Fehl Prime (12/11/2183)
In the aftermath of the attack on Terra Nova, the SA had naturally upped the existing security measures for all important (and even most of the second-tier) colonies and outposts; the demands on manpower, ships, and construction materials stretching the budget, the reserves, and the people themselves to the breaking point (and in some cases, beyond). The witch hunt against the scapegoats for the batarian attack's success did not help, either. The constant high readiness state, the frequent drills, the jumping at shadows, and the gearing up for a retaliatory strike (or, to borrow from the ever-diplomatic Fleet Master, "the campaign to finally erase those four-eyed bastards from the galaxy") were leaving the troops tired physically and emotionally, much more prone to make mistakes. Those who had the training and endurance, as well as the responsibility to prevent such mistakes, like the N7s (Deltas included), were run ragged trying to prevent major breakdowns - a losing fight, made even worse by the government's attempts at getting more everyday control over these few remaining special assets, after putting both ONI and the AIS under direct, close senatorial oversight.
The Alliance's cyberwarfare experts worked round the clock to prevent similar breakdowns as at Terra Nova, rebuffing assistance from the Council in general, and the salarians and quarians in particular; the unspoken assertion was that the STG simply wanted to build in some convenient backdoors, while the quarians were just touted as a strawman for the STG and the Spectres. No, the Alliance had enough experts on their own, and they would figure out and deploy the proper countermeasures. Naturally, this being a project with government oversight, both internal military and external industrial lobbying was working against the project - otherwise, the cybersecurity experts could certainly have created the proper updates, plugged the backdoors, built in some more traps and countermeasures, likely implemented better intrusion detection algorithms. Sure, time was a scarce resource, but the SA's experts did their level best to uphold and exceed the standards set by people like Turing or Ishikawa.
Of course, these reactions were to a degree, predictable to military and intelligence personnel across the galaxy. Those more insightful into the human psyche could even glimpse and speculate correctly on the backroom politicking and power struggles as well. But there were very, very few beings on the galactic scene who had, as of the previous few months, a vested interest in keeping the SA off-balance, weakened - while remaining hidden in shadows, using only catspaws, information, the occasional assassination, but mostly money. And, as the events within the Alliance proceeded reasonably within the forecasts of the desired scenario, even the ever-paranoid network of agents grew just a tad more lax - and that, coupled with the admittedly well-earned confidence in their own abilities, resulted in just a few oversights.
Simple things, really, nothing major, nothing too overt or covert. Yet those mistakes were made, and the time to pay for those minor oversights was approaching fast. And, as so often happens, the payment would be extracted in blood. Well, blood and credibility - after all, the effectiveness and reach of the Broker Network was a well-known fact, and to even consider that the agents in that made mistakes with such catastrophic results was laughable. Unless, of course, the Broker had been playing both sides of the conflict.
The attack on Fehl Prime should have been a relative cakewalk for Archuk's Blood Pack forces, especially since with the chaotic deployments and hectic schedules of the SA forces, the regular garrison had been shrunk down to a mere full-strength brigade, instead of the usual reinforced divisions. Despite the vocal opposition of Fleet Master Sheridan, naval assets were also reduced, leaving only a cruiser squadron with frigate support, the carrier task force having been redirected to join up with the Fourth Fleet along the Hegemony's border. The only reinforcements remaining on-planet were five N-level squads, to provide security for the research center and the Prothean communication relay.
Agents of the Broker had once again done an admirable job of gathering data and ensuring that the attacking force would not be detected in time, and the naval patrol would be out of position for an interception of the Blood Pack fleet at any rate. The ground-to-space defenses were quietly manipulated, the targeting software modified to ignore specific transponder codes - which, coincidentally, belonged to a number of vessels acquired when Omega fell to Garm and his lieutenants. To further hedge their bets, the vessels were then retrofitted with ECM technology provided by the bug-like associates of the Broker; claiming (and confirming with a few live-fire tests) that these would provide adequate protection against Council ships at least long enough that ramming or boarding could become feasible.
Of course, the Blood Pack was more interested in actually occupying (or at the very least, razing and sacking) the colony, and for that, ground troops were needed, in no small numbers. After all, even with the understrength military defenders, this was a human colony in the Terminus Systems, so likely even the "regular" citizens were combat-capable, not to mention that it would be inexcusable stupidity to underestimate the proficiency and bravery of the SA marines. No, when the operation was planned, Warleader Archuk insisted on a significant numerical superiority - and with the new allies, the Blood Pack certainly was not lacking in numbers.
Thus, when the troop transports landed, a howling green tide of barely-contained krorks flooded from the dark depths of the ships, brandishing crude slugthrowers, krogan-manufactured guns and heavy melee weapons. The sound erupting from the thousands of throats was a primal call to fight, to war, to slaughter, the very air seeming to crackle with green-tinged energy as the horde charged the defences of the colony. Hundreds of vorcha accompanied them, to provide fire support with heavy weapons and flamers, while the dozens of krogan, the true Blood Pack members, who were supposed to lead and direct the mindless warbeasts, were too caught up in their own blood rage, almost all of them forgetting about little things like plans, tactics, or strategy. Some older, more experienced krogan mercenaries managed to keep enough control to at least direct the tidal wave of hulking brutes towards the defenders, certain in the knowledge that not even turian soldiers, never mind Alliance marines could hold the line against such numbers and violence.
Warleader Archuk was, for a brief moment, content that his achievement in soon razing the colony would finally get him the recognition as a proper Battlemaster.
And then, it all went wrong for the attackers.
While the colony itself may have been protected by a single brigade, the Shadow Broker's operatives failed to mention that these marines were equipped with the best weaponry and armor produced by the SA, instead of the cheap gear usually assigned to garrison units, that they were reinforced with squads of N-level soldiers, and commanded by the Heroine of Elysium herself - and unlike during the Skyllian Blitz, Irina Pavlichenko had time to plan her defences.
Automated sentry turrets popped up from beneath the causeways, their fire cutting lines into the onrushing horde. Snipers joined in, concentrating on those wielding heavy weapons and visible leaders. Kinetic barriers snapped up, sparks of electricity arcing from their surface, sending attackers spasming uncontrollably or outright frying them as the reactors were spooled up to a higher output. Electronic noise flooded the comm channels of the Blood Pack, forcing them to rely on more crude methods of communication or to increase the signal strength of their equipment - and the latter was gleefully rewarded by the defenders with artillery strikes. Biotic explosions and singularities tore into the mass of krorks, flinging bodies (or parts of them) with careless abandon. Techmines engaged under the feet of the attackers, the explosions scything down dozens of mercenaries, or turning them into burning torches.
For just a moment, the attacking wave was stopped, milling in confusion at the unexpected onslaught - and then, a biotic blur slammed into a blood-mad, howling krogan brute exhorting his troops, and the battlefield echoed with the wild laughter of Tela Vasir, as her blue-limned fist tore off the mercenary's head, her shotgun tearing a path of ruin into the press of green bodies. Then she was gone again in a blur, racing amidst the Blood Pack, always a step before the impending death, taunting, enraging the bloodthirsty beasts, yet appealing to their primal instincts, challenging and slaughtering all who tried to stand before her.
Elsewhere on the battlefield, a turian clad in power armor flickered into existence for a brief moment, the built-in omniblade of the armor bisecting a roaring krork before burning a path across the throat of another. With a flare of jumpjets, the turian was off, snapping off a shot that exploded the fuel tank of a vorcha flamethrower. Before the mercenaries could react, the cloaking field flickered, and only a very faint haze of distorted air remained where Nihlus Kryik had been previously, the Spectre already gone to reap a bloody tally elsewhere.
Warleader Archuk, understandably furious, but still confident that the situation could be turned around (not an unreasonable assumption - after all, the Blood Pack still had an immense numerical advantage), attempted to contact his fleet, to provide orbital support; or if necessary, simply bombard the colony.
Unfortunately for him, the vessels that ferried his forces to Fehl Prime, and broke orbit to deal with the two SA cruisers speeding towards the planet were rather preoccupied, when the SSV Everest and her task force emerged from behind the secondary moon of Fehl Prime. Captain Langley did not waste her time with platitudes or demands for surrender, and the dreadnought's positron cannon lit up with murderous fury, the incandescent beam cleaving the largest Blood Pack cruiser apart, before the fighters from the Tsiolkovsky and her sister swarmed over the rag-tag ships, overwhelming their point defense systems with sheer weight of fire and numbers.
Despite the rapid destruction, one of the Blood Pack ships managed to punch through the SA jamming, and send out a distress call. With the pseudo-motion of an FTL jump, three immense shapes appeared over Fehl Prime - seemingly dreadnought-sized asteroids with a disturbingly organic signature, despite the metallic superstructure protruding from the hulls.
Aboard the Everest, Captain Langley glared at her tactical plot, her mind racing through the sketchy details the Navy had on these bastards - basically the few sensor recordings of the Normandy and the Orizaba. With a growl, she forced down her instinctual reaction, her voice pure ice as she gave orders - and silently swore to whatever gods were watching that if the insane plan did not work, she would tear apart the idiot who came up with it using her bare hands. And she just hoped that she would not lose too many of her people to the feint.
Following her command, the SA task force moved to disengage at flank speed, the ship patterns and outbound trajectories suggesting a rattled command, a desire to avoid action even at the cost of sacrificing a number of fighters, who were screening the withdrawal of the capital ships. The Captain's mouth was a hard, thin line, both her real and artificial eye burning as she saw icon after icon disappearing from the plot. At the very least, the Collectors seemed to be content in sending her ships packing, with only a single rock-like vessel keeping an eye on them, following them with a sedate but implacable speed, while the other two were heading towards the colony.
For all the costs she and her pilots would have to bear, the insane plan just might work.
Warleader Archuk could not and would not contain the gleeful, bloodthirsty laughter as he watched the display relayed from the ragged survivors from orbit. The arrival of the three bug ships had obviously badly rattled the humans, the SA vessels scrambling to withdraw - obviously, they did not want to tangle with ships that tore their precious Spectre's vessel apart without any problems. As two of the hulking ships descended towards the colony, shimmering kinetic barriers deflecting most of the fire from the still-functional AA and GTS batteries; and even the shots that penetrated did not seem to do more than pockmark the rocklike hulls with new craters here and there.
Shortly before landing, both ships vomited forth black clouds, that drifted towards the colony, the faint buzzing of insectile wings audible as the swarms came closer, larger shapes emerging from the ships in the distance, as the bugs themselves came out to play.
Now, he could finally see for himself how well these creepy bastards handled themselves in a fight, if they were truly worthy of the Blood Pack's support - or if Garm was just a blinded fool to throw his lot in with them.
The SA marines were prepared for quite a lot of different situations, and with the N-level operatives attached to the companies, they did manage to stand up quite well to the rather surprising and seemingly overwhelming Blood Pack assault, and have, in fact, managed to start pushing them back; all this with relatively few casualties and confusion. The first minute of the Collector attack, despite the careful planning and preparation, still almost overwhelmed them.
The humans did expect their enemies to have flying units. The powerful, portable particle beams were also no surprise, even if their efficiency against kinetic barriers was better than worst-case scenarios estimated. What nobody could expect was the paralyzing effect of the seeker swarms, made even worse by military-grade kinetic barriers presenting absolutely no obstacle to them, as many soldiers found out just a bit too late - and the Blood Pack were more than eager to capitalize on the sudden wavering of the defenders, as the mercenaries surged forward in a howling, fight-crazed tide, tearing apart or simply gunning down paralyzed soldiers.
If not for the biotics and the N7 Deltas on site, the chaotic, confused first minute may well have escalated into a panicked rout, elite marine status be damned. When the biotic barriers proved to hold off the swarms, Pavlichenko's specialists managed to come up with an insane, dangerous, but at least working solution to the swarms; apparently, a jury-rigged reconfiguration of the kinetic barrier generators to dump electricity over the hardsuit's outer surface was enough to prevent the nanomachines to remain functional enough to paralyze - with the drawback that it deprived the person from the protection offered by the kinetic barrier.
Still, there was no hesitation in the voice of Irina Pavlichenko when she gave the command for her troops to do the adaptation; after all, even without the barriers, they were well-trained, experienced veterans, and now, they had a fighting chance again.
That was all the marines needed - and once again, the tides of roaring mercenaries advancing under the strangely flickering, somehow muted greenish halo, were met with precise, disciplined fire from the defenders, stopping the savage horde cold, even without artillery support. Sure, more and more marines fell down, hardsuits ruptured by unimpeded biotic fields, boiled alive by direct inferno grenade hits, limbs or body parts torn off by usually-deflected bullets, beaten down and torn apart by howling, green-skinned beasts drunk on slaughter, cut apart by yellow-tinged particle beams fired from disturbingly organic guns. Despite all the disadvantages, seemingly heedless of the sharply decreased chances of their survival, the marines fought, the marines bled, the marines died - but above all else, the marines held the line.
Irina threw herself into cover, the flying bastard's particle beam cutting into plasteel barely a few inches from her. A quick check to ensure that her rifle's heatsink has cooled down enough, before she leaned out just enough, and the high-powered shot from the oversized Widow turned the upper body of the hovering, too-slow Collector into a geyser of organic paste. She ducked and rolled to avoid the incoming fire from the other bugs hunting her, racing just a bit before the chasing beams, as she maglocked her sniper rifle, and unshipped her Valkyrie, thumbing the ammo selector, then took down another pursuer with two well-placed short bursts of disruptor rounds.
She cursed silently, as she raced onwards, the battlemap in her mind getting more and more outdated as she was forced to prioritize acting as a soldier instead of being a commander - while the Blood Pack was uncaring enough, the Collectors were quick to identify officers and specialists, especially Deltas like her, for some reason. Before she was forced to quit her command center, the reports from all over the colony painted the same picture; while the marines managed to fight the mercenaries and bugs to a precarious standstill, casualties were mounting, and with the Collectors dispatching dedicated hunter-killer teams to take down the commanders, it would be only a matter of time before her forces were overwhelmed.
She thought about transferring command to Nihlus, as the turian did have enough experience to lead a force this size, but her last communication with him indicated that both him and Tela were also being hunted. Perhaps if she dropped off the comm channels, ceased broadcasting and coordinating her troops on the run, she could give her pursuers the slip. In any other circumstances, or even an hour or two earlier, she would have done so, the brief loss of oversight and control not presenting a major issue. Here and now, though, she did not want to risk that; not when her soldiers were barely keeping it together as it was.
Her brief musing was interrupted when her suit sensors alerted her to something - a moment later, her Widow was in her hands, the scope magnifying the closing object, and she cursed. The thing looked like a Mako-sized bug, which would have been bad enough on its own, but the telltale shimmering of a kinetic barrier and the deep furrow its particle beam burned into the ground (when not carving through plasteel, body armor, or IFV hull) as it fired on the defenders made it just that much worse - and, her luck being what it was, the thing brought at least four of its friends along. She stiffened for a heartbeat, the rangefinder and her battlemap confirming her suspicion, before she raced off, a snapshot sending a concussive round through the eye of a too-eager Collector. Blink-clicking a comm channel open, she fired off a warning along with a data packet to the two Spectres and her Delta squadleaders.
As she suspected, the leading bug-tank flew straight towards her, shrugging off the sparse weapons fire thrown at it. She smiled viciously, as she braced herself, the Widow again unshipping in her hands. A quick check on the ammo selection, a minor adjustment to the ammo block usage, then the oversized sniper rifle roared its fury, the two shots only separated by the merest fraction of a second, just long enough for switching the ammo type. The disrupter round fired first brought down the bug's kinetic barrier with a crackle of electricity, just in time for the inferno round to burn through the thick armor plating.
The bug-tank opened its front and screeched, the air distorting from the pained howl of the technorganic creature, as it dropped down, its impact throwing up clouds of dirt, the barrier around it shimmering into existence again. With a half-bitten curse, Irina moved.
As usual, time slowed down for her, as she raced closer, zigzagging ahead of the particle beams chasing her, the maw of the technorganic tank yawning open in a vengeful howl echoed by the scores of skulls within its depths, its high-powered cannon blazing with incandescent light, ready to cleave her apart.
She lazily swayed aside from the beam, her assault rifle unfolding in her left hand, sending bursts of disruptor rounds chipping away the thing's barrier as Irina danced between the shots from her pursuers, moving to keep the living tank between them, before pressing the muzzle of the Widow to an armored joint. The inferno round tore off the limb, unbalancing the huge Collector for less than a second - but that was more than enough for an N7. Maglocking her Valkyrie again, her omniblade ignited, biting deep into another leg joint, before a kick sent the halfway-torn limb flying. With a vicious, predatory grin, she circled, speeding up even more, her movements a blur as her implants kicked into overdrive.
The Collector opened its maw again, to roar or spit a beam of death at her, she did not care - she unclipped and primed a brace of grenades with a lightning-fast motion, hurling them into the gullet of the biomechanical tank, already circling towards its back while the grenades were in the air, her Widow booming its fury, the inferno round melting its way through the thing's armor - and then her grenades went off within the belly of the beast.
The explosion sent her flying, and she barely managed to hang on to her sniper rifle despite the rough landing against a half-melted Mako. Pain flared in her body as even reinforced bones cracked with the impact, yet she forced herself to her feet, command channel open once again as she pelted towards cover, issuing commands.
Aboard the Everest, Captain Langley closed her eyes for a moment in relief as the signal from the surface arrived. Then, with a smile that belonged to a predator of the oceanic depths, she entered new commands, her task force turning back towards Fehl Prime and accelerating, the ship's lights flickering as the barrier configuration changed.
The Collector cruiser moved to a proper intercept course with a slow confidence despite being technically outnumbered, the firing chamber of its particle cannon igniting with baleful yellow light.
Then, with the pseudomotion of an FTL jump, Admiral Vipsania's task force dropped in-system, and practically immediately a blood-red beam of molten metal accelerated to an appreciable fraction of lightspeed lanced out from the Stalwart, carving a deep furrow into the Collector ship's hull.
The arrival of the turian task force marked the final stages of the battle of Fehl Prime. In orbit, the Stalwart and Erebus tore the surviving few Blood Pack ships apart, only the Collector cruiser managing to put up effective resistance - though that would be understating it. Both Council dreadnoughts suffered serious damage, the new cyclonic barriers not enough to deter the particle beams of the enemy, while the positron cannon and the Thanix cannon were not powerful enough to easily penetrate the focused defenses of the Collector cruiser. One-on-one, both Vipsania and Langley would have been hard pressed to get a stalemate against the level of firepower and endurance the rocklike ship brought to bear. With the two of them working in concert, bringing their task forces to bear, victory was only a matter of time. Sadly, they did not have that in abundance, as the other two Collector cruisers, after extracting the surviving ground forces, were lifting up from the atmosphere, their kinetic barriers shimmering under the barrage of AA and GTS fire, explosions pockmarking their hulls. The battered third asteroid-ship started pulling away, concentrating only on evasion and defense, hoping that the Council vessels would be deterred by the incoming reinforcements. The two dreadnoughts did break off - after their parting barrage scored direct hits on the Collector cruiser's drive, sending the rocklike vessel tumbling. The Tsiolkovsky followed it, her fighters and bombers harassing the bugs, keeping them occupied, trying to prevent jury-rigged repairs.
The two ships lifting out from the gravity well were met by a crimson beam of hyperaccelerated molten metal, the beam tearing into the leading ship, punching through its barrier. The cruiser would have survived the hit without major issues - if not for the three C-type torpedoes slamming into its forefront with split-second timing. Howling, giggling vortices of white unlight blossomed along the hull, tentacles burrowing into metal, rock, and organic materials alike, all beginning to turn into a dull, flaking grey dust - before the second shot from the Thanix cannon impacted. High in the stratosphere of Fehl Prime, a yawning maelstrom of riotous, unnameable colors blossomed into existence for a fraction of a second, the barrier between the higher dimensions collapsing on itself, the brief whirlpool of unreality imploding with a thunderous detonation, the shockwave sending people and vehicles flying down at the colony, its echoes clawing into the minds of the crewmembers aboard the two dreadnoughts, breaking discipline, composure, sanity, turning dozens into drooling vegetables or slavering animals to be put down. Of the two Collector cruisers, not a trace remained - and a minute later, the harassed, limping third vessel exploded as well, taking several SA fighters with it.
Hours later, in the ruined, burnt-out husk of the command center, two turians, two humans, and an asari were grimly contemplating a stack of datapads scattered below a flickering holoscreen. Normally, none of the five would have advocated such a hasty meeting, especially given the severity of the situation and the delicate matters involved - yet precisely for that reason, all of them were agreed that the faster they did the debriefing and analysis, the quicker the Council could respond. And, in their estimates, time was even more of the essence than they thought before the battle.
"Irina, how bad are the casualties?" Nihlus' voice was tired, with an undercurrent of emotion that few humans would have believed from a turian.
"Worst I have seen." The blonde woman's voice was calm, professional, only the occasional facial tick betraying her composure. "More than two thousand of my people are dead, with another five hundred or so too badly wounded to ever fight again." She chuckled, a mirthless, grim sound. "Or really, to walk or live again, honestly. I have close to a thousand seriously wounded, leaving me with maybe two-three hundred effectives. From the two N7 squads, five people survived, only one of them Delta-level; the Collectors hunted them specifically, more aggressively than even officers. The colony defenses are shot to hell, and we are lucky that the civilian casualties are not much worse than what my marines lost. I haven't checked the records yet, but I suspect the only SA operation with worse casualty numbers was Torfan."
The table's edge creaked under Captain Langley's bionic hand, but before she could open her mouth, Tela spoke up.
"Don't blame yourself, Irina." Her eyes glowed still with the excitement of battle, but her voice carried the experience of centuries spent on the field of battle. "If anything, you should be proud of your people - I can name only a handful of other units and commanders who could have pulled off something like this, especially after the bug's little paralyzing trick."
"I concur with Spectre Vasir." Langley's voice was harsh, the words clipped, driven by barely-restrained fury. "Nevertheless, the Captain will be publicly vilified by the media and some higher-ups inside the SA. After all, with her achievements at Elysium, this should have been a cakewalk for her." The redhead closed her eyes, the table creaking under her fingers again. "She will be a scapegoat, just like Shepard was after Torfan. Nobody will care about the sketchy intel, the enemy forces, the unknown tricks. And with the uproar against the N7s, she'll be thrown to the wolves, forced to ..." With widening eyes, the naval captain took a step backwards, her eyes narrowing at the blonde N7, a disbelieving smirk on her face.
"Is there something you might want to share, Captain Langley?" There was a trace of amusement in Admiral Vipsania's voice, as her mandibles flared in a grin. The redhead glared at the turian, before she answered, her voice cold.
"While I do acknowledge the need for operational secrecy, I do not appreciate being kept in the dark when I have to sacrifice my people. I am aware that this was primarily an attempt at rooting out the Shadow Broker's agents and doing some weapons testing," she inclined her head towards the turian admiral "but there should have been more forces groundside, with possibly mech and armor support, air assets, the works. And if that's obvious to me, then Fleet Master Sheridan, or someone like Colonel Pavlichenko would not miss such details." She took a deep breath, visibly fighting to keep calm. "That fact, in addition to the practically inevitable political shitstorm the SA government will create leads me to suspect that the whole operation had some other, even more secretive goal - and now that we are done here, I want to know what that is." Human and bionic eye glowing alike, she stared at the other four. "I want to know why so many of my people had to die. I want to know why you sacrificed over three thousand marines; surely not simply for intel and weapon testing. And apart from that, I can only see this whole thing being good for is to drag down Colonel Pavlichenko, at a time when the SA would desperately need her best people."
Langley's face contorted into a menacing scowl as she glared at the quietly, one might say, smugly grinning foursome around the table. Nihlus spoke up, his mandibles still twitching with amusement, but his voice and gaze were both serious.
"Ask yourself, Captain Langley - with the political climate back on Earth being what it is, with the witch hunts against officers who have certain talents; what do you think, how long the Colonel would have lasted, before she was … disappeared?"
Langley shot him a furious glare, a scathing retort on her tongue, then she controlled herself with a visible effort, sighed, and conceded the Spectre's point with a nod. The turian went on.
"So, she came up with this whole idea, and your Fleet Master agreed - and so did the head of the Public Security Section."
"Wait, what? Why would that skulking asshole be involved?"
Tela took over.
"Because he is already in on the whole thing, my dear." Amused blue eyes met the human's glare, and the asari went on. "I am willing to drag you into this cloak-and-dagger stuff, if only for the extra benefits someone like you would bring" - her gaze wandered appreciatively over the redhead, as Nihlus groaned and Pavlichenko facepalmed with an exasperated sigh. Tela's voice became serious, her whole posture shifting from lazy sensuality to predatory, and none of them missed the small flash of her omnitool as a privacy field went up, or the barely-visible control gesture of a biotic barrier. "But if you do want to join us, there will be no way back, not until this whole Reaper thing of Shepard either ends with a victory parade of the Council forces, or with him committed to an asylum for paranoid delusions."
Pavlichenko shook her head, a small smile on her lips.
"The second one might happen regardless of the Reapers, Tela. Alex does have a tendency for coming across as insane."
Captain Langley's eyes narrowed at the blonde woman's choice of words, her mind racing, rumors flitting across her memory, and she fought to suppress a wide grin, yet could not keep it entirely from her voice.
"Well, if that's how things are, count me in."
Citadel, Widow system (14/11/2183)
Donnel Udina was not a happy man these days. Just when he has climbed to what he considered the peak of his career, the place where he could finally achieve something for humanity, the universe seemed to conspire against him. The current, idiotic administration back on Terra had all the tact of a drunken elephant in a china shop, and were too enamored of their own rhetorics. Sure, people like Shepard have amply proven that humanity was more than ready to be one of the key players in the galaxy, but how in the void did that equal to claims of dominance or threats of isolationism was beyond him. If anything, it proved his long-standing suspicion that the main difference between people like him and the current government was that he could learn from the past - and was determined to use any and all means necessary to prevent the idiots back home from pushing the Alliance to the path that brought only ruin and suffering on the batarians … or the more insidious trap the turians fell into, back when they joined the Council. No, he would gladly lie, cheat, manipulate, and even contemplate violent actions to see the SA as one of the key pillars of the Citadel Council, a strong star nation in its own right, one that could forge an independent destiny but chose to build communities. And right now, he needed to do some rather risky dealing to keep the prestige and position humanity has earned - before the SA government decided to yank him out from here, replacing him with a yes-man or a zealot. He silently prayed that his four colleagues were as reasonable as he had estimated.
His office door chimed, and with a practiced smile, he rose to greet the other four Council members, motioning them towards the conference area, quietly checking his omnitool to ensure that the privacy measures he discussed with Bau were indeed in place - and then as he sat down, he placed a small, innocuous trinket to the middle of the coffee table, suppressing a grimace as the thing pricked his hand, greedily drinking his blood. Valern nodded his head just a fraction, the others did not seem to react or notice the byplay, simply discarding the small item as a curio, instead of a useful artifact. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly dry. Was he really going to do this?
"Thank you for coming on such a short notice." Again, he swallowed, struggled with the words for a moment. "I am sure that all of you are quite familiar with the internal strife that is ongoing in the Systems Alliance. Fringe groups, megacorps, religious cults, political parties, borderline terrorist organizations all try to maneuver for more power - and most of them, or at least the loudest ones, all call for humanity to withdraw from the Council. Now, we all know that it would be the height of folly for the SA to do just that. To prevent that disastrous action, or at least mitigate its effects, a certain cabal within the SA has reached out to me, to contact you in turn."
Sparatus tilted his head, his mandibles flaring.
"What I fail to understand, Councilor, is why your Fleet Master Sheridan is not taking more proactive measures to contain the turmoil. From what I know of him and his status within your military, he could easily do it."
"No encouraging of military coups for other star nations, Sparatus." Tevos' voice was light, even as her eyes narrowed at the turian and Udina. "Not everyone idolizes the military mindset as much as you do, and it does have drawbacks and blind spots as well. There's a reason the five of us play this game of checks and balances."
"Any other day, I would concede, Tevos - but this time, considering the looming crisis, I'm honestly advocating just that. For all their issues, the SA military leaders are at the very least competent and can be relied upon to act rationally."
"I disagree. The current crisis in the SA is not as bad as what my people endured three centuries ago, and objectively, a strong, competent and most of all, aggressive military dictatorship might be a more serious threat to our equilibrium than the current civilian government." Zaal'koris interjected. "Though I can certainly understand why you would advocate for it in the short run." He nodded towards Sparatus, the gesture and his voice alike conveying the respect for his colleague.
"Also disagree. Coup messy, wastes resources, chiefly time. Already, military personnel might be compromised." A sharp exhale from Valern, then he went on. "STG would capitalize on such chaos, Collectors and their backers would definitely do the same. Also, do not forget other methods of influencing; remember fate of Benezia and Saren."
Sparatus glared at Valern, but nodded, accepting his point. Udina cleared his throat, and spoke again.
"In the past few months, the most blatant and horrific atrocities, along with the loudest anti-Council and xenophobic messages, were all claimed to originate from an organization that called itself Cerberus. What some of you might not know is that originally, Cerberus had close ties to the highest levels of Alliance military - and worked as a black ops group." He raised a hand to stop the inevitable protests he could see forming from Sparatus and Zaal'koris. "To give you an idea what they were earlier involved in - they were instrumental in the stealth frigate project, as well as Project Aurora." Valern nodded satisfiedly at that, Tevos raised an eyebrow.
"So, I presume this is where you tell us what prompted the rather drastic change in direction, then." Even through the modulator, the voice of Zaal'koris was exceedingly dry, and Udina shot him an unamused glare before triggering his omnitool, and the image of a human male in expensive clothing appeared before them.
"Some of you might recognize Henry Lawson, former Secretary of Education, one of the main movers behind Cerberus."
"Correct me if I'm wrong, Councilors, but isn't Lawson dead?" Sparatus directed his attention at both Udina and Valern, then his gaze sharpened when neither of them showed affirmation or surprise. "So, once again, the STG keeps a potentially disastrous bit of choice information secret." His voice sounded tired. "One of these days, your people will seal your own fate with this scheming and trickery."
"Necessary work. Also, survival of Lawson and connection to Cerberus deemed as SA internal issue earlier. Had no projections that showed relevance to Council-level issues, particularly not on this scale."
"At any rate, while him faking his death and disappearing may not have been a problem in itself, intelligence assets provided information that indicates he has been subverted by something or someone, and that is why he betrayed the SA and Cerberus." Udina's voice carried an undercurrent of barely-restrained fury. "That crazy bastard conspires to torch the SA, spits on what Cerberus originally stood for, and thinks he can make us dance to his tune as well. And damn him, but he was doing a rather good job of it."
"What changed, Donnel? And what intelligence assets are you talking about?" This was not the mellow, serene voice Tevos mostly employed; the distant fury of the onrushing tide, the wrath of a woman scorned echoed within, the power making even Valern flinch for a moment. Udina swallowed again, before fiddling with his omnitool once more, and the holoscreen changed, showing another human male in expensive clothing. The man on screen nodded towards them, and took a drag of the cigarette he had in his hand. Valern's eyes widened for a fraction of a second, before a grin flashed across his face, as he nodded, confirming some inner thought. Sparatus flared his mandibles in a predatory reflex, recognition and fury in his glare.
"A good day to you, Councilors. Glad to see some old friends around."
"Get to the point and tell me why I shouldn't tear out your arm and beat you to death with it." The turian's voice sounded level, but the other four knew him well enough to spot the harmonics beneath. The man on the holoscreen puffed once more from his cigarette, leaned back.
"For the same reason the Turian Hierarchy as a whole was not eviscerated thanks to the actions of Saren. Just like him, Lawson was a trusted asset, who turned against us." He touched a control, and four omnitools chimed with a request for incoming data transfer. "I can provide you with the relevant data about how deeply he subverted Cerberus, and why I consider a minority of us still reliable, still working towards a sane goal. Councilor Udina has already seen the data, and has verified it via the AIS and N7 Deltas." A puff of smoke, a bitter smile. "Well, as much as anything can be verified by them nowadays - though they are still mostly loyal to the SA."
Valern was already busy typing, retasking STG assets, while Zaal'koris got busy attempting to trace the connection. Tevos, meanwhile, locked eyes with the human.
"What do you want?" Her voice was calm, measured again.
"Cooperation. Those of us who are still loyal to the ideal Cerberus represents will not stand aside while an opportunistic madman with delusions of grandeur destroys all that has been built by Humanity, and turns back the clock for our race." His eyes seemed to glow with a cold blue light that pierced the puff of smoke. "We have fought long and hard enough for a Council membership - to throw that aside, to spit on those who died for it, is not something that I will allow." His voice was becoming even colder, laced with a tightly-leashed undercurrent of wrath. "The Reapers are coming, and even together, we may not have much of a chance - but separately, they will grind us to nothing. And Councilors, I'm not sure if Udina has mentioned it to you just yet, but us humans have a tendency not to go down without a fight."
Sparatus nodded, the gesture grudging but sincere.
"Fine words, but for the moment, these are just that. Prove your sincerity and intentions now, not with some data packet we may spend days, weeks trying to chase down to prove." His voice was challenging, and the man on the screen smirked, his hand manipulating something out of view, and the screen changed.
"Those are not plans for a military ship." The voice of Zaal'koris was intrigued. "The scale and shape is all wrong for that - and that is not a drive core configuration I have ever seen." He tilted his head, his eyes narrowing behind his faceplate. "For that matter, that reactor output curve is also interesting; not even a Yutani-Yi reactor compares."
"Correct, Councilor - this is not a warship, this is what my people came up with for insurance." A puff of smoke, a glint of humor in the blue eyes. "Of course, most of this is still theoretical, as we did not yet approach the relevant scientists - but with the Council's backing, this could turn into a multi-racial project that would make the turian-human cooperation for the Normandy comparable to a schoolyard project."
"Why call it insurance?" Tevos mused, before Zaal'koris cut in, files scrolling rapidly on his omnitool, his voice disbelieving.
"Is this what the real aim behind the Andromeda Initiative?" Udina sighed at that, Valern's eyes widened perceptibly, Sparatus hissed, and Tevos nodded in understanding.
"You would have us flee, then? Run like cowards, leaving all under our care for whatever preys on them from the darkness of the void?" The turian's voice was too calm, his whole body completely motionless.
"No." The man lit another cigarette. "Isn't it a soldier's motto to hope for the best but make plans for the worst? The Initiative is what we could come up with for the absolute worst-case scenario. At the very least, it would be enough for a few survivors."
The sharp-dressed man smirked, leaned back, his hand tapping at the armrest.
"And since you do not seem to be convinced by words, perhaps this footage will be enough. Do note the timestamp."
On the surface, there was nothing too remarkable about it - a human male going through some biotic exercises and martial arts katas with a young asari. Nothing the five Councilors have not seen before. But then Udina hissed, his eyes widening in recognition - just when Tevos chuckled, a small smile on her lips. Valern's eyes goggled from his head, and even Zaal'koris and Sparatus were grinning with disbelief. After all, it was not everyday that they could witness someone seemingly coming back from the dead.
"How?" Udina was not sure who voiced the question; he was too busy worrying about the implications - and the answer, delivered in a distant voice from behind the puff of smoke, was anything but reassuring.
"It is not dead which can eternal lie, yet in this strange aeon even He may die."
Eden Prime (06/12/2183)
As usual, events got kicked off with a small, almost overlooked detail. If not for Liara's love of all things Prothean, and her brief stint as an information broker (and no, the countless hours she spent trawling for patterns buried in the data did not count as intelligence analysis, at least in her opinion), she might have missed it entirely - or at least, it would have been too late. Even so, the short, preliminary report might have slipped under her eyes, if not for the two names attached to it. Admittedly, she did not know Sara Ryder very well, having only met the human woman only once or twice, but she was familiar with Treeya Nuwani - after all, not many maidens were considering her as a mentor. Thus, her finely-honed archeologist instincts screamed at her, urging Liara not to dismiss the report as a fake or a lure; with one of the people involved, she may have been correct in those assumptions, but with both? No, this had to have something genuine behind it. And it's not like Eden Prime had no connection to the Protheans. So, in quite short order, she brought the whole matter to the Illusive Man, and was pleasantly surprised how little convincing she had to do to get the funding and approval for the trip.
The hardest thing was to leave Shepard behind for the time being. While the Spectre was healing rather swiftly, both she and Miranda agreed with the Illusive Man to keep the operative in reserve until he's fully recovered and was once more at peak efficiency. Not to mention the sheer psychological effects his return would generate - that was not something that should be wasted on a mere archeological dig. The head of Cerberus also mentioned that a proper method of transformation, worthy of a Spectre, was under construction, and he was looking forward to Shepard taking it for a simple shakedown run. The resulting explosion of profanity and threats from the operative were only barely quelled by the concentrated efforts of Liara and Miranda.
Privately, she was simultaneously glad and worried about spending time apart from him. It would give both of them time to maybe figure out how exactly they should behave when in each other's company, as the awkward dancing around was tiring … and unfulfilling. Still, Liara was not entirely sure how she felt about him - or how the Spectre thought about her. Certainly, she had a unique insight into his mind, his personality, and with melds being what they were, he likely had an equally good impression of her. Yet, perhaps that was the most damning aspect - after all, she could give a rather long list why anyone could and would fall for the Spectre … but when it came to herself, well, the few entries were not even worthy of compiling into a list. Still, even a very slim chance was more than Liara had ever contemplated, so maybe once she was finished with this dig, she'd have to sit down with Shepard, and talk.
With a mental shake, she turned back towards her work and instruments. The ruined complex unearthed during the reconstruction efforts seemed to be massive, easily on par with the one on Ilos, and Liara silently hoped that here, she would find something more substantial about Protheans, or, Goddess willing, a working stasis capsule (or more). Though she suspected this was a childish hope, even Vigil had to contend with energy issues, there was precious little chance of a mostly-destroyed site housing working stasis tech. On the other hand, she theorized (with Sara and Treeya agreeing) that the destruction of the complex may give them some more clues about the enemy they faced, as the site was dated very close to the end of the Prothean cycle. So, the small team practically relocated inside the complex, devoting their waking moments to unlocking whatever secrets may linger within.
Honestly, Liara enjoyed herself immensely - here she was, doing what she loved, in good company, and for a very worthy end goal, at that. She came to enjoy very much the relentless optimism and energy of Treeya, the practical perspective of Sara, and she even appreciated the few pointers she herself received from a certain cigarette-smoking man about data and pattern analysis. All told, Liara felt that they were progressing quite well, getting minor results, and mapping the complex - which, in their estimates, would have housed tens of thousands of Protheans … but what stasis capsules they found were destroyed by something millennia ago. Sara theorized that the unknown assailants (she did not fully buy into the Reaper hypothesis, not yet) fought their way inside, and triggered some kind of reaction, probably a reactor overload, that resulted in a powerful neutron bombardment sterilizing the site.
Of course, like all too many good things in Liara's life recently, it had come to an abrupt end.
The traffic controller of the spaceport gulped as the Justicar left her ship, and walked through the small corridor, until she stood before them. Even though she was alone, and he had a dozen people standing guard, he knew that they could not have a chance should she choose to turn on them - while he had seen asari commandos (well, Eclipse sisters), N-level soldiers, and even a Spectre, this asari moved with a deadly, sensual grace and fluidity that made all look like rank amateurs. He tried to tear his gaze from the woman, lest she end him for being an impertinent pervert, but with the figure-hugging commando armor, it was extremely hard not to watch - and he swallowed, when those disturbing gaze rested upon him. The asari smiled at him, a thing of bemused acceptance, sheer, intoxicating sensuality, and heart-stopping menace all at once. Her voice caressed his whole being, making it very difficult to concentrate enough to answer coherently, instead of falling to his knees and worshipping the incarnated goddess standing before him. And when she departed for the archeological dig, the whole world seemed drab, empty, soulless.
The first sign was a distant, prickling feeling, a tang of the incoming storm on the tongue and skin; the closeness of a raised, active biotic corona.
None of the three archeologists payed any attention to it, engrossed as they were in opening the latest in a long line of stasis chambers - and with all of them being biotics, they naturally ascribed the phenomenon as the understandable excitement causing erratic fluctuations in their control over their abilities.
The second was a drop in temperature, the damp chillness worming its way under their clothing, seeping into limbs, blood vessels, neurons - understandable, as there was no climate control, and they were pretty deep within the complex. And besides, the trio was too absorbed in studying the instruments, not daring to believe the readouts, not ready to accept their immense luck.
The third and final sign was the low, throaty chuckle that seemed to reverberate from every corner and shadow, sending tendrils of dread and sensual excitement burrowing into the minds of the three archeologists.
Unhurried, measured steps came closer, delightful, wicked menace echoing along the tapping beat, as Liara, Treeya, and Sara were paralyzed with fear, anticipation, and indecision for a few moments. The shadows seemed to deepen, a very faint, sweet odor permeating the air, and the steps reached the access point of the stasis chamber. A pair of pale blue eyes seemed to ignite in the darkness, a gleaming white, predatory smile sent shivers of arousal and terror along the spines of the trio, then the stranger spoke.
"Liara T'Soni, scion of Benezia, chaser of childish fantasies, meddler in forbidden things - the Goddess calls you to account for your failures." The cruel delight and cold menace in the voice was so at odds with the serenity Justicars were renowned for. "Beg for mercy, repent for your misdeeds, and there just might be clemency for you, ignorant child."
The smile sharpened, the temperature dropped further, lines of hoarfrost spiralling away from the unknown asari, her curvaceous figure outlined with the harsh glow of an igniting biotic corona, her eyes swirling to pools of inviting, warmly suffocating darkness, her mind caressing the consciousness of the three others, whispering sweet threats, cruel suggestions, sensual promises.
"Goddess help us…" Treeya's voice trembled, her whole body shivering uncontrollably. "An Ardat-Yakshi..."
The hiss of an unfolding pistol broke the standoff, then Sara screamed, a biotic field enveloping and crushing her hand, before tossing her to the side, her head hitting the wall with a sickening crack. Another control gesture almost pinned Liara in place with a stasis field, and before she could do more than evade, the chamber echoed with the pained howl of Treeya, as she clutched her head, her eyes swirling pools of darkness.
Perhaps a year earlier, Liara would have frozen in terror and indecision at seeing a malice from asari legends come to life and attack her friends. Perhaps she would have fallen prey to the unnatural aura of the creature.
But compared to Sovereign, or the horrors she had glimpsed in Shepard's mind, this was a pale imitation, a deluded, insane thing only fit to be put down.
Her corona ignited, and with a shout, she unleashed her power. The Ardat-Yakshi glided away from the wave of crushing biotic force, detonated the throw field with one of her own, shrugged off the stasis - then her composure and smirking aloofness distorted into a hateful grimace when a pair of singularities yanked her off the floor, breaking off her connection to Treeya, the young asari dropping into a sobbing, twitching heap.
Before Liara could capitalize on the vulnerability of the monster, the Ardat-Yakshi's biotic field pulsed, detonating both singularities, with Liara barely managing to shield herself and her companions. Mocking laughter echoed in the chamber, the cruel sound caressing the soul of the young asari with a sensual touch.
Her eyes widened as she took in the creature floating before her. While the Ardat-Yakshi's biotic corona was still alight, that was not what kept her in the air - instead, wings of shadows and whispering voices emanated from its back, pulsing to the beat of an unnatural heart, tendrils of the nightmarish stuff scenting the air, questing for prey, for pleasure… The beast raised a blue-wreathed hand, then the chamber was filled once again with the sound of biotic fields extinguishing one another with thunderous impacts, and it was all Liara could do to ward off the biotic assaults hurled at her.
In a way, the barrage of varied telekinetic manipulations, singularities, warp fields, and stasis traps were calming and usual - she had seen and endured them often, whether in combat or during sparring; and after having fought at the side of an N7 Delta and a krogan Battlemaster, she had a fair amount of proficiency in evading and countering them. What she never expected, not even after seeing legends come to life, were the insidious assaults on her senses and mind. The worming, tempting whispers to simply lay down and quit fighting. The sensual siren song calling for her to submit to the other, to open her mind, heart and body for the Ardat-Yakshi to use. The chains of futility and dread attempting to weigh her down. Tendrils of doubt and jealousy aiming to pierce her mind, to distort her memories into hateful caricatures.
Liara's face twisted into a mask of hate, as she looked up at the smirking, floating monster. Words came to her then, welling up from the depths of her mind, demanding release, promising retribution and a proper conveying of her feelings toward the Ardat-Yakshi. Words in a language that she had never studied herself, but instead has inherited with a careless meld from a man she had so much to thank for. Words of a language that she had used before, saw their effectiveness with her own eyes - and felt the price in her soul. Yet, here, now, she felt that it was fitting that she react so.
The mocking, disdaining smirk of the Ardat-Yakshi was wiped off by the first grating, unhuman syllables that tore themselves from the young asari's throat, echoing in the chamber and the depths of the creature's soul. For so long, it considered herself an apex predator, a queen of darkness and power - and yet for all her centuries of wickedness, of power-crazed orgies of sensuality and destruction, she felt terrified once more. The unsane words tore into her deepest being, flensed her soul, triggered instincts more befitting a prey animal. Masking her fear with rage, she hurled her power at the maiden with the glowing blue eyes.
A vortex of power and debris spun into being around the floating monster, as she tore off inert pods to hurl them at her foe, only to be thwarted by a biotic pulse, stopped with a lift field, or turned into nothingness with a word. Tentacles of shadows and emotions speared the maiden, and the Ardat-Yakshi screamed when the insane gibbering burned them away. She thought to crush her rival's insensate companions, but her attempts were punished with a shout of rage that threw her across the chamber's wall - and what's worse, she could feel a deep yearning, a calling, a closing hunger from somewhere … and she felt that this was coming for her. With a shout of effort, she unleashed her biotics once again, and for a moment, the depths of the ruined Prothean complex shone with a harsh blue light - then an explosion rocked the ruins, and all went black.
When Liara regained consciousness, her only company was the catatonic Treeya and the comatose Sara, leaving her hoping that it was all a nightmare, even as the tell-tale taste of blood in her mouth, along with the burning sensation of a biotic overuse were all pointing to the contrary. She staggered over to the wrecked instruments, called for medical assistance - then, before she once again fell into darkness, she allowed herself a moment of relief as one particular stasis pod was still appearing to be functional and intact.
The Illusive Man and Shepard would both be proud, she thought.
A/N: In response to a guest reviewer - you are correct, another scene with Lawson/Cerberus-on-SA action would have been useful; it was a mistake on my part not to include it. I can blame it on laziness and a too-overzealous pruning of dangling threads and scenes. Unfortunately, in this case, as you point it out, it WOULD have been much better. Sorry for missing that opportunity :(