HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER FOURTEEN:
THIS ISN'T A GAME
June 9, 2186
1429 hours.
Jon Grissom Memorial Hall, Central School Block, Jon Grissom Academy, Vetus System, Petra Nebula.
The Reaper War, Petra Campaign: Cerberus Raid on Grissom Academy.
Senior Teacher Jack, Senior Program Coordinator Kahlee Sanders.
"Get moving! Prangley, move your ass! You think this is the time for an ice cream social? Move it!" And they did. The school halls were awash with students running frantically to escape the invaders. Some were scared, others tried to shove their fear down with false bravado. Others tried to take on the invaders single-handedly, only to be either gunned down mercilessly or captured. In the end, fleeing was the best way to survive; and the most risky. Yes, Grissom Academy was a gigantic space station; a matter of fact, it was roughly the same size as Arcturus Station, but that didn't mean that any invader wouldn't find you; they'd simply scan the station for any lifesigns and, if failing that or lacking it, they'd search every cranny; it'd take a while, but they'd eventually find you. Many of Jack's students had learnt that the hard way.
She didn't know about anyone else, but as far as Jack was concerned, they were either still running, fighting, dead or captured; either way, it wasn't any of Jack's concern. Kahlee Sanders, the head director of the Ascension Program, was with her, as were all of her students, and that's all that mattered to her.
The sound of the air being distorted nearby was heard, followed by the sound of a door being blown off its hinges, gunfire tearing through the air it occupied soon after. The sound of this stirred something in Jack, because soon after she was shouting even louder at the kids behind her, some protective urge being stirred up inside her as she ushered them forward. What the fuck is up with me? I'm not their fucking mother. I shouldn't act like this.
They came across a locked door, and Kahlee quickly entered her security code, interface turning green and quickly opening as they moved through the sterile white halls, some of them scorched and burnt from gunshots and flames. One door was jammed open, and another was half blown off by a piece of debris, the dead body of an alliance security guard laying next to it, his rifle discarded. Kahlee quickly rushed over to him, whispering a mourning prayer before taking his rifle, checking it for clips before hefting it.
"You know how to use that, Sanders?" Jack asked, her curiosity peaked.
Kahlee laughed, "I may be old, but I'm not too old. Besides, I had a friend who was an N7," her eyes seemed to deviate slightly, sadness in her eyes. It disappeared as quickly as it appeared though, and she looked back up, smiling more, motioning to the weapon in her grip, "He taught me a few things, especially how to properly fire a rifle. Although it won't matter a damn if those Cerberus bastards corner us."
Fucking Cerberus. Jack hated Cerberus with a passion, and it wasn't without reason. Those bastards had kidnapped her from her home on Eden Prime when she was a child for their own version of the Ascension Program; they transformed her through torture, murder, punishment, training and conditioning into the ultimate biotic killing machine; bred to destroy her enemies. Now she was not only the deadliest and meanest biotic bitch in the galaxy, but she enjoyed it. It had only been thanks to Marcus Shepard for rescuing her and later, a justicar named Samara turning her away from her path of anger, that she had been saved from her dark path. But now she had one goal in life, aside from transforming herself into a better person.
She was going to find the Illusive Man, kill him, and destroy Cerberus from the inside out. She swore on it. She would make him pay for what he did to her; what his cronies did to her. His minions of morons, dickheads and pro-human supremacist racist assholes.
Was it coincidence that they now lay siege to this station?
They continued to run and they eventually came across a door at the end, Kahlee moving to enter the security code only for the interface to beep angrily back at them, the woman sighing in annoyance. "Dammit, no! Not now! If only Herchel was still here, dammit!" she turned towards Jack, who was rolling her eyes, "We can't-wait, what are you doing?"
"Do you pay attention to what happens around you?" Jack growled, glowing with her full biotic might, "We're fucking biotics!" And with a thunderous roar that was very unfemininistic of her, she shot her hands forward, a constant tornado of blue fire cascading forward and slamming into the door, shaking it from its door and blowing it away like leaves on a wind, where they then crashed into the ground ten meters away.
Everyone merely looked at her incredulously, everyone looking shocked. Her biotics dying down, she merely looked at all of them, shrugging, "What the hell are you looking at?"
"Holy..." Rodrigez, one of her students, began, "How did you do that?"
"Through torture, murder and alot of pain," she scowled, giving her a dangerous look, "Would you like to learn?"
"I think I'll pass."
"Didn't think you had the balls, princess," she looked at Kahlee, who was already moving through the door, "Now move, you sissies!"
Everyone rushed through the open doorway and up the stairs into the Jon Grissom Memorial Hall; the biggest room in the Academy. It was easily 50 meters in length, with a large statue of Jon Grissom sitting in the middle; his chiseled face, hardened cheeks and grizzly brown hair captured perfectly in the stone. Catwalks ran along the sides of the room in the multi-tiered level, with numerous entrances, and the docking bay just outside; something that would help them escape this station.
Unfortunately, they weren't the only ones who had thought of this.
Standing infront of the statue was a centurion, and two guardians, and all three immediately turned at the sound of footsteps coming up the stairs. The centurion spoke almost immediately, holding up his armoured hand in warning, "You! Stop right there! Don't move! Surrender yourselves now, and noone will-"
"Heard it all before, asshole!" Jack cut off, and like a master would their puppet, she plucked him off the ground with her biotics and tossed him into a wall with extreme force, the sound of hundreds of bones shattering like glass from the impact being heard as he slid to the ground, dead.
With practised precision, she pulled up a biotic field to protect her students from the gunfire coming from the guardians' Talon pistols. The heavy rounds that would normally gut a person pinged harmlessly off the barrier, and suddenly found themselves slamming into the statue as Jack sent her field forward with amazing velocity. And with their shields hanging at their sides, both dazed, Kahlee took aim and popped both in the head, killing them.
"Cerberus assholes have gotten upgrades," Jack pondered, noticing their armor and their voices, "Cybernetics, I'd guess. Before they had only incompetent fuckwits with guns."
"Will you please watch the language!" Kahlee insisted, finally having enough as she turned to chastize her, "The children do not need to listen to such savagery!"
"Whatever you fu-you ha-" she sighed, rubbing her temples, "Just...whatever. Let's just find a shuttle and get the hell out of here."
Satisfied with her victory, Kahlee pressed forward, hefting her rifle with renewed purpose. The students followed behind in their terrified manner, while Jack took up the back, eying them with increased vigour, eying their every movement as if it was her personal business. She heard their mutters of discent, the odd whisper, and every single mumble.
"...is David? He said he'd be here! I hope that retard hasn't gotten himself killed..."
"...are we going to die? What will they do to us if we give up?"
"...we should fight them! We can hold them off! We've got Jack!"
Every whisper told a different story, another side to the opinions swirling around; she agreed with some, others she didn't. But she knew they had to escape; facing Cerberus up front with a hand full of kids was a suicide run, and not only that, but it would end with all of them killed; even Jack had a limit to her abilities, and she would eventually tire out. No, escape was the best and most viable option; the only way they would survive.
Suddenly, a voice came in over the PA, and Jack knew it wasn't one of the Academy's teachers or original occupants speaking through it, because their voice was cybernetic, just like the Cerberus troopers they had just encountered. Which meant exactly what they feared; Cerberus now controlled the station, and there was nowhere they could hide.
The voice spoke with a very heavy british accent, laced with cybernetic enhancement and a cyborg gurgle, "Students of Grissom Academy, this is the Captain of the Cerberus Heavy Cruiser CAW Hannibal," he stated, his voice calm and collected, secure knowing his victory was paramount, "We have the station completely secured. My ship is currently orbitting your station, and will destroy any shuttles attempting to leave or enter, so do not expect escape or any help from the Alliance; they cannot save you. My troops will scour the station and eventually find you, so do not think of hiding. However, you do not have to die; that is not our intention at all. We would wish to end this on peaceful circumstances," the man continued, droning like a good Cerberus puppet, "Join Cerberus, and you will find our hospitality to be much better than the Alliance's; what have they done for you but abandon you? No help has come, and yet the Reapers still encroach on this system everyday; they will harvest you eventually. But Cerberus stands for humanity; we can help you. Join us, and fight for humanity. That is your choice, and believe me, is a noble one. The Illusive Man only wishes for the best in you; and you are humanity's finest. We-"
"I'm getting real sick of this piece of sh-" she sighed, trying not to swear, but feeling the urge to be undeniably great. She wheeled on her students, pointing an accusing finger at the PA, "Don't listen to this, kids! He's a filthy fuc-liar! Cerberus will do to you what they did to me! They kidnapped me and turned me into a biotic powerhouse bred to kill! And when they have their chance, they will implant a control chip in your brain and you'll be nothing but their little puppet! Is that what you want? You want to be like me? Then fight Cerberus! Don't let these liars get to you! They think you're gullible; gullible because you're scared. Well don't be! Use that fear and make it your superweapon!"
The students nodded, with only one pumping his fist into the air enthusiastically, whooing his support. Kahlee nodded, and all the students turned to her for added agreement. She nodded again, smiling, "Jack nailed it, I believe. Cerberus is not to be trusted. The Alliance hasn't abandoned you; but with Earth fallen, they've got alot to deal with."
"But if what they said is true..." Prangley began, gulping, "What about that cruiser? It'll shoot us down if we try to escape!"
"And there's no doubt they've got all outbound communications!" Rodrigez added.
"Actually...there may be one channel they don't know about," Kahlee pondered, all eyes turning to her.
"So what about it?" Jack asked, eyes widening in anticipation, "What's this secret channel all about?"
"It's when we use for emergencies. When all channels are being blocked and we need to send out a distress call," she nodded, "But I'd need to get to the control center, and that's all the way at the main docking tube. Inside Cerberus controlled territory, most likely. But I can reach it."
Jack saw the uncertainty in the woman's face, "Why do I get a feeling there's a catch?"
"I have to go there alone. I can't risk the students being found. I'd might as well hand them straight to Cerberus by taking them there," she sighed, placing a hand on Jack's shoulder. The biotic didn't like it, and she almost contemplated cussing at her until she let go, but for some reason, she didn't do that this time. Maybe she was changing. Maybe she was growing up, "It's up to you Jack. I'll go get there and send a distress call, but you have to protect these students. They are your pupils," she waved her hand at them, "They depend on you to keep them safe. Can you do that Jack?"
I've always been a survivor. I know the different ways to survive; murder, destruction, silence, interrogation, hiding, defenses, offenses...every single one. It won't be easy, but if I can apply those skills to keeping kids safe? I can do it. I'll show Shepard what I'm capable of. I'm going to keep these kids safe, kick some Cerberus ass, and then escape this bloody hellhole. Preferrably through the debris of a destroyed cruiser.
Jack nodded with confidence, eying the children, "You bet your ass, I can. And we'll kick some Cerberus ass while doing it," she turned to a door on the opposite end of the room, "If I remember correctly, that doorway leads to an adjacent corridor that should us to the central mess hall. I went there when I was in my early months as a teacher; from what I swore, it has good, defensible positions; long enough to hold off Cerberus until the Alliance arrives, or whoever picks up the distress call. Just be quick about it, Sanders," she turned to the woman fully, glaring at her, "Because I doubt Cerberus has much patience, and they have a warship holding orbit above us."
"A fact I'm very aware of," Kahlee glared back, turning to run off, "Good luck! We'll meet again soon, students! Stay safe and do what Jack says!" And with that, she was gone, disappearing into one of the corridors nearby, leaving just herself and the students.
They could hear more explosions nearby, followed by the sound of running feet and voices. Cerberus forces were getting closer. Shaking her head, she turned to the students, pointing to the door she mentioned earlier, "Well come on! We don't have time to fu-stuff around! Let's get moving!"
The students nodded and began moving in one, big mass, but Prangley hung behind, the man's innocent features not befitting a man of nineteen as he seemed to shiver in trepidation, "What about Cerberus? What happens if they catch us?"
She turned to him, giving him a look that spoke a thousand horrors in one look.
"You'll have multiple mes," she replied, shoving a finger at the door, "Now get moving. Unless you'd like to be more like me."
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June 15, 2186
2200 hours.
Cockpit, Veritan-Class Corvette THS Educated Foresight, Flying Low over Trisek'lok City Ruins, Tor'an Wastelands, Tuchanka.
The Reaper War, Krogan DMZ Campaign: The Tuchankan Raids.
First Lieutenant Tarquin Victus.
First Lieutenant Tarquin Victus, captain of the turian corvette Educated Foresight, was not an ordinary turian. Yes; he was hardened military, trained from the mandatory conscription age of 15, served his compulsory ten years, and then continued to serve afterwards under the yolk of his father; the great ArchGeneral Adrien Victus. And that's where being ordinary stopped; he was military, but only because of his famous father, who had married an especially wealthy woman to produce the man now standing on the bridge of this hierarchy warship.
Of course, being his son meant there was alot of pressure put on him; only greatness was expected of him, and the odd military tactic or strategy that would normally warrant a pat on the back by most turian commanders, only got him a frown and a 'you can do better than that' from people who knew better. Being a Victus wasn't exactly an easy life, especially living in the shadow of such greatness.
Which was even greater now, if the word was right; his father was now Primarch of the Hierarchy, leader of the entirety of the turian galactic empire, and its people. Never had the pressure been so great; tradition stated that if a Primarch's son stuffed up on a mission or made a great tactical error, it brought great shame and disgrace upon the family; the only way to fix the family's honor was also the most horrifying; the son or daughter had to be publically executed. Which meant Tarquin could not stuff up this maneveur he had planned.
The one he was now in the middle of.
It was risky, and the more he thought about it, utterly stupid, but he had to take the chance; the very future of the krogan-turian alliance depended on it. If the krogan were to find out his people were behind this, there would never be a coalition; and the Reapers would win. Tarquin would not allow that to happen, especially when he had been entrusted with the command of a corvette, a platoon of turian blackwatch special forces, a fireteam of Cabal biotics, and enough munitions to give a Reaper fleet a run for its money. And if that wasn't enough on the line, there was a bomb to add to the mix. Wonderful.
Tarquin knew he had to enter Tuchanka's atmosphere to deploy and locate the bomb, but knew that making a direct beeline for it would undoubtably attract unwanted attention to himself by both the krogan and the Reaper or Reapers on the ground. So, instead, he decided to put the whole plan at risk for a fool's errand; he was going to fly his entire corvette, an over 50 ton vessel, straight over the city ruins, and then deploy his troops directly into the area with limited air support. Not only would they be able to avoid detection, but also allow for making the mission easier, extraction and combat wise. But if he stuffed this up; if the Reaper spotted them, it was all over. They would have no room to evade enemy fire; they'd be a sitting duck. They had to make this work, or it was all over for them.
So there he was, watching the landscape of one of Tuchanka's ancient cities, now nothing but nuclear irradiated ruins, float on by, his corvette slowly gliding over the dead skyscrapers and occassionally sending some toppling from the vibrations his ship's engines caused. He held tightly onto the railing, taking laboured breaths as he watched the meter for the distance between the bomb and them close in.
2000 meters...1900 meters...1800 meters...1700 meters...1600 meters...
"I hope you know what you're doing sir," his XO, Truius, stated hesitantly from the side, "This is a huge gamble you're taking."
"As I'm aware of, Second Lieutenant," Tarquin harshly replied, teeth gritted as he suddenly wished he could sweat, "But I saw no other alternative. It was this, or potentially face a Reaper head-on. This mission is too important for us to be taken down so easily."
"We're a sitting duck flying like this! At least in space we could maneveur!" his XO insisted, "We should pull up, try a different route!"
Tarquin, having had enough, spun around, eyes bright with annoyance as he faced Truius, "Are you done questioning my orders? Or do you need a court-marshalling? Do not question my orders again. We will find that bomb site, disable that bomb and then extract. We are the First Platoon, and we will succeed."
"Yes sir," Truius stated upfront, Tarquin glad for his instant acceptance; he would have hated to have one of their Cabals escort him off the bridge. His thoughts and focus now undisrupted, he turned back to the counter on the viewscreen, watching it count down.
1200 meters...1100 meters...1000 meters...
Only a kilometer to go. Come on, you can do it...
900 meters...800-
"Sir!" one of his bridge officer shouted, "We've got a contact directly ahead! Its 300 feet high, and is giving off one hell of a thermal signature! Sensors pinpoint it to be...holy shit! Right infront of us!"
Tarquin's eyes widened as he watched the huge form of a Reaper Destroyer suddenly appear before them, emerging from the ground like a thresher maw from its nest. Its glowing red eye boomed evil, its four legs stretching and pushing from its hideout. Armoured plates slid apart to reveal its glowing eye, and its scorpion-shaped body seemed to slouch apart as it rose. Its colossal plates gleamed in Tuchanka's harsh sun, and it gave the mechanical agent of destruction a very ethereal glow; one full of malice. A Reaper.
Oh spirits..."Bring us up! Sharp turn! Bring us back into the atmosphere, now!" He bellowed, almost desperate to escape the situation they were now in. But even as he shouted those orders, the eye on the giant starship was already powering up, red sparks cracking hungrily as it prepared to feast upon on the giant hunk of metal speeding towards it; to take all the lives upon it. The entire platoon, the whole fireteam, the whole crew and, of course, Tarquin Victus, the son of Primarch Adrien Victus.
There was only one last chance to save this mission, and his crew. Spinning around, he chose the disgraceful route, "Get everyone to the escape pods now! Get to it!"
"Are you serious!?" Truius objected, snorting, "Turians do not run! We will face-"
"Get to the bloody escape pods, or mission is not over!" Tarquin snapped, eyes glazed over with fury, "We have to find that bomb no matter the cost, and we are not letting a damn Reaper stop us! Get to-"
He was thrown into Truius as the whole ship groaned, shuddered and coughed, Tarquin watching hopelessly as red hot fire and metal blew the entire starboard section of the ship clean off, a glazing shot from the Reaper's mini-thanix. Spirits, be thankful it wasn't a Reaper capital ship... He watched most of the pilots on that side get vaporized from the shot instantly, while the rest of the ship was torn away, wind whipping at their faces along with fire, and the dying light of Aralakh burning on their faces; night was approaching on Tuchanka.
Tarquin gripped Truius hardened face with renewed courage, facing him fully, "Escape pods. Now."
The turian nodded acceptance and quickly rushed off the rapidly collapsing bridge of the corvette quickly, the rest of the surviving crew quickly following behind, Tarquin himself included. It wasn't that far away from the pods; corvette's were tiny vessels, only the length of six SX-3 Paradise-Class Alliance interceptors, and only three of them wide. Which meant they were never far away from their escape option.
A groan could be heard as the ship voiced its agony and Tarquin only just managed to escape a flying piece of debris as he leapt into his pod, the debris instead slicing one of the crew in half. Crawling into one of the seats, he strapped himself in, harness clicking into place over him before Truius hit the deployment button; a second later, their pod left its mothership with a hiss, and they watched the Educated Foresight slowly get smaller until the pod abruptly slammed and cut through the ruins of a decayed skyscraper, slamming into the rotted concrete below. The impact alone was enough to jar Tarquin, and his vision went whoozy as he tried to regain focus, his men shouting at him as his men pulled themselves free, and began to open their pod.
A thunderous boom, followed by the sound of collapsing stone, concrete and steel finally repaired his vision, causing him to look up, trying to find its source. Having no luck, he unlocked his harness and looked around, finding out quickly that he had been whoozy longer than he thought; the pod was empty, and the pod wide open. With a sigh, he ignored his stressed muscles and used his powerful, turian arms to pull himself from the veritically aligned pod, and found himself peaking into a field of fire.
The source of the noise had been the remains of his corvette crashing into the ground, the bow caving in, the spine breaking in a long cascade before it collapsed backwards, shattering its form and reducing the proud turian ship to a mangled, half-eaten wreck. He shook his head, turning to the left as he heard his men yelling, and watching as they formed a perimeter, phaestons in their grips. Coming to sit on the edge, Tarquin too pulled out his phaeston assault rifle and then leapt onto the ground, rebalancing himself as he almost lost his footing on the jagged concrete and the ruins of an overly large skycar, rotted from the thousands of years of misuse; glass canopy nonexistent and resilient krogan skeleton lying in the driver's seat. Krogan skeletons survived all these centuries? Damn.
He looked up as he heard a loud airhorn, followed by a boom, and as he looked up, he watched the Reaper Destroyer move, armoured plates collapsing back over its eye as it seemed to move, oblivious to the turians below it, or simply considering them not worthy of any attention, casually knocking aside buildings with every footfall as it traversed the landscape, heading towards some senseless goal, letting out an occassional airhorn every time it moved. The sound terrified him. Just one...and its immense.
"Well sir, what do we do?" Truius rasped, and as he turned to the turian, he saw his own men giving him a glare of distaste, "You got us into this mess, now you can get us out. Continue the mission? Sure. Where next, Lieutenant Victus."
Tarquin glared back, "You knew the risks of this mission, and you know damn well its in our duty to finish it. Our first objective to locate the survivors and regroup. This is a large city, so it'll be hard, so send out a beacon; you know the drill. Then we'll-"
"Sirs," one of the soldiers nearby spoke, gripping his phaeston harder as he sat crouched near a slab, "I've got contact on my motion tracker, lots of it. Coming from all around us."
"Contacts?" Tarquin questioned, only slightly worried. There's only one enemy it could be, "Friend or foe?"
"Would he be so worried if it were friend?" Truius deadpanned, moving to crouch next to the man, "How many contacts? Give us a rough estimate."
"Too many to be sure. At least a dozen. Wait, no more, dozens," the turian's eyes widened in, shooting to behind his back, "They're all around us and closing in!"
Before any more questions could be asked of the situation, a loud, goosebump-inducing guttural moan could be heard, and all turned around to see a horde of husks rushing towards them, hands bared and dead, soulless eyes landing on them as they found their prey. Unearthly gurgles could be heard, and from in front could be seen a marauder, moving forward with its phaeston in its grip, leading forward a squad of cannibals he squawked and choked unintelligible phrases at them, and from all over the ruins came more, and he even saw a brute amongst them. Tarquin could only watch in horror as Truius hurried shouted his orders. "Fire! Fucking fire!" Gunfire was the answer, and they fired at all the Reaper husks around them.
Then, a booming voice.
"You will ascend, turians. The species of this galaxy will bend to us. Your destruction is inevitable."
And the horde moved forward, and in that moment, Tarquin knew he was going to die.
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It was cloudy. He realized that almost instantly. The darkness seemed to swallow up everything, covering it in a thick blanket that did not permit light any entrance or solace. The trees were dead and wretched, covering in thick piles of ash that stained their green appearence, making them seem like some kind of black depression, their trunks chipped and ripped from decay.
The ground was given no reprieve and was also covered in ash; and where it wasn't, there was nothing but black scorch marks from fire, but it was almost unnoticable due to the lack of light.
Despite this gruesome landscape, he pressed on, through the bushes, wincing as they stabbed him with their sharp needled appendages, but ignoring the jabs of pain as he continued to move, driven on by some alien purpose he couldn't understand. It haunted him, made him feel like a puppet in the grand scheme of some great play. Accept this play was daunting. Horrifying. Real.
The bushes finally seemed to part, and what he found was an empty forest full of the same dead trees he had found back when he was traversing the bushes, with the same dull background and the same dead horizon. Not a sound could be heard, not even when he took a step. Not when he rustled a bush, and not when he took a breath. It was dead silent, unearthly silent; deafeningly silent.
He slowly padded forward, feeling almost deaf from the lack of sound. Hell, considering that everything looked the same, it didn't even feel like he was moving.
Or maybe he really wasn't moving.
Suddenly, a voice broke through the silence; feminine, american, and highly attractive; he would recognize it anywhere.
"Skipper..."
He spund around, trying to locate the source, but quickly failing as his eyes found nothing.
"...you left me..."
The voice sounded closer, and he turned forward to see the silhouette of a long deceased form standing infront of him; but the darkness covered her features, keeping them secret from him.
"...to die."
She emerged from the shadows, and he found himself relieved to see nothing wrong with her; it was like she hadn't changed. She wore the same pinkish-white light phoenix armor she always wore, with her holstered pistol and favoured assault rifle, sans her helmet. She had plump red lips, smooth cheeks and heavy eyelashes that gave her a girly-girl look. Her eyes were piercing, and her raven black hair was tied up in that same ponytail that it always was, flowing like water. It was the same woman he had known three years ago. The same woman he had sent to death.
His voice replied, feeling croaky and dry, as if he had been starved of food and drink for days, "You chose to stay behind, remember? I wanted to save both of you, but you insisted I go for Kaidan. You chose to die that day on Virmire; to make sure the nuke detonated..."
The woman he once knew as Ashley Williams smiled, shaking her head, "No, you could have saved me. You could have ignored me and gone and saved me; left Kaidan to die. But you didn't. You left me to die, and in the end, Kaidan lived, and I didn't. I lay forgotten. My sacrifice meant nothing."
"That's not true!" he snapped, slamming a fist into the tree next to him, only to watch as it completely fell apart from the force, becoming just another pile of ash, but he ignored it, facing Ashley fully, "We never forgot about you! I never forgot about you! I have no doubt Kaidan still thinks about you everyday since your death; he loved you, for god sake! Your death saddened us, but you allowed us to stop the Reapers! You helped us delay their invasion for three years!"
"It was not enough. And now our cycle pays the price," she sighed with melancholy, "You were always a fool, Skipper. You left me to die, let Kaidan live, and now you'll have me to help you sleep, all night long."
"Why!?" he screamed, as if letting out a long line of articulated agony being pent up over the years. He tried to form tears, but none came, "Why do you haunt me like this? You understood what I had to do...the Ashley I knew wouldn't hold me accountable for something like this...you understood..."
This time, when she smiled, her teeth were rotten, and her gums enflamed. And that wasn't it; he began to notice her skin shrivelling up, her eyes beginning to sink back into her skull, and her hair caught on fire as she spoke, followed by the rest of her body spontaneously combusting into flames. This was getting very familiar. Too familiar, "She understood," she stated, and then suddenly her eyes turned burning orange, "But she is long dead; an organic dead for a false cause. You have already lost, Shepard. This is not a war; this is a harvest. Your species will ascend to greatness, yet you refuse it at every turn. Your ignorance will be your destruction."
His skull began to scream at him, and he fell onto his knees, crying out in agony as he did. "This is only the beginning," Ashley boomed, "Your friends and comrades will fall around you, unable to stand to our might. Submit to the harvest and they will be spared; they will rise to ascension, to a higher form, as you will. Or you will die, and will become the ashes that lie around you; pointless and without use."
The burning in his skull was beginning to become unbearable, and he held his head in agony as Ashley seemed to continue grinning. At this point, her eyes were gone, living only black, absent pits for eye sockets, her hair was burnt to nothing, and her skin was gone; all he could see was the muscle underneath; beginning to wreathe and splurt as it boiled from unseen radiation. He knew what came next.
"I...will...stop...you!" he cried out in defiance, "We fight or we die!"
"No. You will be harvested, or vanish."
And with a blast of pure heat, something that immediately roasted the skin off his bones; the agony so blinding that he wanted to black out but couldn't, he watched Ashley's body shatter into little fragments, like that of a window blowing apart, and her body was scattered to the wind, nuclear fire destroying everything around them and filling the dark place with brilliant light that melted his eyes out. The last thing he saw of Ash was that damn smile and the last he heard was Harbinger's voice.
He screamed.
June 8, 2186
2053 hours.
The Shepards' Quarters, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In FTL Inbound for the Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard.
His scream carried right out into reality as he shot up from the bed, his screaming cut short as he immediately realized he was awake and all of it had been another nightmare. He was soaking with a cold sweat, and he could still feel the lingering sensation of the fire melting his skin and the buzzing in his eyes from his bubbling pupils in the dream. It left him feeling uncomfortable; violated. And it had been another dream of Ashley. Three years dead, and she couldn't leave him alone. Skipper...
Shaking his head, he turned in the bed, tossing the covers off of his body and twisting so he sat on the edge, head in his hands. He wiped the sweat from his face, and felt the burning in his skin fade as if nothing had happened. He took two solid deep breaths before standing up and moving into the shower, stripping, and he turned it to full bore; it almost immediately removed the freezing cold that had taken place over his body.
Feeling sufficiently cleansened, he dried himself and got dressed, exiting the shower cubicle just as he heard a knock on the door. Frowning, he stepped out, placed his cap over his head and cleared his voice, trying to not let the fatigue he felt show in his voice. Last he needed was someone worrying over him, "Enter."
The door shot open, and the last person he expected to be standing outside was Liara, a large box in her hands. She simply stood there, looking back at him as if she needed further confirmation, "Can I come in?"
Just said you could. "Yes, Liara. Have a seat."
"Thank you," Liara replied warmly, smiling as she proceeded into his cabin, walking down the steps and situating herself on his sofa, where he quickly found himself migrating to. Ignoring his tired muscles, which screamed at him for further rest, he took a seat, not wanting to take another trip into nightmare land; sleep had become alot like that for him, nowadays. No, now he would talk to Liara; erase the memories of that horrible dream.
"What can I do for you, Liara?"
The asari once again smiled that same innocent smile, the same kind she had back when she was an archaelogist and not ruler of the galaxy's largest information network, and placed the mysterious, steel box she had been holding down on the coffee table infront of them, making sure the table wouldn't snap from the added weight before letting go of it. Satisfied it wouldn't collapse, she turned, folding her hands in her lap as she leaned back, sighing contendedly, "I just...wanted your advice on something."
"...that pertains to the box you brought?" he grinned, tapping the metal container as it gave a loud clang, "Seems very heavy; I guess what you want to ask me must have been worth the effort of holding that thing during that slow elevator ride."
"It was tortorous, I'll admit," she quipped, smiling before shaking her head, sighing, "No, I...Shepard, after all these years of fighting the Reapers, do you think we can really beat them?"
How many times have I been asked and answered this question? He sighed, the grin leaving his features as he leaned forward, shrugging, "I want to believe we can, Liara. The odds weigh heavily against us, but I believe if we can finish the Crucible, we'll have a fighting chance of destroying these bastards once and for all and put a stop to the cycles. But on the other hand...what if the genophage cure isn't enough? Will that really unite a galaxy? And if it is, will a united galaxy be enough to stop the Reapers? I don't know, Liara. It's a question I can't give you a definitive answer for."
Liara gave a hesitant nod, crossing her legs as she sat, seeming to ponder what she was going to say next. Finally, as if managing to comprehend just what she needed to do, and turned towards him, gulping, "Well...in that case, I have something to ask of you. To show you." With that, she leaned over, hitting a control ontop of the box. What had been lifeless now burst with life, bright holographic light portraying images of the Crucible, numerous ship types, and many different species of the galaxy; even a geth. He frowned at it, giving Liara a raised eyebrow of misunderstanding. Shrugging, she smiled meekly.
"Its a...time capsule, of sorts. I made sure it contains all the different codex entries on our different species, ships, civilizations, how we came to be here, what organizations we fought, the different conflicts, governments, people, and, finally, our war with the Reapers. I've also uploaded the schematics for the Crucible. It has also got a programmable translation matrix so that the species who finds it can code the information to their understanding," she laughed slightly, remembering, "I also added a detailed account of our adventures together; right from Eden Prime to the present day, and I'll continue to update it as we go. From three years ago to now. The friends we lost, the friends gained and the love cherished."
Marcus nodded, smiling slightly as he leaned back, crossing his own legs, "This is all nice to know Liara but...why? Why have you gone to all the trouble to make this?"
"Isn't it obvious?" she asked, baffled he hadn't picked up on it yet. Seeing he was still confused, she rolled her eyes, leaning her elbows on her knees, "I thought...worst case scenario, Shepard. If we lose this war...if the Reapers succeed in this cycle...I wanted to bury this capsule, hide it so the Reapers can't find it, and leave it for the next cycle to find, which they will. I've considered the different species that might lead the next cycle, and I think the raloi are the best candidate; so I'll bury it on Turvess, hope they find it. They'll have 50,000 years to prepare."
"You've really thought this out, haven't you?" Marcus asked grimly, shaking his head, "You've made sure that, no matter what happens, the next cycle will have a chance. A fighting chance. They'll learn about the Crucible centuries in advance, build it, and fire it literally as the Reapers arrive. That's if we lose however; it might not be necessary."
"That's true," she stated, gliding a blue-skinned hand over the heavy material, "But it's better to have it and not need it, then to need it...and not have it."
He let out an exhale of breath as he turned to look back at the box, studying it. He slowly turned, nodding, "So this is why you came up here? To ask me if I approve of this?"
"Your approval?" the asari laughed, some mirth actually entering her voice, "No! I'd have made this capsule and deployed it with or without permission. No, I needed your consultation on another entry I planned on making for the capsule."
He frowned, nodding slowly, "Okay, you've piqued my interest. Just what do you have in mind?"
With a knowing grin, she stood up and stood up next to the box, tapping another button on its holographic interface. Suddenly, the holo of the Crucible vanished and was replaced with an image of himself, standing tall and proud. She looked at him, smiling, "I need consultation on your entry."
Flabbergasted, he rapidly shook his head, leaning back and rubbing his eyes as his head continued to shake, eyes locking onto Liara's, "No. Definitely not. You do not need an entry on me. The next cycle does not need to know about me."
"Don't be an idiot, Shepard! By the goddess!" the asari huffed, exasperated, "It was you who formed your team, you who defeated Saren and Sovereign, you who destroyed the Collectors, and you who will unite the galaxy and save it! You were at the core of it all! Don't deny yourself this out of stupid modesty! The next cycle would need to know," her smile died slightly, "You're a beacon of hope. And that's just what we need."
"Okay okay," he gave up in surrender, "I concede to your point, but I still think the squad at my back should get seventy percent of the credit. As for Tali, ninety percent. I'd be dead in the water if it weren't for her holding me up."
"We'll get to that," she sighed, rubbing her temples as her hands came to land on her hips, the asari obviously waiting for him to start, "Well don't just sit there! Shepard, I need your consultation on your entry. What should I say about you? All of the facts in this capsule are narrated by me, I'll have you know. Including the ones about the Reapers, their weaknesses, strengths and indoctrination and huskification. But that's a different story. What should I say?"
"Liara," Marcus began, shaking his head with a smile, "I don't think I should tell you how to tell it; you should just do that. Besides, you've known me well enough; tell them what matters Liara. Tell it true, but don't embellish it too much. You don't need me."
"Alright," the asari stated, cracking her knuckles as she toggled the audio pickup, and she held a finger to her lips for him to be quiet. Once he acknowledged this, she stood up, hands clasped behind her back as she paced, thinking of where to start. Finally, she found the perfect place, and she whirled around, speaking loud enough for the capsule to pick her voice up, "Second-last entry: Marcus Lee Shepard," she took a deep breath and began, "There is much to say about this extradionary man. He's not just a hero, he's a symbol. A champion. And was a personal friend of mine," she sighed, nodding as she continued.
"He was a spacer, and of a species during our time known as humanity," she began, "He was born on a ship in space to parents who were navy officers. He eventually joined the military at age 18, became a navy officer, and began his career. He earned many titles; he once saved a colony from an army of ten thousand slavers single-handedly; they called him the Lion of Elysium. Then he stormed an enemy fortress with just a small squad; they called him the Butcher of Torfan. And then he survived a thresher maw ambush; they called him the Survivor of Akuze. He has survived many things, and he would become our hero," she smiled grimly, "It began at a human colony we called Eden Prime; you will find its codex in this database. From there, our fight against the Reapers began. He found me on a planet named Therum, but I was not the beginning; by then, he had a formidable squad of soldiers; formidable in potential, but young in their age; except for Wrex."
She sighed, taking a seat behind the table opposite him, "He died, but then he was brought back to life, stronger than ever, and he began his campaign anew; he never gave up. Even when our galactic government, the Council, refused to believe the threat, he pesevered. He destroyed an enigmatic race of beings known as the Collectors, which were the husks of the species once known as the Protheans, a race that came before our cycle. During your cycle, they are the husks of humanity, I would presume. He destroyed them, and returned, and he continued the fight right up until the war we were engaged in. I do not know how long it will last, or if we will win or lose it, but if you are receiving this, then the answer is clear. Shepard fought the hardest; he was a beacon for the galaxy. He united us under one banner, built a superweapon called the Crucible, and attempted to destroy the Reapers, but it was too late. If you find this, may he be your inspiration, a martyr for your cycle. Build the Crucible, and destroy the Reapers once and for all."
"Shepard was a special forces operative known as N7; I don't know what you call them, but for us, that's a special kind of soldier; an elite of the elite, and he was the very best. He also became a Spectre; a Council operative that works above the law and are not trained, but chosen based on skill and potential. He was also a powerful biotic; they are people who can harness element zero and use it for telekinetic abilities, allowing them to manipulate the world around them; he was one, and a skilled one at that. He was kind, caring and compassionate, and diplomatic, when he could be. But when on the battlefield, he was an artist at killing; a destroyer, a bane, a raging demon. Almost unkillable."
She met Marcus' eyes in that instant, and smiled tapping another button. Marcus had to take a deep breath as he watched his form replaced by that of a holographic image of Tali, standing tall and proud, omni-tool out before her, wearing her old suit from back in the days of her pilgrimage, "But, of course, he wouldn't have been able to do it alone. And yes, he had a squad behind him, but there was this particular woman named Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, later named Tali'Zorah vas Neema and vas Normandy, and finally to become his wife, Tali'Shepard vas Normandy. Wife is our name for the female of a bond. I don't know if you have that in your cycle, but we did. She was his light in the darkness, and she kept him standing upright, was there when he got hurt, and watched his back, utterly devoted to him, as he was to her. She was of a species called quarian, not much different from his own, and her species, at least during the period of our war with the Reapers, were stranded in the stars amongst a fleet of ships collectively known as the Flotilla or Migrant Fleet. He didn't see her face for a long time because she was trapped in her suit for protective purposes, but he waited, patiently. If it wasn't for her, I don't think we'd have gotten this far."
"Tali was a brilliant tech, one of the best engineers in the galaxy and had an affinity for nervousness. She was shy and cute when you embarassed her, but like her husband Marcus, she was a ball of fire and fury when on the battlefield, her skills with a shotgun and omni-tool unrivalled. She wasn't biotic, but she could hack ninety-six percent of everything, and she was extremely protective of Shepard, as he was of her. Together, they made up the entire power of his squad combined," she sighed happily, "They fought together, bled at each other's side, and died in each others' arms. They met the end gladly; sacrificing their future together so that you could live. Make their sacrifice worth it; build the Crucible, assemble your fleets, and when the Reapers arrive in fifty thousand years, destroy them. Oh, and also make sure to find the scout they leave behind every interim to monitor you; they'll relay everything to the Reapers, so taking him out is crucial. Remember: may they be a beacon to you, and remind you of the valour that occured in the name of freedom," with a final intake of breath, she concluded, "End entry."
There was silence in the room for a few more seconds, noone saying a word. Liara looked up hesitantly to see Marcus looking blankly at his legs, hands dead and unmoving. Standing up, she turned off the capsule and sat next to him, trying to get his attention, but he still said nothing. Still didn't move. Eventually, she had enough, deciding to wave her hand in front of his face or shake his shoulder, but before she could do that, she heard him speak, and what came out shocked her.
"...died in each others' arms..." he mumbled, shaking his head as he scratched the back of his neck, "What arms? Where is she?"
It wasn't the words that broke Liara's heart, it was the tone; he sounded so lost, so hopeless, so absolutely...lonely. That was the only word to properly describe it. It was like the life was sucked completely out of him as soon as he entered his cabin; all the giddiness he got from combat vanished once he shed his Commander Shepard skin, and became Marcus Shepard; because there was no Marcus Shepard without the other half.
Liara placed a cool, blue hand on his shoulder, "I'm sure she'll turn up. She's probably dealing with the Reapers, like we are."
He didn't seem to even register her words as his head fell in his hands, "Where is she? The war is finally here, but where is she? Where is she when I need her? I feel so goddamn fucking lost. I don't even...it isn't the same..."
She turned his head to face her, warm blue eyes meeting his steely hazels, "You need to put those thoughts away; shove them from your mind. You said it yourself; you can't afford to be distracted. I know you miss her; Garrus misses her like a little sister, and while I can't hope to match the bond you three have as a team, I know this: I miss her in some way too. Kasumi does, I know that much; the thief keeps bringing her up when I ask 'what was life like on the SR-2?' Kasumi seems like the best friend Tali never had; except for you, maybe, but that's changed. Look," she paused, looking for the right words, "Tali is out there; it's only a matter of time before we find her."
"We were meant to face the Reapers together," he responded, his voice unsure if he should be so damn selfish, "I don't just miss her, Liara. I'm falling apart without her. You may think I'm a perfect paragon, but she is my moral compass; the incorruptible. Yes, I may be corrupting her with...my demons, per se, but she isn't fully gone; she still helps me through these moral dilemmas and problems. I need her in my arms, or I need to be in hers...damn it, I don't care! I just need to be with her..." he shook his head, turning away, "I shouldn't even be telling you this."
She shook her head, placing a hand ontop of his, "No, it's quite alright. These things need to come out."
"No," he stated firmly, turning towards her as he slipped his hand from the asari's grip, "You don't. These are things only husband and wife share," he turned away from her, rubbing at his face, "This is a side only Tali gets to see. You've seen too much already," he waved a hand at the capsule, "I...thank you for asking my permission Liara, and I will come down later to have a look at it and add some data of my own, but for now, you need to leave. I...need some time alone."
"But Shepard-"
He turned to her, a desperate look in his eyes, "Liara, I'm not asking. Leave now." He looked away, "EDI, lock the door once she's gone. Noone is to disturb me."
There was no answer, EDI understanding the situation better than any AI could. Liara, nodding as she accepted the inevitable, stood up and picked up the capsule in her hands, turning and walking up the steps as she passed the doors, and let the doors closed behind her. She had just left her best friend behind, a man falling apart, morally, mentally and physically, and there was nothing she could do to stop it. As soon as she turned, the haptic interface turned a bright red, like that of a stop sign telling her to walk away. And did that she did. She turned and entered the elevator, not taking a single look behind her. And she knew she had done the right thing. The man needed comfort, but wasn't from her or any other woman. Only one woman could comfort him.
Marcus simply sat there, and then it came.
A pathetic whimper.
An exhale of breath.
The stream of a tear.
And then, after all this time, his emotions came out like a tsunami.
He wept.
{Loading...}
June 12, 2186
1519 hours.
One of Many Caves, Unknown Underground Cave Network, Southern Hemisphere, Utukku.
The Reaper War.
Lord Platooner Urdnot Charr, Lord Companier Urdnot Dagg.
He shifted the Firestorm in his grip, the flamethrower large and wieldy, but for a krogan, it weighed next to nothing and was just big enough for their massive hands to fit around them without crushing them. He took another step forward, hearing the dirt and rock crunch below him as it reacted to the unknown presence landed upon it, before it lifted again as he took two more steps, the same sound following it. And all around him, similiar ones were heard as his platoon, and the rest of Dagg's company, moved forward.
Or, at least, his platoon part of the company. The rest was split off in different parts of the cave, all investigating the same thing they were; the same thing Urdnot Wrex had been worried about, and the same thing Dagg needed to check out. So he did, and here they were, on the barren rock world known as Utukku, looking through empty caves, deep underground.
Charr was not your average krogan. He wasn't overly courageous, and wasn't always eager in seeking a battle. He was bonded happily to an asari named Ereba, something his peers looked down on, as bondage was something of an alien concept to krogan; they didn't marry, they merely engaged in intercourse with a female and then moved onto another; the idea of staying with one for the rest of their lives seemed trivial and redundant. Nevertheless, Ereba was his wife; living on the Citadel until his return. She had been a sales merchant, but now, because of this damn war, she was an asari commando; fully-trained over five months. She had been considering it long before the war and been training for it before then too, but it was only now that it mattered so much.
And here he was, far from her, on some barren world, investigating the presence of an ancient enemy that had been extinct for a thousand years. They couldn't possibly be here. They just couldn't be. His people wiped them out all those centuries ago. How could there be any left?
Once again, he found himself spinning around to face a cave wall at the sound of scuttling. The hiss of flame appearing in the ignition chamber, ready to be propelled forward, was heard as he raised it to the wall, the flame's light showing nothing; once again, he was chasing his own shadow. He had done this multiple times now, and every single time he found nothing. He might as well have not bothered.
He turned back around, watching his krogan peers, unnoticing, continue to move forward. No, not peers, subordinates. He was Lord Platooner, and be damned if he did not live up to his command. With a low growl, he pressed forward, moving to the front of his platoon where Urdnot Dagg, their company commander, having chosen to be with his part of the split up, was walking, claymore in hand, flashlight illuminating the way.
He came to the krogan's side, the krogan's head crest glowing a dim brown in the flame's light, and his eyes a dull purple. As he approached, Dagg turned, nodding to Charr as he turned back around, scoffing, "Nothing?"
"Nothing."
"This investigation is getting more and more pointless by the second," Dagg pondered, sighing as he shook his head, "But Chieftain's Wrex's orders are clear: scour this area and make sure no rachni activity exists."
"The rachni have been extinct for a thousand years. Our people destroyed them," Charr stated, shaking his head, "I believe the asari saying is 'chasing wild ta'djal."
"I say you spend too much time around that asari mate of yours," he sneered, shaking his head as he turned back around, "It has made you weak and fleshy, like them, but we can fix that. You are a krogan; if you can regenerate physical wounds, you can regenerate mental ones. Still, you're right, but Wrex seemed insistent. He seemed sure there was rachni activity in the rachni home system's relay, and Wrex is usually serious when it comes to such things. We'll have to take his word for it. But if we don't start to see movement soon, then we're leaving back for Tuchanka. Word has it the genophage is going to be cured soon, and I don't plan to miss it," he grinned smugly, "I've got alot of breeding to catch up on."
"The genophage is being cured?" Charr stated out of surprise, "Does that mean what I think it does?"
"It means someone cares, welp. In this case, a human commander and a salarian with regret," Dagg retorted, the rest of the platoon halting at the words 'genophage' and 'cure,' "And it means our thousand year plight is over. We can rebuild what we lost."
"You believe in Shepard's cause?" Charr asked, unconvinced. He too believed in it, but was still unable to believe he was ending a thousand years of horror with one cure.
"I do. The Reapers are a threat to all life. I was there when Wrex made his speech. I heard what they are capable of," Dagg spat on the ground, a large clump of saliva leaving his mouth as it collapsed against a wall of rock, "They will destroy Tuchanka when they have a chance, and it is our duty to stop them, rightfully. It seems the galaxy needs us to save it again, and this time, we are also the ones who need saving."
"Sir!" one krogan shouted from ahead, "You should have a look at these things. The wall is covered with them."
Knowing he was talking to him, Charr rushed forward, Dagg and the others in tow. Charr quickly reached him, the krogan looking up at the ceiling and everything before him, but the corner blocked his view. Turning the corner, he was surprised when what he saw wasn't rock or some rachni structure; it was a large piece of grey-red metal covering the wall, its design sleek and menacing. And as they looked up, they saw it covered the wall; bits of cabling and wiring interconnecting them.
"What is all this? This looks like the work of machines," Dagg snapped, "Salarians are more sterile, asari are more about beauty, and turians are more utilitarianistic. This is just sleek and simple, logical design work. This is the work of machines, but which ones? Couldn't be geth so..." his eyes widened as he turned around, hitting his comm, "Second and third teams, report your status now!"
Static was all that was heard on the other side for third team, and second team's commander's voice sounded hurried and tired, growling, "We are under heavy attack! Enemy identity unconfirmed, but I can take a guess! Get out of here and fall back! It's a nest! It's a-" Then his comms cut, and Dagg growled, ripping off his comm and tossing it onto the ground as he crushed it with his massive foot.
He whirled around, spittle flying from his maw, "You heard him! We need to get the fuck out of here, now! Fall back to the shuttle quickly, we need to inform Wre-"
A loud, high-pitched, mechanical screech was heard. It echoed through the walls, ringing in their ears and shaking them to the bone, making even the toughest krogan flinch, even if it was only in surprise. But Charr shivered in fear. He didn't recognize the noise; was that what rachni sounded like? Or the machines who constructed these walls?
He was quickly answered when a piece of rock from above exploded outwards, all of them pushing backwards as they all raised their weapons in unison at the source, dust, rock and dirt raining down on them as they moved out of the way. It thundered against the ground, tremendous tremors shaking the entire cave network.
The source of the explosion was heard and seen as it emerged, screeching its same high-pitched cybernetic wail. It was an ugly creature, a combination of flesh and muscle with machinery and armor. It stalked on four, weak looking legs of metal, its body encased in a steel cage that kept its fleshy sac of flesh trapped under its belly, sickly green slime dripping off of it. Two large cannons that looked like anti-material rifles protruded from what should be its head, the monster looking like it could barely hold them. Its front two legs ended in sharp claws, scraping against the ground with every movement forward, and occassionally slipping on the uneven ground, that, and its ridiculous weight. But Charr recognized it. It wasn't exactly as he saw it however; it had been manipulated. Twisted.
It answered one question: Was it machines or rachni?
The answer: both. A combination.
The animal descended, and Dagg roared as he ordered them to open fire on it. His team depressed their triggers, jets of flame intertwining as they flew upwards to consume the twisted rachni. The attack was easier than they thought; it seemed to scream in agony from the multiple blasts, its skin flaring and blackening from the heat. Its fleshy sac expanded and exploded from it, sending jets of black blood in every direction; followed by tinier creatures; little metal insects, like that of beetles, but the size of a human's torso. Rachni workers, but they were twisted as well; encased entirely in Reaper tech.
The insects rained on them, but his team made short work of them, considering them little more than annoying pests. When they looked back up, they were in time to hear a disgusting, sludgy thud, before looking back down at the ground to see the twisted rachni had collapsed to the ground, its front caving into the rocks, crushing its two heavy cannons. Black blood quickly spilled out, coating the ground in dark ichor. They lowered their weapons, shaking their heads as they all ignored Charr and looked to Dagg for leadership.
Dagg noticed them, and turned to Charr, respecting his command, "We return to the shuttles now! We inform Wrex what's going on here, and he'll send reinforcements to purge this place. The Reapers cannot be allowed-"
Another screech, and they all looked up to see another creature looming over them. All of them sighed in annoyance, before aiming upwards to quickly dispatch it. Charr rolled his eyes. Do these things give up?
Another screech. Two more. Three. Four. Ten. Fifteen. Twenty. Eventually, there became too many for them to differentiate, not that they can be bothered, as they were too busy either shutting the noise out or spinning in confusion as they found themselves now surrounded by a horde of the creatures coming from every direction.
Kalros, save us...Charr exclaimed silently, raising his flamethrower.
"Run!" Dagg stated, although Charr could see the shame in his eyes, "Someone send a warning to Wrex, now! Charr, cover the rear! We'll fall back! Get moving! Move move move!"
The platoon moved as one, the twelve krogan moving forward like a gigantic freight train, pushing through and crushing the abominations with every step, push and shot.
The chamber echoed as the sound of a cannon discharged, and Charr cried out as he felt his left leg flare up like it was on fear. Almost like it wasn't there.
He fell to the ground, confirming his fears. He crawled futilely along the ground, raising his hand as his platoon left him behind, none of them looking behind as his fall went unnoticed. Even Dagg didn't turn, too busy snapping at them to run.
Charr sighed, rolling onto his back as he watched orange blood gush from his missing limb. He lifted his omni-tool, watching the approaching horde. If a krogan could cry...he wouldn't. He was better than that. He may not be a very good krogan, but he knew how to die gloriously. That was the krogan way.
Opening his omni-tool he uploaded an image of Ereba to his HUD and moved it to the bottom left of his screen, letting her smile linger in his eyes before turning and using his flamethrower as a club to knock aside a charging rachni. He quickly pulled the trigger, and the same effect as the last occurred, soaking him in black death. The smell was feral; wrong. It smelt of motor oil and blood combined, like some kind of evil concoction of the two. It boiled from the flames, and it stung his skin, but he gritted his teeth and raised his weapon, remembering his last words to his asari bondmate. It put a sad smile on his face.
"Oh, Blue Rose of Illium," he chanted, a jet of flame following it as he coated a nearby pair of rachni in fire, watching his fire counter go down, "May your blue petals shine brightly in the light of the Tuchankan sun, singing along side my dead one." He cried out as one got close enough to stab his surviving leg, but he quickly gave it fire in thanks, "I will return, and when I do, your blue beauty can shine upon my nonexistent one, and give it greatness once more. Meaning," the weapon discharged one final time, out of fuel as he tossed it aside, holding his arms out wide, his final words leaving his mouth, "I love you, never forget that. If you don't, then I'll always be by your side."
He heard the loud retort of cannons firing, followed by a thud, thud, thud of them leaving their chambers, screaming across the space towards his fleeing platoon, but they had already escaped around the corner with Dagg. Good, they'll survive at least. The shots passed harmlessly over him, but it wasn't long before they remembered him; one used its clawed appendage to stab the flamethrower and toss it from his hands, throwing it away, gas leaking from it. When it returned, it quickly stabbed him the gut, causing him to choke back a scream as it twisted inside of him, another joining the fun as it used both legs to stab at his arm. Before he knew it, they were all around him, tearing him apart with their limbs, and he could only grit his teeth and let it wash over him.
This was the end.
But he met it peacefully.
{Loading...}
June 9, 2186
1507 hours.
Tech Lab, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Docked with the Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Professor Mordin Solus, Chieftain Urdnot Wrex, Eve.
The room was silent. Only the sound of beeping data terminals could be heard, and the faint sound of breathing. The occassional flinch and creak of metal moving as someone leaned on it, but not much apart from that. Unfortunately, the lack of sound wasn't to last.
"Ow! Pyjak! That hurts!"
Mordin pulled the needle out, ignoring the krogan's complaint as he tapped the tip with his finger, looking inqusitively. Without even acknowledging the battlemaster, or the human leaning against his desk, he turned and approached it, "Krogan afraid of needles. Odd choice of phobia. Many things to fear: Varren, Reapers, Vorcha, other krogan, Yahg, Cerberus, Thermonuclear weaponry, Huskification, Indoctrination," he took in a deep breath, sighing as he placed the needle on his desk, "Instead chooses to fear needles. Odd krogan."
"Hey!" Wrex roared, now suddenly ignoring the barely noticable hole in his arm as he studied the salarian, "Needles are-"
"Oh, do shoosh yourself Wrex," Eve barked, waving a dismissive hand from where she sat on one of the medical tables Mordin had ordered dragged up here, "You'll blush. Now that would be odd of a krogan. Especially a male."
Wrex simply growled and folded in on himself, causing Marcus to shake his head in mirth. He twisted in his position to face Mordin, who was now situated and standing behind his desk, seemingly oblivious to the world around him as he dumped the orange blood sample he had collected into a little glass vial, which was then placed in a steel clamp.
"So Mordin...just what do you need a blood sample for, exactly?" Marcus asked, curious.
The salarian merely smiled as he continued in adding data to his datapad, held firmly in his surprisingly strong three-fingered grip, "Genophage needs cure. Cure needs samples. Samples of blood, required. Necessitated. Absolutely necessary. Without blood sample, genophage cure becomes impossibility. Maelon knew this. Acquired many. All of them irrelevant," he sighed, "Thought he needed samples only from females; forgot that males played crucial role in reproduction as well. Easy mistake to make...being salarian."
"Okay then," he shrugged, "So how is this going to work?"
"Not like reproduction serum given to you and Mrs. Shepard," he smiled, "Hope that was successful?"
"I..." Marcus inhaled and exhaled, shaking his head, "I don't know. I don't think so. We never got to actually use it."
"Unfortunate. Look forward to witnessing success for myself," he shook his head, "However, genophage cure not simple. Take longer than serum. Days. Maybe weeks. Possibly a month. However, not a year. Or years. Or centuries. Salarian lifespan does not allow. Created serum quickly. Can create cure just as quickly, ableit more...slowly."
Wrex didn't seem convinced. "You sure you can trust this pyjak, Shepard? I know he served with you during the Collector campaign, but do you really think he'll cure the genophage?"
"Mordin had a change of conscience," he replied, coming to Mordin's defense, "He originally believed in the genophage, but he's changed, Wrex. He's made a personal oath to cure it. He said it to my face before he left the Normandy."
"Then why didn't he?" the krogan barked, now eying Mordin.
"STG heavily populated by salarians; obvious," Mordin answered. If it were a salarian thing, he'd have rolled his eyes, "Making cure in conditions impossible. Too many watching. Too many guns. Dalatrass would not be happy. Making cure impossibility. Now on Normandy, cure possible. Whole Tech Lab. Eve and Wrex blood samples."
"I don't know," Wrex stated, shaking his head, unconvinced.
Eve sighed, placing a hand on the battlemaster's shoulder, which seemed to relax him immediately, "Get over it, Wrex. That salarian is our people's only chance, and if it makes you feel any better, he truly cared about us."
"Us?" Marcus asked.
"Refers to other females," Mordin inhaled, and exhaled, "Before death."
"The other salarians didn't care, he did. You'd think we were his children, the way he looked after us. But there was a sadness in his eyes," she looked directly at Mordin, "He regretted what he did, and now he hopes to help fix it. He did all he could to save the others, and when they passed on, he did all he could to protect me. He is the only salarian I have found myself trusting."
"Emotional capabilities in salarians close to rare," the professor dictated a matter-of-factly, "Sadness an emotion we do not entertain. Too much melancholy. Not enough scientific advancement."
"He was sad," Eve restated, smiling slightly, "Even if he won't admit it."
Mordin seemed to slow for a second in his typing and then he sped up again, resuming his duties as if noone had been talking. Marcus shook his head, turning to face the other two when EDI came over the PA, "Captain Shepard, Specialist Traynor would like to speak with you on the CIC immediately. She says it is of immediate attention."
"I'll be right there," he stated, coming to stand as he nodded to Eve, "We will have to talk later, Eve. Although, I don't know your actual name."
Eve nodded solemnly, "I am a shaman, Captain; I surrendered my name when I completed the trials," she was turning around, but when she stopped, she turned, smiling at him with a genuine, warm smile, "But, maybe oneday, I will tell you my name. My real name."
Marcus nodded and left, immediately heading over to Samantha's terminal on the right. Heading straight over, he saw that she was already looking at him in a salute, waiting for him to give her permission to speak. Rolling his eyes, he returned the salute and nodded for her to explain, "Captain, I'm sure EDI told you. I was sorry to interrupt, but this could be massively important."
"Speak Traynor. What's the situation?"
She turned back to her terminal, rapidly typing into it as Kelly appeared, looking down on it as she watched Traynor type. While she did, Samantha spoke, biting her lower lip as she did, "I intercepted a distress call coming from the Jon Grissom Academy. However, we received a call from a turian cruiser called the Reverence that was in the area and had answered the call. Normally, that would be okay and we wouldn't have to worry."
"But something isn't quite right," he sighed, "It never is."
"Yes. So I ran a scan, as I didn't think any turian ships were in the area, all of them in the Apien Crest," she turned to face him, "Sir, the Reverence was destroyed during combat over Palaven two days ago. The turian cruiser answering the distress call doesn't exist, which means someone is lying to us. I also ran a scan of the registry in the turian ship's answer," she sighed, motioning for Kelly to speak.
The yeoman answered immediately, "Captain, I'm sure you remember the whole business with the faked turian distress call and how they claimed to disable that Collector ship? Remember how the Collectors faked it, and the Illusive Man knew because it didn't contain secondary encryption?"
"Yes..." he trailed off.
"They're an exact match," Samantha stated, "Which means the Illusive Man is behind this, not the Reapers. Which means..."
Marcus' eyes and body filled with rage as his fists clenched, "Which means Cerberus is attacking the Academy and doesn't want anyone to know; so they made everyone believe it was being evacuated when it wasn't."
"Exactly," Samantha stated, "And it's a good thing, because if I had waited ten minutes, Cerberus would have cut off the distress call and we'd never know."
"Excellent work Traynor!" Marcus slapped her on the back, and she seemed to recoil from the touch.
She rubbed her back, meekly smiling, "It was really nothing, sir. Just doing my job."
"Well, you're goddamn excellent at it. You too Chambers," he smiled and immediately headed for the elevator, comming the cockpit, "Joker, set a course for-"
"Jon Grissom Academy, Vetus System, Petra Nebula," Joker answered for him in deadpan, "Yeah, I know. Remember? AI overlord hears and sees everything? I've already set a course."
"I also see the extensive pornographic collection you have from the Fornax Archive, Mr. Moreau," EDI deadpanned, "Along with the game you are-"
"Whoa! That's enough EDI," Joker embarassingly stated, "Eh...you didn't hear that, did you, Captain?"
"Consider your privledges revoked Joker," Marcus remarked with a grin, "No get going."
"Yes sir," Joker stated.
Marcus continued into the elevator, and wondered just what they'd find at that Academy.
Afterall, he did send David Archer there a year ago after he shutdown Overlord.
"David wasn't all you met there."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"No. I seemed to have been in a very small galaxy at the time."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Grissom Academy chapter is up next, guys. Might be awhile though; school and a lack of internet connection can be a bitch. That, and I'm doing another playthrough of the series, so that doesn't help either. :/
Keelah Se'lai, troopers!
