Author's Note: Sorry didn't have time to proofread this chapter. This week sucked. No further comment.
2182 CE Orth StationThe battlemaster's hump hit the ground hard even as the crack of Wrex's skull-plate bouncing off his filled the room. The other Krogan glared at the older battlemaster, but they didn't interfere. "You took his word for it? I thought you were a battlemaster! Standards must have dipped," Wrex snapped, returning the glares of the dozen other Krogan in the room with enough force that they mostly looked away.
Urdnot Wrex shouldn't have been there. Wouldn't have been there, if he hadn't had a falling out with the Shadow Broker. The Broker had hired him to remove five of the Broker's officers who'd led a failed raid on an Asari world. He did the job, but someone else got to one of them before he could. The Broker refused to pay and when Wrex insisted, tried to kill the battlemaster. If there's one thing you don't do to a centuries old mercenary, who can literally eat anyone else in the galaxy, it's not pay him.
At the time, Wrex had been in a good mood. The scarred human and the equally scarred Asari who'd taken out the Broker's officer had been a good fight. They'd broken the ship they'd been riding on, but not each other. Then the Broker tried to play stupid games with him about who actually killed his target. Wrex couldn't stand for that.
So, he'd paid the Shadow Broker back, with high explosives and shotgun blasts. Unfortunately, that meant that he'd had to be a bit careful with what work he accepted as the Shadow Broker kept trying to set him up in turn. Quite naturally, this led him to looking for work with the Shadow Broker's enemies.
That had led him to this series of jobs. Working with other Krogan always pissed him off. Despite being functionally immortal, none of them ever had any sense of history, or any foresight that exceeded the scope needed not to run into enemy fire. And that alone seemed to qualify them to call themselves battlemasters, well that and because they'd beaten a group of Vorcha into an imitation of a battle-line.
And now they tried to bait him with the notion of a cure for the Genophage. Tried to play the patriotic Krogan, as if he hadn't had that sentiment beaten out of him when he faced down his father in the Hollows.
"The man is a Spectre. A Turian Spectre! And you believed that he was planning to help us cure the genophage? He works for the assholes who created it! Wrex hefted his heavy shotgun easily with one hand and lowered it to point at his still sprawled fellow's neck, "So tell me, are you so stupid you did fall for it, or do you think I'm so stupid that I'll fall for that?"
"I saw the facility!" the grounded Krogan snapped, hand sliding towards the pistol holstered on his hip.
"You saw," Wrex stomped on the smaller Krogan's wrist. Wrex's full weight, in his body armor, would have been sufficient to crush the other Krogan's bones, but for the armor he wore as well. It was still sufficient to hurt and prevent any further movements, especially as Wrex jabbed his shotgun into the Krogan's throat. A fully grown Krogan could survive a lot, but a blast to the throat from his Claymore would decapitate the idiot, "a research facility. How would you know what they were working on? You are," he pushed the shotgun forward, forcing his opponent to gasp for air, "not a scientist."
"I…saw…them…" he choked out.
Wrex let the shotgun rise and brought it to bear on one of the idiot's followers who tried to step forward. Hands rose, spread in surrender though Wrex didn't even bother to turn his head, or speak to the subordinate Krogan.
"You saw Krogan children?"
"Clones."
Wrex's eyes did not narrow, because he was a predator who knew better than to limit his field of vision. But if he'd had the right/wrong physiology, he would have done so. In the first century after leaving Tuchanka, he'd tried to help his people, despite everything. Investing his pay into researching methods to deal with the Genophage had been his best hope. They had all failed. He was no fool, he'd considered cloning, even funded three different labs in the Terminus. One had been destroyed by the STG, one had been destroyed by a Spectre (who had subsequently suffered death by Krogan bite) and one completed its research and reported that the project was impossible because the Genophage set some sort of bizarre genetic trap which caused clones to come out as soup. If someone had truly found a way around that…but the idiot on the ground had not confirmed what Wrex was looking for.
"So, you saw cloned children?" he pushed.
"No. Better! He found a way to quick grow them to adulthood. Cloned soldiers! We could have a true army of Krogan within two years!"
"Tell me more," Wrex said, stepping back, but keeping his shotgun ready and letting biotic energy spin along his nerves, ready to summon a barrier if he needed to defend himself against the rest of the throng. The other Krogan started to rise and Wrex let him get up before explaining what he'd seen, mostly to put the idiots off his guard.
The explanation that followed was exactly as horrifying as Wrex feared. He wanted his people to be a People. An army would not do that. A civilization would. Strengthening his determination was the fact that these force-grown clones were being educated by machines, controlled by a TURIAN SPECTRE. The fact that none of the rest of these idiots recognized that perhaps these living machines in the shape of Krogan would be loyal to their creators, not their fellow Krogan simply confirmed his concern.
Wrex was not a fool. He trusted no Turians and no Spectres, he knew better. Whatever they wanted would lead to no good for his people. The technology however, if it truly existed, might do great good or great harm to his people. It might give the Turians an excuse to finally wipe them out, or it might revitalize their people.
He needed that technology. For the first time in almost three decades, a true smile appeared on his face. The shotgun slid into its place in the small of his back and the other Krogan relaxed. None of them could be trusted to understand what their people needed. Or for any other purpose. But he could use them. He was a battlemaster, using Krogan and using them up was half the job description. Even the soft-skulled* pseudo-battlemaster before him understood that. It was the second half of the job which eluded most.
*Soft-skull is a horribly insulting term for a Krogan, suggesting that their frontal plate either hasn't fully hardened (suggesting they were a child), or through some genetic foible never would, suggesting they were weak and vulnerable in an obvious place and had taken no steps to rectify it. Imagine a more insulting version of naïve idiot and you're pretty close.
Knowing when and why to use Krogan up was the hard part. But for the first time in centuries, Urdnot Wrex had a cause, not merely a mission. "The universe should tremble, for the Krogan have a purpose again!" he bellowed and the others in the room cheered, pleased to have such a mighty warrior amongst them. These would never cheer for a leader, but that didn't matter. They would tell this tale and threaten any chance at peace, but that didn't matter. "Get the Ryncol, we must celebrate!" They would get drunk and trash much of this ship, but that didn't matter.
He would get what he needed and leave none of them alive. No one could know of the technology and that he had it until the time was right. But someday, the Krogan would stand tall again. And for the first time in centuries, that was not a tale he told himself to make himself get up in the morning. His words had even been true, the universe would tremble, even though he would prove their fears baseless.
2182 CE Arcturus Station"Paul, what the hell am I looking at? Besides thirty thousand words of legalese?" Special Advisor on Military Affairs to the Prime Minister, Vladimir van Bohemen asked the assembled group.
Minister of Defense Paul Patel restrained the urge to make a sarcastic comment as his senior JAG officer began to explain the legal analysis contained in the justification Officer Al-Jilani had sent along with the belated notification that Project Overwatch was dispatching a platoon of their 'auxiliaries' into Alliance space, onto Earth itself, without bothering to tell anyone outside the Project. After about a minute of that explanation, before anyone's eyes glazed over, too much, he cut in. "You're looking at a justification for their actions which is sufficiently good that the only person we could actually punish would be Al-Jilani and even that probably wouldn't hold up to a court martial."
MP Abril Bernard's dark eyes narrowed. "What it means is that the man who was supposed to leash our rogue hero has instead joined her. Good choice, Paul."
Paul turned to face the senior MP. Her hair had gone entirely grey over the six years since they authorized Project Overwatch, which was not at all a coincidence. The years had not been kind to her district and she was currently locked in an embarrassingly close re-election fight for seat with a member of the New Futurist party who had labelled the MP as a warmonger and profiteer due to her husband's employment by a defense contractor. It was unsurprising that the politician remembered exactly who was to blame for Project Overwatch.
"Why not just reassign her?" Vladimir asked.
Admiral Hackett leaned back in his chair. "Whenever an attempt has been made to reassign her, it's failed, because removing her would have political consequences no one wanted to deal with."
"What about covering up the removal with a promotion?"
"That was thought of. We tried it and were quietly informed that she'd retire and be hired on as one of the Project Auxiliaries and that she would not be quiet about how she felt she could do the most good in the field, not at a desk on Arcturus," Hackett explained, somewhat bitterly. Though he hadn't been in favor of the plan, having it thrown back in his face had not been fun.
"And that was before Cerberus made a visible hit on a target on Earth. Which was only foiled by the great Commander Shepard's intervention," Abril said, even more bitterly.
Internal Security Chief Ramlan Ibraham flinched at the slight to his security efforts. "My team actually stopped the assassination attempt, ma'am. I don't think their efforts should be overlooked. In fact, I've put their commander in for a commendation. Taking the Cerberus assassin alive was a remarkable feat. Especially given the extensive and illegal nature of her genetic enhancements."
"Have you gotten anything out of her?" Paul asked, before they could be derailed into a conversation about how effective Ramlan's efforts had truly been.
"Not yet, but the interrogation has just begun. You," he shot a cold glance at Abtil, "know how long these things take."
"Enough," Vladimir snapped. "Everyone in this room is in agreement that it is unacceptable for us to have an independent military force operating within our borders, do they not?"
A murmur of agreement ran around the room.
"And we all agree that Commander Shepard has become too dangerous to be permitted to retain control of any significant military force?"
There was another murmur of agreement.
"And we all know that she's the darling of the press, so this needs to be handled…delicately?"
There was a far more disgruntled and reluctant murmur of agreement.
"Then does anyone have any actual ideas?"
Ambassador Donnel Udina spoke for the first time, "I do."
"I was wondering why you were here," Hackett muttered.
"I've been approached by a representative of the Council. They are also concerned, and have a…proposal."
"Which is?" Vlad asked.
"May I bring in their representative to present it?"
Vlad nodded, curious.
Udina hit a command on his omni-tool. As the door opened, he announced Council Spectre Nihlus Kryik.
"Thank you for meeting with me, ladies and gentlemen. I have a proposal to resolve our…situation."
2183 CE SSV Normandy, Sol System"Arcturus Prime Relay is in range. Initiating transmission sequence. We are connected, calculating transit mass and destination. Relay is hot, acquiring approach vector. All hands, stand by for transit," Joker broadcast throughout the ship. "Board is green, approach run has begun. Titting the relay in 3…2…1…" there was the moment of subtle wrongness as the Prothean technology flung them across the galaxy.
Shepard was in the communications room, currently pulling double duty as the conference room. She was barely resisting the urge to put her feet up on the table. Spectre Nihlus and Captain Anderson were both big on military protocol. After six years as commander of her own no-longer-little group of irregulars, her relaxed style was already grating on them. Best not to push it until she had to. Or until her disquiet made her screw up. After six years with mostly the same people at her back, having none of them within a thousand light years made her back itch.
Still, being a Spectre would come with real power, real influence and real respect. The ability to prove her claims about the Batarians and influence the Terminus for the better. There was a reason she'd accepted this assignment and it wasn't because they'd finally agree to give her the N7 designation she'd earned all those years ago.
Anderson communicated with their pilot, a joker creatively nicknamed Joker, ensuring all systems on this experimental craft were functional and that reports were streaming back to Arcturus command at the speed of light.
"So you ready to let me in on the mission?" she asked.
"A Prothean artifact has been discovered on Eden Prime. We're going to get it. Quick and quiet. Test out the new ship and let you and the Spectre get a feel for each other on a milk run," Captain Anderson offered with a wicked smile.
"Thanks, Captain. I'll call down to engineering and make sure the heavy armor and weapons are available," Shepard said acidly.
"Perhaps my translator malfunctioned. Isn't a 'milk run' an easy operation?" Nihlus put in, confused.
"Yes. Which means he jinxed us. All the worst missions of my career start with 'this'll be easy,' or 'no big deal,' or 'it won't be that bad,' and they're right, it's WORSE. So, thanks for the jinx, captain."
"Anytime, Commander."
Anderson pulled up a map of the colony. "The main colony hub is here, near the dig site. The beacon has already been removed and crated for transport. All we need to do is go pick it up and deliver it to the Citadel, no muss, no fuss, no—"
"Captain, we've got a problem!" Joker's voice broke in.
"What's wrong, Joker?" Anderson asked, humor draining out of him instantly.
"Transmission from Eden Prime, sir. You better see this."
"Bring it up on screen," Anderson ordered. Instantly an image of combat appeared on the screen, it was clearly someone's helmet cam, as their sergeant pushed them to the ground, ordering them to get down. The marines were under heavy fire from above, and though they returned fire in reasonable order, these were a colonial garrison, not N-rated troops. Eden Prime was a secure planet and the guards assigned to it weren't expected to need to do more than look pretty and not get in bar fights. They were chosen accordingly.
A man wearing an officer's armor slid into view of the comm officer's helmet. "We are under attack! Taking heavy casualties. I repeat, heavy casualties!" the transmission started to collapse in the face of some sort of jamming or interference. "We can't…argh!...-eed evac! They came out of nowhere. We need—" the officer jerked away from the camera, which tilted crazily as whoever was wearing it panicked. The last image to come through was that of a massive ship descending on the colony. It was hard to tell size given the angle, but it had to be absolutely huge.
"Everything cuts out after that. No comm traffic at all. Just gose dead. There's nothing," Joker said as they stared at an image which had dissolved into static.
"Reverse and hold at 38.5," Anderson ordered the computer and it scrolled back to the massive, tentacled ship, descending over the colony, bursts of lightning springing from it, or striking it. The vessel must be discharging its drive core, but ships that big didn't come down to planet's surfaces, even cruisers almost never did. Ships were designed for space, not atmosphere and a dreadnought would be pinned to the ground by its own weight if it were to ever land.
"Status report!" Anderson snapped, ignoring the impossibility of what he was seeing with the ease of a man who'd seen a thousand impossible things in his career.
"Seventeen minutes out, Captain. No other Alliance Ships in the area."
"Take us in, Joker. Fast and quiet," he shot a cool look at Shepard. "This mission just got a lot more complicated."
"A small strike team can move quickly without drawing attention. It's our best chance to secure the beacon," Nihlus put in.
"A small team can't do shit against a ship that size and can't reclaim the colony if its garrison couldn't defend it. We'll need multiple teams, for scouting and distraction—"
"The mission is the beacon," Nihlus countered.
Before Shepard could argue with that, Anderson broke in. "It doesn't matter. We don't have the people for multiple teams. Besides Jenkins and Alenko, I'm the only other person qualified to take the field and I'm in command of the ship. We've already streamed a report back to Arcturus. What can be done, will be done, but for now, we do our jobs and get that damn beacon."
"Yes, sir," Shepard's voice was bleak and hard as she remembered the long wait for rescue on Mindoir.
"Get your troops ready," Anderson said. "I'll send a full op-plan to your HUD as soon as it's finished," he concluded sourly and began to flick through maps, as Nihlus moved over to join him in planning a separate infiltration.
Shepard had no issues at all with not having the Spectre at her back. He was a good soldier, she knew that from what little her people had been able to dig up on his record (and from her conversation with Samara about the man), but he was a model Spectre and wouldn't hesitate to shoot her in the back if that was what the Council wanted, or what was necessary to succeed in his mission.
She headed down to the drop bay, collecting Jenkins and Alenko as she went. They hadn't heard the news. Telling Jenkins was hard. The boy was from Eden Prime and had been eager to show her around. Alenko was more professional, thankfully. Jenkins was almost apoplectic with rage. If she'd had any other troops to take at all, she'd have left him behind. As it was, even with only seventeen minutes of prep time, she took a minute to pull him aside and give him her best 'remember you're a soldier' speech.
It wasn't great. Forced and false, she couldn't help consider her own failed and futile efforts on Mindoir as she looked at the boy. As Nihlus joined them in the drop bay, Shepard nodded to him, then waved Alenko and Jenkins closer. "So, we're going in hard and fast. Alenko, you've got point. Anything slows you down, and I'll charge in and handle it, don't hit me. Jenkins, you're on overwatch. You know the planet, keep your eyes peeled for snipers and ambushers."
"Commander, don't put me on butt-duty,* that's my home down there!"
*Butt-duty is Alliance slang for being last person in a patrol. Nominally so named from a time when many soldiers smoked and the last person in line was in charge of ensuring that no cigarette butts were left behind to lead the enemy to them, it retains its name in the modern day because, like the point position, occupants suffer a high proportion of the casualties, without even the honor of having led the soldiers into battle.
Shepard's glare made the younger man flinch. Only iron self-control stopped her from snapping at the man and she forced herself to relax and smile, "Jenkins, I'm a Vanguard. When we run into groups of the enemy, I'll be charging into the midst of the enemy, dropping a nova on all the enemies, then Alenko will raise a barrier around me while you and I unload on anyone still standing. The big threat to any of us is snipers. I need you to keep an eye out for that. Understood, Corporal?"
"Yes, sir. Sorry, sir."
The Normandy slid down and Nihlus approached the drop area. "Nihlus, you're coming with us?" Alenko asked.
"I move faster on my own," the Spectre said, dropping out as Joker announced their arrival at Drop Point One. The built in systems in his armor slowed his descent when he got close to the ground, permitting him to land safely. The same systems would let the others deploy without the Normandy needing to touch down on the surface of Eden Prime.
As the ship arrived at Drop Point Two, Anderson sent a map and a proposed route to their HUDs. "We can't stick around down here. Any visual scan will pick us up fast. We need distance, but we'll be there if you need us," Anderson said over the comms from the command deck.
"Understood, sir," Shepard said, waving Alenko out of the open door and following him down to the surface. Eden Prime was green and verdant, lots of open space, almost like Mindoir before the Batarians came.
"This place got hit hard, Commander. Hostiles everywhere. Keep your guard up," Nihlus advised.
"Understood. Any information on the hostiles?" Shepard asked.
"All I've seen so far is mechs," Nihlus said. "I need to sneak past them, going radio silent."
Shepard nodded, but didn't respond as she and her team (if a group of three could be called that) moved out. Large floating creatures moved through the open field, but Shepard ignored them and led her team along the path. Jenkins was talking to himself, muttering about what a disaster this was and how it couldn't be happening. Overhead, small fighter craft buzzed, battling the aircraft of the Eden Prime garrison, if so one-sided a fight could be called battling.
Alenko rounded a corner and immediately came under fire. His barrier held for the moment he needed to dive into cover, but the burst of automatic fire had drained the barrier and his shields dangerously. Shepard moved as Alenko was still heading to cover and spotted a trio of drones, each with a heavy machine-gun underneath. Only their Eezo core kept the things stable as recoil shook them and not even that could counter the automatic fire and a hundred kilos of soldier and armor charging into their midst. A blast from her shotgun took out one as it skittered through the air. A second went down to a burst of automatic fire from Jenkins, portions of which impacted Shepard's barrier, making her grateful she hadn't dropped it for a nova. The third actually fell out of the sky for a moment and as it rebalanced, and discovered that, like all mechanical devices, it did not do well when stomped on. Especially by an armored foot.
Jenkins advanced like a lunatic, still firing on the downed drone. Shepard slid away, into cover as more drones rose over the crest of the hill and opened fire. A charge knocked them off balance, but it was too late for Jenkins. The heavy fire had shredded shields and armor alike, leaving his chest a mass of torn metal and blood. A burst of fire dealt with the pair of drones as Alenko raced out, trying to save a corpse. He dragged it into cover and applied medigel, before realizing that the corporal was dead.
Shepard moved back quickly, catching Alenko's shaking arm. The other biotic spoke softly, "Ripped right through his shields. He never had a chance."
"Let's go."
"That's it?" he asked.
"There'll be time for more when the mission's done. For now, yes. Problem, lieutenant?"
"No, sir," Alenko said, though his tone made it clear that there definitely was a problem, but that he could stow it long enough to get through the battle.
"Then let's go."
"Aye, aye, sir."
They moved out, with Alenko taking the lead, guiding them up a hill towards the dig site. Nihlus maintained radio silence as they advanced. A few more drones tried to interfere, but under sustained fire and biotic assault, they collapsed easily enough. They came up over a rise just in time to watch a quartet of mechs advance towards a pinned down marine. They tried to flank her, which put them in perfect position for a burst of fire from both of them to shred shields, then for a singularity from Alenko to rip them off their feet, leaving them helpless.
Shepard took another look over the marine, noticing her rank coming up on her HUD, identifying her as Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams, of the 212th. That name rang alarm bells, but Shepard couldn't bring it into focus at the moment.
"Thanks for your help, Commander. I didn't think I was going to make it," the marine said, having the sense not to salute in a combat situation, though she was shaking with reaction.
"Sitrep," Shepard snapped, moving into the same cover that Williams was sheltering behind.
Ashley's spine twitched as a drilled response controlled the shakes. "The 212th is gone, sir. We were patrolling the perimeter when the attack hit. We tried to get off a distress call, but they cut off our communications. I've been fighting for my life ever since," she said, as Alenko closed in to join the conversation. A sharp glare and an even sharper gesture sent the other soldier to watch the perimeter and not set up a perfect target for a grenade.
"Internal comms are down too?"
"Yes, sir. No idea where anyone else is, though I've seen a couple of those little fighters go down over the eastern suburbs where the 210th was operating."
"Have you seen anyone besides these mechs and drones? Any idea who our actual enemy is?"
"I think they're Geth."
"Why do you—Doesn't matter. Can you tell what they're trying to accomplish?"
"They must be here for the beacon. The dig site is close. Just over that rise. It might still be there."
"We could use some help, Williams."
"Aye, aye, sir. It's time for payback."
"Keep a leash on it, Gunny."
"I've got it under control, sir."
"Good. I'm a vanguard, so I'll be charging into them. Watch your fire. You've got rearguard."
"Aye, aye, sir," Williams said, managing to keep her face commendably straight, despite the truly ridiculous idea that she didn't know Commander Shepard was a vanguard. They'd made several holo-movies and an ongoing series out of her exploits.*
*Unfortunately for the Commander, she'd signed away her appearance rights without talking to an attorney and had therefore been shut out of any royalty payments. Hassan had wanted to take action to fix that, but she wouldn't let him, on the basis that it would look petty, especially since the Admiralty had set it up so the payments which would have gone to her went to a charity for homeless veterans. The Admiralty might not have been filled with the best military commanders in the galaxy, but she'd put its PR people up against any in the galaxy.
They moved out quickly, as individuals, darting from cover to cover, until they reached the dig site, only pausing briefly to stare at the spikes with colonists impaled upon them. That was pretty disturbing. Alenko said so. Shepard privately agreed, but kept it under her helmet. "I've seen worse." Which was true, but all that worse had been done by organics, for organic emotional reasons. If this was the Geth, there was something wrong with their code and if it wasn't, then the owner of these mechs was seriously crazy. A snapped command had her team moving again, onwards towards the dig site.
Thin spires of stone of the dig site were visible as they closed, perhaps parts of a building, but if so, they were bizarre as they didn't enclose anything, simply standing at unexpected, unconnected angles. More modern, temporary structures surrounded the various artifacts, both structures provided visual* cover, with the Prothean structures providing complete** cover as well.
*Visual Cover keeps you from showing up to the naked eye, but won't stop bullets.
**Complete cover will not only stop man-portable weaponry, but will also stop all known scanning devices.
Half a dozen mechs were patrolling the area, but reacted instantly before even Kaiden saw them, moving into position to ambush the team as they approached the edge of the dig site. The ambush was executed almost perfectly, but the mechs underestimated the amount of fire it would take to eliminate Kaiden due to his powerful barriers and overestimated how long they'd be able to keep Shepard under fire before she charged into their midst.
With their lines broken, the mechs were ripped apart easily. They advanced slowly after that, until Ashley broke cover as they reached a stone dip, with three slight rises as if something were intended to fit into them. The stone was all of a single piece, without crack, or any sign of shaping tools.* Despite its age, it was in pristine condition.
"This is the dig site. The beacon was right here. It must have been moved," Ashley said, staring down at the empty space in dismay.
Alenko joined her out in the open. "By who? Our side? Or the Geth?
Shepard resisted the urge to ask how the fuck he thought she could know that and instead snapped an order that they get back into cover. "Where could it have been taken, if it was our folks?"
"Maybe the research camp?" Ashley suggested.
"You think anyone got out of here alive?" Shepard asked as Ashley sent an update to her HUD with the location of the research camp.
"If they were lucky. Maybe hiding up in the camp."
"You see enough bodies to account for the research team?"
"Nope, but you saw that they're moving the bodies…" she said, voice trailing off bitterly.
"Which is just weird for m—Geth. Why bother?" Shepard asked as she gestured Kaiden to take the lead towards the research camp.
"Psychological warfare?" Ashley suggested.
"Why bother when you've got a dreadnought in atmosphere?" Shepard countered.
"No idea," Ashley admitted, breathing hard as they climbed a steep incline towards the camp, smoke filling the air above it.
"Looks like they hit the camp hard hard," Ashley said as they stepped into the open courtyard of the camp.
"I don't think we're going to find any survivors," Alenko agreed, his eyes skipping away from the trio of impaling spikes which lined the camp.
They clustered at the edge of the open space in cover for a moment, Alenko noting the area would make a good spot for an ambush, while Ashley tried desperately to reach someone on shorter range comms channels, which would be harder to jam. Just as Shepard was preparing to order the Sentinel to take the lead, a whining squelch came from the impaling spikes and Shepard took her first real look at the body that was hanging from it.
Whatever it had been, it wasn't human anymore. Grey skin, glowing lights for veins and nothing but madness in its eyes as the spike slid free and the creature pulled itself free with a burst of arcing electricity. Alenko and Ashley made some comments which escaped Shepard's notice, instead she slid forward, activating the external speaker on her helmet. Despite the…changes, some part of her hoped this was still a colonist, still a person, still could be saved…
"This is Commander Shepard of P—the System's Alliance. Are you…" okay seemed an insane question to ask of someone who'd been impaled and transformed into some sort of bio-mechanical husk of a lifeform, "capable of communicating?" she asked.
It responded with a screech and a rushing charge, arms, clawed arms, rising to reach for her. Retreat did not come naturally to the N7, but retreat she did, rather than be forced to kill the…hopefully-not-a-zombie. It didn't slow and Shepard couldn't retreat forever. There was a mission to complete. When it continued to respond to questions with shrieks and clawed gestures, she stopped retreating and instead met the creature head on. It was strong and fast, with claws which could rip through the softer portions of her suit (not that she let it, but she saw what they did to the soft metal of a railing which got in its way).
It was not, however, N7 trained. She took it down easily enough, pinning it to the ground, only to be knocked back as electricity burst from the creature's skin, disabling her shields and sending a painful jolt, even through her armor. It was enough to let the creature pull free and attempt to gut her.
A burst of fire from Ashley's assault rifle ended the creature. "Fuck!" Shepard cursed, though whether at the shock from the energy blast, or in fury at her failure to capture the creature, she could not have said.
"Sorry, sir," Ashley began.
Shepard interrupte the other woman to explain that she wasn't angry, but before she could complete that thought, Alenko burst in with a warning that the other two spikes were lowering. A tortured expression crossed Shepard's face for just a moment, fortunately hidden from the others by her position, still hunched over the corpse. "Take them out," she ordered and the unarmed zombies fell in moment s to the combined weapons fire of the three marines.
"Well…fuck," Ashley said.
"Yeah. If all those spikes are turning people into those zombies…" Shepard's voice trailed off.
"Jesus…" Alenko muttered.
Shepard shook it off before her juniors. "Check the research camp," she ordered as she approached the spikes and took detailed scans of them and the zombies.
They approached the single, still standing prefab module and Ashley overrode the lock with her military ID while Alenko covered her. "Survivors!" she yelled.
"Keep them covered," Shepard snapped as she approached.
"Humans! Thank God!" a woman amongst the survivors said, gratitude slipping away as Ashley and Alenko's rifles came up..
"Hurry! Close the door. Before they come back," a man said, staggering forward, hunched as if he'd taken a wound, but with no visible blood.
"The immediate area's clear," a waved hand sent Alenko onto perimeter guard, retaining Ashley the local to question the survivors.
"Thank you. I think we'll be okay now. It looks like everyone's gone," the female survivor said.
"Be careful. Those spikes seem to be converting our dead into some sort of foot soldier," Shepard replied. "I recommend you lock the door behind us.
"Yes, ma'am," the woman replied.
"You're the one in charge of the excavation," Ashley said, finally recognizing the woman as she began to relax, features no longer distorted by terror. "Do you know what happened to the beacon?"
"It was moved to the spaceport this morning. Manuel and I stayed behind to help pack up the camp and finish our research on the site. When the attack came, the marines held them off long enough for us to hide," the woman's voice dropped slightly. "They gave their lives to save us."
The hunched-over man, Manuel, interjected, voice lower than hers, but filled with despair, not mere sorrow, "No one is saved. The age of humanity is ended. Soon, only ruin and corpses will remain."
Shepard didn't try to force the man to meet her eye, or cheer him up. Whoever, or whatever he'd lost had broken him and fixing him was outside her skillset. "Make sure to get him to a doctor once you're evacced. Williams, flag the spaceport on our HUDs."
"You can't stop it. Nobody can stop it. Night is falling. The darkness of eternity," the man wailed, covering his face with his hands, his wail drowning out the woman's response to his command.
"Hush, Manuel. Go lie down. You'll feel better once the medication kicks in," the woman said, soothing the madman as Shepard and her team headed out.
XXXXX
Nihlus swept his rifle's sight over the area. It was clear, as best he could tell. The enemy's air superiority and technological jamming meant that most of his toys were useless. Nothing could beat the Mark I Eyeball. Well, except a cloak. Or camouflage. Or this genetically modified asshole he'd once had to kill with chameleonic skin. Still, even in his years as a Spectre, he'd never heard of anyone so perfectly duplicating a Turian that a close friend couldn't tell the duplicate from the real thing. That meant that it really was Saren over there, which didn't make any sense.
Without tech toys, he was left with one option. Slipping from cover behind Saren, he stopped well short of his old mentor and called out, careful not to trigger the hypervigilant Spectre's reflexes. "Saren?"
His fellow turned. "Nihlus."
"This isn't your mission, Saren. What are you doing here?" Nihlus asked, approaching slowly, for all this his carapace itched being out of cover. Pride wouldn't let him retreat while Saren just stood there. Besides, it had to be clear, or someone would have taken him out already.
Saren slid forward, hand closing on Nihlus's shoulders, like it was the old days. "The Council thought you could use some help on this one."
Nihlus winced internally at that, as some tactical part of his mind considered how best to keep Saren away from Shepard, and vice-versa. Then he realized it was probably bullshit. Saren had to be here for the Geth. The Council would want the new tech that let that dreadnought float in the atmosphere like that. And the designs for a dreadnought even larger than the Destiny Ascension. Saren saw the wince and released him, sliding behind him.
"I wasn't expecting to find the geth here. The situation's bad." Perhaps he should have told Shepard they were Geth. But even now he wasn't sure, it was odd that they still looked the same after centuries of isolation, perhaps it was a false flag* attack. Provoking his old friend into correcting him was his best chance of getting information out of the other Spectre. Saren loved to correct him. Even if he wasn't wrong. He didn't look at his fellow, as Saren was always on guard when being observed.
*A false flag attack is one conducted while pretending to be fighting for another power. This might be used to justify an attack by those you actually serve, or to instigate conflict between two other powers.
"Don't worry. I've got it under—" the massive ship which had been hovering over the colony rocked as if struck by a massive hand, explosions bursting from the top of its squid-like shape and falling towards the ground, taking out half a dozen buildings as it fell. Nihlus saw none of that. The impact of weapon onto dreadnought created a blinding flash which blinded Nihlus, despite his combat gear.
Automatically he retraced his steps towards the cover he'd abandoned to confront Saren and tripped over the fallen body of his old mentor. "Sparshan!"*
*Sparshan is a Turian curse, roughly translated as 'Defecation of the Spirit of a Giant Latrine."