HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER EIGHTEEN:
VICTORY AT ANY COST
June 14, 2186
1830 hours.
War Room, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In FTL inbound for the Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Primarch Adrien Victus.
The hum of the engines was persistent, and it reverbrated throughout the ship like a constant vibration. This sound was omnipotent; present throughout the ship on a daily basis. The same subtle hum; the same sound that breathed life into the magnificent vessel. It was a pity that such a peaceful sound had to be present aboard a not so peacefully designed ship; a ship designed for war and combat and destruction.
For one man, that sound was no consolation for what he was going through.
For the other man, he didn't even take notice of it. There was only one whisper he craved, and it wasn't present; it only made its descent into his consciousness when he closed his eyes to think. It refused to leave him, stuck to his mind like a persistent parasite. And for reasons he didn't understand, he didn't want it to go away.
Fortunately for him, someone had a problem to dump on him. A turian man, leader of his entire people, braced over the War Room table and looking blankly at a list of data before him on the terminal provided. There was no flinch in his stance, not even a twitch. He just gazed at it, as if trying to come to grips with the information presented. He stood there in his blue uniform, Primarch of the Hierarchy, frozen in a picture of perfect turian stoicism, but for the wrong reasons.
He stood behind him, having been called down by the Primarch himself, apparently wanting a word with him; he just hoped Wrex wasn't causing any trouble. I sincerely hope he isn't. Wrex isn't the one to brew trouble unnecessarily, but if he has upset Victus in some way...damn it, focus on the task soldier. He stood straighter, hands clasped behind his back and cleared his throat.
Victus turned to him slowly, meeting his eyes. After acknowledging the spectre's presence, he turned back to his terminal and shut it off, sighing as he turned to face Marcus, blank expression now expressing solemn calm, his own hands behind his back and clasped tightly, mandibles ever so slightly twitching, "Captain, I thank you for seeing me on such short notice. I hear we will reach the Citadel in two days."
Marcus nodded, "We'll need to drop Aethyta off and give the report to the Council; tell them that the Terminus Systems have now tasted their first engagement with the Reapers; the whole galaxy is at war now. Aria will want to know as well," he stated, swallowing to get rid of the lump forming in his throat, "Any further action on our part afterwards will be purely based on what information we get."
Victus nodded, gulping, "Good. Captain, I asked you down here for a reason, and I need your help urgently. I have a favor to ask, and its one you're going to want to hear. It could endanger my people's alliance with the krogan if it is not dealt with."
Marcus suddenly became alot more attentive than he was before, eyes narrowing, "If you have intel vital to the war effort Victus, you better come clean. Don't bat the bush."
"An interesting human expression," Victus noted, nodding when he nodded Marcus' raised eyebrow, "And its not war intel as such, rather than an important mission. We...the Hierarchy sent a platoon of black watch soldiers on a corvette called the Educated Foresight. It was sent on a mission to Tuchanka, but all telemetry from the ship went dark; its IFF has stopped pinging, and its marked as destroyed. We believe it might have been shot down, but its crew may have survived," Victus tried to cover it up, but Marcus knew the hidden concern in his eyes. He must have had a personal stake in this, "Their mission is of absolute importance, Captain. It is crucial they are found and aided in completing it, or if they...they are dead..." he gulped, suddenly looking very troubled, "Then we must finish it."
Marcus sighed, shaking his head as he swallowed, "I have many questions Primarch, and one of them involves what the hell a turian corvette was doing headed for Tuchanka. What kind of mission would compel you to send a warship onto the krogan homeworld, especially when we're in the middle of forming a truce? What kind of idiotic decision was that? Do you realize what could happen if Wrex gets wind of this?"
"Their mission is of absolute secrecy and total necessity. Unfortunately, it is classified and I cannot devulge that information to you," Victus explained.
"With all due respect Primarch, you can halt with that classified horseshit," Marcus clipped, waving a dismissive hand, "I'm not going to rescue anyone from anywhere if I don't know the circumstances of what we are facing. I don't want to deploy down there only to find myself in the middle of a shitstorm."
"I understand Captain, but I cannot tell you. Please trust me on this," Victus explained, "I know what it feels like to be sent in with little intel and for seemingly unknown purposes, but this comes from the top. I cannot-"
"You're the fucking Primarch," Marcus growled, moving until he was beside the table and glaring straight into Victus' eyes, "You make the rules. I don't care what some hierarch said, or what some field-chair general ordered, I don't care. I want to know right now what you want me to walk into before I agree to anything. I don't give a shit how important it is; I want to know why its so important. And I want to know why the thought of losing them bothers you so much."
The turian frowned, "Bothers me? Of course it bothers me! Those a turian soldiers on krogan soil! They could be dead, their mission incomplete! It would be devastating for Palaven if they failed, and would mean death for-"
Marcus shook his head, "Don't give me that, Victus; I'm not as dense as you might think. I saw that look in your eyes; the concern, the worry. I've only seen that look in the eyes of soldiers who are afraid of losing loved ones...family," he narrowed his eyes and then he widened them, coming to a realization, "You have a son who is part of that platoon, don't you?"
"My only son, and the only family I have left after my wife's death," he sighed melancholy, "His name is Tarquin. He's a lieutenant and he's in command of that platoon. I don't know if he's dead or not, but that's not what worries me. This mission is reliant on his success, and failure is simply not an option; failure would cripple the war effort and the UGC as we know it," he turned back to the table, bracing against it once more as he looked over the holographic surface, dormant but glowing, "There are...consequences for the failure of a battle commander for failing to complete an important mission in the Hierarchy. For a son of an ArchGeneral, it means dishonorable discharge, a badge of shame, and to be kicked from the military, condemned to the lowest jobs Palaven have to offer. For the son of a Primarch, the consequence is far worse."
"What?" Marcus asked, "What happens if he fails as a Primarch's son."
"Execution," Victus quickly answered, leaving the air lingering in silence. After a second, he elaborated, "He'll be trialed, sentenced and executed via firing squad. And...and I'm supposed to issue the order. Do you know what that's like? It's a punishment for both father and son. The son gets executed, and the father effectively pulls the trigger," he growled, gripping the metal harder, "He cannot fail. But my son is a capable soldier, and I know he'll make me proud. But its clear he can't do it alone anymore. Not with just a platoon and no ship. Even special forces won't last long if the Reapers have landed on Tuchanka."
"Which is where I come in," Marcus stated, narrowing his eyes again, "But I still don't know what I'm getting into..."
"I can't-"
"Cut the shit and just fucking tell me," Marcus snapped, sick of these games, "Stop this shit and just tell me straight. I won't risk my men or my crew to save your boy and complete a mission we don't know the circumstances to in what could be deep in Reaper territory. For all I know, I could be helping detonate a nuclear bomb in the Urdnot Camp, and that's definitely not happening."
"Not detonating, no..." Victus replied, finally caving in as he stood straighter, closing his eyes, "The Foresight's mission was to locate and disarm a bomb they found in the Trisek'lok City Ruins. Its absolutely necessary its detonation sequence is stopped."
"Why?" Marcus asked nonchatantly, "I mean, even if it was a 100 megaton nuclear warhead, its still too far away to hurt anyone."
"That's the point. It is not a nuclear weapon; it's not of any weapon we have," Victus stated, "Its a Reaper bomb. We don't understand its design, but we cannot take any chances and knowing Reaper technology, we have no idea what its capabilities are. It could be a planet destroyer for all we know, and we don't need that to happen. And if it does cause that kind of damage, that'll leave the krogan gone. If it doesn't and leaves them alive? They'll inevitably connect the dots and believe it was us who planted the bomb to stop the cure of the genophage. They'll fight us..."
"...instead of the Reapers," Marcus finished, nodding, "They want us fighting each other, and Cerberus isn't enough. They're hoping to boil old hatreds so that we'll take care of each other. Clever bastards," he growled, nodding as he turned to face Victus, "Its clear that this bomb is a present threat we can recognize. Dealing it, not so much. My wif-my combat engineer isn't exactly present, and as much as I believe in Keeling, she's only trained in basic EOD; I can't put her in a situation where she has to disarm a Reaper weapon."
"Tarquin already had an engineer on his team, but having a second in case that engineer is dead would help," Victus replied, "Which is why I recommend-"
"Garrus," Marcus finished for him again, smiling slightly, "That bastard never stops calibrating our thanix cannon, and he's quite proficient in weapons tech, I think he'll make a great EOD specialist," he looked up, "EDI, change of plan. Get us to Tuchanka, and double time it. I want the whole squad in the War Room," he stopped, gritting his teeth before shaking his head, deciding he'd include Wrex.
A few moments later, the AI replied, "The squad has been informed and course has been changed. ETA is two days."
Without acknowledging the AI, he turned back to Victus, pursing his lips as he contemplated. When he was done, he let out a breath of air, looking at the Primarch who stood stoically beside him, "I know you've just committed treason by telling me what's going on here, Primarch, but I promise; noone will know. And if they find out, just say I beat it out of you."
That actually got a smile out of the turian, and he shook his head, scoffing, "I'm a turian; I'm supposed to be tough as nails. Nothing can break us."
"I'll send them a card saying 'we all break at some point,'" he grinned, lightening the mood, "But seriously, just don't say anything. I just needed to know the terms of what's going on. This sounds pretty serious; a Reaper bomb and your son is involved. Seems pretty intense, huh?"
"My son is an excellent soldier. He's done the Hierarchy proud, and done great honor to me and himself," he sighed, "But I can't help but feel this mission is out of his league. We're talking about an entire world of millions, Captain. If that Reaper bomb goes off...we have no idea what it does or what it'll do. We don't even know if it's a bomb; it could be another Reaper or something else entirely. We just don't know, and that scares me. We sent my son in with no intel as well aside from he had to disarm a bomb. After that, he got next to nothing in regards to intel."
Marcus got up, patting the man's shoulder, "We'll get your son out alive and stop that bomb, Victus. That's all you need to worry about. I will not have the Reapers stopping this alliance."
There was still a look of regret in the man's eyes that Marcus couldn't understand but the turian did well to hide it, giving a weak smile, "I admire your peserverence Captain. Many of my people could learn from you."
Marcus lost his smile, shaking his head, "No, they'd learn alot from you."
Marcus had a feeling this mission was going to be alot more difficult than a simple EOD.
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June 15, 2186
1608 hours.
Tech Lab, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In FTL inbound for Tuchanka, Aralakh System, Krogan DMZ Cluster.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Professor Mordin Solus, Eve.
The last thing Marcus expected to walk in on was Mordin giving dating suggestions to a krogan. Especially Eve. When he entered the Tech Lab, he found the female krogan sitting up, legs crossed and on the edge of the bed, omni-tool hovering over her as Mordin ran scans of her body, talking as he did, a little grin on his face.
"Aware krogan females find scars attractive. Garrus loyal. Reasonably intelligent. Bit aggressive. Just like krogan."
Marcus had to suppress a laugh as he approached the two of them. Mordin cannot be serious. Besides, I don't think Garrus would take kindly to Mordin trying to make him date a female krogan. He smiled when a certain thought reached his mind. Besides, pretty sure Wrex has got his eyes set on her...
Eve growled, sighing irritably as she replied with finality in her voice, sound exasperated, suggesting that the salarian had been subjecting her to his treatment for quite a bit now, "For the third time Mordin, I'm not interested!"
Mordin shook his head, shrugging as he brought his omni-tool down to observe the data he had collected, only to look back up as Marcus joined his side, the salarian smirking slightly as he addressed the captain, "Ah, Shepard! We were just-"
The door opened, all three pairs of eyes turned to watch the hulking tank of a krogan named Urdnot Wrex come moving through the door, the threat in his posture concealed as he nodded at Marcus, seemingly ignoring Mordin as he approached Eve's bedside. When he had reached her, he placed a three-fingered hand on her shoulder, "Are you okay?" There was worry in his voice, and this only reinforced Marcus' opinion; Wrex wanted Eve, even if alot of the concern was purely on her being the only hope for curing his people's plight.
"I'm fine Wrex," Eve replied, her response more cool and less hostile and suspicious since he last spoke to her, "You can relax."
"You can't be too careful," Wrex warned, shooting a suspicious glare in Mordin's direction, who just seemed to ignore him or take any notice, "...or put any faith in salarian doctors."
"This one's...different," Eve responded, her voice sounding measured and sure. Mordin, seemingly oblivious to what the topic was on, moved forward and produced a syringe, quickly finding a vein on Eve's skin and sliding the needle inside, drawing enough orange blood before drawing it back and examining it, removing the vial and placing it in his labcoat pocket.
Wrex looked shocked, turning to look at Eve, "Is he?" he noticed the vial Mordin put in his pocket and growled, "What's that?"
"Simple blood test. Similiar to yours. Needed one from Eve," the salarian explained without even looking at the krogan, "Need sample to begin final preparations for cure." Without even acknowledging Wrex or Eve, he turned to head back for his desk, talking as he did, "Shepard, please, distractions counterproductive. Also affecting comfort of patient." Before he knew it, the salarian was back behind his desk and had taken out the vial, placing it on the desktop before crouching behind his desk, fumbling around for something underneath.
Marcus shook his head, turning to face Wrex, who still didn't buy it. He sighed, rising a hand and squeezing the krogan's armoured shoulder, "He was your inside source, Wrex. You can trust him," he stated, shrugging, "And if that isn't enough, then trust me. He fought alongside me and I trust him. Mordin's a good man, and he's finally found a new side of his moral compass; let him have this. If there's anyone who will cure the genophage, its Mordin. Trust me on this, Wrex."
"Who says I don't trust you with everything?" Wrex grinned, smacking him on the back, "I trust you, Shepard. And in that case, I trust Solus as well."
They could hear Mordin's reply without even needing to turn around, "Mhhmmmm...yes, yes yes. Trust not a necessity, however. Will do my job, Wrex does his. Cannot allow compromization of patient. Will kill to protect her."
"And now I like him," Wrex laughed, "You've got a quad, doctor. Keep her safe."
"Nowhere safer than on the Normandy, Wrex," Marcus stated.
"I know," the krogan replied, "You've got me!" And with that, he left, the doors closing behind him. Marcus could only shake his head at the krogan with a smile, before moving over to Mordin's desk, smiling as he leaned against it. As if sensing his presence, the salarian appeared, blinking as he stood up fully.
"Shepard, good. Wanted to talk," he stated, continuing to fiddle with his terminal as he spoke, "Eve's immune system has been stressed; almost to point of collapse. Maelon's experiments brutal, almost killed her. However, Maelon's data thorough. Fortunately detailed as well. Have used notes to improve her condition," he continued to work, multi-tasking quite a forte for him, "A mild fever, nothing seriousness. Will recover. Would like her to fully recover before synthesizing cure. Doctor's recommendation."
"My people don't have time for that!" Eve said forcibly from behind them, eyes furrowed in anger.
Mordin stopped for a second to look in her direction before continuing, "Her opinion...somewhat different."
"You...care about her," Marcus noted, intrigued.
"My patient, my responsibility," was the salarian's typical response, "Found her at STG Alpha Site. Three doctors injured trying to restrain her. Undid arm restriants. Didn't resist when she grabbed me. Promised to help her," and then he paused for a moment, looking over at Eve in silent contemplation, his fast metabolism actually catching up with him in that moment. He sighed, "She said...'please.'"
Marcus gulped, bracing against the desk as he leaned in, gaining the salarian's full attention, "So...you're saying we did the right thing by saving Maelon's data?"
"Indeed," was Mordin's instant reply, quick to process the man's question, "Would be much harder to treat Eve without it. Maybe impossible."
He frowned, alittle disturbed at the memories that flooded back, "And all those experiments we saw on Tuchanka?"
The salarian frowned, disgusted, "Monstrous. Repulsive. But now have purpose. Victims did not die for nothing."
He sighed as he met the professor's eyes, "Have you...found any signs of him? Do you know where Maelon is?"
Mordin shook his head, "No. Sent teams to search for him to aid with genophage cure project, came up with no results. Gone to ground, maybe. Likely dead. Told him to take over clinic on Omega. Omega owned by Cerberus. Cerberus anti-alien; likely killed him. Will never know. Galaxy large place. Many places to hide. Would kill him, unless he could help."
"So its just you then?" Marcus asked.
"Just me. Few scientists with my expertise. Had to be me," the salarian hastily replied with a sense of gloating.
"Someone else might have gotten it wrong?" Marcus finished for him, smirking.
"Possibly. Stakes too high to put in hands of regular doctors. Need this to be perfect. Had to be me," he declared, the salarian looking back at his terminal as he began to return to work, "Will put it right. Prove I can."
"Well..." he trailed off, exhaling as he stood straighter, "You going to hang around after this thing is cured?"
Mordin nodded, "Until Reapers dealt with at least. After...not sure," the professor stopped working, gazing into space as he thought. Then a smile erupted across his face and he faced Marcus, grinning slightly, "Might go somewhere sunny. Sit on a beach, look at ocean, collect seashells."
Marcus snorted, almost chuckling, "You'd go crazy inside an hour!"
The salarian's grin only widened further, "Might run tests on the seashells."
He sighed, patting the man on the shoulder with a warm smile, "Never change, Mordin. Never change."
"Yes yes," Mordin replied, turning back to his terminal as he continued his work, "Aware of personality. Much prefer it myself. Now, much work to do. Must get back to it. Run tests on seashells when the time comes. Beach waiting; not going anywhere." And with that, he turned his back, taking the vial with him as he picked up a piece of equipment and began doing something to the vial with it. Whatever it was, he would never find out as he turned away and moved to talk with Eve, the krogan looking zoned out as he approached. But she quickly took notice when she saw him coming, and she twisted in her position to face him, nodding appreciatively to him.
"I'd like to thank you for saving my life, Captain," Eve greeted, nodding at him in respect, "There are not many people left in the galaxy who care about the krogan, and you are one of those few. I respect what you're helping us do. It'll change the galaxy, and hopefully the krogan, if we can grow up."
He nodded, coming to stand infront of her as he crossed his arms, "This galaxy owes alot to you, even if most have forgotten that."
"They can be forgiven," Eve justified, "Our actions have hardly inspired friendship and trust in us."
"Part of being friends is knowing the other person's name," he stated, eyebrow raised, "I still don't know yours."
She shrugged, "Again, I surrendered my name when I became a shaman of the Urdnot clan. I belong to my fellow shamans now," she explained, uncrossing her legs and coming to stand infront of him, her bulky body leaning against the bed, "But perhaps one day, when you have truly earned my trust, I will tell you. For now, just call me Eve."
"Okay," he responded, trying to think of another question. This is how most of his rounds went; he'd ask a person questions, and that's how friendship began. Ask the right questions, and you make friends very fast. He turned to look at the door, smiling as he looked back at Eve, "What do you think of Wrex?"
Eve scoffed, "When he's not trying to sire half of Tuchanka, he's the best thing that happened to the krogan, but I won't tell him that. His head is big enough already...literally."
"He's definitely changed since I met him three years ago," he recounted, "Gone from mercenary to clan chief of the krogan race. He should be proud of himself."
"I know in his heart that Wrex wants what's best for the krogan," Eve declared, nodding with his words, "Thought not all the other clans see it that way; they just see a usurper who wants to make nice with our 'enemies' and force us to be 'peaceful.' Personally, I think they're a bunch of fools. But we need them for a united krogan species, so their cooperation is a necessity. But knowing Wrex, he'll find a way."
He gulped, dreading his next question, smirk dying, "How...what's it been like...you know...living with the genophage?"
Eve sighed, looking at the ground with sorrow, "I knew sisters who couldn't bare the shame of being infertile," she recollected, "They would wander off into the wastelands, hoping a thresher maw would find them and end their torment."
He shuffled his feet, wandering if he should even ask. In the end, he decided to anyway. Nothing ventured, nothing gained, "Did...did the thought ever cross your mind?"
She continued to look at the ground in shame, nodding, "Once. After my...after my first stillborn, I did consider it."
He wanted to reach out and comfort her, but decided it would be a bit awkward with a krogan, and decided against it, simply laying a hand on her shoulder, causing her head to look up at him, "What stopped you?"
She looked at him with a determination he hadn't seen before, a fire in her eyes, "When my child didn't draw breath, that's when my life truly began," she stated, hands clenching as no doubt many images raced through her mind, "The genophage forces us to live on hope alone. There is nothing else. There is no reason to exist other than the hope that the next day will bring change. And if it doesn't, there is always the next."
"And how do you think that'll change with the genophage gone?" Marcus asked curiously, looking up at her inqusitively.
"Our people can begin again, fix what we did wrong and rejoin the galactic stage," Eve stated with some happiness, the hope in her tone almost palpable, "We'll be able to get back to work on fixing our planet; fix what we did during our nuclear war and then look to the stars; maybe the Council will grant us some worlds. The krogan will be reborn, and Wrex will stop us from returning to our old ways and seeking petty revenge," she laughed, a small smile on her face, "And maybe us females will get to play our part in our race's continuity again, and not be pawns for hungry males and two-legged breeding machines." She said the last part with disgust, and he could understand that; he found the way the krogan used their females to be horrible, useful for sex and nothing else.
He decided to change the subject, and shot a look in Mordin's direction, who was once again fumbling under his desk, "How's Mordin been treating you?" When he turned, he saw Eve looking in his direction as well, smiling slightly behind her large hood.
"Better than most krogan males do," she replied, "He's not your typical salarian."
They could hear the salarian mumbling to himself, his words just barely hearable, "No...no no! Organ redundancy results in new period before metaphase. Won't work, no," a bang, and the salarian seemed to...growl? Mordin growled? "Can't alter that. Damage to telomeres, premature aging..."
He rubbed the back of his neck, grinning awkwardly, "He does this alot."
"But I sense pain in him too," Eve pondered, her face a mask of seriousness, "He told me about his work on the genophage. I should consider him my enemy. Yet..." she turned towards him one more time before looking back at Marcus, "...I think seeing my sisters changed something in him."
Without warning, they heard Mordin begin to obliviously sing very loudly, Marcus instantly recognizing the song as Mordin's favourite, "Asari-vorcha offspring have an allergy to diary and da-da-da-di-di-da-da-daaaaaaa!"
"Well it wasn't his ear," he remarked, turning back to Eve with a look of apology on his face as he noticed his chrono; he better finish up and get that report done. As a Spectre, he still had to answer to the Council and his duty to the Alliance meant he had to answer to them too, which meant writing two seperate reports. Neither of which he had done yet. He held his hand out, apologetic, "I'm sorry, but I do have to get going. It has been nice speaking with you, Eve, but I do have to do some reports. They won't write themselves." And I've got to figure out how to tell the UGC and Council just how I'm going to stop a Reaper bomb that could potentially destroy Tuchanka.
"Of course Captain. We all have our parts to play. I would be doing more if it wasn't for Mordin telling me to lie down and rest," she sighed, sitting back up on the bed, but this time lying down, "This time however, I think I will follow his advice to the letter; I really am quite tired, and I'll need to keep my strength up."
"Have a nice rest Eve," he stated and then turned to leave, purpose in his step as he nodded to a frantic Mordin in the process. Leaving through the door, he was grateful for the lack of a checkpoint as he nodded to Samantha and Kelly, knowing he had promised them a chess match at some point. I'll have to make time for that. Entering the elevator, he hit the button for the upper deck and contemplated on the task ahead.
Just how the hell am I going to disarm a Reaper bomb? How's my squad going to manage that? Garrus is good at weapons, but this is Reaper technology. We wouldn't know where to start. Why does this ooze bad? Not just destruction bad, but the way Victus looked at me when I mentioned Reaper. Like I was incorrect...
He shook the feeling. All that mattered was disarming that bomb.
And God knows he would let nothing stop this alliance.
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June 16, 2186
0629 hours.
Abandoned Warrior's Arena, Trisek'lok City Ruins, Tor'an Wastelands, Tuchanka.
The Reaper War, Krogan DMZ Campaign: The Tuchankan Raids.
First Lieutenant Tarquin Victus.
An explosion of dirt blew into his face and he winced from the impact, raising his hand to keep away any further debris from the enemy attack. Turning back, he watched as the marauder moved towards him, rifle raised and ready to fire. It got off one shot, which pinged off his shields, followed by a second with the same result. Before it could squeeze the trigger a third time, Tarquin hip fired his own phaeston right into the marauder's midsection, bullets tearing it to bits as it simply stood there, taking the punishment, jerking back and forth.
Shields meant nothing as the smoking corpse collapsed backwards, Tarquin growling as he popped the heat sink on his weapon and reloaded, falling back into the main structure, slamming the door shut behind him. He let out a sigh, comming Truius as he came to stand in the middle of a desolate corridor, "Truius, what's your location and situation?"
"Northside and being swarmed," the man muttered, sounding tired and exchanging this obvious gesture with weighed breaths as the sound of gunfire conquered the area, "They're throwing everything at us, and we're doing our best to stem the tide, but they just keep coming."
"Yeah, well you've got most of the unit, so quit complaining," Tarquin growled, looking down both ends of the corridor. The right side was completely collapsed and covered in rubble, so he voted to take the left, brandishing his rifle as he made sure no surprises waited for him; the only sound being distant moans, shouting and the staccato thumps of rifle fire, "We need to regroup. Casualties?" He heard a click, and he whirled on the spot, only to find somekind of native Tuchankan insect scurrying away, and he calmed down, continuing down the hall.
"Luckily kept to a minimum," Truius answered with a heave, taking a moment to shout more orders at his unit before progressing, "Squad Delta lost Aulus, and Squad Alpha lost Yenari and Wenarus. Three down over all. How about you?"
He came to a stop, gulping as he wiped the blue blood from his face; some of it was drying, the rest was still fresh. He kept the images from overwhelming his mind, closing his eyes and opening them to disspell the pictures and press on, licking his mandibles, "They're...Squad Cipritine is gone. All personnel lost. I'm the only survivor." You lost an entire squad of black watch, you disgrace. And now the platoon is down one Cabal. He couldn't help the image of the biotic soldier holding off the enemy, shockwaves crippling entire lines of husks...only for a brute to come up from behind and splatter him against a wall, practically wiping his torso along the wall and painting an entire section bright blue. The shock had caused him to forget to sound a retreat, and they lost another two because of his hesitation.
He could practically feel the color draining from Truius' face through the comm, "What? What the fuck do you mean an entire squad is gone?"
"We were ambushed when we tried to find a way around, just like you. A whole company of cannibals lead by several marauders with a harvester as air support," Tarquin reported, hearing the gunfire intensify as he continued down the hall, "We tried to break through and make it out of the arena, but Vanguard seems to know we're here and just sent everything it had. We retreated, and we took heavy casualities. Caus tried to hold them off with his biotics, but a brute got him, and I lost two more men. I announced a full retreat, but by the time I reached a defensible position, the whole squad was slaughtered. I just ran."
"You lost an entire squad of black watch?" Truius growled, cursing, "Spirits damn you! We should never have been moved by that fucking speech of yours! We wouldn't be in this mess if not for you! And you lost Caus too! What am I meant to tell his wife, hmmm? Am I meant to tell her that he was killed by a brute because his commander was a fucking moron!?"
"I have a wife too!" Tarquin snarled, spinning as he slammed his rifle into the head of a leaping varren, killing it with a single volley before continuing. Damn animals don't care if we're all killed. Reapers won't touch them. He returned his attention to Truius', venting his frustration, "So do you! So do all of us! Dela has a husband! We all have families! And you think I don't regret getting them all killed? OF COURSE I DO! But this is the most important mission of the war and we will complete it! First Platoon will proceed!"
"I..." he heard Truius' prepared to object, but he simply sighed, "Yes, sir. Regroup at the northern entrance, sir." And then the line was cut. Tarquin exhaled, noting just what a piece of work Truius was turning out to be. All this death. I just hope we manage to stop that bomb; or it will not have been worth it. They weren't far away from it when they were forced to find refuge in this arena; only five hundred meters of streets and they would have reached it. But Vanguard must have been more vigilant than they first thought.
A bang rocked the facility, rock and dust billowing from the ceiling and onto the cracked ground. Vanguard's on the move. Swarms of Reaper troops were converging on the arena, all in an effort to take them out, and he knew, he just knew, it was because Vanguard knew about the bomb. Its importance. And it was going to do all it could to stop them from stopping it. And it would do all it could to detonate it. If that bomb detonates, the whole planet will crack. I cannot allow that. This mission must not fail. The gunfire became more intense as he closed in on it, and before he knew it, a ceiling vent crashed to the ground and three husks dropped from it, racing to get to their feet.
He raised his phaeston and riddled all three with three bursts, their skulls cracking open and bodies jerking from the impacts, downing them. He saw a cannibal turn its back and move to face him, but a round quickly found its eye, opening its own skull open and killing it. He carefully stepped over its downed cadaver, pulling out two frag grenades from his belt and priming them. My last two. He had one more, but it was only an Arc grenade, and he wanted to save that for when he really needed it.
Rounding the corner, he found the rest of his platoon, Truius shouting orders, hiding behind fallen pillars of stone, with Truius hiding behind an old, faded statue of what looked to be an ancient krogan battlemaster wielding a massive hammer that easily dwarfed the turian's upper body. As soon as he saw it however, he was forced to watch as Truius' grenade launcher thumped, blowing apart the ribcage of a charging brute and causing it to spiral into the statue, sending bits of stone raining upon the group and the husks and the upper part tumbling to the ground, crushing the brute and sending the platoon scurrying; unfortunately, it didn't save one turian soldier, he combat rolled to the side, but was caught in the fall as his legs were completely crushed by the falling statue. His screams rocked the arena.
Deciding he'd seen enough, he tossed both grenades into the horde's rear. They both detonated in intense fireballs of cloud, smoke and agitated fire, husks and abominations vaporized, cannibals and marauders torn asunder, and two scions blown apart. He even watched one half of a praetorian get incinerated, its remains a thick coat on the cracked stone floor.
He rushed through the middle and down the break in the Reaper line, easily reaching his men in seconds as he slid into cover, firing his rifle sporadically behind him to ensure the enemy didn't get a bead on him. Once in cover, he slapped in a fresh thermal clip and peaked over his piece of stone, watching the enemy line reform.
"We need to retreat, right now," Tarquin ordered over the comm, "There's too many, and we've got to disable that bomb before we take too many casualities."
"What about Ramitus?" one soldier asked, a commando named Xelpus, "His legs were crushed by the statue. We can't just leave him here!" Xelpus and Ramitus were best friends since they entered the military, and had stuck by each other throughout their Black Watch training. But recent circumstances made it abundantly clear Ramitus wasn't going anywhere.
His legs weren't just crushed, they were pulverized. The man was practically pancaked across the floor, and everything below the thigh was gone and leaking sickening amounts of blue blood onto the floor. Even with medi-gel, it was unlikely he'd survive.
"For the Hierarchy..." Ramitus spat, as if understanding Tarquin's troubled gaze, "For...Palaven...just tell my wife I'm sorry...and that we'll see each other again...in the spirits...haven..." he coughed, and Xelpus was at his side, ready to apply medi-gel, but the turian was having none of it, already close to fainting due to his rapid loss of blood, "Don't you...dare! We are turian! We...are black watch! What's...our motto, Xelpus?"
"We better move it!" Truius shouted, gunfire starting again as the Reapers intensified their attack. Tarquin thought he heard a familiar, aerial screech, but he ignored it.
Xelpus looked about to cry, but there was two things you needed to know about turians: tough as nails and lacking tear ducts. "Serve the Hierarchy, Serve Ourselves. Die for the Hierarchy, Die Trying."
"I...will die..." Ramitus made clear, "But I think-"
His parting goodbye was interrupted by a blast of red hot heat hitting him, incinerating both him and Xelpus in a single blast. Tarquin winced as the heat hit his face, and he could only look in horror at the blackened scorch marks where the two commandos had been. He looked to the right, to the source, and he gulped.
A Harvester stood poised above them, its four, powerful legs holding its large body upright. Its long 'worm-neck' stood tall and bent, large head glaring down at them. However, like all the Harvesters under Reaper control, it had been converted into a husk; a cybernetic abomination of its original form. Its body was unrecognizable as every part of its orignally orange-skinned body was covered in black, pale-grey cybernetics and enhancements, armor and weaponry. Armor plating covered it, head-to-toe, making sure only explosive weapons could penetrate it. Its large head now situated two glowing red eyes and a massive cannon where its mouth had been, and its powerful wings were now even stronger with its anti-gravity thrusters attached to it.
The harvester seemed to turn to look specifically at him, as if glowering at him behind its lifeless, red eyes. He watched as its red mouth seemed to charge up, ready to vaporize his platoon. He raised his phaeston and sprayed it with bullets, but they uselessly pinged off its versatile armor, and the creature paid the attacks no mind, continuing its charged attack...
...only for an explosion to rock its back, bits of armor plating shredded off and black blood spurting in the air, the harvester giving an annoyed screech as it whirled to fear the rearbound target.
Down it came, from the sky, descending upon them like a guardian angel. Blue and white gleamed in the night, but the insignia was hidden by the darkness; not that recognizing it would be necessary. The Alliance colors were easily identifiable. What are humans doing here? He watched the shuttle fire another volley, obviously a kodiak model, but armed; how did it get past Vanguard without being shot down? The volley blew through its neck, twin pulses of light shredding rotten flesh and blowing ichor apart. The harvester continued its turn, but its resistance was pointless, the shuttle's expert pilot (he had to be to navigate ruins like this) firing non-stop, until eventually only an eviscerated carcass remained, its body flaming from the superheated shells that destroyed it. Tarquin could only look at it, and then looked back at the hovering kodiak, of which was now swivelling its hatch to face them. Even the Reapers seemed captivated, but they were already opening fire.
As soon as the hatch opened, a figure was standing there, lean and tall. Heavily built, and with a phaeston assault rifle in his right hand, and a grenade launcher in his left. He was quite an intimidating figure, with his gleaming red hot armor, lined with black and visor shaped like a Y; the human looked quite powerful in his Terminus Assault Armor. Even then, the Reaper attack pinged harmlessly off his kinetic barriers as he brought both weapons to bare.
"Did I interrupt something, you fuckers!?" the man roared, and suddenly his assault rifle roared to life in his hands, raking fire across the enemy ranks and dropping two cannibals almost instantly. In his other hand, he fired a grenade every three seconds with pinpoint accuracy, which should have been impossible for anybody but a krogan to do; the recoil of the weapon was just too much, especially one-handed. By the spirits...
His platoon stood down as they watched the unidentified human simply rip the husks' ranks apart piecemeal, the combination of automatic fire and the accompanying explosion of grenades detonating completely decimating them. And soon, when the dust cleared and the man tossed away his empty launcher, every single Reaper foot soldier lay dead at their feet, the enemy defeated. Unfortunately, Tarquin knew all too well they'd be back. Destroy one horde, three will return to finish the job. Damnable Reapers.
As the shuttle landed and his platoon approached it, he noticed the human was not alone; two more followed him, one the slim build of a female wielding a Valkyrie heavy rifle, her armor gleaming red and black as he recognized the initials of the Alliance's N7 Special Forces. The other human was male, heavily built and wore the plain blue and white heavy combat armor of the Alliance, a Revenant LMG in his strong grip. The best of the best, and the mightiest of the mightiest. They came to lay down desolation. I can't argue with that.
What intrigued him the most is what came next. Following beside the tall human form was one of his own people; a turian wearing blue combat armor and an older model Reaper sniper rifle from three years ago, but heavily modified. He wore an eyepiece, and nodded to Tarquin with respect, an air of professionalism coming from him. And that wasn't all; Tarquin almost flinched and moved for his weapon when he saw the huge form of a krogan appear, armor scarred and claymore shotgun in hand. Following them was an unusual creature carrying an equally unusual gun, both of which he hadn't seen before, a human wearing a hood, an asari in a white armoured labcoat, and a human-shaped mech looking platform, all of them carrying weapons. Definitely not Alliance...
The human from before, obviously the commander, spoke two words to the turian beside him and they all moved forward, almost in perfect sync. When he reached Tarquin, he stopped, looking down at him, almost condescendingly. At least, he felt like it was in the face of such a titan; the man was equal to him in height, and most turians were taller than humans by a full foot. He's large for a human.
"Are you First Lieutenant Tarquin Victus of the First Platoon, sent here to disable a Reaper bomb and Captain of the THS Educated Foresight?"
The turian gulped, practically feeling his platoon's surprised glances at him. How does he know my name? My platoon? My ship? And how did he know my mission? Considering the firepower around them, he knew even Black Watch SpecOps couldn't hope to stand up to them, so he stood straight, deciding to play along, "That's me. And who, may I ask, are you? You're awfully well informed." Hopefully he doesn't take that for hostility.
To his surprise and relief, the man reached up and removed his helmet, revealing a fuce calmer face than he expected, with medium stubble and brown hair, but his face was still set in a grim line as he introduced himself, "Captain Marcus Shepard, Alliance Navy, Special Tactics and Recon and commanding officer of the SSV Normandy. As for how well informed I am, let's just say your father was very keen to ensure your safety and the success of your mission."
Tarquin's eyes widened at that, and he felt his heartbeat quicken. F-father is here? In orbit? Oh spirits, he must be so disappointed in me..."That's...unexpected. Although your intervention is appreciated, its not needed."
"Don't play tough, Lieutenant," the turian interrupted, shaking his head, "You and your men would be dead if we hadn't showed up, and just in case you think we hadn't noticed, you have no ship."
"While Garrus is incredibly blunt," Shepard stated, shooting a glance at the turian, turning back to Tarquin afterwards, "He is correct. You need your help, and I know the importance of your mission. That Reaper bomb cannot go off; the safety of the turian-krogan alliance depends on it."
Reaper bomb? Who told him...oh yes, classified intel. He can't know. If they found out...he shot a glance at the krogan nearby, nodding to assure himself. Yes, definitely can't find out. Keep up the ruse, do not reveal true source of the bomb.
He turned back to Marcus as if nothing had happened, nodding again, "Agreed, sir. That was our mission, and it would have gone alot more smoothly if I had made some better choices."
"Damn fool tried to evade Vanguard by taking us directly over the ruins. Hoped to avoid a direct frontation," Truius spat, frustration and fury clear in his voice, "Instead, a direct frontation is exactly what we got. Shot our corvette down and forced us to use the escape pods. We've been gunning in this direction ever since."
"Wait, you said Vanguard?" Garrus asked.
"That I did," Truius replied quizzically, "Why?"
"I had heard reports that it participated in the Apien Crest Campaign. We only know it by name because it likes to taunt alot. More than Harbinger, in fact," the turian quipped, gripping his rifle harder, "Vanguard's come a long way from Palaven."
"Yeah, well luckily for us, its the only Reaper in this system," Tarquin added, "And it'll be my honor in the end to see to its destruction. That damn Reaper shot down my ship, killed my crew, and now its servants are killing my platoon. I'm losing men, and we're still too far away from the bomb. Truius is my second-in-command...and EOD specialist. His survival is paramount for the completion of this mission."
Marcus nodded, "Do you know the exact location of this device?"
Tarquin nodded, "We were planning to take the street straight to the bomb, where it is located in the city's old power plant. We were forced to detour through this arena, and now it looks like we might have to move from building to building to reach the plant now."
"Forget that," Marcus ordered, jabbing a thumb at the shuttle behind him, "I've got a shuttle; we'll get you there ASAP and from there Garrus can help your specialist disable the bomb; my friend is an expert on weapon systems."
"But Vanguard will detect us coming," Tarquin pointed out, "He'll just shoot us down, and this time we won't have escape pods to save us."
"Our kodiak's different," the N7 piped up from her position, regarding him coldly, "State-of-the-art stealth technology; same one the Normandy uses. Vanguard will have to see us directly to know we're coming, unless the Reapers have discovered how to detect tachyon particles, which is impossible, even for them."
"So it's solved," Marcus declared, putting his helmet back on as he moved back towards the shuttle, "We get you over there, you disable the bomb, and we safely dispose of it; hell," he turned back to Tarquin, grinning as his helmet slipped over his head, "Maybe we'll give it back to Vanguard."
"Ooh-rah," one of his men, a Cabal, piped up as he moved with the rest of the platoon towards the shuttle, "Now that's what I'm talking about. Wouldn't mind a little payback."
Tarquin nodded, ignoring Truius' glare as his platoon got inside the shuttle, the lieutenant moving behind them as he holstered his rifle. Should I tell them? It feels wrong to leave them in the dark on what this bomb is...why shouldn't I? Even if I told them, why would they kill me? Why would the krogan stop the deal? We're fixing it, aren't we?
Tarquin didn't want to know the answer.
{Loading...}
June 16, 2186
0652 hours.
Abandoned City Power Plant, Trisek'lok City Ruins, Tor'an Wastelands, Tuchanka.
The Reaper War, Krogan DMZ Campaign: The Tuchankan Raids.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian, Soldier Javik, Chieftain Urdnot Wrex, Second Lieutenant James Vega, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling, Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Master Thief Kasumi Goto, EDI, First Lieutenant Tarquin Victus.
He rounded the corner, omni-blade sizzling as he scanned the terrain ahead; just another alleyway, more destroyed skycars and a clear path. Satisfied that the area looked fine, he turned back, tearing his blade out of the skull of the dead husk he had just killed, letting the blade evaporate as he turned back to his squad, all having dealt with their respective hostiles. The husks must have thought they were being subtle; nothing his team couldn't handle in the end.
He eyed the turian platoon, all of who didn't seem to be encountering many problems. He had noticed that they seemed to be one squad short and was missing a Cabal for the so-called 'Cabal fireteam,' but he didn't ask, knowing the answer was pretty clear. What was left of the special forces unit was doing well regardless, their training and skill making sure they dealt with the enemy calmly and weren't prone to panic. Tarquin was keeping things in line, even if his constantly insubordinate engineer and de facto second-in-command, Truius, was constantly trying to undermine his command. Overall, he was pretty impressed by the turian Black Watch. I heard that the Black Watch and N7 had a ground battle during the turian-human war games last year, and I heard that Black Watch won by two kills, but its another to see them in proper action.
And considering killing Reaper husks wasn't exactly in the training schedule for a special forces operative, they were holding up tight. He had a feeling they'd all get out of here alive. Tarquin seemed the most professional of the group, but that probably came with rank and experience. Being the son of a late ArchGeneral, now Primarch, likely meant you got training from the best of the best.
Tarquin approached him, coming to stand beside him as Marcus raised his phaeston, motioning Garrus and Wrex to patrol up front a few meters and make sure nothing was waiting for them while himself and Kasumi kept a watch on their backs. Tarquin joined in, bracing his own phaeston against his shoulder. Marcus had to admit that although he liked the punch of his old mattock or the rapidfire decimation of the geth pulse rifle, the phaeston did have alot of power; automatic rate of fire and high-impact rounds meant dropping husks with just one burst instead of maybe two. It also shredded kinetic barriers pretty easily, which meant marauders went down with ease. But that didn't mean he'd keep it; first chance he got, it was back to the mattock. And then, once he made contact with the geth again, he'd acquire himself another pulse rifle. God do I love that gun.
"It should be two hundred meters ahead from here," Tarquin muttered, motioning a finger to a large, crumpled looking structure in the distance, "That's one of the plant's old pylons. They have the bomb right inside. It should be a simple matter of getting inside, reaching the bomb, and letting Vakarian and Truius do their job. Once done, we call in the Normandy and take the bomb to a safe place so it doesn't detonate. I'd say...drop it in the atmosphere of an uninhabited planet. Kruban maybe."
"Sounds good. Just two problems with that," Marcus noted, turning to meet Tarquin's eyes, "One, how are we going to get the bomb out of here with Vanguard stalking around? I can't risk bringing the Normandy in just to sit there like glowing neon lights. Two, the place is swarming with Reaper troops. There's no guarantee we'll have enough time to disarm the bomb, so we might need an alternative."
Tarquin looked at him incredulously, "An alternative with a Reaper bomb? There isn't one. If this was human or asari, maybe, but this is a UAT we're talking about. We can't just read the book of disarming bombs and follow it step by step; Reaper tech is an unknown we can't afford to tamper with. If it were up to me? Just drop it on Kruban and forget disarming it. For all we know, disarming it for us could be arming it on the bomb. We just don't know."
"You're telling me this now?" Marcus growled, glaring at the turian, "You want me to risk the lives of my team when even you're not sure about your own orders?" He snorted, turning away from Tarquin to look down range once more, "But I guess that's my fault. I've fought the Reapers for three years and I still don't understand everything about them; how can I expect you to be an expert? How many of your men died here because they were following orders even their own commander wasn't sure about?"
"Too many," Tarquin whispered, voice full of regret, "And it was all due to my incompetence, not our orders. I lead those men to their deaths; that's all on me, not the Hierarchy High Command. Mine! I hope we're on the same page here, Captain, because I'm not sure you understand what's at stake here!"
"Don't know what's at stake...?" He looked at him, incredulous. He held up a hand, turning to his team as he motioned them forward; Garrus and Wrex must have given the all clear. Once he was sure they were moving forward, and the turian platoon, he grabbed the turian's collar and threw him against a wall, surprising him.
"Don't you dare tell me I don't what's at stake!" he snapped, squeezing his collar to tightly that you could almost hear the metal and plastic straining from the pressure, "My entire life for the past three years has been devoted to killing these fucks! I stopped Sovereign and the geth on the Citadel! I destroyed the Collectors! And I am the one making this alliance happen! You think the krogan came to the negoitating table of their own good will? No, that was me! Wrex was good friends with me, and that's why he was willing to be diplomatic! If it was Wreav in control? You'd bet he'd spit in your face and we wouldn't even be having this conversation! So let's get this shit straight," he moved in, inches from the turian's face, "Do not ever question my understanding of the stakes for the remainder of this mission. You don't know jackshit! So keep your mouth shut, and we'll be friends, you got me?"
Tarquin nodded, "I understand you, Captain. And I apologize for my...brash actions, but I needed to know you know what's at stake here. There can't be room for mistakes or any hesitation."
"Better than anyone, I do," Marcus replied, loosening his grip on the man as he got up and moved around the corner to join his squad, "Just...keep up, Tarquin and keep your platoon in line. We will disarm that bomb. There cannot be any going back."
Tarquin nodded, gulping as he pushed past him and breaking into a jog, "That's something we can agree on."
Marcus quickly moved up to join him, both of them catching up with the unit very quickly, allowing them to continue at a safe pace; slow enough to not draw any noise, and fast enough to make good time. He turned to Tarquin, frowning, "I heard that...failure to complete this mission results in execution because your father is a Primarch. Completing this must be vital to you."
Tarquin shrugged, showing no distress at the prospect, "It is what it is, nothing I can do to change it but just do my duty. If I die, so be it. If I live to complete the mission, I'll be an incompetent hero. Either, I'll have done my duty and I'll be content with myself," he looked at Marcus, sighing, "As for you...I don't think you can just die. By the looks of you, and how they speak of you, you'd think your the Reaper pariah."
He grunted. "In some ways, I am. And no, you are right; I have too much to live for to die now and be so content about it. I've got a war to win, one I'm literally dying to see the end of; this conflict has gone on alot longer for me than for you. That and I...I have a wife I need to get back to. Haven't seen her for six months."
"My seperation from mine must seem like a farce to you," Tarquin flustered, shaking his head, "Six months. I've been seperated from mine for two weeks and I already miss her. This war feels like an eternity. Will it ever end?" he looked defeated after that, his posture alot weaker, "Three homeworlds have fallen already, and its what...only the 16th? This war started on the 2nd, didn't it? Spirits...how do we win this? Can we?"
"This war will end, as all do," Marcus assured him, "We just have to choose how and who wins it."
"Yes, but is that our choice? Can we choose?" Tarquin asked, incredulous, "They have the firepower, the technology, the immensity...all they have to do is fight a war of attrition...my people are the military superpower of the galaxy, and the Reapers broke through our fleet and laid siege to Palaven like our might meant nothing. If we can't defeat them, how do you think anyone has a chance?"
Marcus took a moment to think through that, contemplating what he should do next. Eventually, they noticed the entire squad and platoon had stopped, and had turned to listen to what Marcus had to say. Eventually, the man turned to the turian, placing a hand on his shoulder and squeezing it.
"Its called hope, Tarquin," he told him, "Build some of it, and you can conquer any obstacle, I've learnt. How do you think I stopped Sovereign and the geth? Harbinger and the Collectors? We will beat the Reapers, and we will destroy them. And I promise you, you will see your family again. Your wife."
Tarquin nodded, smiling meekly, "That...sounds very thoughtful, Captain. I shall hold you to that," he turned to the group, moving forward as he pushed to the front, "But I won't be seeing anyone after this if we fail. We should keep going."
He nodded, shouldering his rifle once more as he gave a nod to his squad, "We disarm this bomb and we can all go home."
His squad couldn't agree more, and the same was for Tarquin's First Platoon. They continued with renewed vigour to the power plant.
It wasn't long before the massive facility loomed over them, its once titanic magnificence now whethered by time and nuclear devastation. Now it was a blackened wreck, holes in its design and torn support railings making the place look like a long lost tomb, and a place of eery significance. This place held the key to Tuchanka's destruction, if activated.
Marcus turned to face the krogan battlemaster beside him, weary of what lurked inside. A Reaper deathtrap, or a Reaper deathtrap with soldiers to guard it? Wrex huffed, pointing to what looked to be a massive gate ahead of them with faded krogan lettering hanging over it.
"That looks to be the main entrance, although I'm not completely sure," Wrex assured him, "The lettering above is ancient, and not of our reformed language; its lost in the translation. But judging by the size, I'd say its the main entrance. Best be careful though, pyjaks. Main structure looks weakened and could fall apart; must have gone through centuries of decay since the Tuchankan Nuclear War."
Tarquin nodded, "Which means we should watch our step. Any footfall could cause the entire place to come down. But be vigilant; no doubt Vanguard will have troops protecting that damnable bomb."
"Stay frosty," Marcus ordered, and he moved forward, phaeston braced and his squad hot on his heels, watching almost every corner. First platoon followed up behind, their two Cabals staying in the middle to avoid an enemy ambush taking them out. They heard a Reaper airhorn in the distance, and all stopped, but they soon realized it was too far away to be a threat, so they continued. Vanguard must be miles away. That sound was far too distant. But that didn't mean its troops were far.
As for the giant gate, it was already open, with both doors now a pile of rusted metal sheets, long having coroded into nothing. The ground was dark grey from where the metal had been soaked up by the ground, and many of the buildings inside the complex looked like barren husks, their walls either blown to smithereens or non-existent, only frames left to identify them ever having been there.
"The krogan were a glorious people once," Wrex muttered, sighing as he looked over the massive feat of krogan engineering that had been reduced to nothing, "Then we just had to nuke it all to dust. Tuchanka wasn't always wastelands and thresher maws and ruins," he explained, turning to them, "We weren't always savages. Back during the Period of Progression, we rivalled the asari in architecture, the turians in culture and humans in personality. We were...beautiful. Of course, the nuclear war changed that. I've only heard stories...most of its lost now, no records were kept after our uplift," he gritted his teeth, shaking his head, "But I heard that Tuchanka just to be a garden world; we had oceans and jungles, you know. Now its all gone."
"The Nuclear War reduced our planet to dust," he recounted, "We destroyed our own cities, and murdered billions of krogan. Our oceans dried up, and the nuclear devastation superheated the atmosphere, leading to the desert it now is. The radiation also poisoned our atmosphere; weakened it. That's why Aralakh's rays are so strong; it was our fault! We killed Tuchanka!" he growled, "The radiation also mutated the basic worm strain; you'd hate to believe it, but it was our nuclear war that gave birth to the first Thresher Maw. And the biggest one of them all."
"The biggest?" Marcus asked, surprised by the sudden information."
"The nastiest motherfucker known to man," James stated. When he noticed all eyes on him, he shrugged, laughing awkwardly, "Of course, its probably just a myth."
"It isn't," Tarquin stated, and all eyes landed on him instantly, begging for more info. He gave it, "My platoon encountered the beast in this very city, not long after our crash. We all saw her before our very eyes; the biggest Thresher Maw in existence. She had to be a few kilometers in length, and her hide would have been powerful enough to take a MAC round. Make no mistake; Kalros exists."
"Wait, Kalros?" Garrus snorted, "The krogan worship a thresher maw?"
Wrex stared at him, almost looking offended, "She's a symbol of strength, power and destruction; something all krogan respect. We call her the Mother of Tuchanka, and its fury. If you piss off Kalros, you piss off Tuchanka. No krogan has made to infuriate her, and all that do never return; even a battalion would have a hard time destroying her. She's a sigil of our power, and of what we are capable of; and that we can endure. Still, you had to be lucky to see Kalros," Wrex concluded, "She rarely pops up unless someone really pisses her off," he chuckled, howling almost at the thought, and for a second, noone could understand why.
"Um...Wrex?" Marcus asked, eyebrow raised, "What's so funny?"
The krogan eyed him, still chortling slightly, "Don't you get it? Its that damn Reaper that's got her riled up! Vanguard woke her up, and now she's pissed! That's why she popped up in the city! She's following it!" He chuckled, "She just doesn't want to make the move yet because she hates this terrain. She prefers the open desert, not concrete and skyscrapers," he looked up at the power plant, grinning, "Oh, that Reaper better say its prayers. A battle between it and Kalros will be a sight to see; only when it kills Kalros will I truly fear the Reapers."
"A Thresher Maw battling a Reaper Destroyer?" James whistled, sporting a massive smirk, "Holy shit, that'd be fucking awesome. Come on loco, admit you'd find it fucking awesome."
He did sport a small smile, shrugging slightly, "I'll admit...seeing that thing kill a Reaper would make my day." Two of my worst nightmares destroying themselves? I'll be puking fucking rainbows.
"Don't mean to ruin the moment, but we are still on mission," Tarquin insisted, pointing to a maintenance stairwell leading up to the west side of the plant, "I'll take my platoon and try to find an entrance through there."
Marcus nodded, recomposing himself as he turned to a doorway on the east side, "My squad will take that side. Whoever gets there first will secure the bomb. Once we regroup, we defend the bomb while it gets disarmed. We'll decide how inside," he turned to Tarquin, giving him a nod, "Good luck. No knowing what we'll find in there."
"We'll learn soon enough," Tarquin replied, giving him his own nod, "Good luck to you, too," without further-ado, he turned back to his platoon, "First Platoon, move out!" And as one unit, they moved forward, up the stairwell with calm, measured steps so as to not disturb the structure but a hurried pace; time was of the essence. Marcus was confused however as he moved towards the doorway, frowning.
If Vanguard wants to detonate the bomb, why not just do it? Why waste time sending troops to stop us when he can just blow us up? Something isn't right. This reeks of a trap...After Illium, he was in no mood for traps. I'm short on temper, Vanguard.
Reaching the door, he quickly moved up and realized it was much older than it first looked; this one had an old-fashioned twist, turn and push handle. Deciding he'd cause as much noise as possible to see if anyone was inside, he moved to the side of the door, motioning every one else into similiar positions. When they were ready, he moved up, faced the door and brought his leg up, thrusting his foot forward with as much force as he could muster.
The door splintered and thundered to the ground inside with a crack that echoed throughout the whole building. He quickly moved inside, his team behind him, flash light on as light invaded the darkened space. He turned on his helmet's light as well while still aiming his rifle down range, waiting for noise. It didn't take long for it to come and confirm his fears.
Moaning, screeching and growling, all of it echoing throughout the building and giving away the existence of possibly hundreds of Reaper forces within the structure. Moans suggest standard husks, screeches suggest cannibals and marauders, and the growling suggests a brute or two.
He moved ahead, letting his team get inside. He turned to his team, his voice a low whisper, "Get your flash lights on, and keep it quiet. We've stirred the nest, and now the occupants want us out. There's no light here, so keep it clean."
"I don't think that'll be necessary," EDI spoke, pointing to an area ahead, "The light in that direction is UV, which means sunlight."
It made sense. When they were getting inside, the sun was rising. But what was more important is that there was a light source nearby, and that would be extremely helpful. He nodded to EDI, turning to the area she was pointing to. He immediately saw it; rays gleaming off metal straight ahead. He smiled, turning back to the synthetic with a thankful grin, "Thank you, EDI," he turned to everyone else, "Come on, let's move!"
As he turned however, he stopped, his comm crackling, "Captain Shepard, this is First Lieutenant Victus! Do you read?"
He keyed his comm, able to respond as he moved forward, "This is Shepard, what's the situation?"
The gunfire that echoed through the building was perfectly timed to Tarquin's response, "We've engaged Reaper troops but have eyes on the bomb! Its in the main generator room, across from the second and third. You must get here; Reaper troop concentration here is heavy! I've just lost two men trying to get through the door! We need assistance now!"
"Copy that, we're on our way! Secure the bomb!" He shouted back, turning back to his team, "We need to double time it! Victus and his men have engaged the enemy and have eyes on the bomb! But enemy forces are strong there and we need to hurry if they're going to survive, so move!"
Any careful movement was thrown out the window now as they moved, turning left at the end to run across a long metal bridge across to the other side, one of the plant's many generator rooms lying below, ancient machinery now obsolete and out of commission for centuries laying in dust and ruins, sunlight pouring through a ruined ceiling. They ran, faster and faster, as fast as they could, trying to reach Tarquin's team.
The gunfire got louder as they got closer, the sounds of cries and dying husks growing more prominent until they got past the second generator room, reaching a sealed door leading into the main one. He banged against it, attempting a second breach but growling as it had no effect; it was jammed.
He snapped, slamming a fist against the door and denting, but only doing that. He turned to James, frustration in his voice and posture as he waved at the door impatiently, "Get it open, Vega!"
"Yes sir!" He replied, unholstering his cobra launcher as he raised it, taking aim at the door, "Everyone, get back!" And after waiting three seconds for everyone to back away, the marine depressed the trigger, the high-powered rocket shooting forward and exploding, the door rupturing as its shards flew back, flowering the floor behind it as James stepped through the ruins with his launcher holstered, Revenant out as he immediately began pouring fire into a turning marauder, giving it no time to draw its weapon as its now useless body toppled over the railing and down to the ground below.
The room was gunfire, exploding metal and dead bodies; the Reaper troops had been ready for them, and it showed. As they moved, fire coughing from their weapons and impacting servants of the hyper-advanced machines, Marcus could only observe the destruction; the dead bodies of Reapers...and turian black watch. They must have been ambushed, as entire sections of the railing had been blown apart, and below lay dead turian soldiers, in their dozens. One of them, impaled on a metal pole and long dead, he recognized was one of the Cabals. Fuck. Its a goddamn slaughter house.
He looked down below, and there he saw the bomb. Like most stereotypical explosives...it was round in shape, and friggin huge. It looked to be raised from the ground, supported by four titanium extenders, themselves supported on a large, steel ring. The bomb was a pale grey and a dark black, with numerous bolts and symbols along it. But for all its complexities, it was too retro, far too primitive to be a Reaper explosive. The design was just...completely different. And why was there a hole below it? Why did it look to be...dug up? The bomb itself was covered in dust.
His attention was diverted when he saw Tarquin running down towards it, shouting at his remaining men to form up on him, his arm wrapped around Truius' shoulders as he dragged the now left-legless turian towards the bomb, the turian warriors putting up a valiant fight as they fought the husks around them back. Marcus noticed their numbers however, and winced. Only half a squad left. They had two squads before! And I can't even see the the Cabals! He lost a squad and a half, and both his Cabals just in one ambush? Fuck!
"Protect Victus!" Marcus roared, ramming his rifle butt across a cannibal's face and pouring an entire clip into its face. He watched his squad begin pouring fire on the converging Reaper troops, and Kasumi disappear into cloak as she snuck up behind a husk, driving her knife blade up through its jaw, and ripping it out again. He holstered his rifle, bringing out his hurricane SMG as he joined his fire with his squad's, all the while moving towards the bomb, mouth set in a grim line as he gunned down line after line of enemy troops mercilessly, pausing only to reload.
Husk after husk fell, riddled with bullets or dismembered, Marcus only pausing his advance to deal with a brute, the angry beast almost crushing him if it wasn't for James finishing it with two cobra missiles, first one shattering its chest and the other blowing its head apart. Only then did he continue his advance, blowing through the neverending hordes of the Reaper legions.
He finally reached them, finding Truius bent down over a portable terminal, typing into it rigorously as he seemed to hack into the bomb. Tarquin stood over him, crouched and keeping any husks back from the injured soldier. Marcus could only watch as another black watchsmen fell beside him, head torn asunder by a cannibal's arm cannon. He needn't have tried to avenge him, as Wrex came up behind the cannibal, batting it aside like a fly and leaving it for Keeling to finish off, the N7 placing a single bullet through its skull before moving on.
"Set up a perimeter around the bomb!" Marcus barked, motioning to his squad and the remainder of the turian platoon, "Noone gets to this bomb!" Without even a second glance, he turned back to Tarquin, both of their armor looking like they had taken a dip in black tar. He crouched beside him, the exhaustion palpable on the turian's face, Tarquin himself lowering his rifle.
"Spirits, I should have sent in a scout!" he growled, "They were practically waiting for us! They blew the railing, sent a whole squad to their deaths...and now my last two cabals are dead! I've only got half a squad to account for, and we can't hope to hold this position much longer!"
"Look, Tarquin, we need to get this bomb disarmed!" Marcus stated firmly, motioning to the massive device above them, "Anything less than success in unacceptable! Disarm that fucking bomb!"
"I'm trying my best!" Truius snapped back, typing furiously at his terminal like a maniac, "But this bomb has top level encryption!"
"Just work at it!" Tarquin snarled, slapping his shoulder, "You're the only one who can! Just get it done!"
"Marcus!"
He turned to the source of the voice, finding Garrus rushing towards him. He frowned angrily, standing up as he motioned to the perimeter, "I told you to man the perimeter! What the hell are you doing!?"
"The bomb!" Garrus began, turning to look angrily at Tarquin before pointing to the bomb, "Its not Reaper!"
That didn't shock him, he didn't think it looked Reaper either, but the tone turian's ensured tone wasn't helping that feeling. He fixed Garrus with a fixed stare, shaking his head, "Garrus-"
"Look!" he pointed to the bomb above and Marcus simply looked up, not bothering to acknowledge the turian's request. However, it wasn't long before his eyes widened, and then furrowed in fury.
A winged bird, its arms spread and a language inscribed below it. But there was no mistaking it: the insignia of the Turian Hierarchy. It isn't a Reaper bomb...its a turian bomb.
He turned to Tarquin, anger in his face, "What the fuck is this?"
"Believe me, I was just as surprised when I found out. And that my father didn't tell you," Tarquin said resignedly, shaking his head, "Apparently the Hierarchy put the bomb here after the Rebellions in case the genophage didn't work. If the krogan got roudy again, we'd detonate the bomb and destroy Tuchanka; its based off the same technology the krogan used to destroy Rothla. Spirits damned conspiracies were wrong...not krogan super biotics, a krogan super bomb. So we used the same means to build our own and ensure the krogan did not return to threaten the galaxy again."
"Classified," Garrus snorted, "Yeah, I can see why."
"Your father wasn't worried about the turian-krogan alliance as much as he was worried about the fallout and retribution that would result from the krogan finding out about this," Marcus growled, coming to stand inches from Tarquin's face, "And you, you piece of shit, should have told us about this."
"Oh, so its my fault?" Tarquin snapped, waving a hand in the captain's face, "Because my people planted that bomb a thousand years ago, its suddenly my fault? In case you forgot, we're here to stop this bomb from going off! It was supposed to lie dormant, forgotten, never to be used! But the Reapers just had to find it and dig it up! Now they want to detonate it. The Hierarchy found out and sent me and my platoon to stop it. That is the truth. Choose to believe me or not, but I will finish this, with or without you."
Marcus contemplated this, looking between him and the bomb. In the end, Tarquin was right; he was here to stop the bomb from detonating, to fix a turian mistake and stop it from blowing up in their faces. And he was going to help him fix this.
He turned back to him, shaking his head, "No, you're in the right, Victus. We just need to make this right. You protect Truius and Garrus while they disarm the bomb. Me, my squad and the rest of your platoon will keep the perimeter secure." He turned, ready to make his way back when suddenly a loud gunshot wizzed past his shoulder, and he instantly turned back...
...only to watch Truius slump back, a hole in his head leaking blue blood, the terminal slipping from his fingers and clattering to the ground. His eyes rolled into the back of his head, lifeless and dead. It took Tarquin a moment to realize what had happened, and when he did, he roared, "No! No no no! Not him!" All the turian could do was gaze at the leaking hole in the man's forehead, unable to save him as he was already dead.
"Garrus," Marcus regretfully began, "Get the terminal and continue the hack."
"Don't bother," Tarquin lamented, dropping his rifle. He then let out a long bellow as he slammed his fist into one of the bomb's metal extenders, "Its in the old language and most of the encryption is a millenium old. He won't understand it."
"He's right, Marcus," Garrus began, before the captain could interrupt, "I wouldn't know where to start. I can only understand modern encryption, where the old encryption and protocols haven't been used for at least two centuries."
Marcus could only look hopelessly between them, gritting his teeth. Finally, he let out a roar of his own, falling to his knees as his gaze turned to the Reaper hordes around them, his squad keeping them at bay. He saw what remained of Tarquin's platoon; now reduced to two soldiers, the rest lying dead in growing pools of blood. They sacrificed their lives to stop their own bomb from going off, to stop the Reapers from using it for their own means, and now they had died for nothing. Their only hope for stopping the bomb...gone.
"There has to be another way..." he muttered.
Tarquin turned and frowned at him, having picked up his rifle, sighted down range and fired, taking out an abomination before turning back, confused, "What?"
"There must be another way of stopping this fucking bomb!" Marcus snarled, still on his knees, rotating to face Tarquin, "We cannot give up now! There must be a way! If this bomb goes off, the war will already be lost."
The turian took a second to consider that, and then lowered his weapon, looking up at the massive explosive before him. To it, he must have seemed tiny, the weapon being bigger than six kodiak shuttles. He seemed to spot something because he quickly holstered his weapon, and began fast-walking towards it, "Give me some cover. I think there's a way."
He nodded, Marcus getting to his feet as he ordered Garrus to rejoin the group and coordinate them while he directly gave Tarquin covering fire. After a single burst from his SMG however, he turned, turning to look at the turian lieutenant, who had hit a control panel on the side that caused multiple rungs to appear; a ladder, leading all the way to the top of the bomb, crossing directly over the Hierarchy insignia. The turian began to climb it, his eyes dead set on his target.
Marcus couldn't help his curiosity, "What's the plan, Victus?"
The turian did not stop his climb, but he did speak into his comm as he went, climbing higher and higher towards the bomb's apex, "See the extenders? They are the only things holding the bomb above the hole the Reapers dug it out of. If..." he exhaled, climbing another rung, having almost missed it, but continuing unimpeded, "...I can get up there, I should be able to disengage the clamps holding the extenders in place and then climb back down in time before the bomb breaks loose and falls back into the hole."
"That's the plan?" Marcus asked incredulously, shaking his head, "Are you sure that'll end the threat of his bomb?"
"Its a non-impact bomb. Detonation only," Tarquin explained, "If it hits something hard, it won't explode, but the shell will shatter. The bomb was designed so that if the shell was compromised, the bomb's circuits would be scrambled to prevent subsequent detonation. In short, if the shell cracks, which it will when this bomb falls, the bomb will become, effectively, useless."
"Smart thinking," Marcus complimented, turning back around to fire a burst into another abomination that had snuck behind their lines, its body exploding in a red hot cloud. He quickly reloaded and continued his defense, "I just hope this plan of yours works. This is a big gamble."
"Its the only choice we have!" Tarquin shouted back and with a final exert, he must have reached the top. As if to confirm his thoughts, the turian spoke once more, "I'm at the top. I can see the clamps and I'm moving to disengage them now."
"How long do you need?" Marcus asked.
"Ten minutes," Tarquin replied, "Did I mention they require alot of strength and time to pull the levers out of place?"
"You've got five. Get to it," he replied and then was forced to duck low as a praetorian flew over him, missing him by a foot. The praetorian screeched its irritation as Marcus pulled out his claymore, turning to face the large, aerial gunship. The purple eyed monstrosity turned towards him, its maw letting out another screech as its eyes glowed brighter. Oh for fuck sake...Out of instinct, he rolled to the side just in time to avoid twin lances of purple energy that shot past him, hitting the railing nearby and reducing it to a bubbly mass of steel coloured, superheated liquid.
The non-sapient gunship leapt at him with lightning speed, clawing at him at with its scythe-like appendages, attempting to impale him. He ducked and blocked each swipe with his arm, and after the fifth one, drew his omni-blade. Swiping it past, he heard a sizzle, followed by one of the arms falling to the ground, and then the second. Roaring in rage, the praetorian charged, sending him flying onto the ground in a heap as it loomed over him, charging his purple beams.
Activating his omni-bow, he brought it up, past the praetorian's barriers, and fired. The superheated round easily blew through its left eye socket, and causing it to scream as the entire eye simply disappeared. He repeated the same with the other eye until it was totally blind, flailing around like a wounded animal. It twisted and turned, backing away as it futiley attempted to regain its eyesight.
Marcus simply raised his omni-bow one last time, aimed at its chest, and blew a hole straight through it. What was left of the creature screamed as it self-vaporized itself into a purple haze of vapor, crackling on the ground like a lighning puddle before gurgling away into nothing. With a heavy exhale, he turned to look up, comming Tarquin once more, "How's it coming, Victus?"
A metal groan was his answer, followed by a snap as the first extender came loose, snapping back into its prone form. "That's one down, two to-" a loud beep interrupted him, and Marcus knew it was close due to just how loud it was; had to be to be heard over the firefight behind him. He looked to where a screen on the bomb was located, and watched as a countdown now appeared on it. Oh fuck. Vanguard's triggered the bomb. Its going to blow.
"What just happened?" Tarquin asked from above, practically shouting, "I heard a beep."
"Its the bomb!" Marcus barked, "Vanguard's activated it! He must have realized what you were doing and triggered the bomb to detonate! Hurry up!" He wanted to continue, but his eyes landed on the countdown, and his world almost completely shrunk to nothing when he saw it.
00:50. 00:49. 00:48.
We only have 47 seconds to save Tuchanka and the krogan people. We're fucked. We're completely fucked.
"Victus," Marcus began, gulping, "We only have forty seconds till detonation. Mission abort, I repeat, mission abort!" he switched to his other comm, "Cortez, we need extraction, now! You've got thirty seconds to get your ass down here!" He turned to look back up at Tarquin, ignoring Cortez's response, "Victus, get down from there now! Mission abort, damn it! We're out of time!"
"No."
He froze, looking up with anger on his face, "No? You'll get your ass down here soldier, right now! Its over! We can't stop the bomb! The Normandy will have to destroy it from orbit!"
"There's no time for that and you know it. We both know it," Tarquin replied, his voice sounding forlorn, "There's only one hope. I'll have to pull out the fuel rods. They keep the mechanics for the extenders operational, if I pull both out...they'll all disengage immediately." Before Marcus could muster another objection, the turian appeared, holding tightly onto the sides of the bomb as he lowered himself towards what looked to be two cylinders in the side of the bomb's superstructure; the fuel rods.
The turian almost fell, but he managed to grab hold off a jutting piece of metal on the mainframe and pulled himself up, holding himself up with one hand. Without paying attention to what was happening below, he reached up and grabbed hold of the top rod, twisting it anti-clockwise and then sliding it out, pulling with all his might before letting it dangle below, its weight too much. He let go, letting it fall below. Reaching up, he grabbed hold of the second rod, repeating the same action. Marcus looked back, gulping.
00:21. 00:20. 00:19.
He looked back up, "Do it Victus! Then get your ass down here for extraction!" If this worked, then the entire krogan people would thank Tarquin Victus.
His smile fell when he saw Tarquin look down at him sadly, his eyes meeting his, regret and sorrow in them.
"Victory...at any cost." And then he yanked the rod out, letting it fall below. And with it, the extenders snapped back, and the bomb fell.
Marcus could only watch in horror as the bomb took Tarquin Victus with it, the man losing his grip and falling below, the bomb racing to meet him; He raced over and fell to his knees, watching Tarquin disappear into the darkness below, the turian making no sound in his death; completely content. Even after the sound of the bomb impacting below could be heard, he simply sat there, looking down below, unable to comprehend what had just come to pass.
He's gone. Tarquin Victus...he just sacrificed his life to save the krogan race and Tuchanka.
After a while of silence, the Reaper forces having pulled out, he felt a hand on his shoulder, and he looked up, meeting Liara's eyes, "We should go, Marcus. The Primarch...Victus will want to know what happened to his son."
He silently nodded, standing up as he turned, noticing that the shuttle had already landed and everyone was inside, watching him as he stalked towards it. He noticed that none of the members of the First Platoon were inside; not a single one had survived. They will be remembered for their bravery. What they did here today will not be so easily forgotten. I'll make sure of it.
He sat down, removing his helmet as he wiped at his eyes, trying to come to terms with what had just happened. I promised Victus I'd return his son to him and help him complete his mission. I promised to bring Tarquin back to his wife. I failed. Yeah, he completed his mission, but at the cost of his own life and that of his entire platoon. Those fine men and women...they died to save a species they had no reason to show compassion for. It had just occurred to Marcus that this may be the first death under his command during this war. How many more will follow? When will it start to get personal? He looked over to Garrus, gulping as he quickly yanked his eyes away, looking at the floor as the shuttle lifted off.
It could have been Garrus who died today. Instead it was a Primarch's son.
This war had truly begun for Marcus Shepard.
{Loading...}
June 16, 2186
0808 hours.
War Room, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, In Orbit over Tuchanka.
The Reaper War, Krogan DMZ Campaign: The Tuchankan Raids.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Chieftain Urdnot Wrex, Primarch Adrien Victus.
"Any other bombs I should know about?" Wrex growled, slamming a fist into the table, "Maybe there's one with a new genophage hidden in my camp? Should I know about that? What other secrets are the Hierarchy keeping on Tuchanka? And what about the Council? Have the salarians or the asari hidden anything?"
Victus, for his part, looked unwithered, unflappable, "The bomb was a necessary precaution, Wrex. What your people did during the Rebellions were barbaric, destructive, desolative. We had to make sure your people weren't coming back. The bomb was simply a contingency incase the genophage failed to keep you in check. We couldn't risk your kind laying waste to us again."
"The genophage wasn't enough!" Wrex snapped, "You had to plant a bomb on our planet!"
"It was for the greater good of the galaxy!" Victus returned.
"ENOUGH!" Marcus barked, and both of them fell silent, "BOTH OF YOU! I have had enough of this bullshit! What happened, happened! We can't change that! But now its history and its time to fucking move on. What matters now is that the bomb was destroyed, and its no longer a threat to the krogan. Wrex has already informed Wreav and he's sending men to retrieve the remnants of the bomb and are disposing of it quietly. What we should be worried about is the 300 feet tall Reaper currently talking Tuchanka's wastelands."
"Yes, I'm sure my son will be happy to extend his gratitude," Victus concluded, turning to Marcus, frowning, "Where is my son? I haven't seen him or his platoon yet."
It was then that his anger dissipated, replacing it was sadness. Sorrow. Regret. Melancholy. Self-anger at himself for not saving him. He still remembered Tarquin's final moments, and the words that came out of his mouth when he died. Victory at any cost.
"Primarch..." Marcus began, straightening as he met Victus' eyes, "I regret to inform you that First Platoon and your son...are KIA. They fought with bravery, valor and determination, but in the end, the Reaper forces were too much. His platoon was overwhelmed, and Lieutenant Victus was forced to sacrifice his life to ensure the bomb was stopped. He died like any soldier should sir; he died doing his duty. He completed the mission."
Victus looked like he someone had just slapped him in the face, and he simply stood there, looking at Marcus, his mandibles occassionally twitching. After a moment, he slowly looked down, as if the life had been sucked out of him. A low sound came from his mouth, something along the lines of a low keen, but he could barely make it out.
Then he suddenly looked up, "I...excuse me." And with that, he turned and left, racing out the door faster than any could possibly imagine. In just a few seconds, the Primarch was gone. Gone to mourn. He had a feeling he wouldn't be seeing the Primarch for awhile, and he decided to leave him in peace. Poor man just lost the only family he had left. He looked up, speaking, "EDI, make sure noone disturbs Primarch Victus for the rest of the day and tomorrow if necessary. He needs time to mourn."
"I...understand, Captain," EDI responded, with what sounded like...sadness? in her tone. Whatever it was, it disappeared as quickly as EDI did. They were left standing there, only the noise of the crew working in the room being heard as the krogan and spectre stood side by side, both thinking.
"Fuck this war," Marcus finally got out, "Fuck this fucking war."
Wrex, for his part, remained silent, having nothing to say. In the end, nothing was really needed but his silence.
Finally, Marcus straightened, looking at the krogan with weary eyes, "I'm going to get some rest, Wrex. You better get some too." And without another word, he turned and left.
Wrex simply stood there, the sound of the War Room's silence almost deafening.
"That was technically your first loss of the war, wasn't it?"
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"Yes. And it was only going to get worse."
- Marcus Shepard.
"What occurred next? Records show you went to another world...Utukku, is that correct?"
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"Correct. Utukku. A place where an old friend became a new enemy, if only in machine, and not in spirit."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Did this take awhile? Yes.
Did I lose inspiration towards the end? Yes.
Should I have stopped and come back to it later? No, otherwise Holocaust would be forever done. I literally could not do this chapter properly, despite my best efforts. In the end, I decided to wing it. I just hope it doesn't feel too rushed.
Up next is Utukku. I hope you guys are ready for some Grunt.
Poor Primarch Victus. Lost his wife and son. :(
Keelah Se'lai, troopers!
