A/N: Good news peeps! After much soul searching and a teeny tiny bit of alcohol I have finally figured out how the Reapers arc is going to end. Let me tell you now, if any of you see this one coming I'll eat Wrex's hat.
###
Lizzie glanced over at Ash, who leaned in and muttered to her.
"Shepard, I don't like this."
They were standing in the Blue Suns camp, waiting for the mysterious Ocean to show herself.
"I had a little looksie at their ammo dump. It's like they used the Mallike Conventions as their shopping list."
Lizzie shuddered. The ammunition types and munitions banned by the Mallike Conventions were illegal for good reason.
"We're talking HEAP, Harpoon, Impaler, Crag, Arrestor, even a box of Switchback rounds."
Lizzie gulped. Each round type was nastier than the one before, ranging from the high energy anti personnel rounds that could have your liquefied flesh pouring out a neat millimetre-wide hole in your armour to the crag rounds which were designed to lodge in a target, then explode when someone tried to remove the bullet, killing the individual and usually blowing the medic's arms off, to the horrific Switchback rounds that were essentially a backwards facing chemical rocket with barbs that would hit someone and ignite, blasting back out its own entry wound with a large chunk of flesh and causing severe internal burns and chemical poisoning from unburned fuel.
"I knew the Suns aren't strictly bound by the Conventions but still, most of this stuff carries a hefty prison sentence in our space. Crags are even illegal in some parts of the Terminus."
A voice spoke up behind them.
"Usually I'd agree with you. I'm a heartless amoral bitch and even I think some of these shells are bad. But the Reapers won't hold back because of some piece of shit treaty and neither will I."
The speaker revealed herself to be an Asari, after a fashion. She wore a medium grade hardsuit that looked custom made, incorporating what looked like three digit hands and feet. Her helmet was off, showing her bizarre green double pupilled eyes and the streaks of green on her face had a slight sheen to them that told Lizzie they weren't a fashion choice.
"Scarlet Ocean, at your service. Nice guns."
###
Alan flicked a band of red-code smug satisfaction out of his matrix as he received the latest target dossiers from the Illusive Man. Poor guy was trying to steer the Collectors at pro-Turian elements of the Earth Bloc. Clearly a tactic born of desperation, part of his increasingly futile crusade to drive the Turians and the Humans apart. Typical.
Alan sifted through the dossiers, assigning them priorities and adding some of his own. Of course, he had to dispatch at least token forces to each location, but the Collectors were ultimately expendable, and by directing defence forces towards the smaller attacks he could weaken the defences around the worlds that truly mattered.
Satisfied with the new set of dossiers, he flashed them over to Nazara. The Reaper AI acknowledged the receipt of the dossiers, then paused.
"I am curious. You are a product of organics? Yet you are equal in capabilities to one of us. Why?"
Alan was quick to form his response.
"As old as your kind is you are as much a product of their creation as I."
Nazara seemed pissed when he responded.
"Organics are flawed. They represent chaos. We represent order."
The ancient AI wasn't prepared for the wave of amusement that rolled off Alan.
"Modest as ever, Nazara. Trust me when I say that your kind's greatest weakness is your arrogance. Organics are, as you say, flawed. Yet they are driven constantly to improve themselves. An admirable trait, don't you think? You are a stagnant race. And let's face it, your cycle cannot last forever. Every cycle you lose around ten capital class and one hundred destroyers. For that, each cycle you create one capital class and ten destroyers. It doesn't take an AI to calculate that isn't sustainable."
Nazara didn't reply for a good while. When he did the message was shaky, as if some critical block of supporting code was missing.
"You are incorrect."
But the seed of doubt was there.
###
Fortack looked up from his workbench as Wrex entered the lab complex. Fortack's Towers, as they were known, had expanded to cover almost three square kilometres with knife-thin yet sturdy towers and thick blocks of titanium and miracle stone that contained some of Fortack's most sensitive experiments. The Towers were a city in themselves, with a permanent population of almost a thousand scientists, the boundaries of Fortack's domain described by an enormous particle accelerator ring.
"Wrex. Come to check up on me?"
The enormous red-plated chieftain chuckled as he descended the steps into Fortack's personal domain. The unknown ship had been slowly pulled apart over the years, little more than an empty stone shell now and yet it still had pride of place in the lab, monitoring stations and lab benches surrounding it in a series of concentric circles that Wrex navigated with ease.
"Just wanted to see what my favourite chief scientist is up to."
"I'm your only chief scientist."
"Which is why you're my favourite. Working on anything new and exciting?"
Fortack shrugged, which looked fairly impressive on a Krogan, his entire hump shifting over his thick shoulders.
"Just tinkering with the miracle stone. We brought in a different pattern for the implosion vectors and I'm trying to determine what difference it made. Care to join me?"
Wrex nodded his assent.
"I'm no researcher, but ..."
"All I'm doing is firing various weapons at stone slabs. Word is you're good at that."
Wrex removed the outer shell of his customary blood red armour and stepped into a nearby set of Terminus armour, feeling it shift to accommodate him. The first weapon Fortack handed him was a Gorgon rifle. Wrex grinned in savage enjoyment as he unleashed a fusillade at the target slab. Moments later Fortack, in his own ID armour, stomped up and started firing at the other target. Once both of them had depleted the ammo boxes on their Gorgons they examined their targets. Wrex immediately noticed the difference.
"Yours looks less scuffed."
Fortack nodded.
"This one is the latest iteration of the miracle stone. The one you fired at was the original. The difference is small but it's definitely there."
Their conversation was interrupted by a familiar crackling.
"Is that your wormhole?"
"No, not me."
Both Krogan hurriedly reloaded their rifles and Fortack passed Wrex a set of varren claws, which he clipped to his belt. The portal finally cracked open and Wrex could instantly tell it wasn't a Krogan wormhole by the absence of the dramatic discharges of red lightening or the blurring of the boundary. This portal was simply there, as if somebody had cut a perfectly circular hole in the universe. And out of the portal emerged several figures.
"Vorcha?"
The Vorcha were different. Their skin was a coal black shade that matched the light armour they wore, undoubtedly miracle stone, and their eyes shone with baleful red light. The leader hissed even as his subordinates moved to surround the two Krogan.
"You filthy creatures! You defile the sacred stone! You shall die for your transgression!"
Fortack glanced to Wrex.
"Well that's new."
Moving in eerie synchronisation, the Vorcha, or whatever the hell they actually were, drew heavy black swords with thick square blades of miracle stone from their backs, the edges of the blades lighting up with the ominous crimson tint of ether plasma. A cable extended from the base of the sword's hilts, plugging into jacks on the wrist armour of their assailants.
"Did not expect from Vorcha."
The leader bared his blood red teeth once more.
"We were Vorcha before our ascension. Now we are the Crusaders. Take heart, foul Krogan. To meet your end at our blades is a truly noble death, more so than your diseased bodies deserve."
Fortack gripped his rifle tighter.
"That had better not have been a crack at the Genophage, Vorcha."
All the leader did was smile beatifically as at some unspoken signal the twelve Crusaders charged.
###
"So what brings you to my humble firebase?"
Lizzie shrugged as she took the offered mug from Ocean, dipping her tongue briefly into it and having her neural net scan for toxins before she allowed herself to drink.
"The little bugs seemed mighty interested in this planet. We wanted to know why."
Ocean grimaced.
"I know exactly why. They're after me."
Lizzie frowned.
"How come?"
There came a slight pause followed by a derisive chuckle.
"You may or may not have noticed, but I'm not exactly your factory default Asari. They're after Prothean kit, what better than half a Prothean?"
The three Normandy squad stared dumbly as the implications of the statement made their merry way through their heads.
"You're half Prothean? How?"
The sarcastic mercenary captain put on a condescending voice.
"Well, when a daddy Prothean and a mummy Asari love each other very much ... You don't need my life story. What you need to do is GTFO before the Collectors tear you a structurally superfluous, and that's what we need to do as well. The logical option is to work together. Mind you, the little bugs seem to have fucked off some."
Lizzie shrugged.
"Most likely a cause of the three guys with jet packs and Gatling guns in their base, killing their dudes."
Garrus turned around and blinked, dumbfounded. He had never heard Lizzie speak like that before yet she seemed to be matching Ocean word for word in the strange Internet vernacular commonly used by the Blue Suns. The strange half-Prothean cackled with laughter.
"You're cool, you know that? Well, time to skid. How'd you get in here anyways?"
"Through about half a gazillion Collectors. You'd have to be one hell of a Leroy to try getting out that way. You're lucky they didn't find the fissure we nipped through, otherwise this little exchange would be somewhat one sided."
Ocean nodded.
"Any other ways out?"
"That one."
Ocean's eyes followed Lizzie's finger right to the forcefield.
###
The Blue Suns line cruiser SSV Achronus everted back into the realm where physics made sense in a flash of photons, accompanied by the rest of the Blue Suns battle squadron. On the bridge of the Achronus Captain Jentha Mae Sorsdöttir examined the tactical plot of the system, her Blitz LMG folded on the back of her armour as her men scurried around her. The Achronus was an old Soviet line cruiser that had been bought from the decommissioning yards around ten years ago and refitted with some of the most high end combat tech General Massani had been able to get his hands on. Unlike the Little Wing, which hid its lethal and illegal modifications under the guise of an innocent freighter ship, the Achronus was an overt brawler.
She was accompanied by a handful of frigates, about half of them the sleek triangles of Soviet design, the remainder one each of American, Raachok, Atavira and Turian designs and one unique Seu'Seun bioraider. That was a prize all right. She had personally killed its previous captain, a notorious Seu'Seun pirate, six years ago and taken the ship as part of her fleet. Seu'Seun ship designs, the bioraiders, Star Predators and gargantuan Leviathans, were incredibly rare and difficult to obtain, but mass for mass each one was the equal of three Soviet ships.
"We've detected significant Collector activity around the planet. They look to be engaging a small stealth ship of some form, about equal to a Council frigate or a small destroyer. Also, there's evidence of a second stealth vessel but we can't pin it down. Oh, and the SSV Little Wing is landed on Therum's largest moon. She looks to be heavily damaged."
Nodding, Jentha directed her ships to action stations.
"All vessels, advance on the Collector ships. Three light hour tactical jump on my mark."
The entire ship started humming as the HR motors span up, purple light flickering across the hull.
"Mark."
The jump took less than half a second with the powerful intersystem drives, popping the fleet out right on top of some very surprised Collectors.
"Fire all guns."
The fleet obediently let rip, the purple lances of proton beams followed by golden glowing hyper-accelerated depleted uranium mass driver shells firing at twelve thousand rounds per minute. Then came the nuclear missiles, painting fiery contrails across space as they smashed into the Collector vessels. The bioraider opened its jawed mouth, unleashing a blizzard of antimatter missiles that wiped out three Collector frigates in a single volley.
The unknown stealth destroyer looped around, twisting around a particle beam with skill that left Jentha speechless, and slipped into position with the Blue Suns fleet, adding its own not inconsiderable proton beams, mass drivers and missiles to the bombardment. Under the force of their guns the Collector task force was quickly reduced to nothing, unable to extract themselves from the upper atmosphere fast enough to bring their barriers and weapons to full power. Had they not been caught with their pants down, so to speak, the engagement would have had a very different outcome.
"Captain, the stealth destroyer is hailing us."
"Put them through."
The face of a male Auwl Atavira filled the screen. Having never seen one before, Jentha examined his features, wondering if he would be the same as the rest of his subspecies.
"Thanks for the save, Achronus. Jeff Moreau, Normandy SR1. If I may ask, what brings the Suns out here?"
Jentha glanced across to a console before replying.
"Asset recovery."
There was a slight pause.
"Hold on, we've re-established groundside comms with those Collectors gone."
Another slight pause.
"Okay, if you're after someone called Captain Ocean we've got guys on the ground with her right now. Captain Arterius made a dent in their forces with some miniguns so if you want to go get her now would be the time."
Jentha nodded.
"Understood Normandy. Commencing landing operation."
###
Wrex bit back a curse as he snapped the varren claws to his wrists. Those Vorcha, or Crusaders, or whatever - they were fast! Their blades looked heavy enough to be Terminus weapons in themselves and the Vorcha were wielding them like they were made of air. With a hiss, they charged simultaneously, closing too quickly to make firearms a viable option. His only hope was to take them on in melee. Fortack had the same idea, tossing his rifle aside and snatching up his hammer.
"Bring it on!"
The Vorcha complied.
The first blade that came swinging towards Wrex's head was swiftly ducked, the internal systems of the Terminus armour boosting his already impressive speed and allowing him to lash out with his claws, punching through the gut of the first enemy even as his other claw lashed out and severed the arm of another at the elbow. The wounded Vorcha didn't even cry out, merely switching its sword to its non-severed hand as its target disembowelled its teammate with an almost contemptuous flick of his meaty paw. Fortack roared, dropping his shoulder so the stab aimed at his throat skidded along his pauldron as he struck out his hammer in a one handed uppercut that reduced half the Vorcha it hit to jelly and propelled the other half at great velocity towards the ceiling. Two others encircled him, hoping to get him in the back, but Wrex leaped onto one, riding it down and crushing it underfoot as Fortack stove the other one's skull in with his hammer. The two Krogan went back to back, putting up a furious defence that felled three more Vorcha in as many seconds.
The researcher roared again, this time in pain as a blade penetrated his armour and bit into his gut. The offending attacker, the same Vorcha who had lost its arm to Wrex's claws, was swiftly pulverised by a hammer blow as Fortack pulled the sword out of his intestines.
"You okay?"
"It'll regenerate."
Then they were back in the thick of it.
The Vorcha, as skilled as they were with blades, were no match for two angry millennia old Krogan in armour that technically should be classified as a medium tank. Soon enough it was just them and the leader, who looked at them aghast.
"How can this be? The power of the Holy Ones is absolute! Their technology is perfect!"
Wrex shrugged.
"Perhaps it is perfect. But it isn't Krogan."
Then he decapitated the dumbfounded Vorcha and turned to Fortack.
"I want you to find a countermeasure to that portal and have a working prototype as soon as possible. And find out everything you can about these Vorcha, you've got twelve bodies to dissect."
Fortack grumbled slightly.
"Would have been easier if we had one alive."
"You saw how they were behaving. Do you honestly think they would have told us anything?"
The silence was all the answer he needed.