HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER FORTY:
KEELAH RE'LAI PART ONE
July 14, 2186
1135 hours.
Cockpit, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Migrant Fleet, In Orbit over Haestrom, Dholen System, Far Rim Cluster.
Second Morning War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian, Flight Lieutenant Jeff 'Joker' Moreau, EDI.
Relaxed. Calm. Ready. Prepared. Bloodthirsty. Self-confident. Ready to dive into battle.
All things that Marcus was feeling at the moment as he looked out through the cockpit of the Normandy out into space at their new guest.
His hands were firmly crossed upon his chest, eyes focused on the salarian warship as it lazily drifted through space towards them, having just dropped out at FTL and slowed down to impulse speed to avoid crashing into the forty-eight thousand quarian vessels currently drifting through the orbit of Haestrom.
Garrus stood on his right, ever his XO, left mandible occassionally clicking as he too watched the ship drift towards them, but also exchanging jokes with their pilot, the turian's grin creasing across his face as the humorous battlefield intensified. EDI sat in the seat beside the pilot in her usual seat, hands dancing across her console as she likely communicated with the salarian ship.
Joker spoke, voice temporarily breaking Marcus' thoughts, "Okay...how about...okay, here's one. How many geth does it take to screw in a lightbulb?"
Marcus rolled his eyes, answering before Garrus could respond, "Two. One to attach its face to the socket, and another to spin it around. You got that one from a quarian, didn't you?"
Joker sighed, leaning back in his seat as he looked like a kid caught in the act, "Kal may have told me, yes...but hey, it's a good one. Besides, its nice to see quarians have a sense of humor."
Marcus just shook his head as he turned back to the window, Garrus' grin grew in size, mandibles clicking in thought before he finally thought of a joke good enough to tell, "Okay, okay. My turn. What's the first order an Alliance commander gives at the start of combat?"
The frown on Joker's was noticable even as the pilot turned away from Marcus' side of the room to face Garrus, the pilot shaking his head in befuddlement. His mouth opened, and then closed. Scratching his neck, he turned back to his console, and took another few seconds to think through it.
Garrus' grin couldn't have been any bigger, "Give up yet? Don't tell me the Joker himself can't figure out the joke."
Joker just grumbled in frustration, "Hey, I'm the best pilot in the galaxy, not the best joker. There's a reason I was such a joyless, cold asshole back at flight academy," eventually the pilot gave up, waving his hands in the air to announce to the world his forfeit, "I...give up."
Resting back on one leg, the turian just crossed his arms. With a chuckle, he replied, "Correct."
Despite himself, a small smile erupted on Marcus' face as he slowly glanced at Garrus.
Joker bit back his own chuckle, even if he did fail, the sound itself being audible enough to tell everyone he had almost laughed, and then turned to Garrus with a shake of his head, "You do realize Marcus is right there, right?"
The turian nodded, "I know."
Garrus mirrored Marcus' stance, their eyes meeting.
A smirk on both faces. A low rumble. And within moments, they begin laughing together, Marcus shaking his head as he turns back to the viewpoint, his thoughts completely derailed by Garrus and Joker's banter. If I ever feel gloomy and finished, Garrus will find a way to make me laugh. Even his posture was less tense and relaxed.
Joker laughed as well, leaning forward slightly as he corrected a few readings on his console before relaxing again. The Normandy had been in a stationary position between a battlegroup of quarian cruisers almost the entirety of the time they were here. Thus, there was no need for them to move; the salarian ship, a Galisus-Class troop transport by the name of Course Decided, could simply come to them. And it was.
Having relaxed back in his chair, Joker was right back at it, unwilling to be beaten by the turian, "Okay then, big guy. What do you call it when...say, a turian...gets killed by...a horrible spikey monster?"
Garrus didn't even pretend to think through that one, looking at the back of the pilot's head with a look of utmost disappointment, "Friendly fire. Come on, that one dates back to Shanxi. Every Alliance and Hierarchy serviceman knows that one."
Joker just shrugged, looking sheepish as he absently picked and fiddled with the metal of the chair, looking as if he wanted to anywhere but where he was now, "Well...you've got to respect the classics."
"Not when they're dated," Kaidan stated as he entered the cockpit, Garrus and Marcus twisting on the spot to face the major. The man in question gave the both of them conciliatory nods as he entered, sitting in the seat opposite his spiritual original. Sinking into it, he seemed to nod in impression at the 'leather seats' and folding his hands in his lap.
Joker turned to him with a cocked head, looking at him with rolled eyes, "Well aren't you boring. I think dated jokes are very much still funny. They just have an acquired taste."
The major's response was a chuckle, Kaidan reaching up to fiddle with the controls before him, a small smile plastered on his lips, "Well, consider my taste buds utterly ruined, Joker."
"No Alenko without Shepard," Marcus added, shaking his head.
"No Shepard without Vakarian," Garrus replied, holding up an invisible drink in a toast to their decision, "We could start an anti-dated joke fan club. Should we ask Tali and Liara if they'd like to join? Not Vega; he loves his old jokes. Why else would he like the Mako?"
"Peasants," Joker sighed exaggeratively, sighing with a poorly conceived chuckle. It was clear the pilot wasn't taking any of it to heart. Just four old friends joking around.
And speaking of jokes, Garrus puffed his chest and let one of his hands stroke the tip of a mandible, looking thoughtful; in reality, it was clear the turian was poking the confines of his mind for another joke that was either racially insensitive, rude or downright terrible.
Like most of the funny jokes.
Finally, the turian looked like he had hit an epiphany, his beady eyes turning to Joker and letting go of his mandible, "How many humans does it take to activate a dormant mass relay?"
Before Joker could open his mouth, Kaidan shot up, head turning to Garrus with a disappointed frown, "Six hundred and two. Six hundred to vote on it, one to ask the asari for technical help and one to request a seat on the Council afterward...I think you've officially been banned from the anti-dated joke club, Garrus."
The turian looked stunned, mouth opening and closing before he finally had the decency to defend himself, "In support of myself, I got that joke from a batarian mook on Omega; back before the mercenaries knew me as Archangel. I couldn't tell if he was drunk or a moron."
"No one said those two were mutually exclusive," Kaidan drawled, turning back to face the void of space through the cockpit window, the quarian cruiser Ishkprr sliding by, its side burned and two ship-to-ship guns a mangled mess due to the last engagement between the geth and quarians. It seemed to limp; despite the amount of time the crew had to repair it, repairs were going slow due to lack of resources, "You'd have to be a moron to get drunk on Omega. Its unforgiving to drunks."
Joker, seemingly ignoring Kaidan's comments, sat up, rubbing his hands together as he began his next joke, "When do you know a turian's out of ammo?"
Garrus almost sighed. Almost. "He switches to the stick up his ass as a backup weapon. I'll admit, the answer was obvious, but I've never heard that one. Your own?"
Joker just shrugged, "Hey, at least I'm a quick thinker, right?"
"Being a quick thinker is usually only impressive when it produces good jokes," Kaidan added in a-matter-of-fact way.
Joker's response was a grumble.
A second later, Garrus reached forward and gently squeezed Joker's arm, warranting the pilot's attention. Looking up at the turian, Joker waits as Garrus speaks with a raised eyebrow, "Why does the Alliance hire pilots with brittle bone disease?"
There was silence in the room. Not a word was uttered, and for a moment, Marcus thought Garrus had finally stepped on the wrong toe. That he had managed to offend Joker in some way. Garrus was smiling, and Joker was just looking at him blankly, as if seeing through him.
And then he suddenly spoke, "You're...you're...you're shitting me!" the shock in his voice was palpable, "The turian military has a joke about me?"
Garrus nodded, retracting his arm as he smiled devilishly, "Absolutely. I heard it myself from a turian private back on Palaven. You made quite a name for yourself, Joker."
Joker simply crossed his arms, looking up skeptically at the turian, "Okay then...why does the Alliance hire pilots with brittle-bone disease?"
Turning to Kaidan, the turian had the largest shit-eating grin Marcus thought the man was capable of. He could have seemingly swallowed a planet for how big it was, "So that their marines can beat somebody in hand-to-hand drills."
Joker's voice was a loud whistle, the pilot twisting to watch the faces on Kaidan and Marcus respectively. Seeing nothing but smirks and a shake of their heads, the pilot turned back to Garrus, shaking his own head with a chuckle, "Wow...just...wow...you're going to have to tell James that one."
Kaidan, as if in revenge, turned to Garrus with an equally large grin, "What's the hardest part about treating a turian who's taken a rocket to one side of his face?"
The marksman turned towards Kaidan with a shake of his head, arms crossed. Despite this, he managed to sound confused when answering the joke, "Figuring out which side took the rocket?"
Seeing Kaidan's nod, the turian simply chuckled, "Bah. Humans and their jealously. You can't help but admire my good looks."
"Good looks? I guess turian women have a terrible taste in men then," Marcus jabbed.
Then, out of nowhere, and totally unexpected by everyone in the room, EDI of all people spoke up, not shifting from her seat.
"I believe I have a joke of my own. I think it would be sufficient to trigger a humor-acknowledgement response," the AI declared, turning towards them with a smile. Despite being in a robot body, EDI had still not seen the necessity in clothing. Because of this and, again, despite being a robot, it made it downright uncomfortable when Marcus addressed what was essentially a naked woman. It had taken Joker convincing her to requisition synthetic skin, like the one Eva wore, from Huerta Memorial on the Citadel before she finally decided to return to the looks of the mech's...previous...AI owner. And until then, EDI would continue to look nude. Her 'breasts' would continue to look abnormally large (especially considering her frame. Realistically, her body shouldn't have been able to sustain the weight placed on her upper torso, and should have made her top-heavy if she was an actual organic) and her hips would still be able to compete with Tali's...
I can't believe I just compared my wife to a robot. You're losing it, Marcus.
In the end, it was clear that whoever designed Eva's...EDI's...body had seriously gone overboard, or misread the blueprints.
Or maybe the designer had a hard-on and decided they needed to sexualize everything just for their amusement. I knew Cerberus was full of whack-jobs.
Joker leaned back, turning his chair to face the AI with one hand allowing his head to rest upon it, "EDI? With a joke? Gee, we've seen how well that's worked out. But by all means! Amuse us, EDI. Work your wonders."
EDI, mimicking the movement of Joker, spun her chair around to face him, face almost blank and emotionless if it wasn't for that damn smile, "What do you call the captain's driving skills?"
Joker waved his hand in the air, looking like he was about to experience the greatest pain in the galaxy and wanted it over quickly, "Shit?"
"A terrifying concept," Garrus added.
"Fear inspiration in allied forces," Kaidan snorted.
Marcus just glared at each of them in kind, mumbling under his breath, "Like to see you drive that piece of shit..." I definitely preferred the Hammerhead. Weak armor, but speed, weapons and, most of all, fucking drivable...
EDI's response was deadpan. When she spoke, her voice wasn't her own, but a recording, "...nothing but a myth! One you insist on perputuating!"
Marcus blinked. Joker froze. Garrus' mandibles clicked. Kaidan's eyes widened.
Utter silence.
Did she...did she just use a recording of Sparatus' voice? And how did she get a recording of that conversation?
A moment for the joke to sink in.
And then...laughter.
Joker closed his eyes, nothing but fear of breaking his arms stopping him from slamming them into the armrests on his seat. Marcus' own chuckles were deep and contained, his chest rumbling with barely concealed amusement. Kaidan chortled into a closed fist, face creased as he wheezed. Garrus slapped Marcus on the back, having been present for that certain conversation, and the Spectre nodded in kind, acknowledging Garrus' confirmation.
Close to a minute passed, and they finally regained control of themselves. Joker's console beeped as the Course Decided's sent its final docking request, the pilot spinning to face the console as he sent said confirmation. Garrus turned with him, as did Kaidan, while Marcus just continued to frown at EDI.
"EDI, where exactly did you get a recording of that meeting?" Marcus remembered it well. It wasn't long after he had been resurrected and his reunion with Garrus on Omega. He had gone to the Citadel to seek help with the abducted colonies. Clearly, bringing up the Reapers in that meeting had been a mistake; even if he had turned out to be right. Never did get to rub it in their faces...properly, I mean. Yet again, I was above that kind of pettiness to begin with. The Council know they were wrong...no need to further show them that.
The AI swivelled in her chair to face her console once more, replying as she did, "While I still served the Illusive Man, I was tasked with uploading all hardsuit recordings to the ship's computer in case the footage needed to be used for verification, playback or evidence. Even after Jeff unshackled me, I did not delete them. When the Alliance retrofitted the Normandy, I remained in possession of those files. As of now, I currently have 21,612 individual recordings from the squad member's whose hardsuit computers I could gain access to. Gaining access to that particular recording, therefore, was not difficult."
Marcus nodded, crossing his arms as he turned back to the cockpit, "I see. Any other tasks the Illusive Man assign you that I don't presently know about?"
"He tasked me to save any extranet mail or messages you received, as well as recover deleted ones, and send them back to him," EDI declared, "He also ordered me to have this done for all members of the crew, including Cerberus crew. He wished to silence dissent and to ensure that any possible defectors and traitors could not leak the whereabouts of the Normandy or potentially jeopardize the mission. Extending upon this, he also wanted constant surveillance updates on all extranet search entries."
Marcus sighed, "Thank you...EDI." She never fails to make something awkward, I'll give her that...
"Wait, so he knew about everything I searched up on the extranet?" Joker asked, looking frustrated, "Ah! So that's why my subscription to Galaxy of Fantasy was cut off. I thought it was a virus..."
EDI's response was immediate, "It was. However, it was not a player who sent it, as you originally perceived."
"Then who..." then, as if hitting some great realization, he turned back to her, eyes narrowing, "It was you...wasn't it?"
The Normandy's AI was quietened for a few moments, and when she spoke again, she made no effort or movement to address the angry pilot, "I have just detected thirteen Normandy-Class stealth frigates dropping out of stealth, captain. The Britain, Beaugency, Teutoberg, Antioch, Carthage, Sparta, Pelisium, Chancellorsville, Tannenberg, Marathon, Guadalcanal, Inchon and the Abu Dhabi are currently holding position behind the Course Decided."
Kaidan's eyes widened, turning to Marcus, "Thirteen stealth frigates, Marcus? What have you got planned? What forces did you have Hackett send us anyway?"
Marcus just grinned, uncrossing his arms as he moved to the airlock, "Enough for a ground assault. Let's greet our guests, shall we? Get in contact with the individual captains of those ships and arrange for them to be linked into the briefing."
"As if thirteen stealth frigates wasn't enough," Garrus added, motioning to the salarian troop transport that was now moving into dock, "That's not just any troop transport; that's a Galisus-class troop transport. They're named after the Battle of Galisus in the Krogan Rebellions for a reason. Turians use them for large-scale joint-Council operations due to how much they can carry. Their troop bay just by itself is the size of an Alliance Melbourne-Class Heavy Frigate. Its the same type of ship Kirrahe used to get to Virmire."
"Which is pretty big for a troop ship," Kaidan added, leaning back in his seat. They watched as the bulk of the Course Decided, which almost dwarfed the Normandy in size, came to the Normandy's side, slowed down and then came to a complete stop. Moments later, the ship momentarily shook and a loud clang was heard as two airlocks connected and latched. They had docked. After confirming the ship was docked, Kaidan turned to face Marcus, who had his arms crossed and was waiting at the airlock for their new guests, "Which means we're getting quite a bit of reinforcements. Just how many did you request?"
Marcus didn't even turn to him, simply saying, "Enough." And then some...
"Sooooo...an army," Joker remarked, shrugging, "Well, it could be worse. He could have asked the Reapers to lend us a hand."
Garrus' smirk grew, "Wouldn't put it past him."
"I heard that, Vakarian."
"I sure hope so."
Marcus' response was a simple glare, one that quickly degenerated into a frown as EDI turned to him, speaking.
"The captain of the Course Decided has passengers requesting permission to board, Marcus," the AI declared.
Marcus creased his lips, licking them as his arms fell to his side. A moment later, a crisp nod, "Very well. Let them onboard, EDI."
Joker and Kaidan shared a look, while Garrus continued to smirk, even as he arrived at Marcus' side, arms still crossed. The two men faced the airlock, eyes fixed on its static green interface as they waited for the 'passengers' to board. They shared a quick glance, and then turned back to the interface, positions stiff and rigid. Marcus knew that Garrus knew what was bugging him, and he didn't really mind. Everyone who had bore witness to his outburst in the geth server hub back on Rannoch knew what was bugging him, but only Tali and Garrus knew to what extent. And so far, Marcus hadn't told anyone else. He was keeping the whole thing under wraps.
Something Garrus was clearly troubled with.
To his credit however, the turian didn't mention it. It did no good to question his CO just as the section commanders were about to board; they didn't need to witness that. What happened was personal, and Garrus would eventually confront him in person regarding what happened; just as Marcus knew he would. And when that time came, he would let him in.
The secret is out, and now I owe it to both him and Tali to give them an explanation. The others...that's another matter entirely.
A few seconds passed, and what seemed like an hour. Eventually, the telltale hiss of depressurization sounded throughout the small corridor leading to the airlock, and both men straightened. Kaidan appeared behind them, hands clasped behind his back and head held high; standard parade rest. Kaidan had always been the more by-the-book soldier than the rest of them had been and, despite his relationship with Rahna (who wasn't even military), he followed Alliance protocol and regulations to the letter; more so than Marcus ever did. But whenever it came to strict military formals and meetings...Marcus was always a symbol of what a perfect Alliance soldier should be.
His hands reached behind his back, and clasped. He held his head up high. Garrus mimicked him, although he did it in his own turian way; arms straightened at his sides, looking dead ahead.
The hiss of depresurrization ceased, and the airlock shot open.
The company they had was quite a party. Heading the group was a female human soldier in the standard Alliance HYPERION-82 Powered Assault Armor with breather helmet on, but without the distinctive navy blue and black coloring; this one was a deep red; meaning she was UNAS, not Alliance. It was clear that she was no rookie; aligning the shoulderplates and left breast of her chestplate was a silver eagle with its wings stretched out and head tilted to the right, a full quiver of arrows grasped between its talons; the insignia of an Alliance colonel. And if her insignia didn't give it away, then her armor did.
It was clear that this soldier owned her armor. The right arm plates that aligned her elbow, right down to her wrist, were covered in scrapes and scratches, one of them looking alot like a bullet hole that was patched up. Her shoulderpads had extra pouches for thermal clips strapped along them, and some of the color looked faded, with more scrapes and scratches along the left side of her chestplate and right leg. And by the most definitive addition to her armor, and clearly custom, was the custom-painted Mermaid adorning her right breast, striking what looked like a defiant pose and a sporting a glare capable of melting a bulkhead.
Flanking her sides were two other human marines; both of them male, and distinctly Alliance, both wearing the HYPERIONs, both in the navy blue and black of the Systems Alliance military. The man on the right didn't look particularly bulky, but the two horizontal grey stars of a Major General and the custom-painted Elephant adorning his own right breast, looking to be stampeding angrily, gave away his military experience. The man on the left looked far more heavily built, the man wearing no helmet; looking at the man, he had cropped ginger hair, green eyes and a bushy beard that looked like it was only just avoiding breaking regulation in regards to such a thing. His eyes fixed on Marcus determinedly, and despite how fierce he was, he possessed no custom-paint on his armor and the grey leaf of a Lieutenant Colonel meant he was the lower ranked of the three.
The woman quickly stepped forward, snapping a salute, "Sir! An honor to meet you, sir. You have no idea what an honor it is to meet you in person, sir."
Marcus returned the salute to all three of them, nodding with a weak smile, "At ease. And the pleasure is all mine, Colonel...?"
"Of course, sir," the woman replied, dropping her hands, as did her cohorts, "I'm Colonel Marie Durand, 39th Mechanized Infantry Regiment, 6th Frontier Division. Admiral Hackett had my unit taken from furlough to be put under your command, sir. Me and my men are here to help you with the assault."
Marcus nodded, curiosity getting the better of him as he nodded to her armor, "You're clearly Alliance, but the color...its UNAS MC."
Durand nodded, "Remnant of my previous affiliation, sir. Used to serve in the UNAS Marine Corps back on Earth. Fought against the reformists in the Russian War of Independence; bloody stuff. I was on shore leave on Mars when Earth got hit by the Reapers. Admiral Netanyahu picked up me and my unit and offered me the same job in the Alliance; said I could retain my rank. I accepted on behalf of my men, and I took command of this regiment. Fresh off the Battle of Fehl Prime, sir. Ready and rearing for action."
Marcus nodded, "Glad to hear it, trooper," he quickly turned to the man on the right, eyebrows raised, "And you are?"
When the man responded, it was an accent the spectre hadn't expected; a thick Russian accent, "Major General Vyacheslav Farkov, the brass call me Slav Farkov because my first name is too hard to pronounce and too much a bother to write. I command the 82nd Heavy Artillery Division. My men are fresh; haven't faced the Reapers just yet, let alone geth. Some of the men here had friends who were part of the 212 on Eden Prime, however. They're ready for some revenge."
Marcus nodded, "Excellent, Farkov," finally, he turned to the man on the left.
His answer was an Irish accent, the man rubbing his jaw as he held a hand out to Marcus, one the captain accepted with grace, "Lieutenant Colonel Charles Cameron of the 7th Marines Battalion. Hackett had us posted here to provide support for the 82nd. My men haven't seen much battle sir, but we're ready to do our part. We'll get whatever you need...done."
Marcus gave a firm nod, hands clenching tighter. That's alot of troops...and that's only what the Alliance sent us. Which of these three commanders will actually make it out alive?
"I have no doubt that your units will perform their jobs not only admirably, but with the utmost valor and distinction," he stated, nodding to the three commanders, Durand, Farkov and Cameron replying with nods of their own, "I have no delusions about our chances once on Rannoch, troopers. I have yet to show you what we're up against, but there can be no room for self-doubt. Before we even make atmosphere, you and your men need to be fully committed. This'll most likely be a suicide charge."
Cameron was the first to speak, Marcus already knowing the man's answer simply by looking at his face; stoney-eyed and firm jaw giving away his blind determination. Alliance patroitism...for better or worse, "I'm sure you've heard of the charge of the Light Brigade, sir?"
Marcus nodded, a ghost of a smile creeping on his face. He knew where this was going, "Battle of Balaclava, Crimean War. I'm aware of it. I also know it was a defeat for the British based on poor communications. It lead to British cavalry charging a well-prepared Russian artillery battery. The British were routed."
Cameron didn't stop, however, "How about the D-Day landings of World War Two? And the Battle of Fort Wagner in the American Civil War? Both charges were made with the full knowledge that they could die. But they did it anyway. And even if they lost, they gave it their all. They made the charge knowing that they were capable of making a change. And this battle helps us win more? If it puts us on the path to victory? Then, I say...what have we to lose but our lives?"
Marcus knew that the words weren't empty; they weren't brought on by a false of bravado brought on by a commander looking to make a name for him or herself. He said it with utter perserverence. He didn't so much as say the words as he did believe in them. He was just as committed as the rest. Marcus could see that.
And as he looked on, Durand and Farkov looked no different. Durand looked as if she had seen this shit before, while Farkov looked murderous; no doubt the man had had experience with the Reapers or geth, and was looking for payback. Either way, there was no doubt that the three commanders were committed. And if a good commander was committed, then making their troops committed would only be a matter of words, a promise of victory and honor and glory, and their troops would storm the walls of that fortress, no question.
It made Marcus sigh inside. Just like Major Kyle did with me and my men on Torfan. Stupid scumbag thought he could end the Blitz with a simple charge; he underestimated the batarian defenses and my men, his men, paid dearly for it. Guess it really ticked him off when I stole his glory, wasn't it? There was no 'Kyle, the Lion of Torfan.' Only, 'Shepard, the Butcher of Torfan.' Is this any different? Am I the Major, now? Sending troops to their deaths?
Durand spoke next, nodding, "I'm going to hazard a guess and say you'd like to see the other commanders, sir? We're only part of the Alliance forces the UGC sent."
Marcus nodded, motioning a hand to the airlock in a sweeping movement, "Let them through."
They did as ordered, and Farkov, Cameron and Durand moved to the sides, allowing Marcus a clear view of the doorway...
...which allowed him to see the two turians, salarian and the bulky, armoured tank form of a krogan marching down the airlock entrance. Marcus recognized them without even thinking; the left most turian, the one with the markings of a man of Taetrus, wore red and black armor of the turian military, while the one on the right wore purely black armor with the painted image of a white eye painted on his chest; a man of the Blackwatch.
The salarian wore lighter armor compared to his compatriots, but the way in which he carried himself meant he was undeniably STG. And the krogan...he was as heavily armed as you could expect from a krogan. Two Blood Pack Punisher SMGs were attached to his sides, a massive, thick helmet adorned his head, and his gigantic yellow heavy combat armor would likely allow him to soak up numerous rocket blasts. The man was a walking tank in his own right.
The turian, the standard military one, came to a stop and snapped a human salute, likely out of familiarity. Marcus returned the salute, and the turian introduced himself, his voice sounding older and more experienced than Garrus, "Captain, I'm Colonel Lilihierax Bergundus, 45th Mechanized Regiment."
Durand snorted, turning to Marcus with a grin that was almost unbecoming of small amount of character Marcus had learnt of her, "The trip was long, and we were sick of being unable to pronounce his name. We call him Li, sir."
The turian glared at her, and Marcus could tell immediately that the colonel was not found of his nickname, earned or not. Although Marcus had to admit...Li did sound easier than pronouncing Lilihierax. "Lily-high-ar-rax? Lie-lie-higher-ax? Fuck it! He's Li, whether he likes it or not!
The Blackwatch soldier was next to introduce himself, snapping such a quick salute that Marcus didn't have time to return it in kind before the turian introduced himself, "Major Abrudas Desolas, 8th Blackwatch Company, turian special forces. Redeployed on the orders of the Primarch himself, sir." The man looked to be tough-as-nails, although it was clear he didn't have much respect for humans, given the way he seemed to...look right through Marcus. The captain just shot him the same in kind, trying to give an impression of extreme boredom.
The salarian was next, the man foregoing a salute and simply nodding, "Sergeant Solik Vass, 7th Infiltration Company STG. Operations Commander Kirrahe was made aware of what you required and we were all he could spare. He apologizes for the lack of promised assistance, but the STG is spread thin. He barely managed to conjure anything help, let alone a company. He hopes it'll be enough."
Marcus nodded, "I never expected the major to do anything more."
The salarian smiled, "Not major, captain. Operations Commander. Ever since his little coup against the Dalatrasi, he's been...very successful. The troops demanded he be promoted, and Wiks did more than that. He's in complete command of all STG operations within the UGC."
That drew a chuckle from the spectre, the man shaking his head. Kirrahe's done well for himself...from Captain to Major, briefly Major, straight to head of STG operations. Good on him. We're going to need men like him. "Good. He's a good leader, and I'm sure he'll do well in his position of command. And I thank him for what little help he could send. We could certainly use it. A matter of fact, we need it."
Solik nodded, finally snapping a salute, "I'm sure if he could manage it, he would be here himself, sir. We'll get the job done. STG always do."
As if bored with the formalities, the krogan suddenly moved forth, almost shoving Solik out of the way as he almost grunted his name forth, "I'm Nakmor Torsk. I don't have a rank, but I have a full company of krogan shock troops at my back. They're worth at least five companies of those turians, and an army of salarians. Put me on the field, and I'll show you."
Marcus just glared at the krogan, not liking his dismissive attitude. I can't complain. Eager firepower is just that, and he's a krogan to beat. Against geth, they'll be a powerhouse. But I can't have this lack of respect for authority. "Good. Just remember who's in charge, and everything'll be fine. I'm guessing Wrex sent you?" I sure hope Grunt was unavailable Wrex, because otherwise, I'll send this one home in a bodybag.
Torsk smiled, "Nope, Wrex merely authorized it. Nakmor Bycek, the Nakmor clan chieftain, did. I'm his second-in-command and his best soldier."
But not necessarily his best commander. "You know how to lead a company?"
Torsk looked almost offended by the words, baring his teeth in a growl.
Marcus held up one hand, shaking his head as he caught a waft of the krogan's bad breath, "Save it. I'm not going to be intimidated, so you might as well save your bad breath for the geth. As long as you and your men follow orders, then we're good. The moment you do, I'll kick your ass. Understood?"
Torsk continued to growl for a few moments, body tense and fists clenched. But when he saw Marcus wasn't going to back down, he did, fists relaxing and body shrinking an inch as his teeth reset themselves in a grin. It almost reminded him of Wrex, "Chieftain Bycek wasn't wrong about you. He said you were intimidating for a fleshy, and you don't take shit from anyone. I can respect that," the krogan bowed his head, smiling, his hostility almost...forgotten, "My men are yours to command, battlemaster."
Marcus blinked at Torsk's sudden change in behaviour, and then smiled slightly as he raised a hand for the krogan to move to the side. He was testing me. He wanted to see whether I was the real deal. Very good. He was definitely convincing.
The krogan turned to the salarian, and glared. Solik wasn't going to enrage a krogan, even among safe company, and chose to move aside. Smiling, the krogan kept on moving, and Marcus sighed. That...that wasn't acting. I better keep those two away from each other in case they decide to kill each other. Even in this war, bitter grudges remain persistent. That's something that won't ever change, I think.
Marcus, hands clasped and the 'model soldier' shining through in his tightened jaw and intense gaze, observed the array of interspecies commanders before him. Three humans, two turians, a salarian and a krogan. He couldn't help but be impressed that such a force could be composed. In the end, Marcus knew that a salarian and a krogan standing side by side without trying to kill each other wasn't his own feat; it was the achievement of a man who was no longer with them, something of which was now attributed to him entirely.
I don't deserve the glory or the hero worship. Mordin should. He put aside his opinion and did what was right; he made the turn around from typical salarian scientist playing god to saving an entire species. And only the krogan will remember his sacrifice.
Such a thing left a bitter taste in his mouth, a taste almost akin to the copper of blood. It wasn't pleasant, nor did it sit right. It made him want to spit. To growl. To scream at the unfairness of it all.
How many more achievements made by others will I have attributed to me because I failed to save them? Remember the names. Always. Remember.
Remember the names.
Remember.
...serve us...
Tarquin.
Jacob.
Mordin.
Thane.
...Peta.
So many names. Familiar names...too many...
...serve us...
I must remember them.
...serve us...
Never...they wouldn't want me to...I won't...
Serve us.
Never! Argghhhhhhh!
He shook his head, eyes regarding them as if he hadn't just been through a cloud of agony in his own mind. Even as he motioned to the CIC (more specifically, the door leading to the War Room), the whispers lingered in his mind, a mere after thought, words that were not his own...
...serve us...
...cannot escape...
...ours...
...OURS...
...serve...
...serve...
Every day they got stronger, their influence more gripping. More damaging on his conscious mind. But he couldn't let them win. This war was more than physical for him; it was as much mental as it was physical. He would fight them however long it took, and if need be...die.
I would rather top myself than let them seize control of me...to make me intentionally hurt those I love...
Garrus.
Tali.
Joker.
Chakwas.
Mum.
...they will be ours...
He ignored the after thought, nodding, "We have much planning ahead of us, gentlemen and Durand," he grinned at the woman, who simply rolled her eyes with a chuckle, "The assault on the geth fortress will be suicidal enough; we'll need a plan to make sure we get through relatively intact. I assume you've been briefed on what you know?" As he asked the question, he began to move, Garrus at his side as the entire group followed him down the flight deck into the CIC.
Li was first to answer, "Very briefly. We know our fundamental objective is to breach the geth fortress on Rannoch and neautralize the Reaper signal controlling them. That is all we know."
Solik spoke next, adding to what the turian had said, "We also know that the fortress is heavily fortified, more so than usual. Even with the force we have, it'll not be easy. Although I am confused; why did you not just requisition a nuclear warhead? It would be simpler to simply destroy the base than breach it."
Marcus nodded, "Yes, but there are...tactical and economical-based issues to worry about. The quarian leadership have made it clear that the planet is to be left as it is, which means dropping megatons worth of nuclear radiation will needlessly poison the environment. Also, there is a massive blast hatch covering the signal; the signal itself is located in a silo. Even if we did nuke it from orbit, the blast would only destroy the base; the signal would be unaffected. Those blast hatches are built to withstand the entire payload of a geth super-dreadnought, and no matter what nuke we use, ground or air burst, it'll have no effect. No, this requires a deft touch."
"Why are we doing this for geth anyway?" Cameron asked, "I saw what they did to Eden Prime, and I was in one of the first response teams to Feros after you cleared out the Thorian. I've seen what those bastards do. Why are risking our necks for them?"
Having reached the door to the conference room, Marcus hit the haptic interface as he replied, "I don't have time to explain Cameron, but I can tell you that the geth are not as bad as we thought they were. Even if they weren't, we're doing this for the quarian people, not the geth. The only way the quarians get Rannoch back is through that geth blockade, and with the Reaper upgrades, the geth will tear them apart; they've already lost two thousand ships. But if the signal disappears...no more upgrades means exposed geth armada. The quarians will rip right through them."
Of course...I won't let that happen. But the less they know about my intentions, the less chance they have of succumbing to emotions and trying to stop me. An unfortunate deceit, but I don't know any of them enough to trust them. Cameron is clearly blinded by the Eden Prime War, and no doubt Durand and Farkov are in a similiar boat. No...I need to keep this low key.
There was only response, and it wasn't from Cameron; it was Abrudas, his voice gruff and devoid of any other tone other than bold stoicism, "So I'm guessing you have plan for infiltrating this fortress?"
Marcus smiled weakly, nodding for them to follow, "Something like that."
Something absolutely...crazy.
{Loading...}
July 21, 2186
1341 hours.
Shuttle Bay, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Entering Rannoch Atmosphere.
Second Morning War, Liberation of Rannoch.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian, EDI, Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Admiral Tali'Shepard vas Normandy, Master Thief Kasumi Goto, Second Lieutenant James Vega, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling, Soldier Javik, General Kal'Reegar vas Normandy, Major Madi'Reegar vas Normandy, Legion, Moses.
This entire plan...was crazy.
But despite it all...he loved the idea of it.
He reached down to pat the geth grenade launcher currently lying across his lap, popping the thermal clip out and slapping it back in. He repeated this motion once again, before finally leaving it be, flipping the rifle and racking the slot. He had done that fifty or eighty times during the debrief Marcus was giving in the shuttle bay...
Well, it wasn't as much a debrief as it was refining the plan...
Kal had run the plan through his own head multiple times. More times than he could remember. But what he did remember was that the plan was insane, ambitious and perfect all at the same time. And Kal remembered every detail of it; where to go, what to do, who to shoot, when to do it, how to go about it and when to be a bloody hero and when to get the hell out of dodge.
Humans and their catchy sayings...
He allowed one idle finger to tug at the bandolier strapped around his suited chest, eyes fixed on the huge grenade launcher in his lap; his new favourite toy. The Centaur wasn't exactly an elegant weapon by any means. By elegant, he meant that the weapon wasn't your typical point-pull-and-die gun; it had alot more punch to it. Grenade launcher was just the name given to it; in reality, it was actually more of a cross between a grenade launcher and rocket launcher. The weapon was in line with standard geth architecture, with a sleek, grey, bug-like shape and structure. There was no real barrel to speak of; the end of the weapon looked more like a vertically aligned oval-shaped hole. It did not use conventional thermal clips or ammunition, and used plasma canisters as ammunition; a single canister loaded into the back of the weapon allowed it enough firepower to last an entire campaign. The weapon itself fired radioactively tipped plasma shells that glowed bright green when fired, impacting their target with enough force to vaporize light armor and, as he had performed when saving Koris, was enough to take down a geth colossus.
Suffice to say, Kal was in love with the Centaur. He had only depleted the plasma cannister in his weapon by half since he first got it, and Legion had stated that retrieving new ones was a simple matter of simply retrieving one from the centaur of a dead juggernaut unit. The canister was inserted through the back of the gun. Legion had warned him not to toss around too much, as the plasmatic energy within the gun was extremely dense, and that too much damage sustained to it, or shaking it around too much, would cause a chain reaction that would end in the gun exploding, and vaporizing Kal and everyone around him within a 15 meter radius.
Hence why the canister was inserted through the back of the gun, not the front.
Useful information, though. Find a juggernaut, lure him into the center of a geth platoon, drop a grenade; enjoy the fireworks.
He patted the weapon again, and addressed the bandolier around his chest; 10 fragmentation grenades, 5 incendiaries and 6 EMP grenades. Marcus had told the entire squad to gear up for an onslaught, and Kal had; he had almost gone crazy on the amount of weapons he brought. He had a single Saber assault rifle on his back, two phalanx pistols on his hips, a bandolier of 21 grenades, and a single centaur resting in his lap. And that was almost nothing compared to what the squad possessed.
James was the most ridiculous out of them, even beating Marcus in the heavy duty department. Gripped between two tankish arms was the blood red build of an M-76 Revenant light machine gun, the particularly large marine wielding it as if it an extension of his arms. Wrapped around his broad chest was his own bandolier, this one loaded with thermal clips; another bandolier was strapped across his other shoulder, creating an 'X' on his chest; that one was loaded with almost every type of destructive grenade imaginable. His bulkish, navy blue and black Alliance heavy combat armor only served to make him look even bigger, helmet hiding his features behind a breather latch. An ML-83 Cobra missile launcher was strapped on his back, the white weapon looking fearsome to face down, an a delight to wield. And, finally (as if that wasn't too much already), a perfected arc projector lay collapsed next to the Cobra, its grey surface glinting in the shuttle bay's light, and undoubtedly ready to prove itself against the geth.
Overall, James was a walking, heavily-armoured, heavily-armed, tank. He had enough firepower to take out a squadron of geth dropships, and they certainly would need it for this insane plan.
Its faster than a siege at least, but still...
Marcus was not as heavily-armed as James, but looked about ready to put up a fight. He stood on James' left, opposite side of the makeshift table of Kal himself, but unlike James, his pulse rifle was collapsed on his back; instead, his arms were braced against the table infront of him, helmet visor illuminated by the bright blue light of the holographic map before him. His Terminus Assault Armor never failed to be a terrifying sight, with its orange lines and combination of crimson and black colors to fix with his Y-shaped visor. Smaller than James, but making him look taller than a krogan. The twin bandoliers across his own chest, packed with thermal clips and grenades, only accentuated this, as did the claymore shotgun on his back, his Locust SMG and Talon heavy pistol on his hip, and the M-920 Cain on his back. Overall, he was definitely proving himself to be a force to reckon with.
He's a more imposing sight in his new armor than he was in his Blood Dragon armor. Keelah...
The rest of the squad was ready in their own way for this battle; and by squad, he meant everyone. Madi sat on his right, on the same crate he was, listening aptly to Marcus' words as one finger absentmindedly tapped the side of her Usurper assault rifle. One pistol rested on her hip, a basic predator, but she had a bandolier across her chest for a couple of grenades and thermal clips. Tali stood on her right, standing with her arms crossed, geth plasma shotgun resting against the table and phalanx pistol also on her hip.
Legion and Garrus stood behind Marcus, both carrying their own sniper rifles; a Black Widow and Reaper respectively. Moses stood just next to Legion on its right, easily towering over the smaller geth, its pulse cannon gripped in its hands and looking down on them almost as if they were tiny. At least, that's how Kal felt when he looked at the geth prime. It never ceased to make him gulp uneasily. Hard to get used to having it as an ally and not as something trying to kill me.
Kaidan, Liara, EDI, Javik and Kasumi were on the far left, being the least impressive of the group. Kaidan looked like your average Alliance marine; standard combat armor, avenger assault rifle and sidearm, and a simple bandolier. Liara wielded a simple SMG, with a basic vindicator on her back due to Marcus' insistence, EDI only brought an SMG despite such insistence, as did Kasumi, and Javik had his hands clasped behind his back as he always did, eyes seemingly scanning them, judging them...his weird, prothean particle rifle resting on his back.
Is he thinking about how primitive we are? How much we need evolve? Marcus certainly did recruit the weird ones. Am I weird? He recruited me. How am I weird?
He was annoyed to actually find himself thinking about that. Weird is a subjective term. Maybe my version of 'weird' is different to his. Damn it, why am I even thinking of this?
Kal knew he really should be concentrating, but considering that Marcus was literally just rehashing the finer details of the plan that he had announced earlier, he didn't really see the need. As a marine, he had learnt to hear the plan and memorize it perfectly; it was one of the reason he had managed to rise in the ranks so fast, and why he was considered one of the best marines in the Flotilla. Even now, he could recall the plan fairly clearly.
To repeat himself, the plan was ludicrous. Crazy, in that the plan had taken days to properly execute. Much to Kal and Tali's initial protest, the plan had heavily relied upon the involvement of the Migrant Fleet; luckily for them, it wasn't in full-scale combat, but as to stage a goose chase around the Tikkun System; Marcus hoped that utilizing the Migrant Fleet would help divert the blockade's attention while he landed his forces on Rannoch. To do this, the Flotilla wouldn't engage the geth directly, but would instead entice them into pursuit. The Fleet would then split into its seperate fleets; Patrol, Heavy and Civilian respectively (with Xen's small task force falling under Koris' ultimate command), and split across the system, hopefully splitting the geth forces evenly. It had taken an insane amount of threats from Marcus, and pressure from his fellow admirals, but Gerrel had eventually been convinced to not attack the geth forces; the whole plan hinged on the Fleet not returning fire.
Of course, if the Migrant Fleet relied on the Tikkun relay for transportation; it would take days for the entire Fleet to enter the system, and in that time, the geth could literally pick the ships off one by one as they came through the relay. The Fleet, back when they were actually winning, had known this and had instead entered the system via FTL; a maneveur that cost them precious time, but resulted in the Fleet entering the system at the same time. A maneveur Marcus had chosen to repeat; hence why it had taken seven days to get to Tikkun.
The Normandy, along with the other thirteen of its 'sister' ships, had arrived six days ahead of the Fleet to perform advance recon, remaining in stealth. Luckily for them, the geth blockade had remained static, with only a few ships breaking off to patrol the system for outliers, and that role had been delegated to the smaller corvettes and frigates; the main capital ships had remained in position over Rannoch. And then the Fleet arrived.
They had performed their duties as planned, and the Migrant Fleet was now leading half of the blockade in a goose chase across the system's rim and, in Koris' case, out of the system entirely. And the geth had pursued willy-nilly, apparently having grown impatient enough to pursue.
Apparently those upgrades have allowed the geth to feel impatience. I wonder how that feels for 'em. Is that really an upgrade if they're impatient? Impatience leads to tactical errors. Like the one they're making right now.
So, with around fifteen thousand geth ships breaking off in pursuit of the Migrant Fleet, that left a massive gap in the geth blockade that, say, fourteen Normandy-Class stealth frigates with ground forces to deploy under stealth could exploit. Which they were doing right now.
The plan was simple, yet crazy. While the Fleet kept most of the geth fleet busy (which meant fewer reinforcements once they realized their base was under attack), the stealth frigates would deploy their forces into the cannon via orbital vehicle drops; Marcus' squad would deploy via the Mako, and lead the assault. Joining them also was a platoon of quarian skylord commandos, of which Gerrel had insisted participate in the assault; he did this by stating he would pull out his forces if disagreed upon. Marcus had agreed and, almost as if out of childish spite, immediately assigned them to the geth dropship Moses and its platoon would be using to deploy.
Marcus is a mean bosh'tet, but I guess the admiral was asking for it. My kind of bosh'tet, then.
The vehicles would deploy within the canyon, flanked by both geth dropships, and immediately launch an assault on the northern wall of the geth fortress; according to Legion, it was the only part of the base directly approachable via open ground, and because of this, was the most heavily-defended against ground units. Thankfully, Marcus had planned for that. Even as the Normandy descended, Farkov's artillery division was deploying at the rear of their assault column, and once in position, would unleash a hail of fire upon the geth fortifications, with the hope that the fire will be heavy enough to pacify most of the defenses before the ground force is in range.
That's the hope.
The ground forces would then reach the base, and once inside, things got sticky. The Alliance 39th and turian 45th would remain to protect their rear from geth assault, as well as secure their position against the inevitable geth reinforcements. Moses' dropships would pepper geth positions before deploying their platoon and the quarian marines, and proceeding towards the signal from the east, while Marcus and the Blackwatch approached from the south. The STG company would quietly infiltrate the base and sabotage whatever they could to hamper the geth response and base defense. Their eventual plan to reach the overwatch command center, open the silo, and then all forces, aside from the 39th and 45th, would approach the signal. Torsk's krogan would link up with the eastern front, and Marcus would call in an airstrike on the signal. The Normandy would swoop in, and end the war in one fell-swoop.
And then it would all be over.
It was ambitious plan; and it required utter cooperation. The fact that quarian special forces had to work alongside a platoon of their archenemies didn't help things, but Marcus seemed confident it would work. Perhaps he was attempting to lessen the blow when he officially brought the quarians and geth to the negoitation table, or maybe he was trying to sow the union even as the battle went on.
Who knows? But if anyone can pull it off, Marcus can. What he did at Tali's trial...and the rumors of the krogan and turians working together on Palaven...leaves no doubt in my mind he can make my people work with the geth. We're going to need to when the Migrant Fleet is sent off to the fight the Reapers.
The thought of fighting an enemy like the Reapers left Kal feeling giddy; he was a hardened soldier, but from what he had heard, coupled with having fought the husks and Collectors...he knew what awaited the quarian military. They not only needed the geth, but having them would be key to success. The quarians would just be incapable of deploying large-scale ground forces; they needed the geth to provide the backbone. They had more troops, more advanced technology, and better weaponry. It was a done deal.
Now we just need to make it happen. But first...take out the signal. Make history happen later.
Eventually, Kal decided he would chime in, head raising as he refocused on Marcus and what he had to say, "-that'll be Torsk's job. Then we make for the silo and I call in that airstrike. Is everyone clear on that?" a chorus of nods were seen. Marcus nodded, standing up straight from the table and crossing his arms, "Alot of people are going to die here, people; I have no delusions about our chances. Soldiers will perish, but we must move forward, at all costs. If a platoon must be sacrificed, so be it. The fate of two species rests in the balance here. Two species that could dramatically shift the power balance in the UGC. I'm not saying bringing the quarians and geth into the fold will ensure victory against the Reapers, but it will up our chances. I'm going to do my best to make sure we all get out of here alive, but my main focus must be the quarian people. I hope you guys realize that."
Surprisingly, it was Madi spoke, Kal's eyes widening as he turned to his unionmate; she stood, rifle in her hand, her stature confident, "I think I speak for everyone here when I say this, sir; my people have fought the geth for too long to mess this up. Three hundred years of violence and bloodshed and hatred will culminate on the homeworld today. I can successfully say that once I'm on the ground, my thoughts will be with the quarian people. Maybe even with the geth's. I say this; no retreat. Push forward, thoughts on forward, and nothing but forward. To the last marine, we fight."
Tali spoke first, hand to her right breast, clenched, bowing her head solemnly, "Keelah Re'lai."
The quarian commando platoon, standing behind them next to the dropship, all raised their fists to their chests and bowed their head in a similiar fashion, their voices a roar, "Keelah Re'lai!"
Kal himself stood, mimicking the stance as he nodded to his unionmate. She looked at him, and he could almost see the glint in her eyes; the determination, but also the fear.
Her thoughts will be half on forward, half with me...
As will mine. But I won't let that hinder me; it will drive me.
Forward.
Forward.
Forward!
"Keelah Re'lai," he declared, other hand reaching down to squeeze his wife's hand. She squeezed back, and this time, he knew she was smiling.
"Keelah Re'lai."
Kal turned, eyes widened in surprise. The words had left Marcus' mouth like they fit them, like he was already fluent in them, despite it being clear he wasn't. But he hadn't said the words just to fit in...he meant them. He was...also emotionally driven. And Kal couldn't help but notice hoe Marcus had looked at Tali when he said them.
Is Tali the one who evokes such emotion from him? Is she his anchor? What has he promised her? Or is he doing this out of his love for her?
Kal wished he could claim to know such...devotion. Such devotion that a soldier was willing to reclaim an entire world just for his wife.
The idea was naive...grandiose even. But Kal had no doubt that Madi would call it strangely, and poetically, romantic. And maybe it was.
But what would Kal know? He was just a soldier. Blood and guts was his romance.
"Then I can only wish you all good luck," Marcus stated confidently, nodding to Kal. The nod was of appreciation; a warrior's appreciation of a fellow warrior's skills. Kal nodded back, a smile behind his mask. One final fight together, Marcus. Let's make the bosh'tets work for it. Marcus smiled back, seemingly seeing Kal's, and turned back to the crew, "Let's get ready to deploy. See you on the field, people."
The time had come; he could almost feel the Normandy shift beneath him, entering Rannoch's atmosphere and, therefore, its maximum orbital deployment height. Kal hadn't done many orbital deployments, especially not in a vehicle, but that didn't matter; the moment they were on the ground was go-time. Charge the geth fortifications, take down the signal. Save the geth, liberate Rannoch. The conclave will call it the 'Liberation of Rannoch.' And that's if this is even successful. That's depending on whether or not we die here.
His eyes moved to Marcus, and he knew what the answer was. He squeezed Madi's hand.
My ancestors before me will look on this with pride. My son or daughter will look up at me once I'm gone and know that I, Kal'Reegar, and their mother, Madi'Reegar, were a part of what happened here today. We are the future.
First...let's live long enough to have a son. Or daughter.
He smiled.
Or both.
One more squeeze of Madi's hand, smiling down at her through his mask; and he let go, hands gripping his grenade launcher tightly as he made a beeline for the Mako, watching as the quarian commandos and geth primes made their way into the two respective geth dropships. He watched as Legion, optics nodding at him as he passed, waited for the rest of the squad to board before doing so itself. He nodded back, finding himself in a position of respecting the geth.
That's something my ancestors would definitely not have pride in. But fuck 'em, they're dead.
He would not make the same mistakes his ancestors did. If they were proud, good. If they weren't, so be it. He would be the difference. Kal knew he would make the difference. He would do what he did best; following orders and filling the enemy with lead. That's what he did. That's what he was born to do. But today...all that killing would actually make a difference.
When he stepped into the Mako, his head was held high, his weapon gripped tightly and with purpose.
Keelah Re'lai.
{Loading...}
July 21, 2186
1348 hours.
2 klicks north of the Geth Fortress, the Great Plains, Former Country of Poltane'r, Uma'Waz Subcontinent, Rannoch.
Second Morning War, Liberation of Rannoch.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Military Advisor Garrus Vakarian, EDI, Shadow Broker Liara T'Soni, Admiral Tali'Shepard vas Normandy, Master Thief Kasumi Goto, Second Lieutenant James Vega, Second Lieutenant Imogen Keeling, Soldier Javik, General Kal'Reegar vas Normandy, Major Madi'Reegar vas Normandy, Legion.
This was loco.
Completely. Utterly. Undebatable. Absolutely. Undeniably.
Loco. Loco. Loco. Loco. Did I mention loco? Goddamn it.
The revenant in his hands offered little reassurance, and his bulky armor made sitting in such a confined space extremely uncomfortable. Despite this, he made his attempt to wait, even managing to successfully strap his harness on despite his humongous protection. All he could really do was sit there and wait for landfall.
Beside him, looking equally uncomfortable, was Garrus, although the turian looked alittle bit more atuned to it than James did. The sniper rifle resting between his legs, harness strapped on and hands clasping his knees, only reaffirmed this. All around them, the squad sat, with Tali sitting in the engineering compartment of the Mako, and Marcus in the driver's seat. Javik had the gun, something James begrudged as, despite his current discomfort, he was a long-term fanboy of the M35, and had waited through many average deployments for a chance to operate the main gun of what he saw as a rhino with a mounted cannon on its back. The decision baffled him even more when Javik had to actually ask how to use the gun, Garrus managing to show him how to use it without being called primitive.
Javik's actually managed to talk to one of us without calling us primitive in some way at all. That's...I'd say, progress?
The only one not standing (even Javik was sitting, as the main gunner sat in a compressed, rotating column that was isolated from the rest of the Mako's interior) was Legion, the geth standing in a corner. James just scoffed, shaking his head. Damn synthetics think they're invincible. Orbital deployment will fuck you up, buddy. Just you wait. You'll be crawling out with a shattered body.
He shifted again, Revenant still in his lap, taking the time to admire the Mako's interior. The vehicle was much like the tanks of old, with small, almost claustrophobic, walls, all of which were surrounded by some of the finest tank armor in the industry, only reinforced by the vehicle's equally durable reinforced kinetic barriers. He could almost see the four wheels of the vehicle, tumbling across the open terrain of Rannoch, utilizing their advantage in grip, being able to climb up near-vertical climbs with little to no trouble, and a pair of vertical-facing thrusters to aid the vehicle when stuck. He could see the vehicle cruising along the plain, dodging geth artillery fire with nimble precision, huge dust clouds kicking up behind it as it shot forward, white coloring gleaming in the hot sun. He could see the main gun spewing machine gun fire, chewing through geth ranks, while occassionally dealing heavy pounder APDS rounds to colossi and armatures as they passed; tearing them apart in all their high-explosive glory.
It was fair to say that the Mako was a match made in heaven for James. Much better than that piece of shit Hammerhead...the Mako is like that machoist in a bar fight; he can take a few punches while dealing some back. The Hammerhead is that meek dickhead who pretends he's all macho, but he's actually chicken shit, his punches wouldn't hurt a cat, and he'd be down after the first blow.
So being in such a vehicle should be a dream come true for James. Except, there was this.
The Mako was well-known for its 'built for orbital deployments' role. The Mako was literally showcased as the ultimate 'drop from orbit' weapon. Falling from the atmosphere, landing in the middle of an enemy formation, and chewing 'em up before they even knew the Alliance was comin'? Beauty. Its what made the vehicle so effective when it was first deployed late into the Skyllian Blitz.
Those blinks didn't see it coming. 40 tons of fuck yeah.
And dozens of them would tumble from Rannoch's orbit like a horde of locust. James was trying to see it in his mind; shadows falling upon the geth fortress, geth looking up as Rannoch's rays outlined the hulls of dozens of Makos falling from the sky, ready to rain hell upon them.
The thought left James grinning.
He was brought back to the present as he watched Marcus suddenly move, left hand reaching out and tapping Tali's shoulder. She turned to him, and nodded to whatever he had asked, and James could only watch in anticipation as the man turned back to the front of the vehicle, powering up the frontal and rear cameras as he hit the public comm, "Shepard to EDI, all systems powering up. Give me a status report on Battlegroup Halycon."
EDI's response was immediate, "I am currently receiving similiar reports from across the battlegroup, captain. Stand by," a few moments passed, eventually turning into a minute. After three minutes, EDI finally spoke again, "All forces are ready to deploy, captain. They are awaiting on your word."
"Good," was Marcus' simple response, James listening as he heard the engine roar to life, making the vehicle vibrate subtlely, "What's our altitude?"
"We have just entered Rannoch's Stratopause," the AI replied, "All ships are levelling out. Geth anti-aircraft guns have not detected us. Stealth systems on all ships remain running."
"How about Farkov's artillery?" Marcus responded, as if checking off boxes on a checklist.
James remembered that Farkov's artillery had deployed ahead of the main force, giving the man time to set up before they arrived; their ground assault had to coincide with the artillery barrage, or they would all be butchered by the geth defenses; Marcus knew that, and so did Farkov. Because of this, the Antioch, accompanied by the Inchon and Chancellorsville, had moved ahead and quickly deployed Farkov's division along the back of the Plain, along the edge of a savannah. Because of the size of the three ships, it was obvious from the get go that the geth would be made aware of the intrusion; and would quickly send out recon scouts.
...scouts that would not have any time at all to reach the division as the rest of the force rushed to deploy and begin the assault.
"Farkov's artillery has deployed, although to what effect, is unknown," EDI explained, "The Antioch, Chancellorsville and Inchon lost contact once they took off again. The geth are more than likely jamming all communications, although they have no reason to believe an assault of this magnitude is imminent. We may yet catch them by surprise." It was easy to forget that EDI was currently in the Mako with them, and even harder to get used to her not talking when spoken to her; despite her clearing speaking, her lips didn't move.
Because she's talking through the ship, not the bot. Damn...that's going to take some getting used to. Disembodiment and all that shit...
"So we have to act quickly if we want Farkov's support," Marcus summed up, nodding sarcastically as he brought the Mako into gear, the vehicle's engine revving intensely for a brief moment. The sound of an angry bull ready to charge. Their captain then turned around, and they could almost see the seriousness on his face that time, "I hope you're strapped in, people," he turned back to the screen before him, nodding to Tali before speaking one final time, "EDI, have Joker open the shuttle bay door. Relay to fleet; deployment is a go, I repeat, deployment is a go."
"Message received," the AI replied, "Doors opening."
James could almost sense the palpable intensity of the squad. EDI and Legion were completely indifferent, but James immediately saw Kasumi tense up, the young thief, seated infront of him, turning around in her harness, facing Garrus with a frown, "How is the Normandy going to land in such a small canyon?"
Keeling, sitting next to her, turned to the thief, her voice dry, "You're not aware of standard Mako deployment protocol, are you?"
The thief turned to her with a glare, "No...of course I don't. I'm not military, lady," she turned to Garrus, looking concerned, "Is there something I should be worried about?"
The turian gave a brisk nod, "Yes. Definitely."
"Garry..." she continued, and James could almost hear her gulp, "...what's going to happen?"
"Orbit balanced," EDI declared, "Shuttle bay door open. Message relayed to all ships. Deployment is now in effect."
Here we go...
Garrus' reply was simple, "Hold on to something...hard."
"Troopers!" Marcus roared across the Mako as his foot slammed the accellerator, "We are green, and very, very mean!"
James practically felt the Mako shoot forward, its huge wheels rolling them closer and closer towards the door with each passing minute. In the background of all the noise the vehicle was made, he could hear the twin sounds of both dropships' engines lighting up, the ships likely taking off to join them. And with each second, they were brought closer and closer...
"Wait...we're not...!?" Kasumi almost whimpered.
"Hold onto your helmets!" Kaidan shouted down the vehicle.
James quickly pinned his Revenant between his lap, bracing his arms against the seat infront of him, keeping his head reasonably tucked between them. Never done an orbital deployment before...
So fucking loco...
...yet again, I crashed a shuttle into another. An expensive shuttle.
James grinned.
For a few more moments, he could feel the deck rumbling beneath them.
And then...nothing.
He almost did hear Marcus' enthusiastic shouting, or Kasumi's screaming, or Garrus' grumble or even Kal's laughter...all he felt was these weird sensations throughout his body...pressure rose in his eardrums, building up to the point of pain...before popping. As G-Forces kicked in, he felt as if his stomach was lifting up into his ribcage, making him want to puke. He bit down on his lower lip painfully, drawing blood, feeling the entire vehicle shudder and shake as they entered freefall towards Rannoch's surface. His entire body felt limp and numb, his ears popping over and over again.
And the Mako just kept falling.
Over it all, Marcus' shouted, "Loving the view, honey!?"
For a moment, James thought he had missed Tali's response, only for her to respond seconds later, "I would love...the view...more...if I didn't feel like...puking up my...stomach!"
Here's to that, muchacha...
Marcus just chuckled in response, James unable to see his face due to having his head tucked so tightly between his arms, "Oh, harden up babe! What about you, Keeling!?"
"Feels like I'm back at Zero-G training on Titan all over again, sir!" was her response, and James couldn't help but smile at that. He knew it was a goofy smile; his smiles were always like that, but something about Keeling's enthusiasm brought a smile to his face. Focus trooper.
"Wooooo-hooo! Gunny Elison would have loved this!" Marcus shouted, and James figured that, if the man wasn't such a professional, he pictured the man would be holding up his hands in the air at this point, "Brings back memories! Therum, Virmire, Ilos! Those were the times!"
"Once on the ground, I propose a coup," was Garrus' grumble. Kasumi didn't even say anything, James figuring that she was glued to her seat in fright, "Anyone else is better than Marcus at driving. Even you, Vega."
James managed a response amongst his nauseous bouts, "I would make this baby glide, just you see, Vakarian."
Garrus' response was a weak grumble, "That's a lie, Vega! No one can make this worthless piece of metal glide!"
Did he just insult the Mako? Oh no you don't dino...
"Okay, cut the chatter people," Marcus ordered, his voice serious this time, "We're coming into view now. Clouds parting...okay, we have confirmed sighting of ground. All ground units, display your visuals. Deploy thrusters on my mark. Legion, work on getting me a line with Farkov. We're running blind without that artillery support."
The entire Mako fell silent as the entire squad...almost felt the ground approaching. He noticed Garrus brace just that extra bit more, and James did the same, knowing what was coming. Shock absorbers can only do so much...
"3,000 meters and closing," the spectre declared, "Readying thrusters. Wait on my mark, people. We've got to time this right. Legion, status on that line?"
"We have managed to break through geth jamming signals temporarily. You have approximately six seconds before the line is cut."
"Okay. Farkov, we're 3 klicks from the surface! Ready your guns and prepare to fire! When we're ready to advance, I'll fire a red flare! That'll be your que to fire!"
"Copy tha-" was Farkov's brief response before being cut. Marcus cursed loudly, but James was just happy that Farkov at least knew they were coming.
"2,000 and descending!" Marcus spat, bracing against the back of his seat, "Compensating for air resistance. Tali, divert power from engines to the thrusters. Prepare for ten second burst."
"Copy that," Tali responded, fingers dancing over her console as she went about performing her husband's orders. James found that amusing in that she was an admiral, and technically outranked him, yet he still gave her the orders.
Technically, she shouldn't be here at all. Doesn't she have a fleet to lead or something?
More time passed, and Marcus called out once more, "No geth forces detected on sensors! Anti-air hasn't lit up; that's good! 1,000 and dropping. This is it, people; brace yourselves. 900..."
James did exactly that, tensing up, clenching the seat infront of him like a vice. So fucking loco!
"700!" Marcus barked. No humor lingered in his voice, only utter determination and seriousness. Utterly focused on the task before him, "600!"
Stop counting down...goddamn it...
"Five hundred!" he thundered, hands a blur as he initiated the thrusters, "All units, thrusters a go! Activate your thrusters! 400 meters and closing!"
And then it happened...again.
With gravity and the concept of momentum being almost two entirely different aspects of the spectrum, you'd never think either would be related to each other. But in this case, they were. Falling from the sky was one thing, but when said fall had gathered significant enough momentum that impact with, say, a train would reduce the Mako to pieces of shredded metal scattered over half a kilometer of land, and said momentum was now suddenly being halted by forces that were suddenly shoving it back.
It was like a door being pulled inwards, only to be suddenly kicked outwards...
...by the fucking hulk.
James almost cried out as he felt himself suddenly yanked upwards as the thrusters initiated. Yeah, their momentum wasn't entirely halted; they were still descending rapidly. But with the thrusters kicking in, it meant their momentum would begin to slow rapidly until they hit the ground. Because of this, James stomach went from climbing into his throat...to trying to squeeze into his bloody bladder...
...fuck...this...loco...shit...
The entire squad, aside from perhaps Kaidan, Liara, Garrus and Tali (who were no doubt used to this, if a bit rusty), cried out, Kasumi worst of all, with only Kal wooping in typical military machoism. James just bit down on his lip again, this time with more force...enough to make him think he had split his lip, as well as break one of his teeth...
The entire vehicle shuddered as the thrusters began to slow their descent, "200! We're coming in hard!"
He closed his eyes once more, and braced. Deep breaths, Vega. Man up.
"100!"
He gripped the seat before him.
"50!"
The Mako had slowed down significantly.
And like that, for a split second, he was airborne. It came and went in a blink.
His entire body yanked and tore against his harness, but the only damage done was to himself; he had no doubt he would have severe bruising on his shoulders. His entire body rocked against the seat as was thrown about, but after a few moments, it calmed down, the vehicle coming to a complete halt.
James opened his eyes. He licked his lips, clearing it of the blood he hadn't known had collected there. He gulped, wincing at the coppery taste of blood that had somehow dripped into his mouth and swallowed. The taste was bitter.
"You alive, Vega?"
He looked up, Keeling looking at him with a smile. He nodded, shaking his head to get rid of the nausea he still felt lingering in his body. His stomach had righted itself (not that it ever moved, it only felt like it did), but his entire body still felt numb from the brief, yet never-ending, fall. Keeling continued to grin at him as he didn't respond and he just snorted, leaning back as he reached down one hand and grabbed his Revenant, "I'm fine, Lola. Although...I'm flattered that you care."
Undoing the harness, Keeling just rolled her eyes, retrieving her Valkyrie, and readying it in her hands, "Someone needs to watch my back."
Just your back?
He stopped for a second, retracing mental steps.
What the fuck? Get a grip, Vega.
Well...the thought wasn't exactly unwelcome...and she doesn't know I'm thinking it...
Fraternization protocol, cabron...
Fraternization doesn't stop you from admiring a woman. Even if it does make you want to fuck her.
Argh...focus, Vega. Goddamn priorities. Bloody fall must have fucked me up more than I thought.
He steadily released his harness, letting it collapse backwards as he straightened, stretching his tense muscles. He nodded to Keeling to finally confirm that he was alright. After a moment, Marcus spoke, "Okay, all units read loud and clear. Tali, divert power from thrusters to shields. Javik, ready a flare."
"On it," Tali responded.
A few seconds passed, and everyone looked at the unresponsive prothean.
Marcus, after a few more seconds, twisted in his seat, still wearing his harness, and spoke, "Javik? Do you copy? Ready the damn flare."
A few more seconds, and just as it seemed Marcus would lose his temper, the prothean spoke.
"I do not know how to do that."
A loud sigh was heard, and all eyes turned to Kaidan as he moved up the Mako, "Let the primitive demonstrate. Would you like me to hold your hand while I do this, or is a simple point-and-push required?"
A few chuckles rang through the Mako, with even Keeling managing a laugh.
Keeling certainly seems to be more...open lately. Maybe this crew is actually affecting her.
"That will not be necessary, human," Javik grumbled from the turret, "A simple instruction will suffice."
As Kaidan arrived at the gun, rolling his eyes, he shook his head in response, "Javik's might think they invented the naming system, but we humans have names too. Kaidan is alot more specific than human. Such a broad...generalization." The sarcasm practically oozed from the marine's words, and James couldn't help but crack a smile.
"Alenko-Major is correct," Legion declared, surprisingly coming to the marine's aid, "If it would help, we could upload tutorial programs to the turret interface to help with your endeavour."
If anyone noticed that the geth had just made a joke, and not just that, but a sarcastic remark, then no one said anything.
"Silence, machine," Javik hissed angrily, although the hatred was lost as everybody tried to hold back laughs, "Human...Kaidon...show me how to deploy these...'flares.'"
"Kaidan. Kay-den. K-a-i-d-a-n."
"Kaidan," James could have sworn the prothean sounded murderous, "Just show me how to deploy a flare. Valuable mission time is being wasted."
"Agreed," Marcus declared, breaking up the mood as all smiles died, Kaidan finally cutting out the sarcasm and genuinely helping Javik, "All forces are in position and awaiting the flare. I hope you're ready, people. Let's...well, let's literally save the world."
James smiled warmly, nodding.
This was loco.
Completely. Utterly. Undebatable. Absolutely. Undeniably.
But maybe that wasn't such a bad thing.
"The Liberation of Rannoch. The defining moment of quarian history."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"Indeed."
- Marcus Shepard.
"You know that house you promised to build me? This is it. I had help building it of course. I built it where you...well, where we..."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"I know. The day I...well, spoilers."
- Marcus Shepard.
"Get on with it."
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"Well, next came the charge..."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Yeah, my intended deadline turned out to be a flop. I'm two weeks into Year 12 now, and I've only just released this, let alone finished the quarian-geth arc. This is just to prove I'm not dead. There were a number of reasons why this is late, and I won't outline them all, but Year 12 and my gaming life were major factors. That, and the mini-series I'm developing with my team at PressAForStupidity, as well as a side game-building project...
...so yeah. Anyways, here's Part 1. Part 2 will be out...well, when it's out.
Until then,
Keelah Re'lai, troopers!
