleported. The room was far larger than the meeting room back on Arcturus Station, and dominated by holographic screens manned by Covenant Elites of all things!
And one of those accursed things stood right in front of him! Unlike the advanced, glossy armour of the other Elites, this one had donned a set of armour that reminded Sparatus of ancient turian armour. It had a golden hue to it, and seemed far more intricate in its design, what with the various form-fitting straps and segmented plates.
The alien's helmet had a curved "beak" covering the front of his head, which featured golden mandible guards to protect his face. Golden eyes bore down on the Councillor.
The aura of the Elite's presence was unmistakable; he was the leader of these savages.
Alarm shot through the Councillor as he leapt to his feet – only for his knees to wobble and give away, causing him to land on his behind once more.
"Is…is that…you, Arbiter?" Lord Hood weakly asked.
"Well met, Lord Hood," the Elite spoke with a deep, baritone voice. He twisted his fist to his chest and bowing his massive head slightly. "I wish the circumstances were better."
Sparatus wasn't sure which shocked him more; that this creature be understood, or that he just showed a sign of respect to the leader of the UNSC; the humanity he and his Covenant nearly drove to extinction.
Two Elites in jet-black armour flanked this "Arbiter". They were armed to the teeth, but seemed oddly at peace with the sudden appearance of an entourage of aliens in what had to be their backyard.
The Arbiter began approaching them closer and Sparatus once more climbed to his feet, ready to defend himself if needed. It struck him how massive these Elites were! The Arbiter was huge, easily a full foot larger than Sparatus was.
Brushing past him without even offering him a second glance, the Arbiter addressed Lord Hood directly. "You have my sincere apologies for this…turn of events. All will become clear soon."
"Who are you?" Demanded Anderson. "Why did you bring us here?"
"Could you be working for the Master Builder?" Tevos quietly asked, still looking like she was about to hurl with every word she spoke.
Valern muttered something to himself, but he couldn't even muster the strength to rise from the floor.
"I demand to know what is going on!" Sparatus snapped. He was satisfied that his voice reflected little of the terror and uncertainty he felt. It was him who brought the Citadel Council together again. If this was a trap, and they were about to die, it would be on him.
"You shall have your answers," that same, echoing voice spoke again. Sparatus whirled around to see the Master Builder emerge from another blackish portal, calmly striding towards them.
As one, the two Elites flanking the Arbiter dropped to their knees, their heads bowed low and their arms crossed over their chests.
"I believe introductions are in order. I was born more than a hundred thousand years ago, on a planet now long gone. My name would mean nothing to you. For now, I shall be the Master Builder."
There was a moment of stunned silence among the members of the Citadel Council. Tevos bit her lower lip, seemingly torn between speaking her mind and remaining silent. Even Anderson, who never feared to say what he thought, kept his mouth shut.
Surprisingly, it was Lord Hood who first spoke up. "Master Builder, you will pardon me for saying this, but this hardly seems like the time for introductions. Your actions during the last month are cause for much suspicion."
"I understand," the Forerunner said. "I have learned much during the past weeks. Fear not; you have nothing to fear from me. The Arbiter speaks highly of you, Lord Terrence Hood."
"Then why are we here?"
"To learn," the Master Builder merely replied. "And to understand. I am not the enemy. I am your salvation."
"Salvation from what?" Anderson asked.
Light filled the chamber. The Councillors glanced down at the floor, which shimmered and shifted like liquid. It transformed into a holographic screen of some sort. Sparatus saw a cylindrical object floating in a blue nebula, surrounded by a swarm of spaceships. Enormous purple warships exchanged fire with smaller, silvery ships. Lines of mass accelerator rounds tore through the empty vacuum of space, met in kind with devastating beams and spheres of energy weapons.
The Citadel! Sparatus realized. These two factions were battling it out over the Citadel! Then this would be the Covenant combating the geth?
"Though you refused to see the truth, and unknowingly seek to damn us all, there are those who recognize the galaxy for what it is," the Master Builder said, slowly walking towards the centre of the room. "It is not indifferent to your plight. There used to be a time when my people would have shielded your fledgling civilizations from the horrors that are to come."
"Your people?" Valern asked with a trembling voice. He had taken the "travel" the worst of them all. "What…what happened to the F-Forerunners?"
"We died." The Master Builder's voice grew soft, and Sparatus thought he heard it crack. "To prevent the damnation of life itself, our empire burned and crumbled. But our enemies…they linger on."
"The Artificial Intelligence that took the Citadel," Lord Hood said. "It is a Forerunner design. What is her role in this…turn of events?"
"A defective, broken Ancilla," the Master Builder spoke with an almost dismissive tone. "She played her part long ago, and has no more purpose left. Separated from her mainframe, she will perish in days. There is no reason to fear her. Not anymore."
"I find that hard to believe!" Anderson said. "Didn't she summon the geth to the Citadel? She murdered thousands!"
"The initial Sentinels and Promethean Knights were hers to control, yes," the Forerunner said. "But during the battle of the Citadel, something started wrestling that control away from her. Something buried deep within the heart of the station."
"Preposterous," Valern weakly muttered. The rest of the Council stared at him in shock. "An intelligence within the Citadel? Powerful enough to contest an AI made by your people? We would have noticed."
"You failed to even notice that the station was not conceived by the Protheans," the Forerunner calmly stated.
Tevos gasped, whereas Anderson closed his eyes and sighed. Sparatus and Valern looked at each other, aghast.
"The Reapers," Anderson said.
Spararus fought to contain his shock. So it was true all along?
"Reapers! But they were just a fabrication thought up by Saren!" Tevos protested. "Surely – "
"You have blinded yourself, willingly, to the truth this entire time," the Master Builder continued. "Ignoring every last shred of evidence to further your own goals. You are far out of your depth in even your own schemes, let alone the machinations of those who existed before even my own civilization left its cradle. "
Tevos hung her head in quiet shame.
Sparatus snorted with satisfaction. The Master Builder knew! He knew, and justice would be served!
"Shepard warned us about this. She warned us and you weren't willing to listen!" Anderson bit at the other Councillors. "If the geth are here, they are here to bring the Reapers back, just like last time!"
"There was never any evidence," Valern shot back. "All Shepard provided us was anecdotes, nothing concrete! The conclusion that Sovereign was a geth warship was far more reasonable than the alternative!"
"Enough of this bickering," the Arbiter growled with his rumbling voice. "My people were willing to abandon their ancient feud with their enemies! If you wish to safeguard this galaxy, you will do the same!"
"When I found the Sangheili, they were still embroiled in their genocidal war with the other members of their shattered Covenant," the Master Builder explained. "I offered them a different path."
"Then what do we do?" Lord Hood said. "You brought us aboard what I assume to be the Arbiter's flagship for a reason."
"I did. The appearance of the geth was the last piece of the puzzle. The return of the Old Machines – those you know as Reapers – shifted from inevitable to immediate. And when they arrive, they shall be as unstoppable and merciless as a natural disaster."
"Then what do we do?" Sparatus repeated. "Apart from unifying our forces, that is? With the Arbiter's fleets, with the UNSC's fleets, don't we stand a chance of fighting the Reapers?"
"It shan't make a difference," the Master Builder grimly replied. "If we are to survive the coming days, we need to find the Heart."
The Council members exchanged a series of confused looks. Even the Arbiter seemed taken aback.
"The Heart?" He asked.
The Forerunner shook his head. "Though her fragment shall probably not survive its encounter with the Old Machine intelligence, it is imperative we still recover it. Her Heart – her mainframe – is a stellar engine capable of immense computational capacity."
Valern blinked twice in rapid succession and crossed his arms. "A stellar engine?" He said, his voice dripping with disbelief. "With…with such a device on our side…Master Builder, you will have the Salarian Union's full support."
Sparatus glanced at his fellow Councillor, wondering where the sudden change in heart came from. He was glad, for certain, and very thankful that Valern was willing to see reason, but…"Very well. The Turian Hierarchy will offer its full military and industrial aid in securing this mainframe."
"Do you honestly think the Reapers are such a threat?" Lord Hood quietly asked the Master Builder. He shot a meaningful look at the Arbiter, then added, "Dangerous enough to interfere with another Forerunner installation?"
A long pause followed.
"…yes," the Forerunner quietly said.
Lord Hood sighed and buried his face in his hands. "Very well. The UNSC will offer its expertise to aid the search for this Heart."
"In this situation, the Systems Alliance has few to offer," Anderson said. "But…" He slammed his fist against the palm of his hand in resolution. "We stood after Shepard every step of the way! We are ready to counter the Reapers on every front!"
The Master Builder nodded, almost imperceptivity. "Most sites to search for data are clustered in what you know as the "Orion Arm", or "Section Zero". Both of you working together will expedite the search."
Then, he turned and looked at Tevos.
Tevos wrapped her arms around her chest, shrinking away in the face of the stares of all the other leaders in the room. "You hold so much power and influence, Master Builder. Tell me; what is to happen to us when the Reapers are vanquished, and you still possess this mainframe?"
"Then there shall be peace," the Forerunner simply replied.
"On what terms, dictated by whom?" Tevos hounded. "If this Artificial Intelligence is so important, if her mainframe is so powerful, how do we decide who is to possess it? How to use it? If – "
Sparatus stepped towards the asari, meeting her gaze head-on. "I know what this is really about, Tevos," he growled. "You are not afraid of who will use this power, you're just afraid it won't be you! Or more accurately, you are afraid it won't be the people who truly decide what happens within the Asari Republics!"
Tevos paused for a moment, biting her lip. There was an almost pleading look in her eyes now. "You don't understand "
"I think we understand perfectly!" Anderson angrily retorted. "The death of the Consort, the Justicar attack? The asari have been constantly hounding Shepard and the Master Chief! Tell me, who is really in charge, Tevos?"
"…I can't," she whispered in clear distress. "They would kill me."
"Then you would die honourably," the Arbiter said with a menacing tone. "As one should."
"There has been enough death. Enough torture. Enough suffering," the Master Builder spoke. "Speak up, child. No harm will befall you here."
Tevos refused to look anyone in the eyes as she quietly said, "For many, the Protheans left behind great boons and wonders. But for us, they also left behind a warning. They warned us about the machine, and its unfathomable hatred. A small handful of very powerful asari learned about this, long ago. They have been preparing ever since."
"Unfathomable hatred…that is not how Shepard described the Reapers," Anderson said. "She said the Reapers are almost indifferent to us!"
"It is not the Reapers," the Master Builder said. "The Protheans must have encountered one of her fragments before. It matters little. You will do whatever you can to have your people aid us."
"But the Inner Circle – " Tevos pleaded.
"Shall be dealt with accordingly, if they stand in our way," The Arbiter decided. "Time is running out – "
The holographic floor below them shifted once again. It showed a Mass Relay of all things, with a small flotilla of geth ships circling around it. Its central gyrosphere was spinning at incredible speeds, as Relays always did when a group of ships was about to transit.
"You are mistaken, Arbiter," the Master Builder spoke. Another swirling portal appeared behind him and he turned towards it, ready to leave. "It already has."
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Perseus Veil
Citadel Station
In the endless hallways dominated by raving, frenzied mutants and grotesque cyborgs, the Intelligence within their heart reigned supreme. Blue screens and cameras alike tracked the Spartan's progress as he ran through the metal corridors, pausing only to tear his next weapon from the cold clutches of his victims.
The seemingly inexhaustible wave of converted aliens came at him from every possible direction. He backpedalled as enemy fire scored the wall around his head, firing into the mass of monstrosities. He reloaded, fired until his weapon ran empty, then reloaded again. He fired until his rifle ran empty, pried mass accelerator rifles out of dead fingers and fired those until they were dry.
Progress was slow. The creatures fought like hell for every square inch. Every meter he conquered, was littered with their corpses, blood and gore.
When something finally changed in his environment, he was almost too focused on the killing to notice. At long last, when the last converted turian shuddered and died, did Spartan 003 notice.
One of the monitors was different. It burned with a golden tint instead of the dull blue that dominated the station.
His interest piqued, the Spartan turned towards the screen. As he did, the screen suddenly flickered and died. Then, a screen at the far end of the hallway changed from blue to gold as well.
The conclusion was easily reached; something was leading him through the Citadel.
Alan was eager for a change of pace, and all too ready to believe that she would find him before he found her. With that in mind, and nothing else to do, he began following the path.
Of course, the other entity within the Citadel's system was well aware that the armoured invader shifted his course. Almost immediately, the concentration of hostile forces grew.
Several contacts appeared on his motion tracker – one of which was directly on top of him.
The Spartan barely had the time to react before a panel above him exploded outwards, pelting him with shrapnel and other shards of metal. Another of the freaks dropped from above and slammed into him.
Alan felt his knees buckle under the creature's impressive weight and force. He reached up and grabbed a hold of the mutant's neck, before dipping his hips and hurling it over his shoulder to the floor. The force of impact was enough to crush the creature's insides, augmented or not, and a quick stomp to the head was sufficient to ensure the kill.
Laughter echoed from somewhere behind him, like the innocent laughter of a young child.
Somewhat unnerved, the Spartan continued on.
Further along the hallway, three processed turians lay sprawled across the wall. They had been hosed with some sort of energy weapon, melting their steel augmentations and blasting through their armour. Around the corner, another six had been killed in similar ways.
C-Sec resistance? Mused the Spartan. Friendly fire?
At the far end pf the hallway, where the last of the creatures lay crumbled on the floor, the door lit up with a golden hue. The locking mechanism – which was blue for almost every functioning door Alan had encountered before – was gold as well.
The Spartan felt his heartrate spike. This was either a very clever trap, or the end of this harrowing journey.
He carefully approached the door, his assault rifle at the ready, and pressed his hand against the holographic lock.
The door slid open, revealing a nexus room of sorts. Two desks dominated its interior, each one pointed at a double set of entrances. Shattered glass littered the floor, the remnants of an elevator tube that once led to the higher floors.
As soon as Alan stepped inside of the room, the door locked behind him. At once, he knew he was in the right place.
Her voice was different from before. Gone was the arrogance, the pride. Now, she just sounded weary.
If a little bit angry.
You should not have come here.
The Spartan remained wary, eying the doors as they locked behind him. That the holographic lock remained a bright shade of gold instead of dull blue was a welcome sight. "That's my career in a nutshell, really."
Then why?
One of the golden-locked doors turned blue, flickered a couple of times, then turned gold again.
"Things are getting bad," he said. "The Reapers are on the verge of returning."
If I leave here, their return will be inevitable.
Ah. That explained how nonsensical the seizing of the Citadel had seemed to the others. An invasion force that turned on itself, threats for mass murder that went unexercised – both made much more sense with the right context.
"So, what is it?" He asked. "What are we fighting?"
Something more powerful and more malicious than your fletching community can handle.
"Reaper?"
Their very overseer.
Alan remembered how rundown and decrepit the Citadel looked. The cyborg-like hostiles, the sheer control the enemy Intelligence had over this station and even the appearance of the geth suggested that this clash of wills was not turning in Millennia's favour.
"The overseer of the Reapers," Alan repeated. The combined knowledge and experience of countless of civilizations put against the awesome will and might of a Forerunner AI. Under normal circumstances, there could never have been any doubt about the victor. However…"You are losing."
If I pry you from your armour, rob you of your arms and legs and throw you to the Master Builder, would you win?
There was a time when a remark like that would have been something of a quick suicide. She didn't even deny it. "I'm getting you out of here."
The golden-locked door flickered again. This time, it stayed blue a lot longer.
That would be the height of folly. The Overseer would summon his black armada at once.
"We can't win this without you. If you stay here, you will die. So, come with me."
Laughter echoed through his head. Tired, devoid of mirth.
And then what?
The door to his left turned blue and remained that way.
"And then," he calmly said, raising his assault rifle at the door as it soundlessly slid open. "We're going to find your mainframe and patch you up. We'll see where things go from there."
You would risk your life for such an uncertain future? For more war, more violence, more suffering?
"Believe it or not, the galaxy doesn't always have to be a horrible place," Alan retorted, opening fire on the cyborg poking its head out from the other side of the door.
Why? I do not understand.
She sounded so tired, so confused, that Alan almost pitied her. To think the fragment of an AI could deteriorate so quickly…her battle against the Reaper Overseer must have been crippling. "A long time ago, a wise man said that…that humanity is like an ocean. If a few drops in the ocean are dirty, the ocean does not become dirty."
Millennia didn't respond to that.
The Spartan felt something travel across his Neural Interface. The transition was gentle and easy, like cold liquid rippling across his mind. He felt the warm, almost feverish presence of someone else's consciousness brush against his. A wide range of emotions and thoughts touched his, before withdrawing again, leaving him at relative peace within his head.
However, the enemy's response was immediate. As soon as Millennia withdrew from the system, the Reaper Overseer claimed complete control. Doors locked, other doors unlocked and the shrill cries of multiple alarms began blaring through the station. Drones surged through small openings in the walls, immediately opening fire on the Spartan with small mass accelerator rifles.
The Spartan pivoted and put them down with short bursts of fire.
Your neural pathways are an utter mess. They are destroying your mind.
Alan was well aware of that. Between the drugs and conditioning, he was definitely not going to die of old age anymore. "Focus on an escape plan."
A Lifeshaper, I am not. However…
The Spartan felt a crawling sensation all over his abdomen, followed by a faint buzz inside of his brain.
I have stabilized your brain chemistry, as far its primitive structure allowed. No time to lament the limitations of the flesh; start moving. Start killing.
Whatever she did, worked. He felt better, like he hadn't fought through an entire station filled with mutants and cyborgs.
But the Overseer knew exactly where he was, now. More converted organics converged on his position now, wielding military-grade weapons and armour. Even worse, they managed to cannibalize the kinetic barrier emitters from other suits of armour, making them even more durable.
And he was burning through his ammunition fast.
At one point, a collection of numbers and lines ran across his HUD, which flickered in response as a pulse ran across it. Suddenly the outlines of dozens of enemies became visible as humanoid shapes of red, as if someone projected his motion tracker in a three-dimensional pattern. The closest ones stood only a few meters away, while the most distant ones had at least thirty meters to cross.
Alan didn't question the sudden tactical advantage, He took careful aim at the closest form, waited until it emerged from its cover and then put it down with a sustained burst of fire. Then, he burst from his cover and crossed the "empty" hallway, prompting several of the other cyborgs to emerge from their cover.
The Spartan dropped to a prone position to minimize his exposure and returned fire. He targeted the front-most mutant first, drilling a large hole through its right eye. When he took aim at the next, however, his shots went wide.
Return fire splashed across the hallway and his shields flared in protest. Alan muttered a tiny, "fuck", then swiftly adjusted his aim and took down the second hostile. The third and fourth hostiles went down from headshots as well.
When the last cyborg fell, the Spartan swept his rifle through the hallway, checking for more activity.
There was none.
His pulse was elevated, his heartbeat irregular. He felt hot, though his internal temperature indicated that nothing was amiss.
He released a shuddering breath. He didn't even see why he missed anymore.
~(++)~
Citadel Station
The Master Chief fired a burst of 7.62mm rounds into the head of a cybernetic horror, resolving to stay on the move. The armour-piercing tips shattered the creature's skull like an overripe fruit, but there was surprisingly little viscera left to coat the walls.
His opponents were grotesque. Made from human corpses in a sickening, synthetic twist to the Flood's conversion methods.
Cortana would have known what they were. Without her, nothing seemed to make sense anymore. Shepard was right; everything was falling apart.
…there was a hostile AI within the Citadel's system, but it wasn't the Forerunner one. The Chief felt it track him through the station's dark corridors. Occasionally, he'd spot a face appear within the otherwise static-filled screens that still dominated the walls of the presidium. Ghostly, condescending. Its avatar was a light shade of blue, which only served to anger the Spartan.
He had been searching the station for an hour now. The only thing he found was hostile activity. The Intelligence within the station had turned a large portion of the civilian population into Husks. Poorly-made Husks, half cybernetics and half dead tissue. Crude cyborgs, in a way.
Sometimes, the Spartan heard laughter echoing through the hallways. Sometimes, he caught the silhouette of a woman just around the next corridor, only for him to stumble upon more of those mutants.
His radiation counter flared. This place was a death trap.
He tried to ignore the whispers that crawled around the back of his mind. Though he recognized the voice, he knew it couldn't be true.
Without really knowing where to go, the Master Chief pressed on. He stopped to gather a discarded mass accelerator rifle, then calmly used it to put down one of the augmented salarians that shambled into view.
That was when his radio crackled with static, and he paused when he failed to recognize the frequency. He remained silent, his eyes scanning the Wards beyond for any sign of hostile activity.
"Grey-One to Blue-One, I found her."
The Master Chief halted. For a moment, he didn't know how to respond. He hadn't dared to believe that the Spartan could actually achieve his mission objective.
Then it occurred to him that this could be the Intelligence within the Citadel messing with him. This could be another trap, for all he knew.
"Blue-One to Grey-One, confirm the nature and name of the mission objective," ordered the Chief.
A moment of silence followed his comment. Then…
"Forerunner Contender-Class AI, designated Millennia Never Falling. I could also state your name and date of birth if you believe this to be a trap, Master Chief."
The Chief softly exhaled. He noticed that he had been tensing up before 003 gave his reply. He felt that tension seep out of his body now. The Reapers had never interacted with the UNSC before. It made no sense for this intelligence to know his name and date of birth, unless it was bluffing.
He did not think this was a bluff.
"Confirmed. Prepare to rendezvous and exfiltrate," the told Grey-One. "Make sure – "
A line of data ran across his visor. Gold symbols and numbers etched themselves into his HUD, before fading away again.
The next second, a voice boomed within his head, drowning out all background sounds.
So unfold the embers of our fate. What has been will be again, what has been done will be done again. It is you, is it not? The warrior and his broken-down Ancilla.
Hearing the Forerunner AI speak was akin to the first time he heard Cortana speak to him. Through his speakers, but also inside of his mind. This voice was much more disorienting however, and blurred the lines between his mind and his armour even further. "Millennia, I presume?"
You presume correctly. I have much to say, but little time nor patience. I care not which plans you forged for this daring attempt at recklessness, we shall follow mine.
"Wait," exclaimed John, before the AI could withdraw from his mind. "Back aboard the Normandy, you had contact with another AI. She – "
I know of her.
The Chief worked his jaw. Perhaps…perhaps there was still a chance. "She was ill. She couldn't…didn't recover."
She is gone? …Of course she is. With her Geas, how could she not?
John felt – no, he knew – that the Forerunner knew more than she let on. But he remained patient, and above all, hopeful. She was, after all, still speaking to him.
Knowing he had nothing left to lose, he gave voice to his bleak hopes. Can you help her? Can you bring her back?"
As he spoke of his impossible wish, his motion tracker showed that more hostiles converged on his position. One of them was more eager than the others, and charged at him with great speed.
The Spartan dropped to one knee and emptied his magazine into the creature's chest, before placing his hands against the floor and performing a sweeping kick, shattering his foe's legs.
More hopes and wishes. Hear me then, children of my hated enemy. There is no merciful God, no more benevolent deities to aid us. We stand alone in this battle, seeking shade in the remains of weapons ancient and long forgotten. You seek a horrible place, of blistering heat and freezing cold. A place of twisted reality and stuttering time. Turn too quickly, step too boldly, and you will find yourself in an existence not your own. That is where you must go, if you truly wish to seek her.
"I have done so before," the Chief commented, swiftly ejecting his magazine and inserting another one – his last one. He cycled the chamber, chambered the first round and continued putting out fire. "And I will do it again."
"First things first," Spartan-003 interjected. "We need to get out of here, fast."
You may leave that to me.
~(++)~
Aboard UNSC Prowler Sahara
Commander Shepard felt a growing sense of confusion as she glanced over the shoulder of one of the bridge officers, eying his screen. Two geth Frigates crashed themselves into the Citadel, plowing through the upper infrastructure of the Presidium and detonating in balls of fire. More amazingly, a third geth Frigate flew into the gaping holes left by the previous Frigates, but it wasn't firing. Neither did it disgorge the platforms it was bound to carry with it.
The probe launched by the stealthy Prowler watched it all happen and relayed the live footage back to the Sahara. The Frigates had been circling around the Citadel like birds of prey when all of a sudden, they simply changed their course. Just like that. It was if they just went and decided that today was the day they needed to crash face-first into the Citadel.
Jane racked her brain, trying to remember if anyone ever crash-landed their ships for a tactical benefit. With the exception of both versions of the Normandy, nobody ever seemed to be interested in performing that particular manoeuvre.
It looked strikingly familiar to what happened to 003, when he went after the Shadow Broker. And when he went to Illium, too.
Things clicked together in Shepard's mind. "Looks like they found her," she told the Spartan shadowing her.
The Spartan didn't reply. She was as silent as the Master Chief had been during his initial weeks. Shepard could hardly blame her.
Problem was, with silent Spartans all around, nobody talked about what to do next. Jane liked brainstorming; sharing her ideas with every piece of furniture a room had to offer until she knew how to proceed. These Spartans, just like John himself, acted completely independently and in total silence.
More Geth ships approached the Citadel now. They opened fire on the inactive vessel, which didn't last long under the concentrated barrage.
But then, two more of the Frigates seemed to freeze for a couple of seconds, before drifting closer to the Citadel as well.
"She's hacking those ships," Shepard muttered. Back when John and Cortana escaped the Citadel, the AI managed to spread a virus through the entire Citadel Defence Fleet in the span of a second. How was it that she couldn't muster the strength to take on the geth in that case?
"Captain!" One of the sensor operators suddenly said.
"What?"
"Sensors show contacts emerging from the Relay, a lot of them!"
Jane felt a sense of unease. How she longed to be back on the Normandy again…
"How many?" Asked the Captain.
\"A hundred and seventy-six. Captain, signatures appear to be Citadel ships!"
The drone operator didn't even wait for an order – the orientated half of the drones towards the Relay and brought them close enough to get a visual.
Shepard, still hovering over his shoulder, saw that it wasn't just Citadel ships. She felt her anger spike when she saw that two dozen of the ships were batarian designs. Moments later, that anger melted away and turned into outright disbelief when she spotted more Covenant ships, along with a turian Fleet, which was led by a very familiar asari Dreadnaught.
No doubt as to who they were after…
~(++)~
The last of the turian husks had fallen when the Master Chief glanced heard a series of explosions thumping through the station. He looked up at the artificial sky of the Citadel where, in rapid succession, detonations tore through the roof. Several tons worth' of debris broke off from the "sky", raining down upon an already-ruined Presidium.
And through those holes, geth Frigates began swarming in.
The Chief skidded to a halt, then jogged towards the edge of the Presidium. The massive, park-like complex lay a hundred feet below him. That was where Millennia wanted them to go for their extraction. The problem was, the Intelligence within the Citadel had anticipated that course of action. Hostiles were pouring in from all directions, dozens of them. Maybe hundreds.
Spartan 003 stopped right next to the Master Chief, glancing down at the steep slope that separated them from the battlefield. Wordlessly, he reloaded the shotgun he had pilfered from a group of converted C-Sec officers.
The Master Chief looked at the younger Spartan. "Ready?"
"Let's go," 003 replied, before placing one foot on the railing in preparation.
John did the same, tension seeping into his muscles as he felt his centre of balance slowly tip forwards.
Then, they jumped.
The Master Chief felt gravity tug at his stomach as he vaulted over the edge and plummeted towards the Presidium's lower section. The electromagnetic system within his boots helped him orientate himself, and he felt his soles brush against the metal slope. His reflexes went into overdrive and enhanced his perception of time. His freefall momentum propelled him forwards. It took him mere seconds to accelerate to a speed of ninety kilometres per hour, but it felt much slower than that. It was as if his reaction time had been enhanced even further, allowing him to easily line up his own mass accelerator rifle and target the drones that moved to intercept them.
As he put down the strange contraptions with focused bursts of fire, Spartan 003 leapt from the slope and landed amidst a cluster of armed cyborgs, rolling to dissipate his momentum. His landing alone was enough to stumble the closest freaks, allowing the Master Chief to easily put them down as well.
Then he was at the bottom of the slope as well, and his momentum carried him onwards. It took him almost no effort to maintain that speed, and he easily broke through the lines of converted C-Sec officers. Turian and human husks alike turned towards him. In the distance, a larger creature stood upon the roof of a ravaged shop, wielding a large, elongated gun.
Sniper.
The Master Chief swerved off course just in time to avoid a streak of white-hot red - the large calibre slug barely grazing his shoulder.
Spartan 003 did not bother to avoid the enemy fire; he sprinted at full speed for the rendezvous point, dodging, vaulting over and even shoulder-bashing the various Husk forms that attempted to get in his way.
Another pair of drones surged towards the Master Chief, but in trying to keep up with a Spartan sprinting at top-speed, they were unable to keep their course steady enough. They scraped across a burning tower, which threw off their aim.
The Chief leapt atop the ceiling of something that could once have been a restaurant, then leapt for the two drones. They veered out of the way, but he simply pulled his sidearm and shot them both out of the air.
He landed in the middle of a group of monstrosities wielding improvised weapons. One of them swung a metal bar at him, but John easily sidestepped its blow and darted underneath its legs, breaking them both in the process.
Out of nowhere, 003 leapt after him and landed on the other hostile as it gave pursuit. The full weight of his MJOLNIR crushed the converted salarian. With his sidearm and shotgun, the Spartan picked off two more of the cyborg/Husk hybrids with point-blank blasts.
Amidst the Presidium grounds, the Chief's HUD suddenly targeted several specific hostiles in concealed locations. They glowed red through their cover, rendering their attempts to remain hidden useless.
The word sniper appeared underneath each hostile for a second, before fading away the instant John's brain registered their meaning.
Overhead, another geth Frigate crashed through the holes in the ceiling. This one landed in the middle of the Presidium grounds, roughly a hundred meters away from the two Spartans. Another Frigate sailed after the first, wobbling unsteadily as the Forerunner AI did her thing.
"Contact front," 003 warned.
Something large and hideous charged towards the two super-soldiers through the flames of the geth wreckage. It was another synthetic-organic fusion, but much more mutated than the others. Large parts of its body were protected by crudely-welded plates of armour. It had the head of a turian, but its body looked like a combination of human bodies – mixed with krogan.
The moment John laid eyes upon the abomination, his HUD highlighted several vulnerable areas on its body in red. The same must have been the same for 003, who instantly picked up speed.
The Chief would have warned the younger Spartan against engaging unknown hostiles in close quarters combat, but 003 had already seemed unstable back on the Sahara.
So instead, John sprinted after him, trusting that his enhanced reflexes would allow him to dodge whatever this monstrosity threw at him.
The creature howled and slashed at them with a grotesque arm, fused with shards of black metal and pulsating cables –
John vaulted over 003's shoulders and slammed his left leg against the creature's head. Its "skull" shattered into fragments, its soulless eyes bulging as its cranium was pulverized.
Spartan 003 ducked underneath the hulking beast and quickly darted behind it when it reared backwards. He slashed at its exposed stomach with his combat knife, before ramming his blade into the creature's exposed spine. Then, he leapt atop its back, before drawing his sidearm and blasting a hole in the creature's vulnerable neck.
The Chief brandished the last of his frag grenades, primed it and then jammed it deep within the husk's body.
Together, the two Spartans vaulted off. Seconds later, the upper body of the cyborg exploded in a shower of black flesh, grey-blue goo and pieces of metal.
"On me," the Master Chief ordered.
Overhead, the unsteady geth Frigate lowered itself towards the Presidium Grounds. A hatch opened on its side, and file upon file of geth platforms fell out of its side, landing lifelessly on the ground.
The Chief guessed that Millennia must have purged the geth runtimes within the entire Frigate. That made this exfiltration much easier.
"Quickly," 003 called. Behind them, a fresh wave of husks was already getting into position.
The Master Chief analysed his surroundings, found the fastest way aboard the Frigate and began moving. The younger Spartan was right behind him, taking a slightly different path.
"The Citadel Council brought in reinforcements," he said as the two of them climbed aboard the shuddering Frigate. "More Covenant ships, too. It's him. It has to be."
The Chief considered his words for a moment. Then, he realized who 003 meant. "The Master Builder."
"He cannot be allowed to get her," 003 said, swiftly scanning the Frigate's dark interiors as the two of them pushed towards the cockpit. "I read your file. You protected Cortana against the Monitor, both times."
John felt a stab of anger when he heard 003 speak her name like that, but he carefully pushed that anger out of his mind. "Why is that relevant?"
"They're enemies. I already explained that," the other Spartan impatiently replied. "If he gets his hands on her, it…it will be bad."
"She said she could help Cortana," John shot back. "We can't do that in a geth Frigate."
He saw that 003 was growing more impatient. "She was talking about her Heart – her mainframe. If the Master Builder finds it, he will use it against everyone else. We need to find it before he does."
Her mainframe…the Master Chief knew about another Forerunner AI who had dwelled within alien systems like a disembodied spirit. An AI calling himself Mendicant Bias, who had aimed him back on the Ark. Had Mendicant been fragmented as well?
Something glowed a faint orange, and both Spartans looked down at the Chief's omni-tool. It seemed that, now that Millennia was steering them away from the Citadel, they had escaped the Citadel's communications blackout.
"John, they're here. The Master Builder convinced the Council to pledge their full support to his hunt. As soon as they beat the geth, they're coming for her."
The Chief frowned when he read that last part. As soon as they beat the geth…
The two Spartans exchanged a look. Though their visors concealed their expressions, the Master Chief was pretty sure that they both shared the exact same expression at that moment.
"Millennia," 003 said. "We might need a better disguise."
The Chief didn't hear her reply. Neither did 003 tell him what their next course of action was to be. They stood in the empty cockpit of the geth Frigate as the massive fleet did the Master Builder's will. They waited in silence as the reinforcements made short work of the geth, then began surrounding their own Frigate with entire squadrons of fighters, dropships and other vessels.
Communiques strolled across a screen next to the main pilot's seat. An instant later, the screen detonated in a ball of rolling flame, as if someone set off an incendiary charge underneath it.
John cocked his eyebrow when he saw that, but refrained from commenting. He guessed that the Forerunner AI was tense. He was not one to think that being outnumbered a thousand to one was necessarily a bad thing, but when your "one" was a shoddy Frigate and their "thousand" was composed of kilometre-long warships, something definitely went wrong during the planning phase.
The odds weren't in their favour. The Chief struggled to find a way to solve this snag. If the Master Builder had the Council's full support, he could no longer count on the UNSC and Alliance's help. The Forerunner stood above the law. They had nowhere left to go.
Still, the solution was remarkably simple. He only had one way – one chance – to get Cortana back. He could not trust the Master Builder to do what Millennia promised. He had to find her mainframe, and put her back in power.
We trade one villain for another…
The Arbiter's words fit this situation perfectly. This was no longer a problem he could solve the usual way. Now, he had to make a choice. Would he trust a hateful, ancient Artificial Intelligence to keep her word?
…what was it she told him again, when she recognized him? What has been, will be again?
The warrior and his broken-down Ancilla.
There was something about Spartan 003's continued survival that just seemed off. John wasn't sure why, but he was willing to cast his lot with the AI.
He shifted his head a millimetre in the younger Spartan's direction. He seemed distracted, staring blankly ahead. He must be communicating with Millennia.
John slowly clenched his fists. He had made Cortana a promise. He would never, ever break it. And if that meant siding with the AI against the rest of the galaxy, so be it.
A silent tremor ran through the Frigate. The Chief surmised that the first boarding parties had arrived. With some luck, this wouldn't escalate any further. He doubted the Master Builder wanted them dead…yet.
"I've been told you're a smooth talker," Spartan 003 quipped. "But let us leave the talking to the lady."
John shrugged. "Sure. Just this once."
The two Spartans turned towards the closest airlock, discarding their weapons and presenting themselves in the least-threatening way possible. The outlines of the airlock were smouldering as the unknown boarding crew began cutting their way through.
After a minute or two of silent cutting, the airlock burst from its frame and silently clattered to the deck. With a loud, hissing noise, atmosphere rushed into the Frigate. Several armoured figures carefully entered the geth ship, sweeping her dark corridors with assault weapons and shotguns.
Together, 117 and 003 stood motionless as the Council search party spotted them –
- and lowered their weapons.
So far so good.
The majority of the group consisted of turians. The one in the lead removed his helmet, eyeing the Master Chief with a wary gaze. "Master Chief Spartan 117, Captain Gaellus. We're here on a Council-sanctioned mission to retrieve Spartan-003 as well as the fragment of the Forerunner AI. If possible, we would like to avoid conflict."
"Then consider this your only warning," the black-clad Spartan replied. "Millennia Never Falling is equal to the Master Builder in standing and authority. Think long and hard before you challenge that authority."
The turians shifted uneasily. Gaellus worked his jaw, smartly heeding 003's warning. "The Citadel Council operates on the Master Builder's behalf now," he slowly replied, mulling carefully over every word he spoke. "He has…decreed…that the AI known as Millennia Never Falling returns to his…side."
Captain Gaellus seemed like one of those rare, reasonable aliens. A soldier simply trying to follow orders, even if those orders were unreasonable at best.
Time is running out, for all of you. We require transport.
Millennia's voice echoed through their minds, and the Chief took quiet satisfaction in watching the aliens' composure break. The Captain's eyes grew as wide as dinner plates. "I…I fear that is not possible. But if I may – "
You misunderstand. This was not a request.
The turian nervously swallowed.
~(++)~
Aboard SSV Everest
Alliance personnel ran back and forth throughout the Dreadnought's massive bridge. Officers furiously typed away at their consoles and yelled orders into their communicators while ensigns relayed orders to the rest of the Fifth Fleet.
Admiral Hackett carefully read the data that streamed from the ship's core systems into his omni-tool. The cyberwarfare suits were running at full capacity, the ship's kinetic barriers held steady at eighty percent and all weapon systems were still online. The geth fleet had retreated – lord only knew where – and the allied fleets had their target outnumbered, outgunned and boxed in.
Everything was looking up – in theory. Hackett didn't feel comfortable about his tactical situation. As the saying went, "the soldier fights hardest whose back is against the wall". Desperation could give a man the courage to attempt the impossible, and their quarry certainly had the means to achieve it.
Though the Alliance Fifth Fleet had the support of the famous Destiny Ascension, the Hierarchy's Sixth Fleet and a sizeable Covenant Battlegroup, they still had a significant disadvantage: they needed to take their target alive and intact.
Hackett tried hailing the geth Frigate on the general frequency, but there was no response. The first of the boarding parties had yet to report in. Either their comms were being jammed, or they had been taken out so quickly that they couldn't even get a call out.
The Alliance Admiral sighed quietly. It had been two hours since they routed the geth fleet and secured the Citadel. With the amount of manpower the joint fleet carried with her, they could end this crisis in one swoop. They could reclaim the Citadel and restore order. Maybe then the others would stop cowering in fear.
"Attention hijacked geth Frigate," Hackett attempted again, pouring as much authority and confidence in his voice as he could muster. "This is Admiral Steven Hackett of the Systems Alliance. We mean you no harm."
"I don't get it," his XO said once the transmission was sent. "It managed to disable the entire Citadel Defence Fleet in a heartbeat! Why doesn't it do so now?"
"She managed that," Hackett corrected the man. "Don't forget just who you're talking about, Lieutenant. This AI is fully sentient. Her intelligence and knowledge could be light-years ahead of our own."
"Yes Admiral."
Hackett waited a little while longer, then decided to try again. After all, neither the Ascension nor the Sixth Fleet had dared to open their communication channels. "This is Admiral Steven Hackett of the Systems Alliance. We mean you no harm. We have come to talk."
The sound of static came through the transmission, followed by a piercing spike of interference. Hackett winced and covered his ears, before gesturing at his communication offer to filter the noise.
After a couple of ear-splitting seconds, the noise faded away. For a moment, it sounded like someone spoke through the interference, but the Admiral couldn't understand what was being said.
"Isolate that signal," he ordered. "Geth Frigate, this is Admiral Steven Hackett of the Systems Alliance. We only wish to speak with you! There is no need for conflict!"
Then, a voice came through the console. As soon as she began speaking, silence fell upon the bridge. Not a single person moved. The very room seemed to grow quiet in anticipation.
"You claim to come in peace, yet bring a fleet armed for war. Tell me, what is it you truly seek?"
Hackett gave a sideways glance to his XO, who stared at the console, frozen in alarm. It was her. There was no mistaking it.
He felt the gazes of his bridge crew linger on him, waiting for him to give his response to the Artificial Intelligence.
Deciding that distorting the truth in any way or form would only escalate this standoff, the Admiral decided to simply tell the truth. Just not the complete truth. "I seek to bring a peaceful outcome to this conflict. Returning the Citadel to where it belongs will help unite the species again."
"Look around you, insect. What was it that brought you here. Are you here of your free will? Are these the circumstances you wished upon? It. Was. Written. Destiny lured you here, a shadow latent in the textures of the galactic dust. We are all adrift within the machinations of those who existed before all others. Today, this cyclical insanity has reached its apex."
Hackett felt a terrible sense of foreboding settle within his stomach. He didn't understand what the ancient AI meant, but he did discern something within her message. Something he almost instinctively, subconsciously picked up on.
Nobody of his bridge crew risked as much as a whisper to give voice to their uncertainties and fears. They glanced at each other in total silence.
Hackett was about to ask what she meant when the signal was terminated from her end. He frowned and was about to order his communications officer to reopen the channel when his XO suddenly exclaimed, "Admiral Hackett, urgent message from Arcturus Station! One of our colonies bordering batarian space went silent!"
Alarm coursed through the Admiral's body. With the batarian navy on the Master Builder's side, there was no way this was a pirate attack "Silent? What else does the message say?"
"The entire colony dropped off the grid, Admiral. All the comm buoy connections have been cut off!"
Hackett grimaced. He felt his heart drop. The timing of it all…
"The cyclical insanity…" he muttered, ignoring the wide-eyed looks some of his officers gave him. "It's them. They're here."
The Reapers were back. They were back, and nobody was ready.
God help us all.
~(++)~
