Chapter 52

August, 2220

It's the war equivalent of holding a midget at arm's length, and he's flailing, and you're just kicking him.

-Ricky Gervais

Integral to every war was communication, and it was done in two ways. One, through guns, bullets, bombs, and broken lives. The other, through the careful maneuvering and verbiage of the politicians standing behind the soldiers they sent to attempt the first form of communication. Warriors talked with weapons, politicians, through pens. Jorban Sal'Naa had, once, thought that he was among that warrior elite who was more proficient with that first, most ancient and direct form of communication, than anyone else alive. In twenty four hours, he had been proven exceptionally wrong.

Take, for instance, the recapture of a centuries old parliament building. The batarians had stolen that building in their initial blitz and had kept it for themselves even after the Hoomanisire had purified the sky and dropped to the ground. To protect against Wraiths, they had sealed off every entrance, even going so far as to bomb any potential entrance to the sewers underground. To protect against Tyyrahn and BattleVectors, they had three guns in every window, with one firing at any and all times. The parking lot surrounding this parliament building looked like a series of smoldering craters due to their high-impact, explosive rounds, and more than one of the buildings surrounding it had been felled during the brief pauses in fighting, leading to a no-man's land of a radius of at least one kilometer. Their parliament building was the only thing standing, and they could see everything surrounding it.

Given they did not want to appear as savages in front of true gods, they forgoed any mentionings of mass wave-tactics that would get scores of their people killed. Instead, Jorban and several lanceman had suggested either a tactical Dreg release, or a small-scale nuclear detonation. A few hundred tons should suffice.

One of the Vectors for Battle, identified as a 'SIGMA' with the name 'Two-Fifteen', had taken one look at their plans and, plainly, had asked how important the building was that they were considering battlefield nuclear weapons. Jorban had responded that while the building was important, its role could easily be served by the Temple of the Hoomanisire. Two-Fifteen, however, promised that they would have the building back in safe hands in an hour, before taking his two closest allies and promptly exiting the room in which they had laid out their plans.

Jorban had hardly had enough time to make it to the top floor to look out at the building. In those few seconds, the three SIGMAs had crossed the threshold of the no-man's land. Barriers of pure, blue light formed in front of their hands as they charged forwards at blurryingly high speeds. Every one of the batarian High Impact rounds that slammed into these light barriers bounced away with a visible shockwave, and yet these great shields seemed to absorb all of the kinetic force and subsequently did nothing to slow the three down.

Two-Fifteen was the first to break away from his trio, he leapt high into the air with his powerful muscles and a bright flash of the micro-rocket boosters on his back. A second later he disappeared in a flash of deep violet light, and careened straight to the ground. Despite the high speeds at which he travelled, he managed to maneuver straight through a window and inside the building, where he immediately engaged the batarians within their effective range. One tried to bring his weapon to bear upon him but he batted it aside and slammed his closed fist into its chest, turning the bones inside to powder and obliterating the vital organs they protected. Jorban didn't even see him draw a knife, but somehow Two-Fifteen had it and had already buried it into the head of a second batarian. He used it and a pulse from his rockets as a fulcrum, around which he swung, burying his foot into a close batarian, and hauling the knifed alien into the air and throwing it into a close by crowd.

It was at that point that the second SIGMA, the biggest and burliest of them all, bodily crashed through the building's outer wall and into the ground floor. He ducked under gunfire and slammed his light barrier into several batarians, before swinging it around in a wide arc, it turning from a large, round shield to a long, straight blade in an instant, and slicing open the throats of several batarians in a shower of blood. One batarian outside of his range attempted to bring his weapon to bear, but before it could do so, the third SIGMA, the lankiest of the trio, leapt through the hole in the wall made by the burly SIGMA and, his rifle shouldered and his legs swinging up and around the rubble on the ground, fired just two shots. The first hit the batarian's chest, shattering its shields and causing it to double over, whereupon the second shot instantly hit its head and caused it to fall backwards, crumpling into a heap as the sniper somersaulted onto the ground and came to a halt right at the back of the burly SIGMA, as they were surrounded by batarians.

To his credit, Jorban had acted quickly - barking out orders as fast as he could to rally the Wraiths to go assist the SIGMAs, yet Two-Fifteen was faster than he. Despite being two floors above them and with no eye contact, Two-Fifteen seemed to instantly know of the precarious situation in which his fellows were, and leapt high into the air. Jorban wasn't able to see him plant his hand on the ceiling above him, but he did see the flash of violet light that preceded Two-Fifteen blasting back down towards the ground, phasing through each of the floors below him without even disturbing them. He slammed onto the ground floor, and his impact, and the dark, violet shockwave that pulsed outwards, signalled his compatriots to charge forward - the burly man to the right, the sniper to the left, and Two-Fifteen to the front.

It took them thirty two minutes and twelve seconds to clear out the entire building. Parts of it were regrettably destroyed by wayward, cannon-like gunfire, but the trio of SIGMAs exited it after their battle with scorched, gore-covered armor. Their fists and feet caked with blood, and their postures as straight and as professional as they ever were. They hadn't even taken an injury. That battle hard marked many things for Innsua City. The first, of course, being its liberation from battle - the only batarians left were pockets of resistance summarily dealt with, or those who surrendered and were taken in by the SIGMAs. The second, however, had been the legends. Hits were taken, bodies were thrown, enemies died, but above all, the Hoomanisire had returned, and not one report of a SIGMA casualty reached Jorban's, or anyone's, ears. Devils died, but god?

God could not bleed.

With the continent and the super-city mostly taken care of, Sergeant Major John S2-15, and Commander John Doe S1-1 were the SIGMAs voluntold to establish a line of communications with the saltorian leader, the Praetorian of the BattleVectors. Where Innsua had been something of an Alliance operation, Saltor as a whole had to be guided by the saltorians, and as such, they needed the advice and permission of their highest ranking official.

The SIGMA I and II Alpha squads arrived at the saltorian Temple of the Hoomanisire at about the same time. It was an enormous, bunker-shaped building, with long, spider-web corridors connecting large box-shaped, ergonomic rooms with low-built, curved ceilings. Were one to have only seen this building and its surroundings, one could have said that there wasn't even a war going on, it was so pristine and well kept, the grounds and roads so unmarked by war, the buildings surrounding it all standing tall and proud.

Meeting up in front of the bunker-like temple's main entrance, where two saltorian's quickly jumped to salute, clenching their hands in front of their hearts, before rushing inside to inform the Praetorian of the arrival of the 'Hoomanisire', the I's and II's stood two feet apart, each in straight lines, each making direct, unbroken eye contact with the other. The I's in their thick, plate-metal power armor stood in stark contrast to the II's in their sleek muscle suits and conservative armor plating. The gleaming golden visor of Doe's SCBA-like armored mask made eye contact with soulless, angular red plates of 2-15's gas-mask/helmet.

"Let me do the talking." Said Doe.

"You're better at it." Responded 2-15, as the bunker doors hissed open.

Doe and 2-15 both turned their heads towards the main blast door, swinging open without a sound, its joints well lubricated and maintained. Once fully opened it revealed a several meter long corridor which, perhaps long ago, would have descended underground, but it appeared as if the saltorians had made a concerted effort to unearth the bunker, believing it to be some sort of church if their name for it was any indication. What caught the attention of the SIGMAs, however, was what lined both sides of the corridor: Battlevectors, shoulder to shoulder, kneeling down with their heads bowed and their hands clenched in front of their hearts.

At the head of the corridor, mere feet behind the blast door, was a saltorian with a clear rank above that of the men who surrounded him. He wore a heavily weathered, forest-camouflaged uniform, with thick body armor covering his chest. He would have towered over any average human, and at nine feet he still held a distinct height advantage over the SIGMAs, even in their armor. At first glance, his uniform was indistinct from that of the other BattleVectors, but John's eyes quickly snapped to the patch on the right side of the BattleVector's armor. Upon this patch was an image of a tesseract, with a planet inside of its core.

"Lord Hoomanisire." The saltorian bowed his head deeply, his own hand clenched in front of his hand, before he too bent down to one knee. "I cannot overstate how deeply humbled I am to be honored by your presence, on both this home and in this battle, but I apologize all the same, for bringing you here not in a time of peace, but a time of war."

On the human side, one could have heard a pin drop, as even the two Alpha teams squadmates turned to stare at the saltorians.

"Cassidy?" 2-15 asked, his audio muted beyond his helmet.

"You wouldn't believe me if I told you." Cassidy said, before an image appeared on the HUDs of all assembled SIGMAs.

Clearly not of human make, it was a painting with vibrant, harsh colors. Dark reds and deep greens, at its middle curved a large line separating the war-torn, scarred ground from the red, fiery sky. At the edge of this cliff was a figure that demanded the attention of anyone viewing this picture; wreathed in bright, pure white and golden light, and clad in flowing robes, an individual stood with one hand clutching a book to its ribcage, and another held out in front of it, as if beseeching anyone who would listen, to take its hand, to follow it. Its skin was deeply tanned by exposure to the two suns at the height of the painting, its hair a deep, dark, and flowing brown, cascading down its shoulders and out of sight. Surrounding this figure was a horde of green, clotheless figures, painted much smaller, yet thicker and denser than it. Dirtier, duller colors painted these individuals, as they clawed away from the bottom of the painting, to the top, reaching up to the figure's hand as if it were their salvation.

"This is beyond us." Said Doe, cutting the silence that had settled between the six. "Whether that is a human or not, whether those are saltorians or not, and whether or not the implications of the AI's data raid are true, it doesn't matter to us. What does matter is assisting them in clearing their planet of batarian influence." He said, before he unmuted his helmet, "stand up, Praetorian." He said, his deep voice, synthesized by the helmet, called out, breaking the reverent silence like a cannon.

"John?" Came George's voice into 2-15's helmet.

2-15 shook his head, "it's not our problem." He said, as the Praetorian waved them inside, and the II's followed the I's, following the Praetorian. "We're not human anyway."

The Praetorian, whose name was revealed to be Jun Mun'Sid, structured as given name, birth place, and then family name, guided them through the 'Temple of the Hoomanisire'. Spartan in nature, utilitarian in design, everything about it spoke of military influence. What caught 2-15's attention as they walked through it, however, was that beyond the rows of genuflecting saltorians lining the walls, the lot of them still as statues, the entire complex didn't reflect saltorian architecture. The walls were all seamless plates, the ceilings were but a foot higher than the heads of the saltorians who walked the halls, the halls were only wide enough to fit two saltorians walking shoulder to shoulder - which meant that, with the men kneeling at them, there was hardly enough room for the Praetorian to march through and for the six SIGMAs to follow. To 2-15, it felt as if this entire complex had been built by another species entirely, perhaps the Protheans, given their proclivity for leaving behind ruins.

If nothing else, it would explain how the saltorians were able to outfight the batarians with no interstellar capability, and a limited capacity for interplanetary flight. But, looking at the genuflecting green goliaths, 2-15 was pretty sure they could have been armed with bows and arrows, and still put up an adequate fight. Less than an eighth of the batarian weapons had received the high-impact modifications required to pierce the saltorians' naturally occurring, dragonskin-like defenses. Coupled with their magnitudes-higher strength due to saltor's intense gravity, the only way the batarians could have won would have been if they had spent that week fighting on the ground, systematically bombing from orbit every city, military base, and population center with more than a hundred thousand people.

Looking around, 2-15 soon became aware of the fact that wherever he or his allies weren't looking, saltorians were sneaking glances. Wherever they were, the goliaths' heads instantly snapped down, pointed right at the ground and refusing to lift. Be it because they were treating them as though they were the gods they were implied to be, or they were simply respected very well for halting and reversing the batarian advance, globally, in twenty four hours.

It doesn't matter. 2-15 repeated, it wasn't important to him, his mission, or his desires. He didn't care.

They were led through the rest of the complex, before finally arriving in a large, central location with a dais in its center. John's HUD and maps told him he and the others were in the middle of the bunker, and if the dais, and computers lining the walls were any indication, it was likely some sort of command center. The Praetorian, Sid, halted just short of the dais, and turned to the assembled humans, as if simultaneously asking their permission, and beckoning them forward first.

Doe exchanged glances with his allies, and then the II's, before he took the first step, swiftly climbing to the top of the dais with the sound of metal boots clanking against the ground. He was followed by his squad, was followed by 2-15 and his squad, and they too were soon followed by the Praetorian and his chosen few. They stood assembled around the dais, upon which was a screen which, once Sid placed his hand upon it, came to life, showing a bright white hologram. 2-15 noted idly that it wasn't the suspended, light-emitting nanite-based 'dust tech' the Alliance used, but actual reflected light, real holograms.

Sid pressed his hands against both sides of the hologram and dragged downwards, pressing the upper half of the globe onto the table and dispersing the bottom half. He then clasped his hand over his heart and bowed his head once again.

"I repeat myself." Said the slithery, baritone voice, "but it truly is an honor to be in your presence. I pray that if this is temporary, you punish myself for my failings, and not my people, following my word."

Doe looked around the room, eyeing every saltorian with his golden visor before he finally locked onto the Praetorian.

"How long?" Doe asked, his voice not going past his muted helmet.

2-15 heard the I Alpha team's AI, identified as 'Uncle Bill' audibly sigh, "your nanites can keep your lungs safe from the atmospheric pressure for thirty minutes, but your shields won't protect your eyes for more than five, if you want your face to remain visible." Though the humans in the room heard the words loud and clear, the assembled saltorians heard nothing but terrifying silence.

After another moment's thought, Doe reached up and pressed two fingers to the base of his neck. His faceplate hissed loudly and the SCBA-like mask extended forward an inch, while his helmet grinded backwards an inch. He grasped the sides of his helmet and lifted, before he firmly placed it down on the table with a loud, final-sounding thud of metal striking metal. Despite the fact that it was hardly louder than a brief bang, given the silence of the room it sounded as if it were a hammer striking an anvil.

2-15 watched as the assembled saltorians, almost as one, let their jaws drop, their eyes widen, and their shoulders slump as they beheld Doe's bare face. The pale skin, the firm, red eyes, the stone-faced expression, the angular jaw and closely shaved buzz-cut head, it all sent the saltorians into a state of uncontained awe. They actually recoiled as Doe took in a breath through his nose, and then nodded once.

"The honor is ours, I assure you, Praetorian." He said, his deep, unfiltered voice cutting through the room like a railgun. Despite it being nowhere near as deep, or loud for that matter, as that of the Praetorian's, it still had a silencing effect, and the authority it commanded over them was staggering. "I know we both have a great many questions for eachother." He turned his head to the left-facing wall, upon which was an ancient, restored-looking painting of a human figure with a shield in his hand, and a determined look in his brown eyes, protecting legions of saltorians behind him from some foreboding, unknown enemy, which cast deep shadows upon them all, clashing directly with the heroic, bold colors of the human and the saltorians behind him; underneath which was a plaque with clearly latin lettering, but spelling out words no one in the room actually understood. "Not the least of which being our shared history." He turned back to the Praetorian and his BattleVectors. "But that isn't my job, and it isn't our focus. For now…" He reached back forward and grabbed his helmet, which was soon placed back on his head, protecting it from the highly pressurized atmosphere. "We worry about the people of Saltor."

Sid's shoulders squared, and he nodded once. "Yes, sire." He said, before he pointed at the continent on top of the white, holographic globe, "we are here, the continent Innsua." He said, a quick click of his fingers commanding the hologram turn red.

Doe nodded, "we deployed all of the forces we have available that can stand in this gravity." He said, "given the pressure on this continent and this city, all of those deployed were dropped here." He briefly glanced up, "recent reports were we're pretty much done."

Sid nodded firmly, "yes, sire. There are some holdouts, but under the rallying cry of your SIGMA warriors, BattleVectors and Tyyrahn alike are quickly dismantling them." 2-15 understood the difference between BattleVectors and Tyyrahn to be similar to the difference between an N7, and a Marine, respectively, though given his experience fighting them, it could be suggested that BattleVectors were saltorian SIGMAs, at least in skill. "I have heard reports that your unhearts and Tyyrahn Air have been assisting elsewhere on the planet."

Doe nodded, "our fighter jets are more numerous and have machines in them that lighten their mass, allowing them to operate in most gravitic environments. Our AI have been riding your radio waves and coordinating the jets with ground forces." He explained, before he indicated the I's and II's around him, "our ground forces are limited to what is in this city, but beyond that we've much more resources at our disposal. This is your planet, so you guide this operation, and we will do our best to accommodate."

2-15 hadn't even known it was possible for a creature with scales covering their skin to blanch all over, but somehow both the small amount of visible skin, and the layers of green scales on the heavily scarred Praetorian's face paled, as he swallowed deeply. "Of course, sire, I will not disappoint you." He paused, bringing the whole globe back up to observe. "How many do I have?"

"Three thousand thirty soldiers divided into three-man squads." Doe responded.

Sid nodded once, as he manipulated the globe, switching from several color settings, one showing many deep blots of red, one showing fifteen black spots on the map, one showing hundred blue points, and then the next showing vast swaths of the planet blanketed in green. "This…" He nodded to the hologram, "compounded with my latest reports say that a vast majority of their forces were dedicated to the siege of the holy city. I would estimate less than…" He shook his head, eyes unblinking. "No more than three quarters of a million, still on this planet. Mostly here in these red cities." He indicated the cities in question, numbering in at less than six. "Then there are the dregs, but we can have Hoomanisirian Light silos cleared by the end of the night and the cities will be cleansed within the month."

Doe inclined his head, "clarify."

Uncle Bill, however, did so for him. "That's their term for nuclear weapons."

Cassidy chimed in, "you don't want to know how many they have."

"Cassidy." Grunted 2-15 from behind his muted mask.

"Muting."

Doe shook his head, "what are dregs. Why do they warrant nuclear weapons and the batarians do not?"

"The dregs are feral, sire, and were born in this environment." The Praetorian explained, "even if the advantage favored the batarians, just one dreg outbreak could wipe out a planet, if improperly contained, and provided they've a queen handy." He pointed at the black spots, "it takes less time and men to just bomb the cities." He blinked, and stiffened up, as if having discovered a titanic error in what he had said. "But -" He quickly clarified, "we've the cities contained by local Tyyrahn forces, each led by a Lanceman. Should you rather protect the infrastructures it would take but a word and they would personally lead a cleansing." He said hurriedly.

Doe shook his head, "as I said, it is your game to play. But before you make a decision, allow me to first notify my commanding officers. They would not be happy if WMD's went off without warning."

2-15 took this moment to speak up, "how many BattleVectors versus Tyyrahn do you have?" He asked, "explain these energy weapons to us. Batarian kinetic barriers only work on physical projectiles going at or above muzzle velocity. Lasers bypass these entirely." His rumbly voice was filtered through his mask, filling the room with its synthesized volume.

Sid nodded, "a population of eleven billion across all planets, seven on Saltor. All saltorians live and learn to fight, but it is but a fraction -"

"Numbers." Interrupted George, his deep, accented voice silencing Sid in just two syllables.

Cassidy quickly spoke up, her voice broadcast from George's suit. "I'm very sorry, Lord Praetorian. My boys here aren't the patient type."

Sid, however, shook his head vehemently, having visibly shrunk away under the force of one word, and two syllables. "No, I understand." He said, "these are trying times and no matter the circumstance we are at war. I must not be wasting valuable time with useless verbiage, and for that I apologize." He straightened up, "here on Saltor, three billion, nine hundred million Tyyrahn. One hundred million BattleVectors." He said, his hands clasped formally behind his back. "Our Energy Lances work on one of three settings:Rifle, Pistol, Lance. Energy cells allow for six hours total of fire - with five second bursts being the maximum to disallow potential damage to the weapon. Rifle mode allows sustained, focused, and accurate fire at ranges of up to eight kilometers. Pistol at a range of four hundred meters. Lance morphs the weapon to a bladed form and holds temperature at three thousand degrees celsius. It insulates us -"

"Give us these weapons and instructions on how to use and load them." 2-15 interjected, before turning his head to Doe. "The Hegemony expects us to be using our own weapons, not theirs. But their modified guns strike with a higher impact force. If we keep range on our side, they cannot touch us, for fear of blowing themselves apart." He turned back to the map, visualizing the war to come in his head. "We pick them apart, one by one, until they either attack us, or we decide it's time to attack them. Their air support has already been crippled and their naval support won't exist once the fighting begins." He nodded, "in this instance, we will be done in a week. Able to move on to more high-value targets."

The silence in the room only lasted for a second, before Sid nodded. "I can do that, sire." He said, "as to strategies…"

In the belly of a massive metal beast in the outer orbit of the Alnitek system, Admiral Hackett stared at a holographic vid-comm, all of his self control and professionalism at work to keep his face straight as stone. "Be very slow and deliberate with your next words." Rumbled the grizzled voice of the admiral of the Alliance's fifth fleet. "What… Do you mean… The relay is gone?"

Given the distance between his ship and the frigate to which he was communicating was only a few dozen light years, the time difference through FTL comms wasn't too terribly bad, only a fraction of a second. Unfortunately, Hackett didn't even need that to be able to predict what the Captain on the other line would say.

"Just that, Admiral. It's gone. We arrived in the system as per your orders and began searching for distress signals, escape pods, warp signatures - anything. We even checked the local stellar objects, but nothing. The Relay is gone, the star is giving off some strange readings, and the planets with atmospheres look like they're on fire - and even stranger, there are asteroid belts that previous scans of the system never showed." Said the Captain, before a pause. "There's nothing here."

Hackett breathed through his nose, frowning as he tried to think of something to explain this. Relays were supposed to be indestructible hunks of metal - the metals they were made of, when melted down and turned to plate armor, were capable of taking shots from an ODS satellite, which were twice as powerful as dreadnoughts in terms of megatonnage.

But a planet shaker… Only things stronger than those are ISBM's. And it's not like we regularly try to stress-test those things. Take apart to study, and loot for their eezo, sure - Hackett had overseen more than one mission to remove a relay from a solar system for that exact purpose - but it was only during the time they were known as 'Tuning Gates' that the Alliance actively aimed weapons at them. Once they had shaved off enough metals to shove into material synthesizers and make more, they hadn't bothered.

Then, consider the strength of a planet shaker. They had been specifically designed to be powerful enough to level continents the size of the Eurasian landmass. While that effectively meant the entire planet would be rendered inhospitable to life until a terraforming disk's deployment, that didn't stop the Alliance from going a step further and creating bombs that could quite literally obliterate planets. That power, however, was kept to the Interstellar Ballistic Missile installations - and no one whose rank was below 'Director for Defense' could even pray to get access to those. Thus, Hackett had had to settle for a planet shaker, and even then, only one, and even then, with strict orders not to use it on saltorian planets unless the situation was deemed dire. But, they hadn't said anything about leaving it behind as a surprise for any batarians trying to flee through the relay.

So… It only takes a few hundred thousand gigatons to kill them. Thinking on it, it didn't surprise him that they hadn't been able to destroy relays up until now. Weapons technology during the decades leading up to the formation of the AATF had hardly been a fraction as powerful as they were now - and even in the decades after the formation of the task force, and subsequent creation of AI. It had only been in the last dozen or so years before first and second contact that AI and humans had reached their synergy and technological advancement exploded, leading to many of the weapons naval ships had these days, among other things.

So, that they hadn't been able to destroy them with naval weapons in earlier years was becoming less and less of a surprise. Hackett cleared his throat, "alright. We got here in this system around twenty five hours ago, and I got the detonation confirmation about an hour after that. So what I want you to do is head out to a distance of twenty four light hours, point your cameras at the relay and watch that system. If you don't find anything, stay on the edge of the light cone and keep scanning." He ordered, "Hackett Out."

Twelve hours following the debriefing in Innsua, combined human and saltorian forces had spread to all of the affected cities on the planet. Millions upon millions of soldiers, all bearing down on no more than three quarters of a million ill-trained, ill-experienced, and ill-dedicated fighters. John S2-15, his squad, and several other squads of II's found themselves in the depths of a saltorian troop-transporting airplane, hurtling at high speeds towards one of the only cities with something resembling a solid defensive line.

Saltorian airplanes were different when compared to human ones of the same technological era. They were closer to the human definition of rockets than they were to jets, due to the sheer power the planet's gravity had on the creatures trying to break its hold. Considering that saltorian jets were capable of producing enough thrust to cancel out five gees, it helped John to understand how and why they were able to casually travel between their Earth and Mars analogues in so little time. It was in one of these rocket-planes that John, his squad, several other squads of II's, and a crushingly large amount of saltorian Tyyrahn found themselves in, mere minutes from parachuting into one of the more heavily contested cities outside of Innsua.

The report was that the batarians actually had something of a solid foothold in this city, due in part to them setting up multiple mass driver installations on the roofs of the highest standing buildings. These cannons worked on something of a similar concept to their modified weapons - increasing the mass of their projectiles as opposed to decreasing it; and where their guns hit like cannonballs, these mass drivers hit like Davy Crockett missile launchers, slamming into their targets with a force of more than a hundred tons of TNT. With their wide coverage, the batarians were using them to keep saltorian vehicles from entering the city, and to shoot down any of the rocket-planes that dropped in airborne ground forces. Unfortunately for them, these weapons relied on an air superiority to work with complete efficiency, and the moment the Alliance had arrived, the Hegemony had lost any of the air superiority it might have had before, so as a massive aerial battle raged above them, and the cannons worked around the clock to try and keep control of the ground below them, a dozen SIGMA II's and more than fifteen thousand Tyyrahn Air were hurtling towards the city, ready to deploy the moment the light turned red.

John, specifically, was examining the Energy Lance given to him by the BattleVector named Jorban, apparently both because he was on orders and because John had saved his life. He didn't care - what he focused on was the weight of the rifle, the electronic safety's position relative to his thumb, the energy cell's location and how best to remove and insert it. The weapon had an overall appearance of a flintlock rifle, and with a light metallic click, John twisted the smoothbore barrel clockwise. The metal barrel then slid off entirely, lowering its effective range but making it more usable in close-quarters combat, like a pistol. He clicked the barrel back on, and let the rifle rest on his lap, as the rocket-plane shook from turbulence.

George's symbol on John's HUD briefly pulsed, before John heard his voice. "Do you think we can use them?" He asked.

John shook his head, "only once." He said, "after which they will adapt." As good as these heat blades were, they weren't nearly as versatile as John would have liked, an opinion which he voiced.

To which, Craig piped in, "you're looking for a melee implement, adaptable. Hardlight would apply."

John, however, shook his head. "Using Hardlight constructs immobilizes the limb around which the construct forms, and limits us to that weapon only." He said.

"You couldn't project it onto a knife, or that sword?" George asked, nodding to the energy weapon on John's lap.

"Useless. Knife is only useful as a cutting or stabbing tool, hardlight would only make it sharper. The sword's cutting power comes from its heat, adding Hardlight would eliminate the heat at the gain of a sharper blade. And neither have projectors to begin with." He said, "would need an entirely new weapon." He brought up the map on his HUD, letting him know they were merely minutes from the city. Bringing up the wire-frame display, and looking straight down, he could see the digital readouts and IFF strobes of all of the Alliance jets blasting through the air, assisting the saltorian fighters in ripping apart what remained of the Hegemony air force, and blasting away at their ground forces.

There was silence for a few more minutes, before Craig spoke up again. "Thoughts?"

"Cassidy." John said, "what's the flight plan, post-Saltor? Are we going back to Arcturus?"

Cassidy's gray form appeared in a small corner of John's HUD, she nodded. "The forces involved with the Alnitek campaign are going to get a week to get toxin scans and health evaluations before getting redeployed to Khar'Shan." She informed.

"We're not going to Khar'Shan." Said John, before he moved on, "send a message to Christopher McGraw. Include a debriefing of everything that has happened from Manheim to now. And then tell him we need a weapon." Just a second later, the lights inside the rocket-plane went out, and then began glowing a deep, foreboding shade of red.

Everyone rose, and John locked the energy lance to his back as he and his squad did the same. The SIGMAs were all packed right next to the exit ramp, which slowly began its loud, grinding opening, revealing the smoke and ash-filled sky below them, and exposing them to the unfiltered fury of the roaring engines. Upon opening they were treated to the site of the city below them - hundreds of toppled buildings and only a few dozen still standing on their own. The streets were covered in debris, crawling in bodies, and was constantly lit up by hundred-ton explosions, as the mass drivers destroyed vehicle after vehicle, and kept the batarian defensive line intact.

Unfortunately for them, keeping the mass drivers pointed at the ground, meant that few, if any, were pointed in the air. The II's and the Tyyrahn Air took advantage of this, and after a moment's more preparation, 2-15, 2-66, and 2-82 thundered forward, followed almost instantly by the other SIGMAs, themselves followed just a few moments later by the hordes of saltorian soldiers. 2-15 was the first to launch himself from the rocket-plane, he immediately felt Saltor's intense gravity begin to pull at him as he nose-dived straight towards the ground, arms and legs pressed tightly against his core. He rapidly gained speed, following the path laid out for him in his HUD, soaring straight for one of the enormous mass drivers on an outlying building, closest to the perimeter.

At the velocity he was dropping and with the strength of the planet below him, it only took 2-15 and his squad ninety nine seconds to drop far enough. Their thrusters began flaring at maximum power, the micro-mass effect engines dropping their mass enough such that the thrusters could slow them down to speeds that wouldn't be even approaching lethal. 2-15's face tightened and his muscles tensed as he grew closer to his target building - the batarians manning and surrounding the cannon quickly realized that many of the black specks falling through the sky were falling directly towards them, and quickly their guns were pointed up and firing.

It would prove to be too little, too late, however, as three SIGMAs and more than two dozen Tyyrahn would slam onto the roof, the former via decelerating with their jets, the latter coming in hard with their parachutes fluttering in the wind. 2-15 left a several inch crater on impact, before he rolled forward and sprung on the up-roll. He launched himself forward into his forward momentum and, with dark violet flames covering his body, sprung back into the air and drove his shoulder into the mass driver.

As the sound of an anvil being struck by a hammer, and of metal bending and grinding filled the air, 2-66's massive frame came hurtling in, leaving a deep trench in the roof as he slammed into it and ground to a halt. He hopped to his feet and, one hand wreathed in a jagged blade of hardlight, sent it forward, tearing straight through the abdomen of a batarian in a wide arc. 2-66 turned with the circular momentum, revealing his other hand to be holding his heavy weapon of choice. The enormous machine gun bucked and barked in his hand as he spun in a wide arc, blasting apart batarians while the mass driver collapsed under the enhanced biotic mass of his ally.

2-66's HUD flared as it detected several weapons being trained on his blindspot, but before his shields could be tested against the full force of the modified batarian weapons, his enhanced hearing heard three cracks of a sniper rifle, as the shooter came diving in, his two feet digging deep grooves into the roof as he fired thrice more, each bullet digging bloody holes into the heads of the batarian soldiers. 2-66 hauled his machine gun to bear and charged forward, sending his sniper squadmate a green flag through their HUDs.

Each of them charging in perpendicular lines, they met up just as the mass driver slammed into the roof's surface. The big man grasped the sniper's arm and dug his feet into the ground; the sniper's jump-jet's flared and the big man hauled him into the air, throwing him through the sky and towards the next building as the regrouping batarians on this roof regained their bearings. One charged him just as he recovered from throwing 2-82, but the batarian's wheezed out in pain as his lungs collapsed and a bright white burning blade burst out of his chest. It was torn back out of the batarian and with a wide swing the glowing blade cleaved through its armor and cut the alien into two pieces from the shoulder down to his hip.

2-15 bolted forward as 2-66 shouldered his weapon and tore down two more batarians. The ground at his feet exploded as another fired his weapon, but this stress proved to be his own downfall, as the quaking roof caused him to fall to his rear, where his head was crushed by 2-15's boot. The batarians on the other end of the large roof were now charging to 2-15 and 2-66's end, but 2-15 plucked a grenade from his chest as he bolted towards 2-66. The big man crouched down low and cupped his hands; 2-15 planted his foot in the machine-gunner's hands and with a pulse of his biotics and a powerful blast from his thrusters, was launched into the air - the only proof that he had ever been there being the destroyed mass driver, and the grenade he'd dropped into 2-66's hands.

2-66 locked his rifle onto his back and ripped his energy-lance out from under it. A hardlight shield surrounded the hand holding the grenade, and the energy lance in the off hand lit up a bright, glowing white as he charged the advancing batarians. Cannon-strength rounds slammed into the shield, the hardlight absorbed the force of impact but did nothing to dull the sounds of metal striking glass. 2-66 bellowed out as he charged the batarians, who cried out in fear as the biggest human they had ever seen charged their positions, and their guns with their extremely high powered rounds, did nothing to dent its protection.

"Shoot its feet!" One cried as it backpedaled and fired, but it was too little too late - as those who even had the wherewithall to shift their aim were slammed into with the force of a speeding truck.

The hardlight shield vanished and 2-66 released his clenched hand, where the grenade flew out, the pin caught on the SIGMA's finger. As the grenade fell towards the ground, 2-66 dug his feet into the roof, and with all of his strength, leapt to the side. His EVA thrusters blasted out, sending him flying straight towards the adjacent building. He crashed through a thick window and rolled to a halt, coming to a stop right before a cubicle. The radio inside of it was playing some emergency broadcast, but 2-66 didn't pay it any attention as the grenade on the previous roof detonated, and proved to be the final straw for the Mass Driver, which too detonated in a fiery blue explosion and collapsed the entire roof underneath any surviving batarians' feet.

2-66 synched his HUD with those of his squadmates, and saw 2-15 slicing apart a batarian with one hand, shooting another dead with the other. 2-82's shields were shattered as he flew back several feet from a direct impact from one of the batarians' high-explosive rounds. He hit the edge of his roof and nearly went over, and a second later his sniper rifle was shouldered and the offending batarian, plus several of his allies, were dead with loud, thunderous cracks. 2-15 charged in front of 2-82, a biotic barrier layered on top of a hardlight barrier with one hand, as the other thrust towards 2-82, who grasped it and hauled himself to his feet just before the next Mass Driver exploded.

2-66 nodded and cut the feed before he charged forward to the next objective, his HUD and several quick radio bursts letting him know that another squad had destroyed their cannons and were going to ground. Tackling through offices with reckless abandon and no drop in momentum, 2-66 reached the other side of the building and leapt into the air amidst a chorus of thick, shattered glass, and the roar of several powerful EVA thrusters. Even assisted by the jump jets, he was nowhere near strong enough to hurl himself all the way to the next mass driver, but he was able to soar far enough to reach the next standing building. He crashed into its side, shattering windows and tearing through floors as all of the thrusters on the right side of his body fired, allowing him to defy gravity just a few precious seconds longer as he ran alongside the side of the building.

Before he reached its end, 2-82 and, just a moment after, 2-15 hurtled past him. The former was already aiming his rifle even as he flew through the air, snapping to and from targets and firing, each time with a clap of thunder. He hit the roof just a second before 2-15, both of them amidst a pile of bodies created by his rifle. 2-15 hit the roof running, he crashed into a trio of batarians, scattering them all and bisecting one with a vertical slice of his energy lance. Before he could lead into another attack, he was struck from behind with a mass effect round, and flew forward, buried into the roof upon impact.

"Shields down." Cassidy reported, as 2-15 rolled to his right to avoid another explosive volley of gunfire.

"Cannons left." Barked the child-soldier as he hopped back to his feet. He ripped his pistol off of his thigh and blasted three rounds downrange, destroying the shields of three batarians, just in time for 2-66 to come in like a wrecking ball and flatten them all.

"Four mass drivers remaining." 2-15 chopped to the left with his sword, cutting halfway through a batarian before he ripped it out and kicked the soldier away. "Ground forces are already breaking the batarian defensive line." 2-15 was grazed by another slug, the impact not enough to send him flying, but more than enough to spin him around clockwise and to send a sharp, crunching amount of pain through his stomach.

He swung with the momentum, backhanding a batarian with his fist and then dragging the sharp end of his burning blade over its face. It had hardly the time to scream before 2-15 lunged forward and ducked down, slamming his elbow into its throat and collapsing its windpipe. It stumbled backwards as several more slugs flew through the air in various directions. 2-15 followed through with his downward momentum, his shoulders hitting the ground in a tight roll. The ground exploded right behind him as another high-impact slug hit it right as he rolled upwards. The shockwave of impact, combined with the power in his legs, launched 2-15 forward like a bullet from a gun. He flattened the batarian whose face he had carved apart, and crushed two more before he hit the ground.

2-15 was on his feet in an instant, he swung his burning blade in several wide horizontal arcs, each impact with steel and flesh sending out a loud sizzling sound and the smell of flesh and metal burning bright. One large downward swing cut through a batarian gun just before it could go off, and a wide horizontal swing was quickly followed by an impact with an object hard enough to stop the flaming sword. 2-15's gaze immediately locked onto the omni-blade halting his own, but even though it halted his attack, his strength vastly outstripped that of the batarian. He quickly snapped the soldier's arm in two as it buried its pistol into his stomach, but the pistol had not the modifications of the rifle, and as such, the bullets hurt, but couldn't do nearly enough to penetrate his armor.

Unfortunately for 2-15, this momentary pause in his momentum - that one second in which he wasn't flowing through the field, carving his enemies to pieces and burning them to ash - was all it took for one lucky shot. A batarian on the other end of the roof, mere meters away from 2-66's bull-like melee, and outside of 2-82's onslaught of pinpoint sniper fire, had his rifle shouldered and aimed right at 2-15's back. Three slugs blasted out of it, one missed, another slammed into 2-15's barriers and overwhelmed them, and the third hit him in the back, mere inches from the glowing spinal mounted canisters that powered his suit.

His entire body flared into pain as he was sent flying forward by the impact. The explosion had been enough to flay skin from his back, and though his suit had absorbed a great deal of damage, it still appeared as if some sort of wild animal had gored 2-15 with its tusk. The SIGMA slammed into the edge of the roof and bowled over it, now airborne and falling straight for the ground, his energy lance wrested from his grasp and tumbling through the air.

"Nanites at the site!" Cassidy immediately called out, as 2-15 felt the muscle suit grow into and press against the wound to limit bloodloss.

"2-15, status!" Came 2-66, over the sound of gunfire and screaming batarians.

"Airborne!" Grunted 2-15, as he threw his arms and legs out to increase his drag, and created a biotic field around him to reduce his mass. He was falling along the side of the building his squad was assaulting, and hurtling towards the ground at high speeds. Several hundred meters below him, and approaching fast, was a battle - on one side were the saltorians, BattleVectors and Tyyrahn alike, all pushing heavily against the rapidly retreating batarians. The former were spread about as best they could given the cramped urban conditions, but still they were blown apart by the high-impact weaponry, limbs and bodies flying in all directions as the slugs slammed into them. The latter, however, were being turned to clouds of red paste every time a massive saltorian slug even grazed one of them, and were turned to ash the moment an energy lance traced over their position.

"Impact in three!" Cassidy advised, as 2-15 angled himself towards the batarians and tensed his legs. "Two!" His EVA thrusters flared to slow his descent, some of the batarians looked up and shrieked in horror as they saw a SIGMA literally flying straight towards them. "One!" John righted himself with the ground and slammed into it.

Immediately he thrust a hand out and had a batarian in a headlock. He snapped its neck and threw the body to his left, as he leapt to the right. Some batarians made the incredible decision to fire their high-impact weapons in these close quarters, which only served to further cement the chaos 2-15 had wrought upon landing. He slammed his fist into the face of a salarian slave-soldier, whose head popped like a watermelon. The SIGMA II swept his leg low and caused the armed soldiers nearest him to collapse onto the ground with a loud huff as the ground and people around them exploded in the chaotic gunfire. 2-15 ducked under a rabid swung from a turian slave, and elbowed him in the stomach before following the attack up by punching upwards, a hardlight blade appearing and impaling the turian's skull.

It took 2-15 twenty seconds to clear twice as many bodies around him, and during that time the batarians had taken notice, but instead of trying to surround him, they all simply watched in horror as the SIGMA, without a single gun, tore apart - in some cases literally - his enemies. The SIGMA deflected a wild haymaker from an asari slave, slammed his violet-flamed palm into her chest, obliterating her barriers just a millisecond before he then kneed her in the stomach, the impact heavy enough to snap her spine and cause her to double over, where his arm wrapped around her neck and heaved upwards, crushing it into powder. He straightened up as he dropped the body, and the batarians - enough to make a platoon's worth of soldiers - watched the asari body flop limply to the ground.

Wreathed by Alnitek's bright light and standing atop of a pile of rubble, the SIGMA appeared as if he were simultaneously glowing with an ominous golden halo, but also was covered in deep shadows, as he turned the angry, angular, soulless red plates on his gas-mask/helmet to face them. Surrounded by dozens of soldiers with modified weapons so powerful that they could blow apart a respectably sized building, the SIGMA's presence alone appeared to take up the entire street.

Then the saltorians caught up with him, and charged over the pile of rubble. They parted around him like a stream would part before a boulder, and continued raging forward, their weapons roaring and their throats pushing out enough air to make their collective bellows powerful enough to deafen those without helmets.

"Three cannons down, only one remaining." Cassidy intoned over the radio, as 2-15 felt the nanites pooling around the wounds on his back, numb the pain, and help stitch the wounded tissues together.

"Two-Seven Seven here, update that count." Came a voice, before John saw, in his peripherals, another bright blue explosion.

"All cannons down." Said Cassidy, without missing a beat.

The batarian foothold in the city had been shattered. In three more hours, the city would be theirs. Six hours after that, the only Hegemony forces remaining on the planet would be those who surrendered, and had an Alliance force present to ensure the saltorians didn't just slaughter them wholesale. In less than a week, an enemy with millions of soldiers had besieged a planet, bombed it to smithereens, and tangled with its billions of inhabitants, arguably from a superior position, if only due to their orbital supremacy. In less than five days, a much more powerful force came stampeding in, destroyed their navy, rallied the billions of fighting indigenous sapients, routed the invading forces, and killed everyone who refused to capitulate.

Saltor was theirs.

A/N:

Tried to balance out the action and the plot in this chapter. I hope I did it - they conquered a planet and figured out they could blow up relays in 9.3K Words.

Anyways, I wanted to get the next chapter out before Andromeda, and I made it with just a few hours to spare.
I've been seeing a lot of the controversy surrounding that game, and a lot of my friends have been trying to get me to cancel my pre-order... Buuuut Mass Effect has been too good to me to give up on it without giving the next one a try.

I mean, hell - I liked 3's original ending well enough, so I should like the next game, right?
Here's hoping.

Till next time, folks!

-PFB