Chapter 9: Fate
Genius was certainly a word to describe Mordin Solus. In a matter of days he had run his tests, begun synthesizing various chemicals and compounds, and had pronounced that he had completed the most painstaking part of the process that was necessary to complete a counter-agent for the genophage. After two days of nonstop work he informed Shepard that he was going to take a one hour nap, and then they could leave once he'd run a final set of tests. Shepard had only been able to shake his head.
Crazy, obsessed, and 'mad scientist' might be some other good words. But he did it. That's all that matters.
Now Shepard was looking out at the Presidium once more, watching the cars pass and taking in the warm glow of the artificial sunlight that made everything look gleaming and clean. At least Huerta Memorial had a good view. He had visited Thane once more for a while before they prepared to depart, sharing a few more stories of the old days and managed to hold a brief conversation with Kolyat. The look of pride in Thane's eyes as his son had spoken of his plans had been enough to chase away the darkness for a little while, but then Thane had therapy to attend to with a very insistent asari nurse that had called him by an assumed name. It had been amusing to wonder if she would have been so sharp had she known who her patient truly was.
The sound of armored steps caught his attention. Much to his surprise it was Javik that approached, moving to stand next to him.
"Javik. Hadn't expected to see you out here."
The prothean shrugged. "Your 'C-Sec' was very confused when they attempted their security scans. The ship's AI informed them of my position as a member of your ship, however, and there were no further questions. I had not realized that your position was one of such importance."
"My position is one of gray areas and poorly defined limits," he said dryly. "Spectre is as much a curse as a title I've learned since I took it up. People are almost as frightened of you as they are of the enemy."
"This does not seem to be a problem. Fear is the first step on the path to respect. It is how they learn who to follow."
"Maybe."
"We forged an empire that lasted for thousands of years on that very principle, Commander," Javik stated without emotion. Merely reciting a fact. "Fear prevents wars from ever beginning."
"Except when you meet an enemy that you can't intimidate. What brings you out, though? I never got the impression that you were much for socializing."
A small chuckle came from Javik but there was little humor in it. The prothean was silent for a long moment, taking in the expansive view with an almost religious reverence. All four of his eyes closed briefly before opening as he spoke.
"I wished to see the Citadel with my own eyes. It was lost long before I was ever born... many doubted it even existed in the twilight hours of our existence. Simply a wondrous story told by elders to frightened children without a future. Seeing it now is strange. Alive, but different than I ever imagined."
"It's an interesting place. Nowhere else in the galaxy do so many races interact, intertwine," Shepard agreed. "A shame that it's nothing more than a glorious death trap."
"Such as it was in my time. The seat of our power and the key to our downfall."
The two soldiers lapsed into silence once more. In the brief looks he had gotten into Javik's mind, combined with their few conversations, he had gotten a picture of an uncompromising warrior. Ruthless to the extreme with a view that was so solidly defined by 'survival of the fittest' that it would have done the most traditional krogan proud and had a superiority complex to match. The prothean didn't seem to be intentionally antagonistic but thus far Shepard was the only one he spoke to as anything approaching an equal. For all those differences, though, there was a familiarity to the alien soldier. A sense of weariness that Shepard could identify all too well.
"I had a question. Regarding the mission to come," Javik said, breaking the silence.
"I'm all ears."
Javik gave him an odd look at the expression but continued. "The goal is to eliminate this genophage that has crippled the krogans. Many would oppose this, possibly more than would approve. In doing so you may alienate potential allies that you do not have the strength to demand obedience from."
"There a question in there?" he asked.
"A simple one. The krogan will fight, with or without a cure, because the Reapers will leave them no other choice. Would it not be simpler at least to lie to them and promise a cure after the war?"
The Spectre frowned, gathering his thoughts. "It probably would be. I could threaten to withhold it, make them fight for us. Chances are there wouldn't be enough krogan left by the time it was over to complain one way or the other."
"Then why?"
"Did you know that Mordin, the salarian that came with us, was one of the scientists that helped perpetuate the genophage? Modified it so it wouldn't lose its effectiveness."
Javik made a gesture of agreement with his hands.
"I was aware. I sense in him great remorse, it falls off him like sheets of rain."
"At the time he was convinced what he was doing was right. Protecting the galaxy," Shepard explained, not looking at anything in particular now, just staring out the window. "Completely assured in fact that he and his superiors knew what was best. But then he saw the results of his work. The deaths... stillborns and mothers dying from complications. All the pain and sorrow, repeating itself for centuries. All justified by the need to prevent pain and sorrow of another war with the krogan. A cycle of death."
The prothean nodded. "It was a through solution, thorough, as I have said before, inelegant. Better to put your enemy out of their misery than leave them with nothing, but still alive. It is needless and makes them all the more dangerous."
"The point is all that pain and death has gone on for centuries to punish generations of people that only know of the Krogan Rebellions as history. And it's accepted because the krogans are known across the galaxy as untrustworthy brutes. Too bloodthirsty and aggressive to be allowed to run free. But I met a krogan, fought with him, bled with him. Listened to his stories, heard the pain in his voice that he tried to disguise."
Shepard thought back to the original Normandy. The look of utter confusion when he'd handed Wrex his family's ancient armor and asked nothing in return, the slow realization that what they had forged together wasn't just a business transaction. And seeing a small light in his friend's eyes when he understood that there was at least one person in the galaxy that he could trust. And later hearing Wrex's own gruff but surprisingly insightful advice when he had admitted to problems of his own. Wrex was violent and bloodthirsty, but he was also loyal, intelligent, and a friend.
"So why would I cure the genophage? Because we've all made mistakes in life. Mordin's not the only one with blood on his hands... and if I can give Wrex and his people a chance at a future? Then I will. Maybe I want to do one thing that will give life instead of take it."
There was a slight rumble next to him but he couldn't tell if it was amusement or disagreement.
"A dangerous sentiment in these times, Commander. The Reapers do not have sentiment. Or fear. What if by sacrificing the krogan people you would gain the edge to finally defeat the Reapers? That is the decision you may be forced to make. Would you let them die, fading into memory like my people?"
He thought, long and hard. And he could taste ash in his mouth when he answered, finally meeting Javik's eyes.
"I would. I'll do whatever it takes to stop the Reapers... or it's all for nothing. When this is all said and done I'm sure they'll curse my memory as much as they celebrate it. Or maybe I'll just be forgotten."
"Your skills are impressive. You do not think you will survive this war to write your own history?" the prothean asked, sounding honestly intrigued.
Shepard shook his head. Dreams, years worth of them, roiled in the back of his mind like storm clouds. The faces of the dead, refusing to ever be forgotten, the images of annihilation that had been with him ever since he touched the beacon on Eden Prime. And those most recent horrific visions that took hold whenever he closed his eyes since the invasion of Earth began. A dead world covered in soot and ash. It was said in many cultures that dreams could foretell the future, give hints to a man's fate. His had been telling him the same thing for a very long time.
"No, Javik. One way or the other... the future will belong to whoever comes after. I don't expect to see it."
The prothean did not reply. They just went back to watching the aircars and their mesmerizing patterns, soaring over gardens and homes. A moment of peace before stepping onto a warship once more and sallying forth to fight demons of silicon and steel.
"I've apparently got people waiting to talk to me, Mordin, so make it quick. I don't imagine people that call the war room like being kept on hold."
"Of course. Always quick," the salarian assured him.
Pulling the Spectre to one corner of the medbay, away from Eve and an Urdnot Wrex that could only be described as 'hovering', the salarian lowered his voice as he continued.
"Wanted to tell you that all tests check out, cure is complete. Will be some changes due to cure, however. Cannot alter such widespread genetic modification without it. Wanted to tell you first before informing Urdnot Wrex. Possible negative reaction... problematic."
He fixed Mordin with a stern look. "What do you mean changes?"
"Used Maelon's data to create retrovirus. Replicate effect that experimentation had on Eve, but without near fatal side effects. Have corrected most side effects for Eve already. Prefer to avoid more in future," the doctor explained. "Retrovirus will modify krogan genetic code, task some vestigial organs to create hormones and proteins that will counteract genophage. Greater stress and more demand for nutrients on krogan females. Will result in significantly smaller clutches than previous krogan birth cycle. Also, longer gestation. Was necessary to give body time to produce sufficient chemicals to prevent stillbirths."
"Let me get this straight, you're going to cure them... but their pregnancies will be longer and they won't have as many kids at once?"
Mordin nodded. "Correct."
"I'm not saying that it's necessarily a bad thing but I can already see Wrex accusing you of doing it on purpose to help curtail the krogan."
He sighed, rubbing his temples and trying to push away the dull throb. In the grand scheme of things it was actually fairly good news. It might help prevent a krogan baby boom of such magnitude that it strained Tuchanka's local economy and assuage fears of a 'krogan horde' sweeping up the galaxy in a second Krogan Rebellion. But Shepard could also already hear Wrex's rumblings. The questions about whether it really was a cure or just a new form of genophage. Mordin had apparently been thinking the same thing from his next words.
"Understand, Commander. Will release all of my data to Clan Urdnot for review. Current state of war with Reapers required expediency, no time for reworking cure until perfect. Admittedly can appear self-serving, still somewhat lowering krogan birth rate. Unavoidable. But can promise, no more infertility. No more stillbirths. And over all krogan birth rate even with slight reductions still approximately one thousand and thirteen percent greater than current situation."
"Alright. I'll deal with Wrex if it becomes a problem. He might not like it but I think he'll be happy with a cure either way."
"Thank you, Shepard."
He gave the salarian a lopsided smirk. "Don't thank me yet. If Wrex kicks my ass he'll be coming for you next."
Mordin shook his head rapidly. "No. Providing appreciation for opportunity. Mission to stop Collectors provided time to consider life, many mistakes. Made me face actions in working on genophage. Stopped me from killing Maelon."
Shepard grimaced. Remembered looking through the scope of his rifle, exhaling slowly, and firing. Saw the rogue scientist collapse in the dust of Tuchanka's surface in his mind's eye. It had at least been over in an instant. Not the agony of a slow death by tumors and sickness that so many krogan females had suffered under his care.
"I shot him," he said in a sudden moment of honesty. "After the rest of you had already boarded the tomkah... I know I stopped you but I couldn't stop thinking of what he'd done. And the fact that despite how convinced he was that the genophage was wrong he didn't seem to care at all for the krogan that had died in his experiments. I just knew that if I let him go he'd do it again."
"Knew," Mordin said simply.
"How?"
"Rifle had been fired within last ten minutes of boarding transport. Approximate time to reach roof corresponded with foot speed of salarian male and maximum distance traveled. Checked STG records to be sure. Maelon listed as 'assumed deceased'."
Shepard looked at him, nonplussed.
"You never said anything."
"Didn't need to. Respected you for making hard decision, prevented me from making one in anger. Your decision made with logic. Consideration of consequences. Same result, different reason. Better in the end."
"You always surprise me, Mordin," he said, chuckling ruefully. "You know... Tuchanka is going to be a mess. No matter what you do for the krogan a lot of them are going to hate you just for being salarian. And I know the place isn't full of fond memories. Someone else could do this."
"No. Know Maelon's research too well. Best available."
Mordin was right in that he was the best available. It was a simple statement of fact, not hubris. In all his years Shepard didn't think he had ever met a single person with a mind like the salarian and he had known his fair share of geniuses. Miranda had been genetically bred for both her physical abilities and a keen mind, Liara was a sharp as any academic or intelligence agent, and despite giving credit to the quarian race as a whole Tali could understand theories of physics and engineering that looked like so much gibberish to him. But the good Doctor Solus tackled problems with the energy of a man possessed and with a mind that made leaps of logic that were difficult to follow... but were almost always correct. He could only imagine what Mordin could have done in all the years he spent working on the genophage. Or what other secrets of the universe he could unlock if they could just win this damn war.
"No personal stake in this, then?"
The doctor sighed, giving the Spectre a small, tired smirk. In that moment he saw all of Mordin's years weighing heavily upon the man's thin shoulders, the tightness around his mouth and eyes and lines that weren't just from old scars. And an endless amount of sadness in his large, dark eyes that were briefly unguarded. For a second Shepard felt a kinship with Mordin greater than any that had passed before.
"Getting old, Shepard. Not many years left. But still best candidate for project," the doctor assured him quietly. "Few salarian scientists interested in genophage. None with my expertise. Had to be me."
Shepard returned the smile. "Someone else might have gotten it wrong?"
"Possibly. Stakes too high for inexperience. No time for the cautious approach. But not about them. My work. My job to put it right."
"We will," he promised. "It's gone on too long and it'll be your work that finally ends it."
The salarian nodded thoughtfully. "Like to think so."
"What then? Could I convince you to stick around? I know we don't have the same old lab but I'm sure we could find a reasonable substitute. I could really use some old friends to help win this war."
"Of course, Shepard. At least until Reapers defeated," Mordin said, his tone implying that such an event was the only logical outcome. "Then don't know. Have contributed much to galaxy. Work on genophage. Cure genophage. Study on Collectors. Many papers, many students. Decisions. Mistakes. Might retire somewhere warm. Sit on beach. Look at ocean. Collect seashells."
The image of Mordin wearing a pair of human style swim trunks walking along a beach picking up seashells and dropping them into a small basket was enough to trick a genuine smile onto the Spectre's face, the first in days. He could only shake his head.
"It'll be good to have you back for awhile at least. But retiring on a beach? You'd go crazy inside an hour."
Mordin shrugged, the corners of his lips quirking upwards before turning back to his work. "Might run tests on seashells."
Leaving the salarian to his task Shepard left the medbay and took the elevator back to the command deck. His good mood lasted until he reached the war room and accepted the transmission, a pair of holographic figures coalescing into view. Their grim expressions drove out those small hints of light that his exchange with Mordin had brought like wind dispersing a light fog.
"Admiral Hackett. Primarch Victus. I wasn't expecting this. We're still an hour out from Tuchanka."
The two men exchanged looks, Hackett nodding at the turian in a clear indication to proceed.
"We're aware, Shepard. I have been in contact with Admiral Hackett regarding tactics and possible uses for our combined fleets. If we're to have an alliance then we had best learn how to work together."
"I appreciate the vote of confidence in assuming my success but why contact me now?"
Victus' mandibles worked up and down slightly, the plates of his face tightening. It was an expression he'd seen from Garrus whenever the sniper had been trying to say something but was having trouble forcing it out. It was an expression that almost always meant bad news.
"There's been a development on Tuchanka. The Primarch originally wished to keep this confidential to prevent any possible incidents but circumstances have forced his hand," Hackett supplied. "I convinced him that if we were going to fight this war together we have to do more than work out tactics. We have to trust one another."
"Which is what I am doing now. What you are about to hear is one of the Hierarchy's best kept secrets," Victus said, seemingly fighting the urge to pace.
He merely waited, letting the Primarch continue.
"When we deployed the genophage and drove the krogan back to Tuchanka at the end of the Krogan Rebellions the Hierarchy wasn't convinced that the genophage would be enough. Back then we had just begun to see its devastating effects. So we took other measures. Before pulling out our occupation forces we planted bombs. Massively powerful and buried underground... each one would explode with the force of a cruiser's engines going critical."
"My god..." Shepard muttered. "One of those going off would be like a meteor impact. The explosion would wipe out everything in a hundred miles, not to mention the shockwave from the blast."
"Simple, brutal, effective," Hackett said, without venom. "The turian way."
Victus nodded. "Very true. We never had cause to use them. And after a time they were forgotten by everyone except the highest members of our government. We couldn't remove them without the krogan questioning our actions, so it was decided to simply ignore them."
"Dammit," Shepard sighed, leaning against the railing. "Let me guess: this secret wasn't quite as well kept as you thought and someone else knows about them?"
"It would seem so. I don't know how. A unit was sent to secure the only one that still showed as active... we lost contact with them four hours ago," the turian said with a ragged sigh, talons curling and uncurling at his side. A sign of pure agitation. Something more than just a mission gone wrong.
"What else?" he asked and was rewarded with the faint twitch of the Primarch's talons.
Spending all that time around Garrus apparently was good for learning turian body language at least.
"Might as well tell him the rest, Victus. I've known him long enough to know he won't let it go."
"Very well. The leader of the company sent to disable the bomb was my son. Tarquin Victus. I needed someone I could trust completely for such a sensitive mission."
Curses rattled around in his head, unvoiced. The way he had said it made it sound almost human, justifying the decision. Turians barely understood the concept of nepotism. Not to say it was completely unheard of it but it was surprisingly limited. Everything was about the unit and personal ability in their strange imperialistic meritocracy. Which meant that if Victus needed to justify his choice of his own son for the mission he was probably too green to have been saddled with such a task.
"I don't need to tell you what would happen if that bomb went off, Shepard. Any alliance with the krogan will be fragile enough even with the genophage cure," the human admiral said.
"I know," he responded flatly.
"I wouldn't ask this if there was another way, Commander."
"A thousand years of history is trying to kill this alliance before it's even born. My only hope is there aren't any more landmines just waiting out there for us to discover."
The turian's sigh was a heavy one. "As do I."
Kasumi had very mixed feelings about Tuchanka. Already it was a harsh, scorching planet filled with deadly inhabitants from the krogan to even some of the local plant life. It had also been where she had gotten her first real taste of what she had gotten herself into by taking Cerberus' offer to join Shepard's crew. Her career had been based around the adrenaline rush of not being caught, not the more visceral jolt of pitched combat. But she'd adapted, learned to work as part of the team. But seeing what Maelon had done to the krogan females on Tuchanka and the raw brutality of combat against Clan Weyrloc... it had opened her eyes to exactly what it was Spectre's did. Why they existed. And why they absolutely needed to be people like Shepard. Even now her stomach turned remembering some of things they'd seen.
At the same time it had been during that time that she really felt like she had earned her place among the tightly bonded members of Shepard's circle. The thief had seen horrible things, Shepard had asked if she could deal with it... and when she had said yes, he had simply accepted it. Trusted her. Two years earlier she would never have believed it, but a great deal could change in a few short years. Keiji had been killed, Shepard had recruited her, and for the first time since she had left Earth behind she found herself with a group of people that she didn't feel the need to hide from, deceive or otherwise mislead.
She had once told Shepard that his own crew had been nakama. It roughly translated as 'friend' or 'colleague'. But over the years in many bits of Japan's popular culture it had come to have a more significant meaning, the connotation of someone or a group of people who were family without actually being related. Before their fateful mission had ended Kasumi had found herself as part of that group without even trying. She had been Tali's confidant, Garrus' co-conspirator, and trusted friend of none other than the famous, or infamous depending on your leanings, Commander Shepard.
If you could see me now, Keiji, she thought, looking out the window of the shuttle as the burned through Tuchanka's atmosphere. A turian ex-cop, a quarian girl, and a Spectre for friends? The universe is a truly strange place.
She heard Garrus speak, his flanged voice a mix of skepticism and hope.
"We're totally sure this is going to work?"
"Yes," Mordin replied. "All tests resulted in successful dispersal and counteraction of genophage. Krogan will be cured."
"I'm not saying I don't believe you, doc," the turian continued. "But you did just cook this up in two days on the Citadel. I know it's you we're talking about here but most people don't consider two days long enough for a really good side of smoked meat. Much less a cure for the genophage."
"Had Maelon's data for many months. Did not make mistake. Can manage the science. Will leave the shooting of things and bravado to you."
"Oh, so mean... you know how to cut me down to size, Mordin."
Kasumi laughed quietly to herself. That was Garrus, always poking and testing. Ferreting out weaknesses and quirks. Among friends it was good natured and teasing, always said in sarcastic tone or with what she was beginning to realize was the turian version of a smirk. She had only seen him turn that attention to detail towards someone he didn't like once and it had been enough to tell her that once upon a time Garrus Vakarian had been a very good cop.
She turned her attention from the banter when Shepard approached, sitting down on the bench beside her in the crowded shuttle.
"So what's the plan, Shep?"
"We'll be leaving Mordin with Eve and Wrex at the Urdnot compound. The Reapers haven't arrived on Tuchanka in force but they're here and making their presence known. Wrex will need time to rally the clans," he explained. "I'm having EDI and her new body stay with them as well for protection. She can detect threats the others can't and can maintain a direct link with me in case anything goes wrong."
"What about the rest of us? Garrus, me, Liara, Vega? Even Prothy the prothean?"
He arched an eyebrow "Prothy the prothean?"
"Joker started it. Not me. Definitely not me. I don't think he's fond of the nickname."
"Really? Amazing," Shepard responded dryly. "To answer your question we've got one more mission before we can finally administer Mordin's cure. A group of turian soldiers went quiet, the area where they were last seen is getting overrun by Reaper ground forces."
The thief wrinkled her nose. "Not good."
"Considering they're also probably sitting on an enormous bomb? Yea, you could say that."
"Even if they're in a bad situation they won't give up that objective, Shepard," Garrus broke in, apparently having finished needling their resident scientist. "The old saying about never seeing a turian's back unless he's dead isn't just hyperbole. We're very fond of our heroic last stands."
A smile ghosted across the Spectre's face when he looked up at Garrus. "That what you were doing on Omega? If I'd known you were set on that sort of thing I could have waited."
"No. Nothing heroic about that, just bloody," Garrus responded, his own smile tight. "At least I didn't try to swim in space just to prove that Spectres were immune to the laws of physics too."
Shepard barked out harsh laugh. "Touche. I'd say I did prove the point, but technically I died so I'm not sure if it counts."
"You lose points for form, but I think you still get credit."
"Thanks, Vakarian. Glad to know you'll have my back when the 'Book of Galactic Records' people come around."
The turian made a small, mocking bow. "Consider it my way of thanking you for getting me shot in the face with a rocket."
"You got yourself shot in the face with a rocket. I just told you to learn to duck better."
It was more than a little strange listening to the two of them taking shots back and forth about what amounted to the most traumatic experiences of their lives. Kasumi instantly knew that if a stranger in a bar walked up to one of them and made the same sort of joke that the other would have dropped the offending party where they stood without a moment's hesitation. Between the two of them, though, it was all a joke in the comedy of their lives. They laughed because if they didn't they might cry. And the thief was relatively certain nobody got to see Commander Shepard cry and she wasn't entirely sure if Garrus was even physically capable.
"Daydreaming on us, Sneaky?" Garrus asked, interrupting her train of thought.
"Sneaky?"
The turian shrugged. "Vega has taken to calling me 'Scars'. Figure I'd try my hand at this nickname thing too."
"Hmm... but 'Sneaky'? Really? I expected more out of you, Garrus."
Shepard leaned back against the bench, crossing his arms. "She's got a point there."
"You started this in the first place. At least 'Scars' sounds appropriately manly."
Doing her best to produce a look of pure innocent from beneath her hood Kasumi smiled. "What, 'Gare' isn't manly? How about 'Garry'? Just imagine the look on people's faces when you're introduced as 'Garry the turian'."
"You're enjoying this far too much."
"No, enjoying it far too much would be mentioning a message from Dr. Michel on the Citadel calling you... what was it?"
Garrus' mandibles flexed wordlessly and his bright blue eyes widened. Finally he managed to sputter out part of a sentence.
"How... but... don't you dare..."
"Oh yes," she said silkily, cocking her head and grinning. "I think it was 'Garebear'."
"Whoa... did I just hear what I think I heard?" Vega's voice interrupted from behind them.
The ensuing round of amused comments and ribbing was unrelenting. Vega of course had a long series of questions about turians and 'human fetishists', which inspired Mordin to go on a very long, painfully detailed explanation of exactly that. This of course resulted in more smart assed comments and denials from Garrus, along with cries to stop Mordin's information flood as it became even more detailed. She definitely learned a few things. Even Cortez offered a few choice comments from the cockpit. She could see the look of agitation shifting across the turian's face plates but they faded slightly when he noticed Shepard getting in on the action occasionally.
Of course Kasumi was also highly amused to note that despite turian physiology Garrus managed to give her a withering glare and mouth the words 'I hate you' in perfect English when no one else was looking.
"By the goddess..."
"Something like that. Welcome to hell, Liara," Shepard said, jumping the last foot to the ground from the shuttle.
Night had fallen on Tuchanka. While it provided relief from the scorching sun it only made the scene before them reminiscent of the underworld in any number of mythologies. Long ago the area in which they stood had been a krogan city built of heavy stone within a valley that offered protection from hostile world. Then the wars that had ravaged Tuchanka's surface had reduced it to haphazard rubble. Now it was littered with wreckage, much of it still burning. Fires cast long shadows through the ruins, the flickering flames making them dance across the massive stones.
"They never stood a chance. Why the hell were they even here? These ruins offer no room to maneuver," Garrus said, seemingly speaking to himself more than anything. "When the Reapers caught them it would have been like shooting varren in a cage."
Vega gave him a sidelong look. "Eezo readings... definitely enough for at least one heavy transport to have gone down here, Commander. The turians said two total transports?"
"Victus' mission briefing that he forward to me said they dropped from a cruiser on the other side of the system. Transports were equipped with stealth tech similar to the old Normandy," he grimaced.
The expression was shared throughout the squad. They all knew just how well that technology worked against Reaper technology, him most of all. The newest Normandy and the stealth frigates the Alliance had built in the last few years had been designed with upgraded systems to eliminate trace emissions but the older turian transports hadn't received the retrofits. With their only real defense compromised they hadn't stood a chance when Reaper forces had detected them in the tight confines of the valley. The burning wreckage that bathed the ruins in its glow proved that.
"Let's move. If the Reapers get their hands on that bomb they won't hesitate to detonate it. Their troops are expendable after all," he said darkly.
He hadn't hit the ground with this many people on team since they had stormed the Collector base. It was a bittersweet memory. They had all made it out in one piece, bloody and broken, but alive. But for all the feeling of accomplishment it had given him the success had been made hollow when the Reapers descended on an unprepared Earth. It felt like he had been throwing stones into a river, ripples washed away in an instant no matter how hard he tried to disrupt the flow. Defeating Saren had cost the galaxy Kaiden and bought them two years. The Collectors had killed nearly twenty good men and women on the Normandy, sent him to die in space and they'd drawn it out for nearly another year. And killing a quarter of a million had only bought them six more brief months. Shepard wondered what much higher the price would be next time... and how little would be gained for it.
They moved into the ruins now, finding the first dead turian leaning against a fallen column with an assault rifle still clutched in his talons. Blue blood, dried almost black, stained his armor and the sand beneath his body while the corpses of numerous husks lay strewn about. Garrus removed his helmet and crouched down, examining the fallen soldier, finally undoing the armored gauntlet on the corpse's hand and pulling it from lifeless fingers. Pulling something from the dead man's wrist he rejoined them.
"Multiple gunshot wounds, expended thermals all around the body. Looks like his lower leg was broken, he probably volunteered to stay behind," Garrus said curtly. "Made them pay for it."
"What did you take off the body?" Liara asked.
The sniper opened his hand to reveal a pair of wide bracelets, each a solid piece of metal that conformed to the curve of a turian forearm in almost a full circle. A small gap at the bottom connected with a flat chain was clearly meant to secure them. Each had writing on it in Palaven's native script but the visual translation program in his armor hadn't caught before Garrus had closed his talons around them once more and tucked them into his own armor.
"Enlistment band. They're like dog tags for human soldiers, every turian has one that you get when you start boot camp at sixteen."
"Why did he have two?"
That was Kasumi, voice quiet, as if she had some inkling of the answer that had already reared its head in his mind. The expression on the turian's' face, mandibles drawn tight and eyes cold, confirmed it. Garrus looked back at the dead man when he answered.
"It means he was married. The other belongs to his wife."
"Damn," Vega said, shaking his head. "At least it means that some of them survived the crash. This guy wouldn't have put up that kind of a fight for nothing."
Javik nodded. "A true statement. A cornered animal fights with ferocity, but one protecting its young or pack is even more deadly. It is an evolutionary imperative."
There was no further conversation after that as the moved through the ruins. Shepard made a gesture over his eye and Garrus nodded, switching to his sniper rifle and dropping to the rear while Shepard and Vega took point. The first group of husks they encountered were moving furtively across a few more fallen soldiers; the husks were apparently making sure the bodies were dead. A single volley of fire ended that particular threat before the creatures had even become aware of their presence. The process from the first fallen soldier was repeated as Shepard watched. Three more bodies. Four more bracelets.
Garrus' cold blue eyes met his, but they didn't discuss it further, instead dealing with practical matters. The turian tapped his omni-tool.
"I got the operational data from one with his omni-tool intact. We should be able to cut through this maze of ruins now. Looks like the Alliance and the Hierarchy have been communicating pretty well, too. Designations for all the new husks we've encountered were already uploaded to their VIs."
"Wonderful. Cannibals. Brutes, that one's simple enough... Marauders?" he muttered, skimming the data.
"Turians. It's what they turn us into when they get a chance," Garrus replied. "They've got barriers and seem to carry rifles similar to what the Collectors used."
Vega muttered something under his breath but he only caught the tail end. "Fuck the Collectors."
The smirk Shepard gave the younger marine held no mirth. "We took care of that with a nice big explosion. It's something at least."
"It was a mercy killing," Javik added darkly. "We should continue on if we hope to find any of these turians alive. The Reapers have not changed tactics since the previous war, they leave only minimal forces behind. All other ground troops are focused on the object."
The Spectre gestured the team forward. "No supply lines to worry about, no civilians to protect... why leave troops behind, I guess. Alright, double time but don't fire unless you're engaged. Hopefully we can catch them by surprise."
Moving through the ruins they found no more dead soldiers and only a few husks. Whatever remained of the turian unit had fallen back rapidly, likely searching for a better position or maybe just pushing forward in the hopes of achieving their objective before they were overwhelmed. Occasionally they ran across the scorched debris from one of the transports blocking the way but thanks to the data Garrus had been able to extract it was easy to bypass any obstructions.
Finally they heard it. The staccato beat of weapons fire echoing against stone. Without evening looking at one another they broke into a run, guns sweeping the area to the front and sides. It didn't take long for the weapons fire to become much more audible. Motioning the team into cover, Shepard edged up to one collapsed pillar and glanced over the side. They had found their missing team or at least what was left of it. Barely more than two dozen turian marines remained if his quick estimate was correct. Two dozen men from a light company of over eighty held their position while five times their number in hostiles slowly crept towards them.
They held their round on a raised platform that was at the center of a wide-open space. Maybe long ago it had been an arena or temple; the area they were desperately using for cover at the top of what amounted to a stocky pyramid looked like it could have been a gathering place in the distant past. Mirrored across the open area was another structure of the same type... and between the two was an enormous chasm and what could only be the bomb they had come for dangling over the hole held up on heavy scaffolding. Looking through his scope Shepard could just see computer terminals set up on the unoccupied ziggurat-like structure. Clearly someone had been busy here extracting the weapon before the turian team had even arrived.
"Not good," he said, answering the question on Garrus' face when he crept back from the edge. "We've got close to a hundred hostiles. Maybe twenty percent of the company left and they're firing sporadically so I can only guess they're running low on ammo. Can you get into their secure comm frequency?"
"I think so. At least some good came out of that damn 'Expert Advisor' title," the sniper replied grimly.
Shepard looked at the others and smiled grimly. "Only ten to one odds today. Kasumi, unfortunately you've got the most dangerous job of all of us. I'm going to give you half of our spare magazines. As soon as we start hitting the Reapers from behind it should draw their attention enough for you to slip past them and deliver our little present to the marines. Get them fully loaded then have them open up. I don't know how tactically minded these new husks are but hopefully they'll have written off the turians as a threat by then. Leave them exposed for a counter attack."
"I take it we will be making a spectacle of ourselves as a forward offensive?" Javik asked dryly.
Vega chuckled. "I call him loco for a reason."
"Pretty much," he replied, only able to offer a shrug. "Garrus, you're on overwatch. I'll count on you to take out the most immediate threats to Javik, Vega, and I. Liara you're going to be up there with him."
Reaching behind him Shepard removed the Viper from its place at his back and handed it to the asari. She frowned at him.
"Shepard, I'm a biotic and I've been in a pitched firefight before. Not to mention that I haven't spent half my life handling a sniper rifle."
"I made sure all of you qualified with every gun on the SR-1. Did you forget all of that already?"
"Of course not," she replied immediately.
"Then you're staying with Garrus. The rifle will be a good back up and I've never heard of the warp technique having a maximum range. If you're that far out you should be able to concentrate purely on your biotics... I need you to be my one asari artillery unit."
And if this all goes to hell two of my oldest friends are the ones that actually have a chance to escape.
"Sounds like another classic Shepard plan. Vaguely irrational and rather straightforward but just crazy enough to work," Garrus said, fixing him with a stare that almost made it seem like the turian knew what he'd been thinking. "I've got their comms open, patching you in."
He nodded his thanks and keyed the frequency on his omni-tool. "Turian forces, this is Commander Shepard. Do you copy?"
There was a brief moment of silence. Then a burst of static... and finally a voice, strained but not quite panicking yet. "Shepard? The human? This is Lieutenant Tarquin Victus. I... where are you? We're under heavy assault. We need support, I hope you brought back up."
"We're nearby. I'm going to have a specialist break through the enemy lines to bring you supplies and set up a counter attack but I need to know... is the bomb intact?"
"Affirmative from what we can tell but... we can't make it to the control point. There were two Marauders at the terminals when we made it here, snipers took them out but we can't cover the open ground between this position and the next without being cut to pieces. One of my men tried to sneak over on the scaffolding between the two but... they just picked him off."
"Damn. How did this happen?"
The fatigue and the guilt in the other man's voice warred for supremacy. "It's my fault. I chose clever tactics and caution over a frontal assault and my men paid the price. One of the Reaper ships spotted us. There was nowhere to go. Cut the first transport in half, we crash landed the second. I... I tried to... it doesn't matter. There aren't enough of us left. Tell me you brought a fresh company?"
"Not quite. There's six of us."
"S-Six?" the turian stammered over the comm but quickly regained his composure. "Spirits help us all. But we'll hold as long as we can."
"You'll hold until the mission is done, soldier. Do you understand me?" Shepard barked.
The response was immediate. "Yes, sir!"
His gaze flicked between the others before finally stopping on Kasumi. "Ready?"
"Always, Shep."
He saw that her Locust was already in hand, the other holding a small nylon sack full of thermal clips to her stomach tightly. She met his eyes and he saw the fear there, but the determination as well. An understanding that there was a mission to complete. Somewhere along the way Kasumi Goto had stopped being just a thief; he just wondered exactly when the moment had come.
As soon as the thief's form shimmered and disappeared from sight there was a surge of movement. Javik and Vega had both leapt over the edge of the ledge, landing heavily below while Shepard drew his own submachine gun in one hand. The other found a grenade. Flicking the activator, Shepard jumped after the prothean. Already the familiar crack of Garrus' sniper rifle could be heard overhead.
"Look here, you bastards!" he yelled at the nearest pack of husks.
Heads twisted at unnatural angles to fixate on him with balefully glowing eyes. There were half a dozen of the bulbous batarian creatures that the VI now labeled as Cannibals. They began to howl at him, bringing the guns integrated in their arms to bear... only to have the sound become a screech as the grenade he'd thrown detonated at their feet. Javik's particle rifle was hard at work, burning through the barriers of one of the turian husks before slicing right through its chest. Like a wave hitting a cliff the swarm of Reaper abominations turned towards them. A husk leapt over a pillar at Vega, only to be taken out of the air by a blast from the marine's shotgun.
"How do you like me now, puta!"
The surprise of their attack inflicted heavy casualties but these creatures clearly weren't as single minded as the original husks they had encountered. Marauders screeched something that sounded like a horrific combination of the chittering of the geth and a howling varren while the Cannibals actually took cover, pouring fire on their position. Of course as soon as they did the creatures learned why he had wanted Liara so far above when a ball of dark energy slammed into their center. Another burst of energy impacted only seconds later, scattering the Cannibals in the resulting shockwave.
Shepard ducked behind an irregular piece of stone, bullets raking his position with such fury that chips of stone showered down like snow. He activated his comm.
"Garrus! Target the damn Marauders. I'm pretty sure they're actually directing the other husks."
"Already on it, boss." The statement was confirmed by another crack from Garrus' rifle and a squeal of that static language that was abruptly cut off.
Lunging out of cover during the brief lull in fire he sprinted for the next pile of rubble, silently thanking the ancient krogans for building everything so large. Reaching out with his own biotics he grabbed a Cannibal and pushed, slamming it against the nearby pillar before sliding into cover. Opening his omni-tool once more he skimmed through the standard combat modules in the blink of an eye, settling of a circuit overload program that miraculously had still been on the Normandy's database. One of Tali's little creations.
He leaned out of cover and extended his omni-tool at the nearest husk. A burst of energy and scrap code deluged its synthetic parts and Shepard was gratified to see electricity arc from its twitching body to another husk nearby, having a similar effect. Activating his comms once more he sent a transmission to Kasumi and Garrus, the only other members of the team that knew enough to utilize the same tech.
"Overload protocols work on them. There's enough synthetic in there that it hits hard."
"Copy that."
"Got it, Shep. I'm almost in position," Kasumi said, her voice a whisper.
Examining the battle once more he grimaced. Javik and Vega were both crouched behind the same fallen pillar, the marine pumping shotgun rounds into any husks that got close while Javik targeted foes at greater range. Withering return fire kept their heads down for longer and longer stretches, though. Two of the Marauders were firing bursts at the position above, trying to keep Liara and Garrus from bringing down so much fire on them. Shepard leaned around the other side of his cover, squeezing off two quick bursts that took a Cannibal off at the knees. Shepard reached for his belt once more and removed the last grenade.
Bring more grenades in the future. A lot more.
The explosive sent more husks flying while the bright flashes of weapons fire continued to light up the dark arena. He felt a stream of rounds trace their way up his body, his armor's kinetic barriers flashing to life and shattering just as suddenly. Shepard was forced to practically hurl himself over another chunk of rubble and into cover, hissing in pain when he found where a round had punched through the thinner armor at his side. They were keeping the enemy's attention divided but there were just too damn many of them.
Come on, Kasumi. Get those soldiers in gear... I'm running out of cover here.
"Shepard." That was Garrus' unmistakable flanged voice growling over the comm for certain. "Come on, Shepard. You're not allowed to die on me on this pathetic excuse for a planet."
"Still here, just got their attention a little too well," he replied, activating the medigel unit on his armor and sighing in relief.
"Good, because we've got more company on the way. Tightband from EDI, the Normandy's sensors picked up movement heading this way. And it's not the krogan."
"Wonderful," Shepard growled, emptying the magazine of his SMG over his head.
"Commander, they've got me and Buggy over here flanked," Vega said over the comm. "Can't get to your position."
"Keep your head down. We've got to give the turians time to get into position!"
He ejected the thermal clip from his weapon and slapped in a fresh one, suddenly wishing sincerely that he'd spent the time for Jack to teach him how to create those biotic shields. Shepard popped up and managed to snap off a shot that took a Marauder in the shoulder but the return fire overloaded his shields again almost instantly. It was then that he heard the scuff of claws on stone, whirling around and dropping to his back to jam his weapon into the chest of a leaping husk and fire. Claws scrabbled for purchase against his armor, leaving furrows, but one more burst caused the thing to finally twitch a final time before falling over dead.
It was in that moment that he heard the wonderful and familiar sound of a Vindicator's triple bark. The sounds of fire redoubled and the arena lit up once more like a violent dance club. Clearly the turians had received Kasumi's supplies and now they had the Reapers caught between them. He came out of cover firing and lashing out with his biotics. The sudden blitzkrieg of fire dissolved what organization the enemy had left and they began to fall like so much wheat to the scythe.
"Move up to secure the other platform, we need to verify that that damn bomb isn't armed," Shepard ordered.
Turian soldiers were pumping rounds into the retreating husks, backing towards the other raised pyramid. At the base of the structure a soldier in red armor waited, his face covered in white paint that matched Primarch Victus'.
"Lieutenant Victus?"
"Sir... I can't believe that worked but thank you. My men..." the young turian looked at the survivors. "They didn't deserve this."
"Owning up to your mistakes is the mark of a leader. And even leaders make mistakes," Shepard said grimly. "Have your men take positions to defend this area. We've got more incoming."
The man uttered a turian curse and starting barking orders. His men, tired and battered, didn't look terribly enthused but only one made any comment... a comment that died on the soldier's plated lips when his eyes came to rest on Shepard, his armor scarred, cracked, and splashed with ichor from the husk he'd killed. Some small part of Shepard wondered what he looked like to the man, standing there in the near darkness looking out at the world through the glowing red slit of his visor.
"Oh no. Shep... Shepard!" Kasumi yelled.
He was up the steps in a matter of seconds.
"What?"
"The bomb. The Reapers armed the damn thing before the turians got here. They didn't have time to set it off but it's old. All this Reaper code has it priming to go off even without the damn command codes being submitted!"
He clenched his fists tightly, flashes of Virmire swimming across his vision before he pushed them aside and tapped his omni-tool. "Cortez! We need immediate evac with support! I've got a platoons worth of Hierarchy troops here too."
"I copy that, Commander. Inbound, ETA three minutes. Five minutes for additional transport for the turians, I've got a krogan on the line that's not happy, but as soon as I said it was on Shepard's orders he complied."
Shepard looked at Kasumi, the question apparently.
"I don't know, but probably not five minutes. The Reapers have the software completely wrecked but if I had to guess we've got three minutes at most."
"Isn't there any other way to disable the damn thing?" Garrus demanded.
"Commander Shepard, we've engaged more Reaper ground forces," a turian soldier said over the general comms and he could already see the flashes of fire.
"There is!" Tarquin said from behind him. "But it'll be on the bomb directly, If all else fails we can remove the detonators."
The turian was already running past him, scrambling up the wall.
"What about your men, Victus?" he demanded.
Pausing for a moment the soldier looked over his shoulder at Shepard, shaking his head. "They died because I tried to be my father instead of thinking the problem through... the exact mistake he wouldn't have made in the first place. My mission was to make sure this bomb never goes off. I'll be the one to complete or die trying. Victory at any cost."
Then he was gone, inching his way across the scaffolding that held up the ancient explosive. Shepard pointed at this team.
"Move! Give the man covering fire!"
He took his rifle back from Liara, crouching and looking through the sights. With the low-light enhancement he was able to pick out the enemy easily, beating out a steady rhythm of shots even as the young turian lieutenant continued to update him over the comm. To his left he could hear Javik barking orders at surviving marines, none of them daring to question him.
"I made it to the bomb... spirits, what a mess."
Shepard ground his teeth. "Kasumi?"
"Less than two minutes," she replied.
Another round, this one took a Marauder right under its chin, sending it falling backwards. The Spectre slammed another magazine home and brought the rifle up once more. One of the turians must have been saving a grenade for a last ditch effort as a fireball engulfed a group of husks charging their right flank. Victus' son spoke again.
"The controls are fried. The only way to stop this thing is to remove the damn detonator itself. Without them you could shoot the thing and it wouldn't explode."
Vega had dropped his shotgun and now had a turian's Vindicator tucked into his shoulder, laying down precise three round bursts. Further down the line Liara was dragging a wounded soldier behind their scant cover, sending a warp tearing through an approaching Cannibal. He squeezed the trigger again, putting a round through its head as it staggered. Around him shields flickered, flashed brightly, and died.
"Damn... damn damn!"
"What is it Tarquin?" he asked, trying to sound calm even as Kasumi held up a single finger in his peripheral vision.
"The release panel for the last detonator is fused shut. A thousand years..." the young turian's voice became distant. "Only fitting. After all we put it here to kill them."
"What are you doing?"
"Releasing the clamp mechanisms."
Shepard spun his rifle around, looking at the pit below that the Reapers had carved the bomb out of , not seeing the bottom even with the enhanced vision on his scope. He quickly tapped his comm.
"Dammit, there has to be another way!"
"There isn't, Commander. Tell my father... tell him I tried."
The Spectre saw the man through his scope. Watched him yanking the panel off the side of the bomb, throwing it away even as he dangled there. And then he yanked, the control rod sailing out and away, falling into the chasm. There was the sound of metal groaning and the loud snap as it gave way. The shell fell from around the bomb's core, taking the detonators, and young Tarquin Victus, with it into the depths below. An explosion made the ground shudder but it was merely the charges built into the housing going off, a small gout of flame shooting up.
Less than a minute later Cortez was there, flanked by a pair of gunships that made short work of the Reaper reinforcements. The surviving turian soldiers giving them exhausted but grateful nods as they filed into the transport, eyes hollow. His team was aboard their own transport a few minutes later, back to the Normandy for medical attention, each carrying a small collection of minor wounds. As Tuchanka pulled away Shepard could only see the lieutenant's face and the echo of his words.
Victory at any cost.
