HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER EIGHT:
IMPERIAL DISSOLUTION
June 4, 2186
1406 hours.
War Room, Normandy-Class Steath Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Trebia System, Inbound for Menae.
The Reaper War, Apien Crest Campaign: Battle of Palaven.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Second Lieutenant James Vega, Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling.
Marcus stood in the vibrant lighting emitted by the war room table, braced against the object with his hands grasped around it with a solid grip, covered neck to toe in his Terminus armor, helmet laying ontop of its surface. Depicted above the table was a holographic representation of the turian homeworld of Palaven; and in constantly switched from the original turian positions, to their current ones.
The turian fleet had been pushed away from Palaven itself and were now being repelled by a strong blockade set by the Reapers while the rest of their force assaulted Palaven. Cipritine, the planet's capital, had been reported to be in total ruins, and many cities had already fallen to the enemy onslaught. Already, Harbinger's minions were setting up concentration camps on the surface, and doubtless thousands of turians were being hordered into these camps to be transformed into husks.
Menae was one of the last turian strongholds in the Trebia System; if it fell, the whole system couldn't be held, and the turians would be forced into tactical retreat. The moon was heavily fortified, and some of the turians most elite blackwatch special ops units were defending it, along with the occassional biotic Cabal unit and some of their other elite soldiers. The turians were giving its defense everything they had, and the fleet was insistent on holding the moon. Its fall would not be tolerated. Could not be afforded.
And yet it was. And Marcus' mission wasn't to ensure it didn't fall.
It was to rescue a Primarch before it did.
He switched the hologram from Palaven to Menae, the planet's only natural satellite. It was quite large, but it was almost the same size as Luna, so it wasn't anything extraordinary. The moon was riddled with numerous black dots; the dots of numerous turian military bases, airfields and anti-ship and anti-aircraft emplacements. Some of these were now smoking blimps, their fires long having died out due to the moon's lack of an atmosphere. Reaper Destroyers moved along its surface, along with the occassional Troop Carrier deploying husks. The ruins of crashed turian warships could be found along its marred, cratered surface, and it showed the brutality of war. He wondered how many turian men and women were dying down there at that moment. Too many. We fight or we die.
He waved his hand over the map, clenching it into a fist as he pulled forward, the interactive hologram pulling forward and zooming in as he did, viewing a particular turian firebase; Firebase Reach. It was serving as the FOB for the turian Army Group Menae, while the rest of the fortresses and strongholds were operations centers for seperate corps of the same army group. It was a coordinated defense, but the turian line was quickly collapsing. For all their military discipline and brilliant tactics, it meant nothing in the face of an enemy who read you like a book. They know every tactic before you coordinate it, your every move before you even think it. The Reapers have them checked at every intersection.
His team would deploy via shuttle just outside the firebase, where they would proceed to lift the Reaper advance on their rear, and open up communications with their CO. Through that, they would locate the Primarch and launch a quick search-and-rescue op. The Reaper presence at the front was pressuring the turian flanks, so deploying anywhere near that area was suicide; the rear was their best option. Deploy, extract, leave. And hope to god Garrus is alright. He thought about Palaven, and how Garrus was likely down there. He remembered back on Omega, when he reunited with the turian two years after his death.
He was alone with just a sniper rifle, against an army of mercenaries who wanted his blood. Now the same is happening here; except its an army of husks and Reapers taller than skyscrapers, and his sniper rifle won't be able to save him. It pained him to know his friend could be dead already, lying somewhere or being turned into a husk...No! Garrus is a fighter; you trained him what you know. Combined with him being a turian, he's going to be perfectly fine. Just concentrate on extracting that damn Primarch.
He really hated playing politics.
As his eyes focused on the hologram, he barely even heard the doors opening from the debriefing room. James walked through first, clad in his heavy blue armor, his Revenant holstered on his back. Keeling was close behind him, helmet pinned under one arm, her hair pinned in a ponytail as she followed behind the muscled marine. Liara wasn't far behind, and when the doors closed, the two humans and asari arrived at the front of the table, and it was then that he noticed their presence, his eyes drifting up to meet Liara's, and with a curt nod, he stood up straight, rigid as a tree trunk, hands clasped behind his back.
"You three are probably wondering why we're heading for Palaven. Well's here why," he stated, motioning his head to the still holographic image of Firebase Reach, "We're going to be landing on Menae; this is in no way a reinforcement of the Reaper positions; this is a lost battle, and we all know it. Hell, Councilor Sparatus, the person who gave me this mission, knows it. But if we turn the left cheek, we'll lose our only hope of getting the Hierarchy's support for the armada. Which is why we're here. We have to play politics." He heard James moan, while Liara smiled and Keeling remained silent, eyes steely. Marcus shook his head, finding himself agreeing with Vega's assessment of the situation.
"Trust me, its not my idea of waging war. But we need to extract a high value target. More specifically, a turian Primarch. He's due to appear at the war summit, and if he doesn't appear, we lose the support of the turians, and therefore, the volus. Those are two races we cannot afford to lose in this war, so extracting Fedorian is a number one priority. Cortez will drop us down the rear of this base," he pointed a finger at the assigned part of the moon, "We'll link up with the turian commander, and find out the Primarch's location. We will advance towards him, pick him up, and quickly extract. We are not here to hang around. Remember; this is an extraction op, and nothing else."
"Shepard, if we're landing on Palaven..." Liara piped up, and she seemed to hesitate with her words, "What about Garrus? He could be down there! We can't just leave him behind."
"If we come across him, which is unlikely, that'll be a bonus," Marcus declared, looking downtrodden, ""I...if not, I...don't know Liara. We can't afford detours here. But for Garrus...we'll do what we can. Maybe establish some communications." Or we can just leave. This war's too important for me to be searching an entire planet for one turian who just happens to know me.
But its Garrus...what if it was Tali down there?
The answer to that was obvious. But he wasn't willing to face it just yet. We'll cross that bridge when we reach it. "Look, the point is that we need to quickly land and then be gone just as quickly. We are not here to help them."
"Why not? Those soldiers are being slaughtered down there, loco," James stated, leaning against the table to emphasize his point, "We can't just leave them to die!"
Marcus turned to them, eyes ablaze, "I would if I could! But we are a four man squad, and would not be much reinforcement to them. Besides, what is the point? The battle was lost before it began. The Reapers have the numbers, the firepower and the intelligence. How can you rout them when they don't feel fear? How can you crush their flank when they don't have one? How the fuck can you outnumber them, when they outnumber simply by being bigger!" he slammed his fist on the table, "Again, this isn't about what we want. The hardest decisions are not the easy ones, and that's something I've come to learn. That you've come to learn. And if we don't rescue this Primarch, more soldiers like them will die; followed by the entire turian species. Understood?"
James reluctantly nodded, still not liking the circumstances but understood just how futile such bravado would be in the face of such a vast enemy. Marcus gave a curt nod in return, showing he appreciated James' acknowledgement, and understood his predicament. He turned back to the table, eying all four of them, "We are pretty much going to be dropping into the middle of a battlefield; so no funny business. No banter, no fuckin around; we move as a team, and as a cohesive, disciplined unit. We are soldiers from here on out; you read me?"
All three nodded, Keeling's stare always remaining cold and absorbant. Being an N7, I'm not surprised. She's the most composed, the most competent, the most disciplined. The one who follows orders, and knows the horrors of the battlefield. Once upon a time, I was just like her. The thought made him sigh. Then I became a Spectre. It felt different to be a spectre now; now it just didn't feel as good, because anyone would do as you told them to anyway out of fear of the Reapers. Abusing his powers didn't have any fun in it anymore. Still gets me discounts though.
"Excellent," he declared, picking up his helmet from the table and slotting it over his head, hearing it click into his place over his head. Quickly checking that his HUD was active, he turned to the team, seeing they had put on their helmets as well, fastening them as they did, "Down to the Shuttle Bay people," he commed Samantha's terminal in the CIC, "Traynor, inform Cortez we're on our way and to prep the shuttle for combat insertion. Joker, get us as close as you can without being spotted."
A duo of 'yes captain's' came from both Samantha and Joker, but the spectre barely noticed as he moved to the front of the group, taking the lead as they all headed for the elevator, prepped for the imminent battle ahead.
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June 4, 2186
1418 hours.
Gun Emplacement E, Rearguard Position, Firebase Reach, Menae.
The Reaper War, Apien Crest Campaign: Siege of Menae.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Second Lieutenant James Vega, Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling.
"Focus your fire on that gap!"
"I need support!"
"Grenade! Plug that hole! Someone get me a damn medic!"
"INCOMING!"
Marcus moved forward as the gun emplacement, a turian thermal-optimized heavy machine gun, coughed out and endless storm of high velocity rounds, tearing through what seemed to be an endless swarm of husks and cannibals as they tried to overwhelm their position. James manned the position, with a turian shouting targets into his ear. Nearby, Keeling pulled out a grenade and tossed it, watching it detonate later and kill five other husks that James failed to vanquish. One turian attempted to move forward, but a harvester appeared and bombarded his position, ripping the soldier apart and leaving only blue viscera on the spot he had originally occupied.
Anothe turian lay nearby, a medic tending to him, while Liara covered their position with a stream of biotic assaults. Marcus threw in the occassional warp field, while his mattock picked and located targets, taking them out one by one. He lay behind a piece of twisted metal that had been damaged in a harvester attack, while Keeling lay prone nearby, and Liara not far from her, using a natural crater for cover in her prone state.
As he fired another shot, a missile streaked from behind him and impacted the wreathing mass of husks, blasting them apart from the blast. The turian yelled in triumph, and Marcus couldn't help but chuckle slightly as he popped out of cover one more, landing a clean shot through an approaching cannibal's head.
Cortez had dropped them off not too long ago, and it had been a bloodbath. The turians were in the middle of being overwhelmed and were exhausted when they arrived, and ever since then, the Reaper forces had been intent on attacking their position. The gun emplacement almost never stopped firing, and the turians were starting to become too tired to even stand; but they soldiered on, just like all soldiers did.
He watched Keeling fire a long burst from her rifle, and Liara cough a burst from her SMG. They were going to start running low soon, but they couldn't say the same for the Reapers; they seemed to have an endless supply of troops to just throw at them. I'm surprised they haven't just sent a Destroyer to just wipe us out by now...
"Captain Shepard," a familiar turian voice called over the radio, and he immediately commed it, listening in and preparing a response, "What's the situation in the rear?"
"Its pretty bad, General Corinthus," Marcus replied, noting the name of the commanding officer of Firebase Reach and its surrounding forces, "We're going to run low soon, we've taken heavy casualities, and they won't stop coming. Either we get reinforcements, or an airstrike, or nothing."
Before the General could reply, a sing-song voice sounded over the comm, interrupting the turian commander, "Don't worry, guys. You just happen to have a generous pilot willing to dish out some pain for you. Its on the house."
Never in his life was he more relieved to watch the Normandy's blue and white hull loom over them, its gun baring down on the helpless husks below. The ship-to-ship gun batteries dropped death upon them, their impacts shaking the ground with each impact, but absolutely shredding the enemy. And, he might have been hallucinating, but it seemed the horde was actually retreating. Maybe they've had enough? Or maybe they're rallying for another attack...Husks weren't intelligent whatsoever, so they only had one tactic; maul your enemies and use sheer numbers to overwhelm them. Any other tactics was too advanced for them. I guess that's the one advantage we have over them; brains. The Reapers are practically undefeatable in space, but on the ground? They could be defeated, as was seen now.
But even then we needed the Normandy to thin out their numbers. What if the Normandy hadn't been present, or couldn't out of worry of being spotted? What would have happened then? They would have surely been overrun, for sure. And the firebase behind them wouldn't know it until husks were going from bunker to bunker, massacring and mauling the wounded and the unprepared.
He gave a salute in the direction of the frigate, knowing full well the pilot couldn't see it, "Thanks Joker. I owe you one."
"I'll make sure to cash in," Joker quipped before cutting the line, and the Normandy shot back up and disappeared into the space battle above; turian frigates desperately wrestling for control over the moon with Reaper Destroyers and the lightly armed Troop Carriers; a fight they were, of course, losing. Most powerful military in the galaxy...and even the turians can't beat them. I can understand why the Council's lost hope. He shook his head, angered at that idea. That doesn't justify cowardice! They are too busy hiding behind their own borders, hoping the threat will go away. Will looky here Sparatus! You did that, and now the turian people are paying the price. Your homeworld is burning as you pay the price.
"Thank you Captain," one turian sergeant thanked, Marcus turning around to see the man holding a wet cloth over his face, having suffered third-degree burns from a nearby explosion, "I thought for sure they'd overwhelm us. Never seen such a...persistent enemy."
Marcus nodded to him, slamming in a fresh thermal clip as he signalled for his squad to regroup on him, "They'll be back, sergeant. And when that time comes, you won't be able to hold them off here," he pointed to the rear gate, where it was heavily fortified by a barricade, gun emplacements flanking it, and multiple vantage points, "The narrow path leading up to the rear gate will allow you to catch them in a chokepoint; fall back to that position and hold it."
"Yes sir," the turian saluted, before limping away, rallying his men behind him. Marcus nodded to him sympathetically, having seen the look of defeat in the man's eyes as he saw the large amounts of turian dead lying on the ground, either riddled with bullets and mauled by husks ripping them apart. You never get used to seeing death. Not even soldiers; we just pretend to be unfazed by it.
Marcus turned back towards his squad, who had been in the process of reloading their weapons he turned around, "Hope you guys aren't exhausted, because this is only going to get worse, I can gather."
"Please Loco," James scoffed, breathing in shallow intakes of air, "I've fought battles way longer than this, and far more taxing."
"Somehow I doubt that," Marcus deadpanned, shaking his head as his expression remained cold and steely, turning to Keeling, "Keeling?"
"I'm sweating, and ready to sweat some more, captain," the N7 stated, snapping a firm salute, "N7s don't cry and hide meekly in a corner, sir. You of all people should know that."
"Excellent," he stated hastily, turning to his asari companion, "How 'bout you, Liara?"
"Tired, but still going," Liara commented, letting a light grin cross her face, "Could be worse for wear; we did just fight off a horde of husks."
He nodded to her, before turning around and making a jog to the rear gate, hoping to link up with this Corinthus and get some info on the location of Fedorian. His team followed behind him without a word needing to be said, their expressions turning from ones of amusement to ones of seriousness. He gave the occassional cursory nod to some of the turian soldiers as they walked past, but aside from that, he was utterly silent.
He found his gaze drifting upwards every once and a while. Palaven loomed over them, being almost the exact same size as Earth. The planet that would normally be a combination of dark green and grey was now alight with orange, giant patches of it plastered over the planet's surface, untold amounts of death and destruction raging upon it. He could see Reapers coming and going through the planet's atmosphere, either attempting to engage the entrenched turian fleet over Menae or descending onto Palaven; Marcus had no doubt that if the Reapers sent even a quarter of their force, they would easily crush the turian fleet; he knew that, and he also knew that Harbinger was just playing with them. Letting us believe we've gained the upperhand, and later it'll show that we never had the upperhand at all, and the Reapers are simply superior in every way. Reaper arrogance at its best.
He found himself reminded of Sun Tzu, and how all the man's brilliant tactics and strategies would be completely irrelevant in the face of the Reapers. All except one. Know your enemy, and know yourself, and you'll always be victorious. That was true enough; he knew the Reapers better than anyone, and he knew the extent of his own abilities quite well, but he was yet to be victorious. It'll take a miracle before we gain a victory over them. Or just a shit load of firepower.
His view of Palaven was obstructed as a new shadow cast itself slowly over them, and he watched as the bulky, heavily-armoured form of a turian heavy cruiser glided past them in complete silence, moving to join a battlegroup of frigates not too far ahead. He wondered how many men and women manned its decks, and how they'd all be dead sooner or later. The Reapers leave nothing standing; total destruction. Complete eradication. As Palaven burns, they are wiping turian history from existence, piece by piece. An entire people.
He imagined the same was happening on Khar'Shan. And on Earth. Entire histories being burnt to the ground, and there was nothing he could do but keep building his armada.
Reaching the gate, he commed the gatekeeper to open it. It took a couple of seconds, but the gate did collapse forward and open, three turian marines coming out from behind the steel walls with phaeston assault rifles at the ready, their helmets concealing their features. Upon seeing however, they lowered their weapons, and moved to the side, and Marcus and his team quickly moved past and into the firebase; as they did this, the turians were already bringing the gate back up, and by the time they were moving into the main base, the gate was sealed shut, and the turians moving back to their posts.
Marcus took in the features of Firebase Reach itself; it wasn't anything fancy, and mostly consisted of portable bunkers and barricades and watch towers. The designers of the firebase had chosen its position well, as the crater it was built in gave it natural walls to protect itself from enemy forces, and any entrances were narrow and claustrophobic, meaning that they could be used to bring the enemy into choke points and dispatch them; those areas could, and were, sealed up with barricades and gun emplacements. Overall, Firebase Reach had the advantage of good positioning to aid its defense.
Crates lay around the open space, with weapons stacked against them; grenades, rifles and pistols, sniper rifles and shotguns, numerous heavy weapons and even packets of thermal clips. One bunker was loaded full of armor, and the base's armourer seemed to be hard at work mending a piece of light armor that had been scarred on its upper right chestplate. Numerous other bunkers were scattered along the base's perimeter, all with their own purpose. The armoury was located on the left of the rear entrance, and the medical bunker was on the right, which was currently overflowing and even had wounded soldiers lying outside waiting for treatment, covered in gunshot wounds or claw marks, and others drenched in their own blue blood.
There was the quarters were off-shift troopers went to rest, but it was completely empty, given the turians could afford to let their men sleep while the Reapers were constantly assaulting their walls. Black scorch marks potmarked the ground from back to front, showing signs of bombardment from harvesters, and from where he stood, he could see the massive barricade at the front of the base that served as the front entrance; a large, six meter high wall of titantium with a ladder leading to the top and a 30mm turian heavy turret mounted ontop, and a blast door sealed shut in the middle; ontop were five turians firing down below, with a single trooper mounting the turret, the weapon causing the whole barricade to vibrate with every shot, and letting out a sizzle of energy as it dispatched the thermal clip before continuing to fire.
Marcus continued to take in all these details as he located the Operations Center and headed for it. He could see from outside that there was a turian in orange/brown medium body armor leaning over a holographic war table like the one on the Normandy, and two subordinates flanked him, wearing light to medium armor similiar to his, but both brown and grey in Hierarchy colors. Marcus, ignoring the guards posted outside the bunker, moved past them and into the bunker, insistent on meeting this General Corinthus. He had been introduced to him over the radio when they first landed, which had been a zone full of husks that had forced Cortez to drop them off and then bug out, but never actually met the man. Now he could get things sorted out. Liara, James and Keeling followed behind him, all of them remaining ever silent.
He came to stand behind the war table, holstering his mattock as his hands landed at his side, waiting for the man in orange armor, who was obviously Corinthus, to finish handing out his orders.
The turian didn't even turn to the man on his left as he pointed a clawed finger at a place on the map, motioning to what looked to be a communications tower that was flashing red on the map, "Spirits, Sergeant Barnus, I don't care how you do it, but I want that damn comms tower operational. How the hell are we meant to coordinate a defense if we can't even contact the other firebases? We might as well be flaying our arms around wildly. Take your squad, get to that comm tower, and get it fixed. I know its swarming with Reaper activity, but we can't afford to be fighting blind here. Do what you need to do. Now get to it."
The sergeant snapped a firm salute, yelling 'yes sir!' before jogging down the steps, retrieving his vindicator and then yelling orders over his radio, running off towards the western entrance. Corinthus, ever focused on his battle map, once again didn't turn, his finger gliding to a map of the base, where it landed over an image of the front barricade, "Sergeant Tobestk, our men on that wall are getting exhausted and the Reapers will be sending fresh reinforcements soon. Take your men and reinforce Staff Sergeant Egnalianus' position. On the double-quick." Tobetsk snapped a salute of his own, before muttering a 'sir' and rushing off towards the barricade, weapon in hand and squad falling in behind him. Before Marcus could even so much as open his mouth, the general spoke first, his hand sliding over the map to move it across to another area.
"Captain Shepard," he greeted with what sounded like relief in his tone, "Heard you were coming; ArchGeneral Victus informed us as much. I didn't believe it though; thought you'd have your own problems, but its good to see you really are here to help. As I told you over the radio, my name is General Manipia Corinthus."
Marcus tensed up at the word help, and gulped down the sense of regret he felt building in his mind, "With all due respect Corinthus, we aren't here to provide support. Councilor Sparatus gave me an important mission that requires immediate attention. Galactic stability and its continued survival is at risk."
Corinthus seemed to also tense up at that, his hands ceasing to move upon Marcus' words. For a second he thought he'd receive a verbal beating, but the man simply continued on, the relief gone from his tone, showing how defeated he must have been to hear that no help was coming, and that even the Hero of the Citadel couldn't help them, "Well, if the Council says its important enough to send one of their spectres, I can't exactly tell you to go to hell. I'll do what I can for you, but with our communications down, that isn't much."
"We need to find Primarch Fedorian," Marcus stated, straight and to the point, "He's needed for the War Summit in the fight against the Reapers. I'm building an armada, and I need your people to be part of it; only the Primarch can ensure that. Our intel says he's on Menae and in need of extraction."
It was then that Corinthus completely froze up, and Marcus didn't like that at all. The man had ceased all movement and for a few tense seconds, nothing was said. After however, Corinthus finally turned towards him, the turian's green eyes meeting Marcus' with a look of regret, "I..." he gulped, before turning back to his console, "I'm sorry Captain, but your intel is outdated. Primarch Fedorian is dead, same as his wife, the Metarch. Their shuttle was shot down as they tried to leave the moon; apparently they were trying to link up with Irix's flagship, the Solemn Reaper, but were spotted by a Reaper Destroyer and blown up. I'm sorry, but the Hierarchy has no Primarch or Metarch to give."
Marcus was too shocked for words, but he did not it show on his face. The Primarch is dead? His wife too? Now what the fuck am I supposed to do? Without a leader, the Hierarchy will have noone to rally behind, which means no turians in the armada. Goddamn it, I need them! There has to be another way to get their support!
"I'm sorry to hear that," Marcus stated, sighing heavily, "I heard he was a good man." Which is a load of bullshit; I heard nothing of the sort. But sympathy, even where it is fake, will be useful now. He cringed at those thoughts, which he found himself doing lately. What the fuck is wrong with you? I can understand needing to do anything to get turian support, but fake sympathy? You've always been about the facts.
"And brave. Politically, and militarily. The man committed forty years to the turian military. He once held the rank of ArchGeneral before giving it to his secretary, Adrien Victus. He would have made an outstanding diplomat. Our people mourn over his loss," the man froze again, but this time broke it instantly by slamming his fist into the table, "This battle's already taken enough of our spirit from us, but the troops didn't need to see their own Primarch's shuttle blown out of the sky. Might as well have hammered a nail into our coffin, as I believe the human saying goes."
Marcus nodded, finding himself regretting Fedorian's death more and more with everything detail. Damn it, this guy sounds like he would have been just my kind of politician; no nonsense, straight to the point and getting shit done. If he had been the turian councilor instead of Sparatus, maybe we'd be more ready than we are now. But now Fedorian's dead, and my hands are currently empty of a Primarch. "So what's next? I know this might seem insensitive General, but I can't leave Menae empty handed. The war summit is practically hanging on a turian presence. Is there anyway to replace Fedorian?"
It was Liara who spoke up, coming to stand on his right and behind Corinthus as she spoke to Marcus, "The turian government uses a succession system, and it provides very clear lines of promotion."
Marcus frowned as he looked at her, but it was James who spoke, "So...what, like a monarchy? Kings and queens, and all that crap?"
"No, not quite," Liara corrected, "That's based on the family members succeeding them, which is not at all the case with the turian system. Since they are militarist, their line of succession is based on whoever is the highest ranking member of the military at that time, ensuring a military leader. His wife would then become the Metarch, just like a monarchy. But because that's conflicting between the Didact of the Navy and the ArchGeneral of the Army/Marines, they do a periodic basis. One election will be navy, the next will be army, and so on."
Corinthus nodded at her explanation, bracing against the table with his arms, "That's correct. And this election period this time is army based. Which means..."
Marcus remembered just who the head of the army was, and that Corinthus had mentioned him before, "Wait, that means ArchGeneral Victus is the next Primarch. You mentioned him before."
Corinthus looked very uncertain at that point, and Liara let out an exhale of breath. Marcus exchanged looks between them, both of them seeming to know something he didn't. Seeing his look of confusion, Liara shyly rubbed the back of her neck, turning to him, "His...name...crossed my deck once or twice."
"Considering all forces in the army branch answer to him, there isn't a single turian in existence who doesn't know him," Corinthus piped up, "Lifelong military, gets results, and popular among his troops is some of the words you could use to describe him. Then you reach military command, and that's when the complaining starts; only Primarch Fedorian seemed to tolerate him. He has a...reputation...for playing loose with accepted strategy."
"That would appear to be quite the understatement, if any of my intel serves me right," Liara stated.
Corinthus nodded, her words managing to get a vain chuckle out of him, "On Taetrus, during the uprisings, his squad discovered a salarian spy ring about the same time the turian separatists did. Rather than neatralize the ring, he fell back; even sacrificed valuable installations and bases to the separatists as he did. Then the rebels attacked the salarians, and when they had both worn each other out, Victus moved back in and not only took back the forts and bases, he also defeated the rebels and the spy ring in one attack; didn't lose a single man. The men thought he was a genius and a hero, but command thought he had played the game recklessly, and had gambled too much for the outcome to be worth it. Other words, it was bold, but wild behaviour doesn't get you advanced up the meritocracy. But it didn't matter; he ended up commanding the entire army regardless, and now he's Primarch."
A bold, reckless military commander who inspires loyalty in his troops, gets the job done and has spent his life in the military. This is the kind of man I can tolerate. Primarch Victus; even has a nice ring to it. "I need to find Victus now and extract him. Who's next in line as ArchGeneral?"
Corinthus scoffed, "Unlike the succession for the Primarch position, succession for ArchGeneral isn't as easy, especially when you have seven different field generals, like me, that are eligble for the position. Usually the ArchGeneral chooses, but I doubt he's going to have much time for that. And especially not with our comms down."
"You don't know where he is?" Marcus asked, confused at how you could lose your commander's position.
"He's constantly moving from base to base. Normally he'd inform us of such movements, but because the comms are down..." he didn't need to finish that thought as he could see the recognition in Marcus' eyes, "But hopefully Sergeant Barnus will be getting that problem fixed quite soon. We should have comms up and working soon, and then we can discern ArchGeneral Victus' position."
Marcus nodded, but as if excellently well-timed, the console beeped, and Corinthus hit an icon that displayed Barnus' face on his omni-tool, "What is it, Sergeant?"
Streaks of gunfire could be seen in the background, and Barnus' response was hurried, his helmet cam shaking with his head as he ran, "Our position was overrun! They came out of nowhere! They were being lead by a Marauder! We need to fall back, General! The comm tower isn't operational!"
The turian general's fist once more impacted the table in frustration, but he suddenly looked at Marcus with a brief instance of relief, letting his clenched fist drop to his side, "Retreat to a suitable distance Barnus, and hold position. Reinforcements are headed your way." He then cut the comm.
"And I wonder who they could be?" Marcus joked, already pulling his mattock out to drop into his hands.
"You wanted comms, now you get to acquire them. I just hope your team has an engineer."
"N4s were given basic combat engineering skills in our class to make us able to perform EOD and weapon disassembly," he turned towards Keeling, "Meaning you are up. Mine are a bit rusty."
She gave him a curt nod, and said nothing else as he turned back to Corinthus, another questioning lingering on his mind. His eyes met the side of the general's head as he spoke, "General, just what is a marauder?"
Again with that tensing; the turian seemed almost stone-like now, his body refusing to show any sign of life in it. He did not flinch, or even blink. He just seemed to stare at the table, before his head drooped low, and he sighed heavily, "They are...Reaper...abominations. Perversions. Husks, as you know them, but...not quite the usual type. They only started popping up after they began occupying Palaven; before that was just Cannibals, Harvesters and your standard husk, along with some explosive husks, these floating tanks, and walking tanks. We didn't know who they had converted to make them until...we took a look at their face..."
Marcus knew where this was going, and his serious expression took on a much more sober look.
Corinthus just continued, "Our own people...the turian species...is that what fate awaits us if we lose this? To be turned into those...things? These...marauders?"
"We'll be alot worse if we lose. So don't," Marcus stated sternly, gripping Corinthus' shoulder with a vice like grip, "Those husks were once my people. The Cannibals were once batarians. Yes, those marauders may have once been turians, but are they anymore? No. Which means you kill them. Don't let the Reapers pervert and use their bodies any longer than they deserve; put their bodies to rest."
"You're right. And we have killed many of them," Corinthus stated, "Its just...they don't just look like us, they act like us. They're more intelligent than the other husks; they actually...they actually possess some sort of tactical mindset. We've tried flanking actions, but they seem to counter it easily. They don't just charge in either; and we've seen them leading other husks before. Our theory is that the Reapers use them as ground force commanding units; let them lead troops into battle. I think that's why they're allowed...some...intelligence. Hell, troops have reported them using some kind of strange ability to bring dead husks back to life. And they use phaeston assault rifles...my people's assault rifles. Its like the Reapers are mocking us."
Everything they do is to mock us. The fact that they're letting us believe we've had some sort of victory is just part of their game of mocking. Soon they will attack, Menae will be overwhelmed, and every single turian on his moon will become another marauder or food for a Cannibal. Either way, the Reapers are just playing with you. Its all a game to them. Why?
Because why would gods go to war with organics?
Then he remembered the Reaper corpses Joker had pointed out as they exited through the relay. The two Reapers he destroyed when he blew up the Bahak Relay. The Human-Reaper his team killed in the Collector Base. Sovereign, who had been killed by the Normandy SR-1 three years ago. The thought made him smile behind his helmet. I've seen gods die. My team has made gods bleed. The turians have shown that the military strategists of the galaxy were able to beat gods; wound them, kill them, spread them. These gods can die. And we will make them bleed every drop of blood they have.
He nodded, deciding it would be best if he did not say anything. Instead, he simply turned around, weapon still in hand, as he prepared to leave, his voice ringing out behind him, "We'll bring that comms tower online General, and once Primarch Victus is extracted, we will show the Reapers what the consequence of arrogance brings them in this cycle. It may have worked for the Protheans, but it will not work on us. I promise you that, General." And with that, he was gone, Liara, James and Keeling following behind him and spreading out, working like a well-oiled machine as they converged on the western entrance.
{Loading...}
June 4, 2186
1442 hours.
Firebase Communications Tower, Western Position, Firebase Reach, Menae.
The Reaper War, Apien Crest Campaign: Siege of Menae.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Second Lieutenant James Vega, Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling.
The area surrounding the communications tower was practically empty; apart from the walls that made up the edge of the crater that Firebase Reach was in, and the tower itself at the end of the very wide open area, there was just nothing but a few rocks and some moon dirt. A crack ran along the middle of the area, while a rocky outcrop towered over them to provide a good sniping spot, but that was it. Empty of all inanimate objects.
But not quite as empty of animate objects. Especially not of the howling, hissing, growling, nightmarish kind.
Marcus and his team came up behind Sergeant Barnus and his squad, who looked much smaller than a squad now; they had five men at most left, including Barnus, all of who looked injured in some way, some of them limping while others cradled broken bones or open, festering wounds glistening in blue blood. They had discarded their rifles for SMG sidearms, each of them firing into the horde of husks, at least ten of them, plus five cannibals, and what Marcus assumed was the marauder, up back. Barnus practically rushed past Marcus, followed by his troops as they made their retreat. Marcus was lightning quick however, and grabbed hold of Barnus and shoved him forwards, fixing him with an icy glare.
Barnus looked at him in terror, wandering if he were crazy, "What are you doing, trooper? You heard General Corinthus; your orders were to hold position until reinforcements arrived. We are here, and I see the position you were meant to be holding is currently occupied by a smug looking marauder."
"What the hell who were we meant to do?" Barnus spat, his men, unable to proceed past Marcus' squad, turning and opening fire at the incoming enemy, with some form of discipline still instilled at them as they picked and chose their targets and covered their flanks, "Holding that position was spirits-be-damned suicide! They had already overwhelmed, I didn't see any point in hanging around!"
Marcus jabbed an angry finger at the western gate, "Your routing would have left the place completely unprepared for a Reaper flanking movement; you could have gotten everyone killed, you bloody fool." And without any further words, he threw Barnus aside, brought his mattock to bare, and opened fire.
His squad quickly joined in, and together they mowed down the ten husks converging on them. Barnus squad was saved, all except one, who had been too far afront and had been tackled to the ground by four husks, who then proceeded to rip him into bloody ribbons while he screamed. And by the time James shredded the four husks with his revenant, there was nothing remotely recognizable about the turian. He was glad that smell didn't carry in space, or he imagined that body would have left even a hardened woman like Liara, puking; bits of blue muscle exposed to space and face caved in from all angles, it was a gruesome sight.
It certainly didn't boost morale in Barnus' squad, and they quickly joined Barnus on the ground as they cowered. Marcus knew what Garrus would call them. Turians stand firm in the face of a strong adversary, just as we did in the face of the krogan. Any turian who abandons his post is not just a coward, he's a disgrace to his people, and that's the worst reputation you can have as a turian. That's why turian cowards don't exist. Oh, but they do, Garrus. He was looking at them right now.
He turned back around in time to see Keeling finish off the last husk and for Liara to launch a singularity into the midst of five cannibals approaching them. The twisted batarians barely got off a shot before they were sucked in by the distorted gravity, and to conclude the array of dazzling lights and dark energy, Marcus charged up a warp field and threw it dead center, detonating the singularity, and atomizing the cannibals into nothing.
That left the Marauder.
Unlike the Cannibal, it was quite obvious what the creature used to be; the form of a turian could easily be made out in its cybernetic visage. What used to be the skin, or in a turian's case, the plates, was now metallic alloy and cybernetics, all meshed together; the organics could not be seen as its entire body seemed to be made of full body, dark black and grey armor, and its eyes had been replaced and swapped with cybernetic optics that glowed a dim blue. The frills of a turian were now extended outwards and replaced, again, with metallic alloy, and it made robotic whirs that sounded scarily like a geth. Its mouth was gone and replaced with more metal plates, and it wielded a phaeston assault rifle in its grip. And when he fired at it, it seemed to possess kinetic shielding, blue energy popped into existence before it, absorbing the impact.
However, the marauder by itself was still no match for Marcus' squad, and both himself and James ripped into it, quickly eradicating its shields and hot lead slammed and shredded its inadequate armor, the huskified turian giving a final mechanical whir as its head whipped back from Marcus' mattock hitting it, causing it to fall backwards, inactive. James approached it and finished the rest of his clip into its head, ensuring its death before reloading. He nodded to Marcus as the spectre walked past, holding his weapon up with one hand as he approached the comms tower, squad falling in behind.
The tower itself wasn't very complex; it was a basic box structure with a dish towering above it, and a service ladder leading to the top where a maintenance console was seated; down below sat another console, which was used for manual transmission. He turned to Keeling, motioning to the ladder, "Get to it, trooper. Get that thing online."
She was already up the first rung by the time he finished his second sentence, weapon holstered on her back and rapidly climbing. But as they turned, they found themselves facing a Reaper counterattack led by two marauders, and backed by multiple cannibals, husks, four scions, and a few abominations. Thinking quickly, he motioned to the many rocks around them, "Take cover and pick your targets; shoot to kill."
The next few minutes were just that; James took cover behind a particularly big rock, taking two grenades from his bandolier and tossing them over his cover to land in the vanguard of the Reaper advance, tearing apart two cannibals and a few more husks before they were able to return fire. Following up his explosive assault, he took aim with his light machine gun and thumbed the trigger, drilling fire along the entire Reaper line and taking down husks by the fives and sixes before return fire from a nearby scion took chunks of his rock and forced him back behind it.
Liara quickly followed up, gunning down an approaching cannibal with her SMG before letting out a short battle cry and letting loose a barrage of warp fields that sent one charging abomination flying back into the Reaper line, its body exploding into bright, orange light and atomizing a few more husks and more abominations.
Marcus let loose with a biotic shockwave, before rapidly firing his mattock and numerous different targets. His shockwave cut a neat line down the line of husks before them, almost completely decimating them, while sending two abominations off the side of the cliff face and down below to explode harmlessly. His mattock managed to hit one cannibal in the head and blow its 'brains' out, while another shot blew another cannibal's knew to shreds, but not killing it; Liara did that. The rest of his fire was focused on a marauder flanking James, which eventually ended in the marauder being spotted by James, and being filled with bullets.
Enemy return fire blew his shields to hell before he even got to cover, and a shot narrowly missed his cheek, while another took him in the belly, his armor softening the impact and merely winding him as he disappeared from view. He hissed from the impact, knowing he'd have a bruise tomorrow, but softened up when he heard the familiar sound of the thump thump thump of a biotic shockwave shoot past him, the dark orange biotic color compared to the normal blue telling him it had been a scion who had attacked him. God, I had enough of those things when we fought the Collectors. Now I have to spend a whole war fighting them.
Minutes went by as they held against the Reaper assault, but it was becoming too much. For every husk they killed, three more replaced them, and for every marauder that was blown to pieces, a scion narrowly killed him or an unseen abomination. Liara was clearly starting to get tired, but was too tough to show it, and James looked to be running short on ammo as he had resorted to using his shotgun to blast away at any enemies daring to get close enough.
"Keeling! How's that tower comin!"
Keeling's response was clipped and quick, "You picked a good time sir; just finished! The comm tower should be back online! I'm patching you through to Corinthus."
The turian general's voice quickly filled his head piece, "Our comms are back up, Shepard. From what our field commanders have reported, ArchGen-Primarch Victus," he corrected himself, "Has, or rather, had, situated himself in Firebase Veracity."
"Had? I don't like playing the pronoun game, Corinthus. Just give me the facts."
"Victus reported that a massive enemy counterattack was beginning to overwhelm their defenses a few minutes ago. Says he'll hold out for as long as possible, but he'll need to retreat soon. That was the last anyone heard of him."
"Just give me the coordinates and we'll be the rescue team. Victus cannot die. You hear me? He is the future of the turian race, so he must be protected at all costs," Marcus stated firmly, wincing as a bullet pinged off his rock, reminding him of their predicament as Keeling slid into cover next to him, exchanging fire with the enemy, "We could also do with alittle assistance. Reaper forces are currently giving us a hammering."
"I can help with that."
Corinthus remained silent. And Marcus smiled...grinned, actually.
A sniper shot wizzed by, followed by another, and then another. As he peeked over cover, he saw husk after husk fall, and then watched further as another round, this one seeming to be explosive, tore into the central head of a scion, blowing its upper body apart. This action followed with the other three scions, and then the non-explosive parade of sniper shots continued.
"You just going to sit there, or am I going to be taking all the kills today, Shepard? Wouldn't want your meager reputation further, would you? The chicks already love me more...lets not start with you forgetting how to kill."
Marcus must have sounded like a sadistic maniac when he started chuckling as he fired at the enemy, but he didn't care. He raised from cover, his team also doing so, his mattock placed against his shoulder and letting loose. With the sniper support they were getting, they easily dispatched the enemy, and when all was done, Marcus reloaded his mattock, and turned around, still grinning.
Remember that outcropping? The one perfect for sniping? Well that's where the sniper had taken his position, leaping down from it and holstering his Reaper sniper rifle on his back, mandibles splitting into a grin behind his mask as he closed the distance between the two of them. For a moment, they simply stood there, looking at each other, with nothing to say. Then the turian spoke, seeming to examine him before their eyes met once more.
"You've gotten fat."
Marcus' grin only grew, "You're getting lazy. Saw a few of those shots miss."
"You did not."
"Maybe I did," Marcus teasingly threatened, and more silence ensued. It did not last long.
Within seconds, the two of them wrapped each other in a brotherly hug, chuckling as they slapped each others' backs. When all was done, they pulled away, the turian laughing, with a look of noticable ease in his features, which could be seen through the transparent visor.
"Garrus!" Marcus greeted, "Of all the places..."
"Well, its not quite Omega," Garrus contemplated, "But I thought it would do. Besides, you had to save my ass last time, only fair that I return the favor, even if there is a massive difference between mercenaries and cybernetic servants of killer sentient starships, and that just sounds silly."
"Its good to see you," Marcus stated, feeling his spirits lifted slightly by the turian's presence, "God knows its good see another friendly face. I just thought you'd be on Palaven."
"I was stationed on Menae when the Reapers hit. Call it extremely good luck," Garrus jested, but upon the last line his voice took on a much more somber tone, but he elected to not elaborate on it, simply turning towards Liara with a much bigger grin, "Now, I don't exactly remember these two at all, but Liara? How could I miss our...eccentric archaelogist, and Shadow Broker to match."
"Wait, Bluey is the Shadow Broker?" James stated in amazement, turning towards Liara, eyes wide, "Well well, there's something I did not know. I knew you were a badass, but you're friends with the Shadow Broker?"
"Hey. Don't forget Archangel," Garrus pointed out, waving a finger in the air to make himself known, "I took a rocket to the face, and survived. And I managed to piss off the Eclipse, Blue Suns and Blood Pack so much that they actually joined forces to kill me."
"And then I saved his ass," Marcus prided, "He wouldn't have lasted without me."
"I'll admit, Shepard may have provided a good distraction. But seriousy, rocket to the face. And I have the scars to prove it."
"Scars?" James grinned, turning towards Marcus, "Loco, I think I'm going to call Garrus 'scars' from now on."
"Bluey? Loco? Scars?" Garrus quizzed, turning towards Marcus with a raised eyebrow, "What is with these nicknames?"
"He's an eccentric young fellow," the spectre joked, shaking his head, "And a bit crooked around the head. But what can you expect from a trigger-happy grunt?"
James' protest was barely noticed, "Hey! I'm Second Lieutenant! I am no grunt!"
"Rank means little when you don't have the badassery to go with it," Garrus quipped, "I share a quarter of mine with Shepard so he doesn't feel left out, and he might have shared some of that with Tali."
"Tali?" James asked, confused, "Who's Tali, loco?"
"A friend," Marcus stated as fast as he could, not wanting to dive into that topic. It was always ends up on her. Every single conversation...
"Just a friend?" Garrus piped up, but Marcus gave him a death glare that told him to shut up. Taking the hint, the turian changed the subject, sighing heavily, "Well, sorry to keep the greetings short, but apart from being in the middle of a battlefield and my homeworld burning in the background, I do believe we have a Primarch to save, if I've been tuning into the right channels."
Marcus' jovial tone returned as he pushed thoughts of Tali into a special corner of his mind, "Eavesdropping on a superior officer, Vakarian? I do believe that's worthy of a courts marshall."
The turian shrugged nonchatantly, "And since when have I cared? The short answer is a rather dull affair. The long answer involves lot of turian initution, veracity and strength of wit, something humans seem to lack, being the simple creatures that you are."
"What about reach and flexibility?" Marcus teased, "And let's not forget our calibrations."
"I think we both of things we'll never let the other live down," Garrus resorted, seeing that they were both now back on the topic of joking, which was not what they wanted. Shaking his thoughts clean of jokes, the turian let his face become serene of happiness, and became the soldier that both of them had to be, and turned back towards the base, "Come on, I'll take you to Firebase Veracity. I was part of Victus' unit before it all went to hell and he sent me to scout out a retreat to Reach. Once I heard you were here, I had to help you. Now we can help each other."
Marcus nodded, "Good, then we can-"
"Captain Shepard, this is General Corinthus!" the general's voice sounded, and he sounded hurried, "You need to return to base ASAP! Reaper forces are taking the front barricade, and they're here in force! They've got a brute!"
"Copy that! We're on our way!" Marcus responded, turning to Garrus, confused, "Care to fill me in? What the hell is a brute? Another husk type?"
"One of the bigger, uglier, but stronger ones. We've got them the walking freight trains. Seen one lay waste to an entire platoon of marines," the turian gulped, clearly not enjoying the memory, "They're...krogan that have been 'taken' and turned into Reaper husks. Trick is, they aren't just krogan; they're a mix of one of them and a turian; they've got the cybernetically enhanced body of a krogan, with the tiny head of a turian; quite comical when you think about it. But they are heavily-armoured, and our weapons will be practically useless unless you aim for the head. It can take alot of damage."
Marcus knew one thing that these brutes probably couldn't handle though, "What about a 30mm heavy turret? Could a brute handle that?"
"No. That stuff is designed to shred the armor of a Mako to pieces," Garrus explained, raising an eyebrow once more at the odd question, "Why? You got a 30mm heavy turret?"
"No, but the barricade the brute is attacking does," he grinned, and Marcus immediately began running back towards the western entrance, the rest of his squad, plus Garrus, falling in behind him as they rushed to reinforce the barricade.
The western gate was opened pretty quickly, allowing his squad to rush through the encampment and reach the barricade, which was currently wreathing in activity. Turian soldiers ran along its length, but most of them were up top, raining fire down upon the enemy behind it. The 30mm Heavy Turret was manned and operating, high-velocity, pulverizer rounds shredding undoubtedably dozens of husks.
"Captain!" The turian named Tobetsk shouted across at them, waving him over, "Corinthus told us you were coming! We could use some help up top! The enemy are relentless! They're hitting us with everything they have!"
Marcus nodded and ran past the turian sergeant, letting his rifle hang at his hip as he began to climb up the ladder to the top. He concentrated on the rungs before him, so that when he emerged the enemy would be in his sights. He could see his squad beginning to climb up behind him, and he continued to climb to the top as they did.
Suddenly, he felt something warm and sticky hit the top of his helmet, and before he could look up to see what it was, he watched blue blood trickle down his visor. He looked up, and was in time to watch the shredded body of a turian soldier, his armor riddled by bullets, fall past him, thumping against the ground.
"Fuck!" one soldier shouted over the comms, "Someone get on that fucking turret! They're still coming!"
"I'll take care of that," Marcus stated, the turian turning to him in surprise, but not stopping him as he finished the climb and grabbed hold of the turret controls. He stood ontop of a rotating platform and rotated it to face below, and Marcus widened his eyes at what he saw.
The ground was alive. It was moving. Dozens of husks, pressed together, charging their barricade, trying to crawl up the walls to overwhelm the defenders. There must been half a dozen marauders up back, sniping at the men on the barricade, while numerous scions provided support. And in the middle, huge, armoured fists slamming against the wall, fists easily big enough to pick up a human and crush him/her with a single squeeze, was a brute. It was just as ugly as he thought it would be. Talk about a disproportionate head. That head looks tiny on such a big juggernaut.
As if sensing his presence, the brute looked up at him, and he swore he could see a smug grin in its features, followed by a voice he did not want to hear right now, "Shepard. You cannot hide."
"Who says I'm hiding, asshole?" he brought the turret down, and began cutting into the enemy, tearing husks apart by the dozens as his squad took up positions with the turians and tried to take out the marauders up back.
"You cannot deny your genetic destiny. Entire worlds have fallen to our will. The cycle cannot be broken."
"Challenge accepted," James shouted back, looking like a child with candy the way he tore into the enemy with his Revenant, screaming like a mad man. Garrus had swapped his sniper rifle for his phaeston, muttering about how 'this wasn't quite like old times' as he took down cannibal after cannibal at the back. Keeling made precision shots at the scions, while Liara shielded the remaining turian soldiers with a biotic barrier.
The brute's insistent banging on the walls really began to naw at Marcus' patience, and when it banged again, he rotated the turret downwards and held the trigger, watching, satisfied, as the huskified krogan/turian hybrid was torn asunder, bits of armor blown off as the 30mm rounds blew it apart. A final shot shredded its tiny turian head, silencing Harbinger's taunting and killing the damn thing. With the brute dealt with, Marcus turned his attention to the rest of the assault, which was overwhelming their defense.
"Marcus!" Garrus called out over the radio, pointing in the leftwards direction, "We've got gunship support!"
Marcus turned to watch as three A-67 Mantis gunships, sporting Hierarchy colors and insignia, sped towards their position, teeth bared. Their pilots navigated them into a rotational position over the area and then let it rip with their chin-mounted chain guns, easily conplimenting the turret Marcus manned, and cutting through the enemy like butter. Periodically, they would fire a salvo of missiles, the intense heat and explosions blowing apart even more of the Reaper horde. Eventually, after a few more minutes of valiantly defending the barricade from them, the Reaper forces withdrew, well, the smart ones anyway, like the marauders. The standard husks continued to suicidally charge them, but were easily taken care of. Marcus gave the pilots the thumbs up, which they seemed to understand, as a second later they could be seen spinning around and flying off towards another part of Menae.
He felt Garrus' taloned hand land on his shoulder and the spectre took the hint, dismounting the turret and coming to standard up front, his weapon once again falling into his hands. Before he could even so much as take a step towards the ladder however, he got a request from Joker for a transmission. What? He accepted the call, and was immediately greeted with a creeped out pilot's face appearing on his visor.
"Shepard! Thank Christ!" Joker had never looked as creeped out as he did now, and Marcus was confused as hell as to what was going on. Why is he so creeped out? Why are the lights in the cockpit flickering? Before he could ask, Joker continued talking, "We've got a situation here on the Normandy! I asked EDI to run a scan of the Reaper forces in the area, and she seemed to be in the middle of doing it when she just...went silent. I've tried getting her to talk Shepard, but she isn't saying anything! And a few seconds after that, everything just went haywire! We've had lights flickering throughout the ship, consoles turning on and off, life support disengaging and reengaging, and to top it all off, the stealth drive has deactivated once or twice. Adams took a few of the engineers to check it out, but EDI seems to have locked out the AI Core. We don't know what the hell is going on Shepard, and I'm scared we might lose the damn ship!"
Fuck. This is the last thing I need. "Do you need someone to hack into the AI Core?"
"Of course we do!" Joker sarcastically replied, "Adams and the engineers aren't combat engineers. They aren't trained to hack things, and none of our marine compliment know how to!"
There was only two people in his squad with that kind of experience; Keeling and Garrus. But because they needed Garrus to find Victus, it looked like the N7 was up. He turned to the SpecOps trooper, nodding to her as he talked to both her and Joker at once, "Joker, tell Cortez to get back in his shuttle and land in the base; Keeling, be there. Cortez will take you back to the ship and I want you to find someone to hack the AI Core open. Find out what the hell is wrong with EDI."
"Got it si-Shepard," she snapped a firm salute, and then slid down the ladder, disappearing below, before reappearing as she sprinted to the extraction point. Marcus turned back to his team, but before he could speak, James was already talking, seeming to observe something brutally obvious.
"Wait loco," James began, "What if this has to do with that Eva chick? I mean, your AI was fine until she came onboard. Now she's going bat shit crazy, and the AI Core won't open up for us to find out what's wrong? What if that damn synthetic has killed your AI, and is taking control of the Normandy?"
Damn, didn't think of that. "That AI has a name, James. Its EDI. And even if Eva is taking control of the ship, they'll now have Keeling to deal with it. She's N7, she'll deal with it. If it is Eva, I trust her to blow the thing asunder. If not, then she'll let Adams and their engineers find out the real issue. But if I were you, I'd focus on Victus; we've still got a job to do, and I'll see it done before we leave this moon," turning from the disgruntled marine, he turned to his long-time friend, feeling his eyes soften as they landed on the man he called a brother, "So, where to Garrus?"
"Firebase Veracity," the turian noted, pointing to the area beyond the barricade, "We'll follow that path. It should take us straight there."
"Great," Marcus declared, "Let's go."
They descended the ladder, and requested permission to open the gate; to which Tobestk reluctantly acknowledged, closing it quickly behind them and sealing it. With Garrus as the designated driver, Marcus let him go ahead, with the rest of the team following behind him. Marcus himself decided to tag along with his turian friend, deciding to catch up with him. It only took a couple of strides to catch up with him, and in a few moments they were walking in stride alongside one another, the rest of the squad easily falling in behind them as they traversed the rocky terrain of Palaven's moon.
He turned to the sniper, sighing as he squared his shoulders, "How far is it?"
"Should be pretty quick, unless we find trouble, which is always the case with you around," the turian joked, letting Marcus see that he had a smile behind his helmet.
Marcus could only chuckle as they slid down a ditch, continuing around a corner to another long, narrow, natural passage. Their passage was unmolested, with no apparent Reaper forces in the vicinity. Eventually, the passage took them to an open area that had a U-turn like passage; the bottom being opened up to give them a clear view of Menae's surface.
And the turian frigate that currently occupied one of its craters, flames long deprived of oxygen and non-existent, its bow smashed in from its crash to the surface, and spine cracked along the keel. One of its 'wings' was snapped off and lying absently from the ship, while the other one was broken and bent; and through the vessel's belly, was what looked to be the impact of something upon it; not a thanix, as that would leave an entry and exit wound; no, this simply had bent the hull. Marcus found out the assailant almost immediately; it was currently walking along the surface and away from them; a Reaper troop transport. Its body looked like that of a Collector's head, but with tiny legs to support it compared to other Reaper variants, and much more cumbersome. He watched as orange streaks seemed to constantly erupt from it, like projectiles from a volcano eruption, and impacted the ground; likely pods containing husks and fresh troops.
James came to stand beside him, exclaiming something in hespanic as he looked upon the crashed turian frigate, bereft of all activity, "That troop transport took down that frigate? I didn't think they had any weapons."
"They...don't," Garrus muttered, clearly disturbed by the sight as he turned away, his jovial mood suddenly dead, "Considering the hull damage, it probably just...swatted the ship out of the sky. Like a man does an insect."
"God," James said, "I...how many men were on that frigate?"
"The usual crew compliment is around...300," Garrus murmured once more, refusing to look upon the dead vessel, "And its likely none of them survived the crash."
"Reaper bastards," James said angrily, gripping his LMG with increased vigor, "You turians are giving 'em one hell of a fight, and they don't even think anything of it."
"They're the Reapers," Garrus explained, his eyes coming to meet Marcus', and then Liara's, "It took a whole fleet and then some to take down just one. Now we're learning just how tough they really are. And how tiny to them we are comparatively. Come on Marcus, we've got a Primarch to extract. I'm already reminded of my dead comrades enough in battle...I don't need to stare at that frigate any longer than I have to."
Coming to agree with him, Marcus ordered the squad to proceed, Marcus and Garrus reassuming their positions in the lead. They continued in relative silence, until Garrus stopped, eyes seeming to lose all emotion as he just looked straight up. Marcus stopped with him, knowing exactly what he was looking at, and knew how horrible it looked. But they needed to press on, and contemplating the death around them wasn't going to help. He lay a hand on the turian's armoured shoulder, who still didn't look at him, "I know Garrus. But its not help worrying about it. We need to get to Victus."
"My world. Its burning before my eyes, and I'm on this worthless moon, defending its worthless surface. The turian people weren't born on Menae. We were born on Palaven. I should be up there, not down here," the turian exasperated, raising a reluctant arm to point a certain orange speck, one of the largest, finger trembling, "You see that blaze of orange? The big one? That's where I was born...Cipritine. The capital."
"That's...rough," James awkwardly commented, "Got any family?"
"A father. A mother. A sister," his voice wavered, and Marcus felt the turian shudder, "And...and they're all up there. Dead...or alive."
The spectre felt his heart go out to his dear friend, and if they were on the Normandy, he'd take the turian to the lounge and drink their sorrows away; his about Earth and Anderson, while Garrus for his family. But they weren't; they were on the battlefield, and they had a mission to complete. Sorrow could wait. He squeezed the turian's shoulder again, and this time he did rip away his eyes from Palaven, and met Marcus', "There's nothing you can do for them right now, Garrus. What you can do is save the future of your people by getting us to this Primarch."
The turian hesitated for a second before nodding grudgingly, cradling his rifle as he nodded again, as if to convince himself, "You...yeah, you're right. I'll...my family can wait. I just hope they're okay."
"They will be. They're Vakarians," he assured him, smiling slightly, "There's no Shepard without Vakarian."
That seemed to get Garrus smiling, and he moved forward with new determination, "Damn right."
They continued on for a bit, until they had to take cover as a turian fighter was shot down and smashed into the passage ahead of them, exploding. Garrus immediately rushed up to the cockpit and tried to see if the pilot was alive, but all he was greeted by was the limp body of a turian, his head at an unnatural angle. Sighing, Garrus climbed over the fighter to the other side, mimicked by the rest of the team, and they continued forward. It was looking bleak for the turian hierarchy.
It wasn't long before they encountered a few husks, abominations and the odd cannibal, but they didn't provide much resistance, and usually came in groups of three. With no cover, both sides had nowhere to hide and merely ripped into each other, which served in his squad's favor because they had shields; the enemy didn't. So they mowed through them, thinking nothing of it as they continued towards the firebase, and towards securing their Primarch.
After dealing with the latest horde, James angrily growled, reloading his shotgun, "God I friggin hate those things. And New York is crawling with the creepy bastards? Ehhh...I should never have left Earth."
Here we go. I swear to god, he needs to get over that resentment or we're going to have problems. But to his surprise, it was Garrus who responded, tone clipped and calm as they pressed forward, met by no further resistance, "The fight will be everywhere, eventually."
"Leaving the fight just pisses me off!" James snarled, his caged anger deciding to unleash itself, but despite all that, Garrus remained calm and assured, never breaking.
"But you're here asking Victus to do the same thing," he responded, "Leave the fight to make nice in some...board room. Do you know how irritating and frustrating for a turian that is?"
"This summit is the only chance we've got," Marcus butted in.
"Noone's beating the Reapers alone," Liara stated, making her first statement in a while, "Noone will survive the Reapers alone."
We fight or we die. "Liara's right. Sometimes to win the fight, you have to leave it."
"I just hope this summit wins the fight, or at least secures future victory," Garrus remarked, shaking his head as he stole a glance at Palaven, "Or its just another turian general removed from the battle and a weaker turian army made."
They continued further, watching an ensuing battle up ahead; Destroyers were finally making push against the turian lines, and some broke through to land on the planet's surface, thanix cannons tearing into and destroying whole firebases in one hit. Oculi drones flew overhead, battling turian fighters and interceptors and coming out victorious in most of the dogfights. Huskified Harvesters patrolled overhead, praying on any shuttles that dared to get close enough to the moon. It was a slaughter house. And the Reapers were loving every second of it.
"Just look at it makes me think, loco," James piped up, "What about this summit? I mean, the salarians? The asari!? Where's the krogan and batarians? Where's the meat?"
"Its not that easy," was Marcus' simple response, one Garrus seemed to easy finish in order to quell Vega's irritation.
"The krogan have never forgiven us for the genophage," the turian explained, "And the batarians were practically destroyed when the Reapers first arrived; plus the fact that they hate humans would never work beside your people unless absolutely desperate. But as for the krogan, that might change..." the turian trailed off, looking at Marcus. The spectre knew what he was referring to, but elected to ignore it as James responded. I just hope Wrex was able to convince them of what's at stake. If there's anyone I need the most for ground engagements, its the krogan.
"Oh, that's right; the genophage. The turians sterilized them," James seemed to say this harshly, shaking his head as he did.
"The salarians made it," Garrus countered.
"And the krogan hate them both for it," Liara ended, rolling her eyes over the pettiness, "And for good reason. I don't think I could look upon dying race unable to produce children without the fear of them dying in stillbirth or simply dying upon birth and say 'I did the right thing.' What was done to the krogan was horrible...unethical...immoral."
"That's why the salarians made it," Garrus replied solemnly, "Because they don't have a sense of morality. Or ethicality. Mordin was a perfect example. Stubborn bastard was sure the genophage was correct and always defended it. Even if the krogan are slowly going extinct from it, thousands of years later."
"So the krogan won't be joining us? Well shit," James cursed, clearly even more annoyed now at the news, "I've fought beside a krogan before; Blood Pack. Fought him during a Blood Pack raid on Fehl Prime, and then fought beside him when the Collectors hit. He was a tough son of a bitch, and he kicked those Collector's asses. Just imagine an army of them. Reapers wouldn't stand a chance."
"On the ground maybe," Garrus remarked, sighing, "But in naval combat, they will always be superior in every way."
They continued for quite a bit, their path undisturbed, and all of them silently observing the destruction above while also keeping a look out for hostiles. Soon, however, they came across what looked to be gunfire in the distance, followed by silent explosions. Garrus accessed the radio transmissions, relaying them through to Marcus' helmet.
"Pull back to the Operations Center! Form a thakla pato formation around the bunker! Standard line! Push 'em back! Form up, turians! Form up!"
"That's Victus," Garrus commented, suddenly sprinting down the passage, "He needs help! Thakla Pato formation is a V-like formation we use when commiting a last stand action; we only used it when we're pressed and trapped! If he's ordering its use, their perimeter must be breached! You want your Primarch? Then by the spirits, move!"
Marcus turned to his squad, "On the double-quick!" They rushed forward, weapons at the ready and prepared for combat. James looked eager, while Liara showed only a touch of fear, but Marcus and Garrus were determined, expressionless and gave off waves of professionalism that only accomplished veterans could give.
The firebase's eastern gate looked to be breached, having been torn from its hinges and tossed several meters into the base; likely by a brute. Charging inside in a standard firing line, the squad found the base overrun by Reaper troops; the steel walls had been breached and several of the bunkers looked to have been destroyed by heavy bombardment from harvesters, who were now flying off, confident they had done their job. And nearby, almost too close for comfort, was a Reaper Destroyer, at least half a mile away, and with its back turned to them, apparently firing at something in the distance.
Husks and abominations swarmed the base, with a few scions lagging behind, a platoon of cannibals, and at least three brutes pressing forward. To his trepidation, there was at least one praetorian in the center, providing suppression fire for the advancing Reaper troops while the main force was led by three marauders. There didn't seem to be any further Reaper forces, and the ground was littered with the eviscerated bodies of both husks and turians alike. And they were all advancing towards the right, where Victus and his men were holding out; reduced to platoon strength, and being converged on all flanks. The only thing that would save Victus and his men would be a miracle.
Luckily for them, Marcus Shepard was a walking miracle himself. As was the turian who had taken a rocket to the face and lived. And the Shadow Broker herself. Oh, and there was James Vega too; although he hadn't made many miracles himself. But that was besides the point. The point being: they had the enemy outflanked, and with the fact that they were (well, at least three of them) experienced Reaper killers, it would make this battle just that much easier on them.
They let the enemy advance continue until they had passed the gate, and then his squad emerged, weapons raised as they charged the enemy rear. Bringing his biotics to bear, Marcus brought one biotically fueled fist back and then sent it flying forwards, a flurry of biotic light dancing towards the scion taking up the rear's center. Liara initiated a reave technique on the right scion, a technique she had learnt recently apparently, while James' Revenant tore into the scion on the left, with the aim being to aim for its three heads.
The center scion screeched as Marcus' assault reached it, dark energy rippling around it and reassembling its atoms. Marcus wasn't far behind, using his biotics to lighten his mass and allow him to propel forward like a missile, body colliding with the scion with such force that much of it was just shorn from its two, stubby legs, the rest of its body exploding upon the firebase's abandoned armoury bunker. Liara's reave tore apart the three husks making up the right scion, and there was practically nothing left of James'. Turning around, they watched as Garrus took position behind a scorched rock, his sniper rifle perched ontop and coughing up shot after shot, the weapon able to do so because it used the old mass acellerators of three years ago, and not the heat sinks of modern day weapons that required thermal clips. The Reapers seemed confused at first, especially the marauders, but they quickly split their forces to deal with both the squad's counterattack and Victus' bastion.
Marcus, falling to one knee, let his mattock chew up the few abominations charging up at them, who promptly exploded, killing more than a few cannibals. One cannibal tried to sneak up on Liara, but only managed to drain three quarters of her shields before she picked up and tossed it away like a rag doll. A marauder ripped into her with its phaeston, but met a messy end at the barrel of Garrus' sniper rifle, who shouted his running line, 'Scoped and dropped.'
James chanted 'hooo rah!' as he emptied the last of his Revenant's ammo into a squad of cannibals on the left flank, before pulling out his shotgun and finishing them off with little to no trouble. He had a close encounter with one of the three marauders, who proved to be more of a challenge, but James simply rolled out of its line of fire, primed a grenade, tossed it, took cover and watched the marauder disappear in bright light.
All seemed to be going well, until Marcus saw the hulking form of a brute lathargically moving towards them on all fours, periodically standing up on all its back legs, slamming its chest with fists, before roaring, although they couldn't actually hear it, of course. It moved towards them, and Marcus was suddenly pouring every shot he had into the monstrosity. Garrus noticed as well, and did the same, but whatever shots they tried to land was ineffectual.
With a sudden realization, Marcus raised his rifle at the last second and fired a clean shot through its left eye, the bullet blasting out the back end. It seemed to roar in anger or pain at the impact, although both emotions were impossible for the creature, and it landed forwards, slamming into the ground, its right claw narrowly missing Garrus' head by a few inches. Stepping up to it, Marcus emptied a few more shots into its head before being satisfied it was dead.
Another brute moved to charge James, but Liara was already moving to bolster his position, Marcus ordering him to aim for the head while simultaneously, and ironically, pulling out his ML-77 Missile Launcher to deal with the third brute, which was charging towards himself and Garrus...again. Rolling his eyes, he took aim and fired, watching the rocket impact its shoulder, and blast off one of its shoulderpads harmlessly. He reloaded and went to fire again, but Garrus' voice was far more distracting, "Shepard! To your right!"
He turned, only to get a face full of husk as it pounced on him and tackled him to the ground, silence erupting from its usually groaning vocal box. Soulless, synthetic eyes looked into his as it began scratching at his visor and, terrified that it would rupture his suit, he brought his launcher up and rammed it in the head with all his strength, which caused its forehead to snap back and its frail body to crumple to the ground. And just as he thought it all over, the brute was upon him, Garrus falling back, yelling into the comm for Marcus to run. But he didn't. Instead, he did something incredibly stupid.
As it raised its bulbous, massive claws to crush him into a gorey, visceric pulp, Marcus raised the launcher, aimed for the chest, and fired, point blank. He felt the heat of the explosion as it ruptured its exposed, metallic ribcage and blasted all the perverted organs out from its molested body. The brute seemed to fall back slightly, eyes losing their horrific glow as its main systems were crippled. Unable to sustain itself, the huskified krogan fell forwards, almost crushing Marcus under its weight, and winding him in the process.
This was all too familiar.
This reminded him too much of that one time on Eden Prime. And so, he found himself saying the same thing he said then.
He commed his radio, "Get. This. Thing. Off. Of. Me."
He heard a chuckle over the radio, its flanged tone giving away its owner as Garrus, followed by James muttering something about him being 'loco' and how 'right his nickname was.' Liara seemed to give an unimpressed sigh, and Marcus was quickly exposed to it as James and Garrus, together, picked up and lifted the dead brute off of Marcus, the human's armor covered in black viscera and liquid.
"You are such an idiot sometimes," the asari scowled.
"Either that or get crushed," Marcus bit back, "I certainly wasn't ready to meet my maker yet."
"You could have rolled out of the way," Liara stated.
"Correction," the spectre growled, "I could have tried to roll away, and lost an arm doing so. Not to mention dying from the suffocation that would result from my suit being ruptured. So no, point blank rocket firing was the way to go."
"You are so completely loco," James chuckled, unable to hold in his mirth.
"Don't mean to ruin the fun. Really, I don't. Any other circumstance, and I'd join in," the turian explained, pointing to the back of the firebase, "But we have a Primarch in a very dire situation who needs saving."
Nodding, Marcus reloaded his mattock and lead the team forward. The praetorian was their only real worry now, and that was easily taken care of with the combined effort of the turian heavies and his squad. The rest of the Reaper troops were picked off piece meal, and the Destroyer seemed to have moved away, uninterested in what was happening below it. So by the time they cleared the base, all was safe.
The turian soldiers did not leave their positions however, and remained on the defensive, knowing an enemy counterattack was possible and going to happen. But from the looks of it, defending the place was pointless; there was nothing left of Firebase Veracity to defend. His squad simply took a breather as Marcus waited, watching as the man he knew was Victus from just looking at him, approach.
The man had jet black armor with brown stripes running down its length, with the Hierarchy insignia plastered ontop of his opaque visor and shoulders. He came to a stop, his stance reminding him of how Anderson stood, hands clasped behind his back in a way that commanded obedience. He looked down at Marcus, seeming to be sizing him up, before he spoke, voice smooth but clipped.
"Of all the reinforcements I expected, it wasn't two humans, an asari and Garrus Vakarian," Victus stated, eyes glancing over at Garrus, "Vakarian...where did you go?"
Marcus turned to the turian in surprise, who just shrugged nonchatantly, "You pointed out that there was a Reaper flanking movement converging on the right and threatening our emplacements? I believe your words were 'get those damn things the hell off of my men!' So I followed those orders, added a bit of turian hell, and then exaggerated alittle more. A bit of finasse. I hope I didn't dissapoint."
"Well my emplacements didn't fall for another half an hour, so I'll consider myself impressed at your...exaggeration," Victus stated, seeming to chuckle without even doing it, "But you did disappear for quite a while."
"Sore someone in need of help," Garrus remarked, snatching a glance at Marcus before looking back at Victus, "Being the gentleman I am, I donated by services."
"Indeed," Victus replied, ever vigilant, ever unflinching; he was a statue, without emotion and without a crack. It showed just how deep the military ran in the man's veins, and Marcus had no doubt that this guy had once been part of the turian blackwatch; the Hierarchy's special forces, and elite of the elite. How about that, eh? Human hand-to-hand combat versus turian hand-to-hand combat? Marcus knew he'd only win that fight because of his cybernetics, which naturally made him stronger and faster than any normal organic being, but without them, they'd be evenly matched. Marcus was broken from his thoughts by Victus' talking once more, eyes set on the spectre, "And I believe you are Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Commander of the Normandy?"
Marcus blinked for a moment, surprised, before regaining his professional composure, "How do you know my name?"
"Didact Irix had you pegged the moment you entered the system. He needed to keep tabs on all Reaper forces to keep a tally of their numbers. Of course, the SSV Normandy is well known throughout the galaxy by its reputation, and furthermore upon its commanding officer. Although why you are here is an entirely different matter."
Good. Straight to the point. No batting the bush. I can get to like this guy. He straightened, nodding, "I'm sorry to be blunt on this, ArchGeneral, but I was sent here, under recommendation from the turian councilor, to extract the Primarch for the War Summit. I'm building an armada to fight the Reapers, and I need the turians onboard for it, which means getting my hands on the Primarch. Unfortunately for me, and the rest of the galaxy-"
"You have no Primarch to extract," Victus regarded solemnly, lighting nodding, "Yes, it has been crippling for morale to know our leader is dead. He was loved by our people as one of the greatest Primarchs whoever lived, and also one of many to not have been a wartime leader. Save for this war, of course. Although I don't know I'd even call this a war," he looked upon his men, reduced to little more than a company, "Its more like extermination. Its only war when both sides have an equal chance of winning. These Reapers...they're unlike anything we've ever encountered. You kill one, three more replace it. Destroy one ship...well, just doing that is hard enough."
You think that's bad? Oh, it gets worse. The turians were only the third hit. What do you think they're doing to Earth? To Khar'Shan? Rounding up humans and batarians, turning them into their personal, brainwashed soldiers and shipping them off to fight for what? A campaign of total genocide? How can you stem hope from something like that? No Victus, you have encountered nothing. Not yet.
"ArchGeneral. There is another issue. You know with the Primarch's death, that someone has to succeed him. Someone of high military stature," Marcus reminded.
"I know my people's politics, captain. I don't need a human to remind me, no offense intended," the turian replied, inhaling, "I will inform Didact Irix immediately. He needs to know."
"I think you're confused, ArchGeneral," Garrus stepped in, eyes furrowed as he looked at him, "The Navy was last time's election; Fedorian was the ex-Didact. This time's the Army. Victus...you're the new Primarch."
In that second, the man went utterly still; not so much as a breath. He just looked blankly at Garrus, before exchanging a look with Marcus, who gave a pathetic nod. He could picture the man's mandibles opening and closing, trying to find the words but unable to find them. Finally, he turned around, looking at the bunker, as if trying to keep his eyes off the giant globe of orange that was his homeworld above him. He spoke, although the words seemed to be more for himself, "I'm...Primarch Victus? Leader...of the Turian Hierarchy?"
"That you are," Marcus added sympathetically, knowing how overwhelming it must be. I just hope he doesn't let the politics corrupt him. "You're needed at the War Summit. I'm sorry to say, but we need to extract you immediately. Your survival is of absolute necessity."
As if pulled by a piece of string, Victus looked up at Palaven burning above him, and responded, voice full of ice, "You come here, watch my world burn, save my men from a slaughter, and then ask me to leave this all to have tea and biscuits with a few politicians, living in safety and luxury in some office on the Citadel?" he sighed, his brief moment of anger vanishing, and replaced with sorrow, "I...I had a wife on Palaven. I loved her, and she loved me. My son is military, Navy of course, and was recently given command of a frigate called the THS Honor and Loyalty. Spirits smile upon me, he was refueling at the Citadel when the Reapers hit, and I believe he has regrouped at a Council space station over Bekenstein," he turned to meet Marcus' eyes, and he could definitely feel the melancholy, "My wife was not so lucky. I was evacuating her and myself from our apartment when the husks landed outside. I was injured, and therefore forced to watch as they...they didn't kill her. They just dragged her away...broke her legs, and carried her away...I can still hear her screaming. What have they done with my wife? I shall never know. Because me and my men are stuck on this moon, defending its worthless existence, waiting for counterattack orders that will never come."
Marcus gulped, wanting to tell him, but not doing so because the truth of it would hurt more. What would I tell him? That his wife was taken away to a Reaper concentration camp to be turned into another Reaper abomination? That she was likely one of the marauders he was fighting today? Or likely fighting her son somewhere else in the galaxy? No. I could not tell him that.
What if I heard someone tell me Tali had been turned into a husk? That I had been forced to kill her? What would I do to them?
He didn't like the answer. I wouldn't touch them. No, I would pull out a pistol, load it, and then-
Victus, taking Marcus' silence as a 'I'm not backing down' stance, gave a brief nod, "Give me time to say goodbye to my men. I will need to transfer my command over to one of my field generals; likely Corinthus. The man has been looking for a promotion for quite a while, and is almost as calm as I am; he can handle it. I hope that is not too much."
"Take all the time you need, Primarch. I know all too well how...final...goodbyes can be," he winced at those words, grimacing at their hidden meaning. You knock off that fucking defeatist bullshit, trooper! Pull yourself together! She is not dead! She is not dead! She is not GODDAM DEAD! So get your finger out of your ass, leave daisyland through the exit, and ask the Grim Reaper if he could go fuck himself. Because you have ALOT of work to do.
And that involves politics. Oh yes, politics.
Victus went off to speak with his men, while Marcus turned towards his squad. James had holstered his shotgun and was helping a few turian marines drag the corpses of the dead Reapers over into a corner, where they were forming a organic barricade of sorts; it was a tactic that went back to the days of the Spartans of Greece, the Roman Republic, Parthia and the other civilizations of the Classical Era. Liara looked exhausted, and leaned on one hip very noticably, giving him a thumbs up. Garrus simply looked at him, showing how hard it was for turians to get tired, while speaking, "So...Primarch Victus. I bet he's just thrilled about that. He's not only left his wife and homeworld to die and burn, but now he's about to leave his troops too to do...what? Sit around all day? How very lazy."
"Don't give me that shit," Marcus snapped, "You know there's no other choice."
"Yeah, of course I do. And that's what pisses me off," the turian replied in defeat, shaking his head as he glanced up at Palaven, "That's probably what's pissing Victus off. What did James say? Leaving the fight. Leaving the fight to win it; get to play safe while men die to protect this stupid moon."
"It'll get better," the spectre muttered, "It has to."
"That sounds like words of desperation than actual fact," Garrus replied, "But I believe you; if not me, who will?"
"Does that mean you'll be joining us?" he found himself asking, but quickly made to reword his blunt question, "I mean, I won't force you or anything. You can stay-"
"Spirits, have you gotten even more idiotic? Of course I'll come with you. Didn't you listen to what I just said? Typical human ignorance," the turian replied smugly, one of his mandibles twitching in mirth, "Besides, what's left for me here? Just a dustball of a moon, a burning homeworld and men being slaughtered left and right. Might as well achieve something."
"Don't you just fucking hate war?" Marcus asked, the question more genuine than humorous.
"And its barely begun," was Garrus' short response.
By then, Victus had returned, hands still clasped behind his back, "I have said my goodbyes, Captain, and I am ready to leave at your leisure. Better now than never. I've informed my men that they'll be regrouping at Firebase Reach, where their command will transfer to Corinthus. He's been informed of his promotion. He was less than thrilled," he sighed, rubbing the back of his helmet.
"He didn't strike me as the man in a situation where he wanted to be given even more responsibility, but we have no choice. The Hierarcy needs its Primarch for that Summit," he moved to comm the Normandy for pickup, but stopped when Victus cleared his throat, regaining his attention.
"About that Captain," the Primarch stated, meeting Marcus' eyes, "I can't give you the turian military for your armada; not at the moment. Not while my homeworld is still burning."
Widening his eyes in surprise and anger, he took a step forward, and was in Victus' face in an instant, "We are doing this for Palaven. For all the homeworlds."
"But," Victus hammered down, clearly not finished or liking the invasion of his personal space, "If the pressure could be taken off of Palaven and Menae, maybe a large percentage of it can be donated to this armada. Maybe, when the time comes, all of it."
"Take the pressure off?" Marcus scoffed, turning away as he turned his back to the turian and crossed his arms, "That's a pretty tall order."
"Not as tall as some might guess. The naval situation is hopeless, but not for the ground. We need soldiers. Tanks. People born for war," Victus left that hang in the air before continuing, hammering in his conclusion, "We need the krogan. I can't see us winning this thing without them. Get Palaven the krogan support it needs, and then we're all yours."
"The krogan?" Garrus stated bluntly, just as confused. Marcus turned and looked at him with a look of wide-eyed surprise, and James just laughed, managing to say "Guess we're getting the meat after all" inbetween inhales of oxygen. Marcus wanted to rub his temples, but knowing he couldn't, simply turned away, nodded, and went back to radioing Cortez for pickup, hoping the situation with EDI was cleared up sufficiently.
The krogan? The bloody krogan? He wants me to get the krogan and the turians to work together? Yeah, sure Victus! Resolving a thousand years of justified hatred? No problem! Fuck sake, as if the political situation wasn't already fucked beyond repair.
Krogan.
He hoped Wrex had been doing what he told him to do, or this was going to be a very long War Summit.
"So began the War Summit?"
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"Yes indeed. What a bitch."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Sorry for the late update. Was spending far too much time playing GTA V with a friend of mine, and my addiction with Destiny has gotten out of hand. Hopefully this will not happen again, and future updates will be faster.
Hahahaha, what I just wrote was bullshit. It will happen again, because I FUCKING LOVE Destiny, and I have A LIFE OTHER THAN FANFICTION.
Now that my agitated episode (over nothing) is over, I shall now return to writing the next chapter. Fuck you all. Jk. Lol. YOLO. SWAG. I'm a twelvie now!
Keelah Se'lai, troopers!
