And... we're back! The next part is here! Now, I know that in the last story, many people were not particularly fond of the Shepard parts. They wanted me to somewhat tone down Shepard's role in the story. However, the illustrious Commander is a very necessary part of the story, as is his crew. He'll be here along with his new crew. There are quite a few fluffy scenes in the beginning, so I do hope you enjoy that, Normandy crew or no. I quite enjoyed writing them. I do know the first part of the story here is somewhat out of place, but that's the point. I'm illustrating exactly what life is like in the calm... right before we get to the storm.
Now, the Reapers will be coming, at the behest of their dark new master. And, as many people wanted last story... the Batarians are gonna get it. I thank you all for your wonderful reviews. Please, keep it up! Speaking of which...
BonesofSmite: Indeed! Lot's of cool stuff coming, so stay tuned!
Clare Prime of Ultra: Cawl was alive during the Heresy, and knows of Hal. Hal also knows of Cawl, so... maybe.
Stoneificaunt: Very true. All hail the new dark lord!
Cringyusername SBSVQQ: You're damn right. It's going to be great.
BlitzNeutral69: Damn straight.
ProfessorZooms: Death to the enemies of the Golden Throne. Ave Imperator.
Brother Bov: Welcome back! I hope you like it.
Deafhood1998: AVE IMPERATOR!
themadnimrod: Maybe. Kelbor-Hal is a great villain.
187: Necrons will be here... our old friend the grand collector won't let this galaxy go to waste...
blyatman123: Yes. Hal is going to take over the Reapers, and add some old friends of his own...
Chapter Master Sinclair: Indeed. Dark toasters forever.
Doc43Souls: I did mean the prologue part. I suppose you do have the foresight powers of the Great Angel. We will be seeing lots off cool stuff, as well as interactions between the Citadel, the people of the Citadel, and the Imperium/Mechanicus.
Guest: No problem. It will be great.
Chronus1326: Thank you for reading!
muslingevej64: To see the really cool weapons of the Imperium and Mechanicus, they're going to need something to use them on. So... yes.
RememberReach312: Indeed.
gods-own: Damn right. To see all the Imperium and Mechanicus's cool weapons, they're going to need something to use them against.
Warriorking22: Thank you.
LezGo35: We see exactly what he's commanding in this chapter, and while not an Abyss-class ship, it's still pretty nasty.
Guest Tom: It'll be Hal and his old allies alongside the Reapers (meaning Dark Mechanicus against regular Mechanicus and Imperium, like you said.)
Clown2107: A C'Tan is more a force of complete destruction, and less of a character. It's hard to classify and characterize the Star Gods, hence why I chose Hal.
Colossus Bridger: Thank you! I hope you enjoy all the Kelbor-Hal to come!
Qinlongfei: I didn't think of that. However, it does work. We have some more fuzzy scenes in this chapter, and I do have a particular idea relating to what you said about Warhammer characters getting good endings that I think you'll like (though that will come later).
MemerDreamer: Indeed.
valhalan guardsman: Maybe. We might also be seeing some dreadnaught characters, which is just as good.
Aurelian: I didn't mean for them to be dragon prophecy quotes (and the last one didn't have dragons in it), though I suppose you're right. They were supposed to be about the end of the world. However, it works. I guess.
powerhendler: Thank you for reading!
Guest: Indeed. Thank you for reading! Have a great week!
Imhappy0126: So sorry.
Anatheras: The grand collector has other things on his mind. Though, a Reaper would make for a fine addition to his collection...
oOo
The Calm and the Storm
"Where there is love there is life." -Mahatma Gandhi
"Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage." -Lao Tzu
"You exist because we allow it, and you will end because we demand it." -Sovereign, Mass Effect
"Night falls on the Golden Age of Humanity. Sons shall turn upon their Father, and His worlds drown in blood. The Eye shall open…
And the Galaxy will burn." -intro to The Horus Heresy books
oOo
This was, technically, not the real Normandy. Or, more accurately, not the original Normandy. The original Normandy had been destroyed by the Collectors four years ago. Many of its loyal crew were killed that day, its Commander included. However, its Commander had been restored to life, and that new lease on life included the ship itself. The original Normandy was dead, smashed upon the icy ground of the planet Alchera, never to rise again. But the restored Commander had been given a new Normandy; an upgraded copy of the original ship by those who had breathed new life into him.
The ship was the second iteration of the Normandy. The current crew of the ship was the third group to man either version of the hallowed vessel. The first crew had, of course, been those who were aboard the first Normandy. Most were Alliance crew, and most were either dead or gone. They went with the first Normandy, and few remained with their Commander aboard the next iteration. The second crew had been those assembled by Cerberus and Commander Shepard to destroy the Collectors. Their mission completed nearly two years ago, most had left the second Normandy for other pursuits.
The current crew of the second Normandy were those individuals who stayed with Shepard after the mission to the Collector base, and those gathered through various means by the Commander after said mission. It was a strange, eclectic group made from various sources. Coming from a wide variety of backgrounds, species, and with a diversity in skill to back up their differences in environments, they were still nevertheless as honorable and deadly a fighting force the galaxy had ever known.
While the current crew was not nearly as large as the first or second, they still got the job done. They all knew each other and all worked well together. Most unusually, many of the 'main' crew (those who served the most vital posts on the ship) were married… to each other. It was very strange, and those who served on the Normandy in the lower ranks often made light-hearted wisecracks about it. In an odd way, it did make sense: a starship's crew were often isolated with only each other for company. The Normandy carried out many dangerous missions, which caused the crew to develop deem emotional bonds. They trusted each other, and in some cases, that trust turned to love.
Several other members of the 'main', or 'ground' crew remained single, perfectly content with simply doing their jobs aboard the Normandy. Their jobs were dangerous: Commander Shepard was one of the foremost Spectres in the galaxy, usually assigned to the most difficult of missions. As of right now, the Normandy was busy flying to one of these missions at the hands of its pilot, Joker. The majority of the crew themselves were just waking up, ready to greet a new day.
In the mess hall, Gardner, the cook, was preparing breakfast. The 'night' shift (as much as there was day and night aboard a starship) had eaten earlier, then gone to their sleeping quarters. Busy taking pre-packaged food from its containers, he did not notice a faint translucent flicker in the air behind him… at least until the flicker materialized directly beneath his nose to steal a package of food.
Yelping in surprise, Gardner spun to chase a laughing Kasumi Gato through the halls of the Normandy. The master thief, ever the cheery sort, delighted in playing pranks on her fellow crew members. Enraged and still running, Gardner swore he'd get her back. Eventually.
oOo
Beneath the engine room, in the deepest corner of the starship, unit Ki-Quadrata-479 sat cross-legged on the cold metallic floor. A gift, more or less, from Fabricator General Felis Natrius, leader of the forge world on Adas, Ki-Quadrata-479 was inexplicably but endearingly named "Dimitri" by the crew.
He was a Sicarian Ruststalker, a close-range specialist of one of the most sinister cadres of Mechanicus soldiers alive. A shattered and nearly-dead body of what had once been a skitarii, Dimitri rarely spoke. The mental states of Ruststalkers were, by nature, very volatile. Ki-Quadrata-479 had been chosen to go to the Normandy because he was one of the least violent of the Rustalkers under Natrius's command.
As he always did, Dimitri sat, meditating upon the glory of the Omnissiah. That was what kept his mind, and his rage, in check. His weapons, a transonic razor, a few grenades of various sorts, and many, many knives, sat around him. He focused on his weapons, upon the glory of the Machine God, and asked for the Omnissiah's blessing in a binary chant.
+Please, oh glorious Lord, oh Lord of All Machines, bless my weapons. Bless the mind and body of your servant, so that they may be made whole once again in your glorious image. Bless this good crew, who do your work in your name. I entreat thee: please help us to succeed in your holy name. Glory be the Machine God.+
oOo
In his small cabin, Zaeed Massani groaned as he awoke. He stood up from his tousled bed with a wince. Looking around at his cluttered room and single bed, Zaeed sighed. Sliding a bottle of some less-than-identifiable alcohol beneath his bed, he picked up his weapon. It was a heavy, black brute: a hellgun, made in the forges of Adas and purchased by him about a year ago. The Adeptus Mechanicus had established a forge world in the Perseus Veil, and began to manufacture all sorts of wonderful and terrifying weapons.
Usually reserved for the forces of Adas, or the Quarians who allied with them, hellguns were perhaps the premier infantry weapons in the galaxy. Of course, Adas's lethal skitarii units were armed with much better, but hellguns were the only weapons the Mechanicus was willing to give out. Zaeed had only been able to get one due to his status as a crew member of the Normandy, and it was still hideously expensive.
The money had been worth the weapon, though. High-powered lasers beat out kinetic barriers. Sighing to himself once again, Zaeed downed a few tablets of medi gel in solid form for his hangover headache, and began to clean his weapon.
oOo
In the much larger cabin of the executive officer, Kelly Chambers rolled over in bed, towards what was usually the warm spot, only to find no one there. Still half-asleep, she grumbled and pulled the covers around her neck, settling back in. Some part of her sleep-addled mind heard a very familiar sonorous voice sigh above her.
"You always do this," said the voice. It was deliciously sweet and harmonious, bearing the two-toned sound of a Turian's vocalizations. Kelly blinked blearily upwards at the sound's source.
"S'warm," she replied, before turning back into her pillow. Above her, Solana Vakarian sighed and shook her head, mandibles splayed open in amusement. Her mate was not a morning person.
Solana rarely thought about that aspect; the fact that a Turian/human relationship, especially between two females, was almost unheard of. She didn't particularly care, either. She loved Kelly, Kelly loved her, and that was all that mattered. Her brother didn't mind, Shepard and his crew didn't mind. Besides, stranger things had happened. Much stranger. A certain group of technophiliac cultists from an alternate reality came to mind.
"C'mon, Kelly," sighed Solana. "You've got to get up. We have a big day. Mission to Erszbat, remember? We have to go fight slavers." She gently shook Kelly. The red haired human rolled over in the covers, resisting any efforts to rouse her. Solana suspected it was as much about spite as it was tiredness at this point.
"Too early," murmured Kelly. Solana sighed again. She crossed swiftly over to a nearby table, and brought back a mug full of steaming liquid.
"Coffee?" asked the Turian with a smile. Kelly turned over and cocked an eyebrow. Hesitantly, she reached out and grabbed the mug.
"Thanks," she said subduedly. Solana grinned.
"You thank me every day." This time, it was Kelly's turn to smile.
"Because I'm thankful every day."
oOo
Elsewhere in the ship, in the largest quarters aboard, the captain's cabin, Commander John Shepard sat on his bed, absentmindedly rubbing the stubble accumulated on his jaw. He was in his night clothes: simply a pair of underwear. He looked over to the fishtank, glowing a soft blue, and stared at the multitude of different creatures within. It wasn't necessarily because he wanted to look at the fish (though he did indeed like them), but rather because it was something for his mind to do.
He stared forward forlornly. Like most husbands of nearly every species throughout the universe, he had the same question: why, in the name of god, did his wife take so damn long to get ready?
Of course, he did understand it. He just didn't have to like it. Tali was a Quarian. That meant her immune system was rather weak. It also meant she had to go around in an enviro-suit. Her immune system had adapted to John's biology and the atmosphere of their shared cabin aboard the Normandy, and thus the cabin was one of the only places Tali could be free of her enviro-suit.
She loved it. She loved the freedom, loved the sensations, loved the ability to feel. John took his sense of touch for granted, as did most non-Quarians throughout the galaxy. To be without the ability to feel? No wind on one's face, no sensation of warmth from another person, no flow of water… nothing.
Tali had thus absolutely adored the idea of showers. Most people did; the sensation of water on one's back was soothing. To Tali, it was a hundred times more so.
John did therefore understand why his wife took such long showers, and thus so much time to get ready. He had sympathy. It was still annoying. Sighing to himself, he quashed the annoyance and laid back on the bed. They still had plenty of time before they got to Erszbat. The others in the Normandy's ground team were also still probably waking up.
In the distance, the faint hiss of flowing water stopped. John sat back. Good. Finally. There was so much to do. He had to shower, then shave, and get ready for the mission, and check his armor, and his weapon, and-
And his brain short-circuited as he saw Tali exit the bathroom wearing nothing but a towel. Oh.
Her hair was the faintly messy wavy strands of someone who had wet it completely and only recently dried it. The towel was the fluffy white one she liked so much (her touch-starved Quarian physiology at work again), and covered her hips, torso, and not much else. John couldn't help but stare. Yes, he had married Tali because he loved her absolutely and without question. She was almost a part of him. It hurt, sometimes physically hurt, when they were separated. She was wonderful: witty, charming, intelligent, kind, selfless, loving… But it was times like this that he appreciated the physical side of Tali.
Walking past John, Tali made her way over to the dresser at the side of their bed… then let down the towel and tossed it on the bed. John's eyes hovered on her very, very shapely rear. Any other thoughts were gone from his mind. He didn't miss them.
"You've seen me like this a thousand times," said Tali with a sigh and soft, almost exasperated chuckle. Despite being turned away from him, Tali could apparently feel his gaze on her hips. John kept staring. After a moment, her words caught up in his head and he leaned back, clasping his hands neatly behind his head. He kept his vision in the same spot, though. It would be almost physically impossible to tear it away.
"Well," he shrugged. "I've seen a thousand stars, a thousand pinpricks of light in the darkness of space a thousand times. I've seen the glory of a hundred suns, in all their fiery brilliance, a thousand times. I've been on dozens, if not hundreds, of planets, each one with its own flora and fauna. Each one had its own stunning, absolutely breathtaking, completely unique view, and I've seen enough to add up to a thousand." He grinned as he spoke, eyes still never leaving Tali as she rummaged through the dresser for the pieces of her clothing and enviro-suit. "I've seen a thousand sunsets, and a thousand sunrises. I've seen the Citadel, and the Mass Relays; Reapers and Imperial Titans, and even the black hole in the middle of the galaxy… and yet none of them are as beautiful as you." Tali glowed scarlet.
"You romantic bosh'tet," she said fondly. John grinned and hopped off the edge of the bed with the grace of a cat. Moving behind his wife, he reached an arm around her and cupped her bare shoulder. She shivered as his touch.
"Yeah, I know," he replied. "But I'm your romantic bosh'tet." The words were all in Keelish. Human and Quarian languages (John learned that the main, and in fact only present-day Quarian language was called Keelish) were both pronounceable by both species. Unlike Turian, which required a set of sub-harmonics, or Asari, which required flowing grace and decades of study, Quarian could easily be learned by humans, and Human by Quarians. John and Tali delighted in learning each other's languages, and often switched between the two in conversation.
Sighing to herself, Tali squirmed out of his grip and went back to hunting for her underclothes and the various straps and outward cloth of her enviro-suit.
"I know what you're trying to do, John. Don't think I don't." Grabbing the first parts of her enviro-suit, she started to put it on. "Besides, don't we have a mission soon? You should start getting ready." Frowning as he stepped back, John gave her one last look.
"We have some time…"
"Go shave, John," replied Tali with a laugh. Grumbling to himself, the illustrious Commander Shepard admitted defeat and turned towards the bathroom.
oOo
Steve and Robert Cortez were already up. Both sat in the hangar. They did not speak to each other. No words were needed. Instead, they simply enjoyed each other's company, working in silence side by side. Not quite literally side by side: Steve, the shuttle pilot, was near his craft, while Robert sat on a nearby bench tweaking the weapons in the Normandy's armory. It was an easy silence, the silence of two who knew each other long enough and well enough to never need words.
As he was shuttle pilot, Steve was parched beneath the Normandy's modified Kodiak shuttle, checking its engines and internal systems. It was his responsibility. His duty was to bring the Normandy's ground crew in and out of battle. There could be no flaws, no mistakes with their method of transportation. Steve checked the engines, checked the wiring, checked the computer consoles, the control systems, and the weapons. Kodiaks were usually not armed, but Commander Shepard, after too many times stranded without enough firepower, ordered modifications.
Next to him, Robert checked the personal weapons of the Normandy. He was the ship's armorer, and it was his solemn duty to see to each of the personal weapons and armor of each member of the ground team. It was an arduous task, but one he approached with great gusto. Robert delighted in weaponry; like many Marines, he quickly came to appreciate and love firearms. Quickly finding himself an expert on such things, he was promptly named an armorer.
The weapons of the Normandy's ground team were as varied as their wielders. Shepard and Zaeed both possessed the dreaded hot-shot lasgun, given or purchased from the Mechanicus on Adas. The old mercenary preferred to do his own work for his large collection of weapons. Shepard, on the other hand, had a great many duties and had no problem giving his weapons and armor over to Robert. The Commander still checked his own weapons, as any good soldier should. It didn't stop Robert from lovingly going over his hellgun.
On the other hand, Solana and himself preferred mass accelerator weaponry. Robert was rather frustrated over the las weaponry of the Adeptus Mechanicus. By nature, he wanted to understand how the firearms he serviced worked. However, the Adeptus Mechanicus jealously guarded their secrets, and scanning, taking apart, or otherwise copying their technology was forbidden upon pain of death. For both this reason and the fact he was an old-fashioned Marine, he vastly preferred accelerator weaponry.
Currently, he went over the Hierarchy-produced Phaeston assault rifle owned by Solana. Next to him, his own M-8 Avenger rifle was propped on a crate. The standard-issue weapons of the Turian Hierarchy and Systems Alliance respectively, they were powerful, reliable, and extremely deadly in the hands of their experienced wielders.
Next to his own weapon were those belonging to Kasumi and Tali. Kasumi had her M-12 Locust, and Tali her heavy M-27 Scimitar shotgun. Knowing her affinity for such weapons, Fabricator General Natrius had gifted her a Lucius Pattern Mark 22c shotgun. The Quarian never used it. Infamously used by the Death Korps of Krieg's dreaded Engineers, it was a huge, utterly brutal gas-powered weapon with a revolving magazine. It was prone to failure, and had a recoil so vicious most Quarians couldn't handle it. Thus, Tali stuck with her own, more comfortable mass accelerator weapons.
Next to all of these were a massive assortment of all sorts of sidearms: the backup choices of every member of the ground time. Predators, Phalanxes, Carnifexes, Arc Pistols (the Quarian version, not the Mechanicus version), Suppressors, Paladins, Talons, Eagles, and a single las pistol made up the massive arsenal. Steve checked and cleaned each one personally. A well-maintained weapon was vital for survival on the field, and that would be something sorely needed today.
oOo
The Normandy's Combat Information Center was abuzz with the very faint hum of pre-mission conversation. At the head of the table stood Commander John Shepard, Executive Officer Kelly Chambers, and Yeoman Samantha Traynor. Traynor had already been up for hours, nervously preparing her briefing. She was prone to such things, even though the Commander and her crewmates had often told her not to worry of any mistakes she might make. It hardly mattered in the end; Traynor almost never made mistakes. She was the yeoman and communications officer of the Normandy for a reason.
Gathered around the projector were all the members of the ground team. Solana, with her mandibles in a smirk, hefting her assault rifle stood next to Robert, his face steely behind his Marine armor. Tali fiddled with her omni-tool, shotgun strapped behind her back. Kasumi grinned beneath her hood as Zaeed grumbled over his gear. Dimitri, the lenses of his gasmask-like faceplate staring out soullessly, drummed the lethal blades of his chordclaw hand against his thigh. For his part, Shepard wore his combat arm. His original left arm had been severed in the Battle of Rannoch; replacing it was a sleek Mechanicus augmetic with a hidden plasma weapon inside, courtesy of Belisarius Cawl. His black N7 armor ended at his elbow, allowing him to be able to fire the weapon.
Today, the holoprojector displayed a black and green marble in space: the Batarian planet of Erszbat. John cleared his throat for silence. The murmuring gradually died down. He gestured for Traynor to begin.
"This is the planet Erszbat," she began, stepping forward. The holoprojector zoomed in closer. "It's a wealthy Batarian colony in the Vular System, rich in farmland, minerals, and manufacturing infrastructure." More mutterings. No one liked the Batarians, and for good reason. This was just confirmation of that opinion. Traynor spoke up again. "Recently, there have been multiple raids by Batarian slavers conducted from Erszbat. We believe the Batarian economy, never good in the first place, is being strangled in the arms race between the Adeptus Mechanicus and Citadel."
"Makes sense. You base your entire economy around slavery, it'll collapse soon," muttered Solana.
"Correct," replied Traynor. "Anyway, they've upped their raids. Slavers operating from Erszbat hit several nearby colonies: one human, one of mixed species. They also seized a Turian mining ship, though not operated by the Hierarchy-"
"They're too smart for that," mumbled Zaeed. Everyone flashed a smile. That much was true. Raiding a full military power, especially in the current political climate, was not a good idea.
"Yes. Anyway… They seized the Turian ship, along with a passenger liner and a Quarian ship of unknown class. Both of these ships contained numerous civilians, and would make any pirate extremely wealthy through sale of anyone onboard, which would hundreds of individuals." John Shepard stepped forward.
"That brings us to the next part of this… situation. The Council is rather upset that these pirates have been operating with impunity in this section of space, and very upset that they've captured a Citadel-affiliated passenger liner. So, apparently these slavers weren't that smart after all." John looked around the briefing room. "We have been tasked to go to Erszbat… and free the slaves captured." Everyone simply stared at him.
"You… we… we're supposed to go to a Batarian colony and just… free all of the slaves there?" asked Zaeed incredulously. "I mean, it's not like I like the Batarians, but isn't that a bit… much? There's going to be a lot of defenses there." There were a series of nods and noises of agreement. John simply gave a savage grin in response.
"Did Yeoman Traynor mention that there was a Quarian vessel captured?" he asked simply. More nods greeted him. Where was the Commander going with this? "Yeah, that Quarian vessel was a large resource-gathering ship." John's grin became wider. "Licensed out to the Adeptus Mechanicus."
"Welp. Those pirates are done," muttered Solana. A few around the table winced.
"Fabricator General Felis Natrius has taken a personal interest in this case," continued Shepard. "While I don't know the details, apparently they're sending a force to free the Quarians. They should arrive at some point while we're on Erszbat." He zoomed in on the planet's central city. "Therefore, our plan is to assault the slave market, marked here." A series of buildings and an open-air market lit up. "We'll be evacuating and rescuing all the slaves while the ground team covers against Batarian forces moving in. The Mechanicus, while I'm not sure of their strategy, should catch the Batarians off guard with their assault." He deactivated the holoprojector and looked around the room. "Ladies and gentlemen… good luck. Let's rock."
oOo
Hundreds of blue optics shone in the darkness. There was no light in the dropships; only the faint blue constellations of will-o-the-wisps illuminated the interiors. Nearly a hundred skitarii in a dozen dropships stood, weapons at the ready, completely still. No muscles twitched or ticked. The mechanical limbs of the skitarii did not move a single millimeter.
The dropships were immobile for the moment. Nothing moved. There was no immediate deployment, no mission to be ready to execute for a long time. Still, the skitarii stood motionless. They did not mind. Such were the lives of the cybernetic foot soldiers of the Adeptus Mechanicus. Everything they did served the glory of the Machine God.
The dropships themselves were still in one of the massive hangar bays of the ark mechanicus Omnissiah's Blade. They would remain there until the Blade transitioned from the Warp to the materium. Lord Natrius wanted this to be a shock assault. He wanted to take the Batarians who dared enslave his people and cross the might of the Mechanicus completely by surprise.
It might seem strange to some that the Adeptus Mechanicus, a group not exactly noted for their kindness, especially to those outside their order, would go out of their way to rescue those not directly in their service. However, Fabricator General Felis Natrius was not like many of his brethren. It was Natrius that had first made contact with this galaxy and its inhabitants. It was Natrius that decided to observe, not slaughter. It was Natrius that first met with the Quarians, and decided to give them a chance; the first one they'd had in three hundred years.
It was Natrius that decided to bring the might of the Mechanicus to this galaxy to retake Rannoch. Of course, he needed the approval of the hierarchy of the Red Planet… but he got it. It was Natrius that became the first ruler of the first forge world in this galaxy.
Felis Natrius was a man of firsts. He was nothing like many of his colleagues. Compassion was usually not a word that could be used to describe the servants of the Omnissiah, but Natrius was often described as such by his subordinates and contemporaries. Contrary to being a weakness, as many Tech-Priests thought emotion was, Natrius's compassion was one of his greatest strengths. It was only logical.
Most species (of this galaxy especially) responded well to positive treatment, like compassion. It made them more… subservient was not quite the correct word. More… docile? Willing to work together? Something like that.
Regardless, Felis Natrius was a compassionate man, coldly logical Tech-Priest, and consummate politician. The combination was terrifyingly effective.
That combination was why Fabricator General Felis Natrius was here, in person, aboard his massive ark mechanicus. When he'd first heard the reports that a Quarian vessel, working for Adas no less, had been captured by Batarians, he had been furious. That fury only grew when he learned its passengers and crew were taken to Erszbat as slaves. Even though he did rub arms with (and truly like some xenos), Natrius drew a sharp line between good and bad aliens. Those that would not resist and/or be subservient to the Machine God and humanity's great destiny were to be treated as allies or servants. Those that did not, on the other hand…
Well, they would simply die.
Krogan? The nigh-invincible lizards that reminded him far too much of orks from his home galaxy? They would die. Eventually. Asari? Blue-skinned scum that stole the genes of other species? He cull them, or at least knock them down a few pegs. But Batarians… Batarians were the worst. They enslaved the righteous and spat upon the children of the Omnissiah. But unlike the Krogan, Asari, or perhaps the Hanar, the Batarians he could take on now. Their power and alliances were not enough to threaten Adas with all-out war.
Thus, Felis Natrius was launching a rescue mission. Much like his personality, it was a mixture of compassion, logic, and politics. His people languishing in slavery simply would not do. Yes, they were Quarians, but they were still his people. Anyone that wanted to debate him on that particular subject would have to contend with the Omnissiah's Blade and the might of Adas's skitarii legions. They were his people, and he would be damned before he let anything happen to them.
It was also logical to rescue them. It sent the message that no one, no one, messed with those under the protection of the Adeptus Mechanicus. That was a good message to send. In addition, Natrius would regain a valuable and well-trained labor force, plus their ship and all the resources they acquired. If those reasons weren't enough, he would also probably gain whatever he could take, technology or material alike, that he could from Erszbat.
Lastly was politics. It was good to show to the galaxy that no one could touch those under the jurisdiction of the Mechanicus. However, it was also equally good to show the allies of the Mechanicus that they would not be forgotten. The Alliance and Citadel did not care for their colonies. They cared nothing for those who existed outside their own space. However, the Mechanicus did. The Omnissiah protected. If he could get more people to think about joining the Mechanicus… well, that was certainly a massive benefit. Plus, it spat in the face of the Citadel, which was reason enough by itself to launch this mission at all.
Thus the skitarii waited. Thus their blue optics shone in the darkness of their transports. Thus was the Omnissiah's Blade on its way to Erszbat, to free the servants of the Machine God and bring ruinous death upon the Batarians. Galvanic rifle magazines, glowing their soft blue, locked into place. Plasma pistols were readied.
The Batarians had no idea of the storm that was about to bear down upon them.
oOo
The incoming shuttle was masked by the finest clocking systems in the galaxy. The Normandy itself was a starship built for stealth; no one on the planet noticed its approach to Erszbat. Excellent. That was how it was supposed to be. While the shuttle itself might not have any sort of stealth system (a ship that small couldn't possess one), it did have the protection of special shrouding codes. Such things were hard to come by, and were only possessed by the Normandy's close relationship with the Quarian government and Adeptus Mechanicus. They were not the true, terrifying and lethal shrouding protocols of the Mechanicus, but rather a watered-down version provided to the Quarians. This version had then been given to the Normandy to help successfully complete its endeavors. It had certainly helped in many a situation, this one included.
Currently, those aboard the shuttle were silent. They checked and rechecked their weapons, shields, and omni-tools. Of course, such important devices had already been checked multiple times back aboard the Normandy, but it never hurt to make absolute certain. Such things were marks of good soldiers, and the ground crew of the Normandy were among the best. Quietly they waited. It was almost time. Despite this being a Spectre-authorized mission against a known foe, it might have been one of the more dangerous the Normandy's crew had ever been on. They did not have as many backups as the previous two iterations of the crew, nor did they have the lethal support of the skitarii shock infantry. At least, not yet. The opening of this mission would get very dicy.
Below, the vast expanse of Erszbat was laid out before them. It was an undeniably beautiful planet, despite what happened on it. The nature of the planet had no relationship with its fell masters. Lush forests and fertile green plains with rich black earth spread throughout the expanses not taken up by Batarian cities. The cities themselves did not necessarily detract from the rest of the planet's beauty. While they might have been the typical Batarian affairs of plains concrete and metal, it was their simplicity that managed to blend in with the landscape around it. The glorious spires of Asari architecture or the practicality to Turian or human cities might have choked out the planet's radiance, but, somehow, the Batarian cities, these plain grey specks upon the green forests and deep black seas, did not.
The city the Normandy's crew were headed to was called Kulmental. This was not the capital of the planet, but it was still nevertheless one of Erszbat's largest inhabited locations. The reason was simple. The slave markets were located here.
Batarian society and all Batarian economies revolved around slavery. It was that reason why every other race in the galaxy had a particular dislike for Batarians. It was also the reason why Kulmetal, and not the capital of Erszbat, was the most influential and powerful city on the planet. It didn't have the most people, and it didn't have the seat of government, but Kulmetal did have the most slaves for sale.
The objective of the Normandy's crew was a heady one: free the slaves. It would be an arduous task. Instead of always being on the offensive, like most missions in the past, the crew of the Normandy would be bogged down in one location, and one location only. Batarian reinforcements could come in and swamp the landing zone where the rescued captives were to be shuttled off and back to the Normandy. The more John thought about it, the harder the task seemed to be. However, Commander John Shepard was the greatest soldier born of this galaxy, and the first human Spectre. This was as noble a task as any. The job would be done.
The shuttle couldn't evade detection for much longer. Of course, the code worked perfectly. Any ingenuity designed by the Mechanicus or Quarians was almost guaranteed to. The computers and sensors of the planet and city below the shuttle were all completely fooled. The ship blended in perfectly with the background noise. However, computer code could not fool organic eyes.
As the shuttle made its final approach to Kulmetal, dozens of Batarians looked up, curious over what this ship screaming over their heads was. They assumed it to be authorized, perhaps an Alliance Kodiak captured by their pirates. If it was not supposed to be here, the anti-air defenses would have surely blown it out of the sky by now. They took no notice of it… up until it came in for a landing, mass effect engines humming as it hovered over the ground, and disgorged its passengers.
The Normandy's ground crew came out shooting. The guards in the central market area were not prepared for such a sudden assault. To be sure, many were looking at the Kodiak that had landed, wondering why it was there. They advanced on it, weapons at the ready, only for its side doors to open and a crack team of soldiers to pop out, weapons blazing. The crimson las bolts of John and Zaeed's hellguns whined through the air, slicing through kinetic barriers with ease and impacting targets with heavy thumps. Crackling mass accelerator fire spun through the open space of the market, catching Batarian guards unaware as the rest of the team added their firepower to the fray.
Dimitri moved forward as a blur, his transonic blades humming their deadly song. Instead of staying with the main body of the crew, his role was to cause as much chaos as humanly possible. Or, rather, cybernetically possible. Slashing through a series of Batarian guards as if they were so much as raw meat. His chordclaw reduced one to so much as a quivering lump of jelly on the cold concrete floor. Moving away from the main group, he turned the corner and disappeared. Batarian screams followed.
At least a dozen Batarian guards died in the first several seconds. Dismounting from the shuttle, the Normandy's team moved through the market, weapons at the ready. John and Zaeed led the way, hellguns raised to their shoulders and sighted, ready for any Batarian that might come to oppose them.
The market itself was a large, open bazaar. Single story buildings, covered with decorations or cloth to make them more appealing to shoppers, lined the wide streets. Some were restaurants or bars, some were small shops, but many of them were covered in heavy steel webbing and bars. These were the holding pens and/or shops for purchasing slaves. John resisted the urge to spit. Disgusting.
Batarian civilians and merchants ran from the incoming soldiers, screaming and clutching at children or valuables. Good. At least they wouldn't interfere.
Raising his hellgun, the Commander sighted and squeezed the trigger twice. Two Batarian guards, rounding the corner in an out-of-breath sprint, fell backwards, cauterized holes blown through their heads. The team moved up, circling, waiting, covering corners and each others' backs.
"You're up," said Shepard to Kasumi as they made their way to one side of the market. The thief nodded in response. She was not to join the main firefight. Her talents lay elsewhere. Slipping silently away from the main group, she activated her cloak and began her thief's work. Stealing people back from the insidious clutches of slavers was much more satisfying than stealing mere objects.
Rounding the corner from the main marketplace to a nearby alley, she stopped in sudden shock. This was a street no one but the guards, merchants, and slavers came down… and for good reason. In their simple concrete one story bunker-like buildings, sat slaves. They lined the entire alley. Rectangular bars covered the fronts to each building, locking the Batarians' prizes behind them. Each was exposed to the elements; simply a huge open room with concrete walls and a cage for a front.
The place smelled terrible, and with good reason. Hundreds of bodies were crammed in the buildings on each side of the alley. Half a dozens species, including each of the four Citadel ones, were represented amongst the slaves. The interiors were filthy and damp, with no food, no water, and a few buckets in the corner. Kasumi could guess what those were for. She snarled to herself. There were no Batarians here, only their prisoners.
As she made her way down the line, getting to the first cage and its first holographic lock, dozens, and soon hundreds, of eyes turned her way. For many of the slaves, there was no hope left. They were resigned to live their lives in squalor at the behest of their new Batarian masters. Cruelty was rampant, and only those that were especially hardy or were needed unhurt were not harmed.
But now, for the first time since many were captured, they had hope. Hope for something more than life in eternal servitude. Eyes shone, and voices cried out to Kasumi, pleading with her, thanking her, asking her to take them away from this awful place.
As Kasumi reached the first cage, she brought up her omni-tool. She worked quickly and quietly, not acknowledging the cries of the prisoners. Her absolute focus was needed; this mission had to be carried out as quickly as possible. With but a few swipes, the task was completed. She looked up and opened the cage door.
She almost wished she hadn't.
Inside, the prisoners squinted, almost unbelieving that they were finally free. This was a mixed group- humans, Salarians, Asari, Turians, and even some Drell were all represented here. Mothers and fathers clutched their children. A slim Turian clutched the edge of a broken mandible. A human man winced and hobbled to his feet, wincing in pain as livid red flogging scars dripped fresh blood from his back. An Asari clutched a thin cloth around her hips, her dress torn at the waist. Dried blue blood lined her thighs. Kasumi snarled. Batarian scum. She'd be more than happy to watch the skitarii tear them apart… whenever they arrived.
"C'mon," she said urgently. The now ex-slaves stood up. A Drell child whimpered and clutched his mother.
"Who are you?" rasped a Turian. This one was tall, with silvery plates. He seemed to be some sort of leader.
"I'm with Commander Shepard," replied Kasumi. Now that prompted a reaction. "We're here to get you out of here." Through the awed whispers, the tall Turian nodded.
"Okay. What do you want us to do?" he asked.
"We have a shuttle. However, we can only take so many of you at a time. The goal is to get as many of you out as possible until reinforcements arrive." Kasumi looked around. "But we need more firepower. If any of you have any military training, grab one of the guns of the fallen guards and go through the alley into the market. Keep your heads down, and join Commander Shepard. He'll tell you what to do."
"Excellent." The Turian spun around. "You heard her! Roland, Caelmia, and Temrus, with me. The rest of you, follow her to the shuttle." Two more Turians and a tough looking human stood up next to the silvery leader. They had military looks about them. What's more, they were furious at their failure to protect what had been their charges and comrades, and were looking for revenge. Kasumi looked around.
"Everyone ready?" Hesitant and nervous nods greeted her, but they were nods nonetheless. No one wanted to stay in this place. "Okay. Let's go!"
oOo
The going was slow. In the marketplace, the ground crew of the Normandy, now joined by ten freed prisoners, fought off what seemed to be an ever-increasing number of Batarians. While the three humans, five Turians, one Drell, and one Asari had lingered in captivity for days, if not weeks, they were still all professional soldiers. Eager for revenge against their erstwhile captors, they picked up weapons and joined the fight.
The fight had been going on for what seemed like hours, but was in reality probably closer to something around twenty minutes. Maybe more, maybe less. No one on the ground team was keeping track. They had other things on their minds.
There had been two shuttle rides of the ex-slaves back up to the Normandy. The third was at the Normandy now, disembarking its occupants as quickly as possible. On its return trip, it would bring more thermal clips, las packs, medi-gel canisters, and even a few crates of those ridiculous hand-thrown Mechanicus frag grenades. Commander Shepard was getting somewhat desperate now, and would take any edge he could get, outdated hand-thrown explosives included.
On the ground, John cleanly blasted a Batarian's head away. Next to him, Zaeed hurled obscenities as he pumped out hellgun shots, slicing through Batarian guards with well-practiced ease. Their goal was to protect the groups of ex-slaves huddled near defensive barricades behind them. A shuttle could only take so many at once.
Tali was crouched nearby, bodily beneath a heavy barricade. She was not joining this particular fight. Rather, she waged electronic warfare against the Batarians, turning off alarms, disabling communication systems, and using any technological tricks she could to give the Normandy's crew an advantage. It was thanks to her that no alarms had been sounded to other cities and more reinforcements summoned. Still, by the looks of things, it might not be enough.
John snarled as multiple shots impacted off his kinetic barriers. Spinning left, he fired a quick burst at multiple advancing Batarians. They screamed in agony as crimson las bolts sliced through their armor and shields, blasted through their skin, and smashed through bone. Their deaths were mercifully quick, more merciful than they deserved, but still long enough that they felt the pain of their demise.
"Commander!" Joker's voice suddenly came through the comms system, slicing through the noise and blood of the battlefield. "Omnissiah's Blade has transitioned into system! Jesus, they're close to the planet. Mechanicus reinforcements have arrived!" John couldn't help but grinning as mass accelerator fire chipped a nearby wall.
"Great!" He turned back to his team, now plus ten very angry once-captured, now released soldiers. "Heads up everyone! We have reinforcements incoming!" The silvery Turian, who had introduced himself as Quivus Spurius, flexed his mandibles into a grin as he blasted away at a Batarian.
"Excellent. Now we'll show them what we're really made of," he said savagely.
"How are you guys doing back there?" Shepard yelled back to Solana and Robert. Kasumi was still busy freeing the captives.
"Fine!" yelled back Robert as he stood from cover and fired a crisp burst at a Batarian. Next to him, Solana calmly took aim and let loose with her Phaeston. A guard, trying to run from one side of the street to the next to find a better position, was caught in the open. Solana rapidly drained his shields and shot through his armor, leaving him a crying, crippled wreck in the middle of the street.
"Y'know," began Zaeed, "This would be a lot easier if-"
"Holy shit!" finished someone, interrupting him. A huge crimson beam flashed downward from the sky like the wrath of God Himself. It burned brighter than the sun, shearing straight through a cloud bank. A red glow lit up the sky, like the most beautiful of sunsets. The beam impacted kilometers away from the Normandy's ground team, but they could feel the reverberating shockwave from where they stood. Though none of the freed slaves or Normandy's crew knew it, a nearby sub-district of Kulmetal, called Yynortal, had been wiped completely off the map as the orbital lance batteries of the Omnissiah's Blade joined the fight.
Gunships screamed across the sky. These were not powered by clean element zero cores, but rather promethium. Orange trails of fire streaked behind them. No anti-air fire rose to greet them: the almighty power of the Machine God had digitally silenced Erszbat's weapon systems.
As the transport gunships blazed through the sky, several dropped out of formation with flawless precision. Streaking low, just above the rooftops of the market, those on the ground could all see the sigil of the Adeptus Mechanicus displayed proudly on the side of each. The gunships came low, seemingly mere meters over the tops of the tallest buildings. They banked right, and, when out of the market itself, let loose with a barrage of bolter fire. John, Robert, Tali, Solana, Quivus, and those freed prisoners fighting alongside them blanched. Zaeed let loose with a string of curses.
John had specifically ordered Steve Cortez not to fire any of the Kodiak's modified weapons. The chances of hitting innocent prisoners on the ground was far too great. However, it seemed that the Mechanicus either didn't care, or, far more likely, calculated with horrifying mathematical precision where each and every one of their shots would land. A few of the recently-liberated prisoners cheered. The fearsome soldiers of the Adeptus Mechanicus had arrived.
oOo
Marshal Sine-Kappa-131 stepped from the darkness of her shuttle's interior and into the bright sunlight of Erszbat. Next to her, a squad of skitarii, wielding galvanic rifles and clad in the black, red, and violet robes of Adas stormed forward. The sharp echoing cracks of galvanic servitor bullets rang through the air as the skitarii fired. Batarians fell, their kinetic barriers drained in an instant, and the energy the shields provided turning on their former masters with blasts of killing electrical force. Such was the power of the standard-issue weapons of the Legiones Skitarii. While laser weapons might be able to slice through barriers as if they didn't exist, the ammunition of galvanic rifles sucked out their energy and released it in lethal blasts. The process took microseconds.
Caught completely by surprise, the Batarians attempted to turn and fight. Such a course of action was foolish. Of course, any course of action would have led to their death. Their best hope would have been to not be born Batarians.
Marshal Sine-Kappa-131 took a single mechanical stride forward and brought up her plasma pistol. Whispering binaric benedictions to the weapon's machine spirit, she gently squeezed the trigger. An unfortunate Batarian was obliterated, melted in heat the strength of a dying sun.
+Excellent,+ rang a voice in her head. The function of skitarii marshals was to be intermediaries for the senior Tech-Priests. While many normal humans might have balked at the idea of having someone else in one's head, it was a job the marshals did with pride. Fabricator General Natrius wanted to control both the void and ground war. Thus, he stayed aboard the Blade while he interfaced with Sine-Kappa. +Move forward. The Quarians are at location 417-537. Move up, free them, and bring them back. You are also ordered to provide relief and support to our allies on the ground.+
+Yes, my lord,+ replied Sine-Kappa in binary. She relayed the commands of Natrius to the rest of the skitarii on the ground. Deep beneath the armored plates of her augmented chest, Sine-Kappa felt her mechanical heart beat harder. She felt… something. Some sort of foriegn feeling, singing out in glee and power. While she didn't quite know what it was, she knew it called her to slaughter.
Emotions were for the weak, for those that did not fully follow the Machine God's path. Sine-Kappa might not have been able to identify her own, but, like any creature, still followed them. Now, her emotions sang for Batarian blood. She would deliver.
oOo
Zaaro'Saasa vas Geera sighed and leaned against the filthy wall of her collective cell. Around her, the suited forms of dozens of Quarians stood, crammed into a space more suitable for fifteen. What were once vibrant violets, magentas, yellows, and grays of the Quarians' enviro-suits were now muted, caked by mud and dust. In the corner of the cell, the still form of an enviro-suit-clad Quarian lay in the muck. Zaaro'Saasa shook her head. Poor Kaetor.
The Batarians didn't much care for the wellbeing of their slaves. Well, at least the wellbeing of the slaves they deemed less expensive. Quarians were, for the most part, technologically gifted. Slaves who were good at fixing things for their masters were valuable. However, Quarians also had notoriously weak immune systems. Even through normal processing, the Batarians expected some deaths. They had shrugged to each other. There was nothing they could do about it.
Kaetor had ripped his enviro-suit on the sharp edge of a concrete wall after a Batarian guard had shoved him. While a suit rip was a critical problem under the best circumstances, here it was effectively a death sentence. The prisoners had no medicine of any kind, and no way to repair the tear in Kaetor's suit. The Quarian had stubbornly refused to let anyone ask the Batarians for aid, rightly saying that they would only mock the slaves, or, worse, do something that would cause another tear on another person.
So Kaetor had died, shivering from fever in the corner while the other Quarians tried to comfort him. When the Batarians came in the morning, they'd simply shrugged. They left the body.
Zaaro'Saasa sighed and slumped to the floor. The Geera, her home, a wonderful collector ship, had been captured out of nowhere by Batarian slavers. True, they had strayed too far, trying to find better and better resources for the Mechanicus. Zaaro smiled at the thought. The Mechanicus was always in search of more material to fuel the forges of Adas. They had no need of credits, and thus paid very well for certain resources.
However, they'd strayed too far, and paid the price. Zaaro sighed once more. They were now slaves. They would be sold off in the coming days, and go where they were told to go, do what they were told to do for the rest of their miserable lives. The Batarians who would come to own them would probably treat them no better than the slavers who captured them or the merchants that were to sell them.
There had been a brief flicker of hope some twenty minutes ago. The unmistakable sound of mass accelerator fire could be heard somewhere in the city. The Quarians all murmured to each other, trying to figure out what was happening as guards rushed past their cells. When the gunfire didn't abate, they slumped back in place. Probably another slaver or pirate group conducting a raid on the city. Zaaro wouldn't put it past the Batarians to fight other Batarians.
Looking up sharply, Zaaro cocked her head. She could have sworn she heard… something. The other Quarians stopped theri faint murmuring. Tilting their heads, they started listening more closely.
Yes! There was a sound. A… strangely familiar sound. It was a shrieking, roaring noise, reverberating through the sky with clear intent.
Zaaro recognized it. There were no other vessels in the universe that sounded like that. She grinned beneath her visor as the streaking form of a Mechanicus gunship soared past the cage.
oOo
The pressure was letting up. Mechanicus shuttles had landed throughout the market district of the city. Most were towards the northwest of John's position, though it didn't seem to matter exactly where the skitarii landed. So long as they were actually in the city, they provided a welcome respite.
The fight was still on, however. The Batarians didn't want to lose their slaves. Besides, a group of fifteen soldiers defending hundreds was a lot easier to fight than skitarii. Many of the Batarians, caught in between the two groups, had immediately decided to run from the dreaded soldiers of the Mechanicus. They would take their chances trying to force a breakout through Commander Shepard than they would trying to fight the Tech-Guard.
As of now, the Kodiak was on its fourth trip up. There were still hundreds more slaves to be saved. John only hoped the skitarii would mop things up quickly, and no reinforcements would come from other cities on the planet. This was supposed to be a quick in and out, not a prolonged battle.
Reaching to his belt, John pulled the pin on one of the Mechanicus-provided frag grenades and lobed in towards a pair of Batarians cowering behind a wall. The freed prisoners who joined the Normandy's crew either looked at the things with almost hostile suspicion, or picked them up and started throwing with gleeful abandon. John could only grin at both reactions.
From ahead of him, John suddenly heard the gunfire increase. Interspersed with the whizzing whine of mass accelerator fire were the sharp hissing cracks of galvanic rifles. John's grin only grew wider.
The Batarians in front of him yelled in alarm before their cries were cut short with unpleasant gurgling noises. A skitarii slid around the corner, galvanic rifle at the ready. Finding no enemies, he lowered it and tilted his head, apparently speaking to his comrades in binary. A few of the liberated slaves cried out in alarm from far behind John, unsure of what this new development was. The rest of the soldiers with the Normandy's ground team stood warily. John lowered his hellgun and advanced.
The original skitarii that had rounded the corner, labeled 125, lowered his weapon and stepped into the open air of the central market. A few more skitarii, clad in black, scarlet, and violet, followed. They stopped for a moment, then straightened.
Another skitarii, this one bearing far more embellished armored plates, rounded the corner. The skitarii's robe had intricate patterns and designs of the Cult embroidered throughout it. Instead of the normal contingent of skitarii longarms, it held a plasma pistol and some strange baton, topped with a skull and cogwheel.
The rest of the normal skitarii alongside 125 followed the newcomer at a respectful distance. Marching in flawless lockstep, they held their weapons comfortably, ready for any trouble that may present itself. The leader took in the sight of the scar-pitted market center as she made a beeline for John.
"Greetings, Commander Shepard," she began, metallic voice filling the silent air of the market. "I am Marshal Sine-Kappa-13." She glanced around. "It seems as if you have done well." She looked over at one of the first Batarian casualties: a jump of quivering flesh-jelly. "I see unit Ki-Quadrata-479 is serving you well." John looked around. He hadn't seen Dimitri for a while. Ah, well. That was usually how it went. Dimitri would come back. Eventually. He always did.
"It seems you've done well yourself," he replied with a relieved grin. If the skitarii marshal was here, it meant she wasn't needed elsewhere. The Mechanicus was cleaning up the remaining Batarians that posed a threat. "Thanks for your help." Sine-Kappa gave a curt nod.
"Indeed." Her gaze moved past Shepard and to the liberated prisoners. She regarded the freed soldiers who fought with the Normandy's crew for a moment, then turned back to John. "We have rescued all Quarians who were taken from the Geera back aboard the Omnissiah's Blade."
"Sounds good," replied Shepard with a nod. With the Quarians going aboard the Blade, it meant less work and more room aboard the Normandy. "We'll finish up here. We still need to load-"
"Commander!"
-oh, what now? John sighed. He was sure Joker wouldn't interrupt him unless it was extremely important. Usually, when the Normandy's pilot had that tone of voice, something very bad or very strange was about to happen.
"Go ahead Joker," replied John.
"We have Reaper signatures inbound! Hundreds of them!" There was fear in Joker's voice; true fear that broke his usual icy calm. "The invasion has begun…" The pilot's voice trailed off, unable to continue. John whirled around. Behind him, the faces of hundreds of freed slaves looked at him with hope. The liberated soldiers, attuned to the Normandy's comm system, looked around with hollow eyes. The Reapers. Commander Shepard had warned them about this four years ago, and now the prophecy was coming true.
"Right!" called John, snapping everyone out of their thoughts. "We need to get them," he gestured to the prisoners, "Out." Turning to Sine-Kappa, he pointed the forefinger of his Mechanicus prosthetic arm at her. "We're going to need as many shuttles as you have-"
"Our mission has already been completed," replied Sine-Kappa calmly. Several of the skitarii behind her were already walking away. "The Quarians we have been sent here for are already back aboard the Blade." John stared at her in shock. Yes, the Mechanicus was a cold, logical, and occasionally callous organization, but from what he saw of them, they weren't cruel. Not like this. As Sine-Kappa turned away, John stepped forward and grabbed her robe. Spinning her around, he snarled and grabbed her collar.
"Listen," he said with deadly calm. "I know your master. Fabricator General Natrius would not be pleased that you are leaving people here. I am not pleased that you are leaving people here. So what you're going to do is simple." Even behind his helmet, his eyes seemed to shine with fury. "You are going to get. Them. Out." For a moment, Sine-Kappa said nothing. Her body suddenly convulsed. Confused, John let go of her collar and stepped back. Straightening out, Sine-Kappa cracked her neck and looked at John in a way no skitarii ever had.
"Commander Shepard," came the voice of Fabricator General Natrius from Sine-Kappa's mouth. John winced. He wasn't entirely comfortable with the idea of Natrius possessing people. Still, the Fabricator General's voice possessed an ounce of warmth the skitarii marshal's had not. "Please forgive the Marshal. She's not entirely used to missions such as these." Sine-Kappa, or rather Natrius, twisted her head around to stare at the slaves. "It shall be as you say," said Natrius, turning back to John. "Leaving these people for the Reapers is not only a waste, it is wrong. My shuttles are coming. Fear not." So saying, Natrius left the body of Sine-Kappa.
oOo
High in orbit, aboard the Omnissiah's Blade, Fabricator General Felis Natrius paced. His spindly metallic legs made soft clicking noises as they hit the metal of the bridge's floor. Countless servitors waddled through the bridge, squeaking in binary or waving incense over the cogitator banks. All save those performing rites were hard-plugged into the Omnissiah's Blade itself. It was their duty to run the systems of the massive starship.
Next to them, Tech-Priests, robed in the colors of the Adas forge, walked throughout the cogitator banks. They oversaw the most critical systems, those that could not be trusted to the feeble brains of mere servitors. Several performed rites or maintenance on the systems and servitors of the bridge. Everything was moving with clockwork precision: precisely how a vessel of the Adeptus Mechanicus should operate.
Natrius looked up to Captain Genildri, commander of the Blade. She stared into empty space, plugged into the systems of the ark mechanicus so that she might be better able to direct the starship. Natrius frowned again.
The evacuation had proceeded without a hitch. Nearly the entire contingent of the Blade's smaller transports had landed at Kulmetal and gotten the liberated slaves out with no trouble. Commander Shepard and his team had been some of the last ones out. Currently, the Normandy was streaking away from Erszbat. It carried what prisoners had been liberated by its ground team. The rest were aboard the Blade, in one of its massive hangars. To be rather blunt, Natrius had not expected to house so many freed slaves. He did not necessarily want so many not of the Cult Mechanicus aboard his ship. However, he was loath to leave them for the Reapers.
The Reapers themselves fell upon Erszbat like a swarm of locust. They began their dread assault on the planet as Natrius and the Normandy's crew watched. Already, the Blade was picking up transmissions from the planet. Natrius gleefully ignored them. Let the Batarians die.
None of the Reapers had come close to the Blade. None of them had gone to Kulmetal while the shadow of the ark mechanicus hung in the sky above the city. Whether they feared the Blade's guns, were simply waiting for it to leave, or had a more devious strategy up their sleeves, Natrius did not know. What he did know was that any Reaper foolish enough to get within range would be obliterated. However, either way, he wasn't sticking around long enough to find out.
With a mental command from Genildri, the Blade turned away from the doomed planet. Its huge plasma engines propelled it through space, swiftly moving towards a point where they could jump away. Word of the Reapers' coming must be brought back to the galaxy at large. Plans must be put into action. Behind his metal faceplate, Natrius allowed himself a small smile. The forces of the Imperium and Mechanicus would route the Reapers, no doubt. Now, the only problem was to find the best way to put his government at an advantage…
+My lord,+ buzzed a servitor. +Warp portal opening at point 947-939-511.+ Natrius whirled around and brought up a picture of the space around Erszbat and the Blade in the noosphere. Surely enough, a Warp portal was opening exactly where the servitor said it would be. Natrius frowned. There wasn't supposed to be anyone else from his home galaxy here, was there? No one outside of his reality had that type of technology. Perhaps it was Archmagos Cawl, leading the Serendipity against the Reaper horde?
That brief flicker of hope was immediately dashed when Natrius saw the vessel exiting the portal. It was thirty-five kilometers long, far larger than any starship Natrius had seen in his time as an explorator captain. A massive cannon, at least two kilometers long, was mounted above the ship.
What was far worse was the strange, twisted architecture of the ship. Its edges were coated with rust and other bizarre unknown substances. The vessel utterly dwarfed the Omnissiah's Blade. What the thirteen kilometer long ark mechanicus was to the dreadnaughts of this galaxy, this new ship was to the Blade. Natrius immediately realized that this ship was not friendly. In fact, it was perhaps the farthest thing from friendly that could appear at this moment.
His worst fears were confirmed as the vessel turned towards the Reapers. Displayed on its side was the dreaded sigil of the Dark Mechanicum.
+Captain Genildri!+ he shouted in binary. +Find out what that ship is! Immediately!
+Yes, my lord,+ replied Genildri urgently. She began to peruse through ancient data banks and memory vaults. A ship that size had to be known by the Imperium or Mechanicus. It was unmistakable. Of course, it could have been built by the Dark Mechanicum in secret, which would be far worse…
+Navigator! Steersman! Prepare for immediate Warp jump!+ ordered Natrius. +We cannot fight that thing. We must bring word back that the Dark Mechanicum has arrived.+ The Fabricator General of Adas turned and began rattling off binaric commands to the bridge servitors and Priests.
+My lord,+ interrupted Genildri. Natrius turned towards her. +I have found a match.+
+Well? What is it?+ replied Natrius impatiently.
+My lord…+ For the first time since he'd known her, Genildri displayed a note of fear in her emotionless metallic voice. +The records… are sealed.+ She turned to look directly into Natrius's eyes. +By Mars. Under the Seal of the Fabricator General.+ At this point, Natrius faced a choice. If he was to poke further, the wrath of the Red Planet might very well bear down directly on him. He was on somewhat unstable ground already, working with xenos and the like. What the Fabricator General of the Mechanicus might tolerate definitely did not include breaking the Seal of Mars. Natrius gave strained laugh. It was ironic that he could get away with working with xenos, but not accessing the Mechanicus' own records.
However, Fabricator General Natrius was, above all, a Tech-Priest. The goal of Tech-Priests was to seek enlightenment along the Path of Knowledge. They always desired information. Natrius needed to know. Besides, the lords of the Red Planet would want to know precisely what starship he had seen, would they not? Natrius made his decision.
+Captain Genildri, you have my personal permission to open the records. Site emergency override by the rank of Fabricator General on a level Alpha-Black basis, and input my personal codes.+ There was a slight delay as Genildri did as she was commanded.
"All hands, brace for Warp jump," announced the steersman over the Blade's internal address system. Natrius looked over to him, then back to Genildri. He almost did a double-take. Genildri, despite possessing no facial muscles, and, indeed, no face, looked horrible. She stared at her lord with a haunted, haggard look.
+Captain Genildri?+ asked Natrius, concerned. +Are you alright.+
+The ship…+ whispered Genildri. She cleared her throat hoarsely, despite physically not needing to. Her blue and red optics stared up at Natrius with anguish. +The ship is Olympus Mons… flagship of Arch-Heretek Kelbor-Hal.+ Natrius had to lock his legs in place to prevent himself from falling over. Around him, the shutters of the bridge closed as the Omnissiah's Blade transitioned into the Warp.
Natrius hardly felt it. He stepped backwards. Kelbor-Hal. Arch Heretek Kelbor-Hal. The treasonous leader of the Mechanicum in the days of the Great Crusade. A man whose crimes rivaled that of the Warmaster himself. The ancient shame of the Mechanicus. One of the deadliest beings in creation. When he spoke, Natrius's voice was a whisper. It seemed to echo throughout the all-encompassing silence of the bridge.
"Send a message to Mars and to Archmagos Cawl." Natrius spoke in Gothic, not binary, so shocked that he was. "Tell them. Tell them of what we saw. Send them our proof, our records. Tell them that Arch Heretek Kelbor-Hal is here, and apparently leading the Reapers. Tell them… we need aid."
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Codex:
The Olympus Mons:
The Olympus Mons is the flagship of renegade and Arch-Heretek Fabricator General Kelbor-Hal. A full thirty-five kilometers long, it is a relic of Old Night and the ancient power of the now-defunct Mechanicum. Upon his ascension to Fabricator General of Mars during the Great Crusade, Kelbor-Hal decided to take this ancient ark mechanicus as his own flagship. While Hal rarely traveled from his forge deep beneath the Martian mountains, he believed a man of his office ought to possess a starship to match it.
Indeed, the Olympus fulfills that role. Larger than any of the Gloriana-class battleships of the Primarchs, the Olympus Mons is only outclassed by Abyss-class battleships, the Emperor of Mankind's own flagship, or the rare and ancient relics of humanity's Golden Age. With its firepower upgraded by the forges of Mars and supplemented by dark secrets from the Vaults of Moravec, the Olympus is more than a match for almost anything that sails the void.
oOo
There we have it! I hope you liked it. I hope you all enjoyed the fluffy parts, the Batarians being smacked, and the Reapers finally coming! The war begins. I thank you all for your wonderful reviews. If you have any comments, criticisms, concerns, questions, or reviews, please, send 'em in! I love to hear from all of you, and hope you enjoyed this chapter and will enjoy the next!