Invasion
-June, 2186
"You've heard all that?" Hayes glared at Ashley Williams, as she exited Messalina's cell. But her glare was nothing compared to the disgust that crossed Ashley's face. The young officer glared at her, balled fists, barely containing herself.
"Of course I have." Ashley replied coldly. Ashley turned to leave.
"Stop right there, Williams!" Hayes called after her. "Where do you think you're going?"
"The Truth." was all that Ashley replied, as she turned the corner and disappeared.
Tired, and exhausted from her ordeal, Hayes sat down on the floor against the wall. She wiped her tears and opened her compact, correcting her makeup.
An urgent call intruded her private moment. It was her yeoman.
"Sorry to disturb you, Admiral." The yeoman apologized quickly. "You're needed back in orbit. Condition Red. Major reports coming in from the Batarian front, ma'am."
Hayes nodded. "I'll be up immediately. Prep the fleet for launch. Contact all flotillas to regroup."
"Aye, aye, Admiral."
So, it's begun, Hayes thought to herself, the War with the Batarians.
"All Fleets have been commanded to deploy to their Emergency Counter Invasion stations." The Strategics aide informed him. Steven Hackett grumbled as he stubbed out his cigar. Smoking was not exactly allowed on Alliance vessels. Some of his officers had cautiously suggested that he quit his addiction to the ancient habit. They never did that twice.
"I don't tolerate idiocy on my ship, Major." Hackett coughed as he sat up. "I want all fleets prepped and ready around Earth. I have no plans on going to Arcturus."
"But sir-" The Major was cut short by a venomous glare from the Admiral.
"We won't stand a chance divided!" Hackett blared. "Where's Anderson?"
"Admiral Anderson reports to have arrived at Vancouver HQ, Admiral." the communications aide reported.
"Open a line."
Anderson's face soon appeared on the view screen, curtly saluting Hackett. Hackett returned the salute, immediately pressing forward. Anderson looked tired and worn out from his hurried trip from the Citadel.
"Did you get Shepard?"
"I just got here, and you know it!" Anderson spat.
Hackett rolled his eyes. "I know that."
"The Defense Committee has scheduled another hearing-" Anderson sighed.
"David," Hackett groaned tiredly.
"I would like to spring her from jail myself, Steven. But I'm just one man; you should have sent a platoon, if that's what you wanted."
"Batarians are a riot, David." Hackett informed him. "The reports are flooding in in a jumbled mess."
"Do you think it's what Shepard warned us about?" Anderson's face was replaced with a sudden grim urgency.
"I need Shepard up and running out there, David." Hackett complained. "I've already got a report from Hannah that there something up on Mars. I haven't been able to contact Doctor T'Soni. Things are starting to blow up everywhere, and I can't have Shepard enjoying it out on a soft plushy bed. Shoot the damned Defense Committee if you have to. I want Shepard."
Despite the idiocy of his demands, Anderson seemed to agree heartily, to the dismay of everyone else who listened in on the exchange.
"I hear you." Anderson nodded, flashing his sidearm. "I'm fed up with this shit, anyway."
"See you in hell, David." Hackett grinned a wide and ugly smile that cracked at his facial scar.
"Probably getting there before you." Anderson grumbled as he signed off.
Hackett lighted another cigar. He wanted to send men to Mars. He wanted to send a battalion down to storm the prison. But right now, he wasn't even sure if his fleet would survive.
The Communications aide reported in, nervously. "Admiral Hayes of the Second fleet reports entering entering jumping range of the Charon Relay. She's asking when you plan to return to Arcturus, sir."
Hackett studied the deployment reports. First fleet, the largest fleet had been called in from Arcturus to defend Earth, joining the reserve Fourth fleet which usually guarded Earth alone. The Second fleet had left for Arcturus to join the Third fleet.
"We'll never be able to face the Reapers with all the fleets dispersed." Hackett mumbled to himself.
"Sir?" the Operations aide asked cautiously.
"Take us to Arcturus." Hackett sighed, relenting. If the Reapers intended to invade Earth, they would have to pass the Arcturus Relay. With three fleets, he hoped it was enough.
"Fifth fleet has just appeared through the relay, Ma'am." The ship's captain reported.
The Everest had formed into a large entrapment wing, before Arcturus station. It would serve as the spearhead of the battle, with the smaller Third Fleet augmenting its wings, and Fifth fleet defending Arcturus station itself. Ever since the Skyllian Blitz, Emily Hayes had been the front-woman of defense against the Batarians. The Alliance had grown soft in recent years, depending on smoothing diplomatic relationships with the Citadel, relying heavily on the Turians. She had warned Earth about alien dependent tactics. It was only fitting now, at the end of her career, that she would face her old enemy.
"Tell Hackett to hurry into formation." Hayes growled.
Ashley Williams had disappeared into the maze of the Intelligence HQ. She was missing her Top Marine. She would have to order a disciplinary hearing after this mess. She regretted losing Ashley, but the woman had made up her choice. It was a brash and undisciplined choice, but young marines these days seemed to be rushing in to play the hero left and right.
"Zorya!" A tactical officer shouted. "Zorya is down!"
Zorya was only two jumps from Arcturus. A concerned look crossed over Hayes. The Batarians shouldn't be able to progress so fast. It had only been a matter of hours ago that they first received reports from the Migrant fleet that they sighted Batarian activity outside the Hoc system.
"What do you mean down?" Hayes snapped.
"Comm silence from Zorya Colony has gone silent. Civilian channels are also a dud. Not even a ping, Admiral."
Zorya was a heavily industrialized planet with a hundred million colonists. Complete radio silence was impossible.
"Equipment failure?" Hayes scratched her head.
"All systems are green, Admiral."
Just then another officer shouted in. "Elysium!" he cried, almost screaming. "Elysium, is gone, Admiral."
"That's impossible!" Hayes slammed her fist down. The officers of the CIC began running frantically to and fro, trying to confirm silence from Zorya and Elysium, trying to check equipment, trying to ping the Relays for activity. Tactical officers began checking in attack wings. Flotilla commanders began rapidly chattering over the channels.
"Admiral, look!"
At first it was mere specks of activity from the Arcturus Relay, which had been floating silently behind the Fifth fleet as they made their way to station points. Now the Mass Relay began spinning with renewed activity, far more rapidly than when Hackett's fleet had appeared.
"Intercept course!" Hayes ordered. "Get the Fifth behind us and cover their tracks."
The Second fleet began moving forward. Faster scout flotillas, consisting of Normandy class frigates hurrying ahead, smaller snub-fighters flying further.
"Have Third fleet drop back to Arcturus. The fifth fleet won't get there in time."
The forward ships had barely overtaken the Fifth fleet, when the enemy ships began peppering the backdrop of space. Scanners showed a large number of vessels already appearing at the jump point, but the Mass Relays kept spinning rapidly.
"How the hell-" Hayes looked up at the Battle map in awe. Frontier vessels were now relaying tactical information, then immediately became immediately silenced. The readouts of the enemy, earned by the sacrifice of those scout ships, appeared on the screen.
And the image froze Hayes into shock.
"Enemy has begun attack!" "We've lost Flotilla 15!" "Mayday, Mayday!" Frantic calls, both actual and transmitted crackled around her. But battle screen displayed the enemy number in only increasing counts. Each image relayed by a dying fighter pilot or frigate captain showed the same alien crab like vessel again and again, before fiery red beams terminated the signal.
"We need to regroup!" Hackett's face suddenly appeared on an emergency hotline. "Retreat Arcturus, Admiral!"
Hayes hurriedly terminated Hackett's signal.
"Damage report!" Hayes screamed.
"Enemies everywhere!" someone cried. The front view screen lit up with the actual visual readings of space, but few stars were visible. The enormous alien dreadnoughts, enormous in both size and number, had been able to completely blot out the stars.
"Vanguards are lost, Admiral." The tactical aide, dazed and disbelieving his own reports, hurried to Hackett's side.
"Where's the Third fleet headed?" Hackett slammed his fist down, staring up at the image of the Enemy ships. It had taken half his fleet to defeat a single one of them. Now, tactical was reporting that there were roughly eleven hundred of them.
"They've begun attacking the Reapers, Admiral." The strategic aide reported. "Comm signals report they've lost almost half their fleet."
"Who's in command?"
"Admiral Singh's ship is still afloat, Admiral."
"Tell them to fall back!" Hackett ordered. "All ships fall back. Get us out of here! Now!"
"Sir! The Second Fleet!"
On the tactical map, the remains of the Second fleet was now completely overwhelmed by the Reapers. Hackett watched in horror as the signal from the flag ship Everest blinked rapidly, then disappeared.
Emily Hayes closed her eyes, feeling the calmness of weightlessness envelop her.
As a child she had loved the stars. They were always mysterious. Immense heat that desperately tried to break the dark and cold vacuum of space.
To join the stars! It was something she had desperately wanted to do. After a slew of model rockets and dreams of space, she had been able to join Earth's first venture into the darkness. She had been a member of the blessed generation. In her career alone she had seen Earth widen its perspective from a solitary rock basking in the sun, to a great Empire that spanned thousands of light years.
Magical biotics, weird looking aliens, ancient technologies, they peppered her memories. It had been an exciting life, full of adventure. Humanity was flinging itself across the stars in the horde, and she couldn't leave that behind.
Not because of a mistake.
She was a soldier. She could go through any difficulties tossed at her. But she could never face being held back, while everyone else claimed her dream as part of her own. At first, she had thought she could raise the child. She had even relinquished her duty for a while to give birth. But when she finally held the crying baby in her arms, in the absence of a father, while the whole world began to forget about her, it didn't quite feel it was worth it.
She had lived for that dream. It was a mistake, a one night stand with a nameless stranger. And now this unwitting baby, bawling rudely, had ruined it for her. Every will of her mind strained itself from keeping her from flinging the child to the floor. She dried of milk immediately; it was a sign. Across the raining streets of Manhattan she found a shelter, hidden enough from the eyes of the street. She had chosen the orphanage, for its obscurity in location than anything else. It was a sin she would live with, but it was worth it.
"Yes, it was worth it." she tried to calm herself.
She saw the Everest, ruptured and cracking into pieces. Her beloved ship of decades, the flagship of her fleet, was splintering. Far away, she could see the Carrier Einstein, trying to empty its fighters before it imploded. The Second Fleet was dying.
The child had grown up properly, she reasoned with herself. She had tried to look up the child when she finally returned from a decade long career into deep space colonization. Inheriting the bright mind of her mother, and handsome rugged features of the stranger she had invited to bed all those years ago, Hannah had become a beautiful young woman. It was a sign, she told herself, that she had done right in the eyes of the Galaxy. The stars had granted her wish, taken up her sacrifice.
The pain in her legs returned as she cautiously reached for the stump that had had once extended to her feet. Phantom pain. She had heard about it. How one would often imagine pain, as if the lost limb was still there.
She knew about Hannah's difficulties. The girl couldn't afford to live on her own. Despite the loads of scholarships, bureaucracy simply did not allow Hannah a life without eventually joining the military. But the girl wanted it, Hayes reasoned. Hannah, like her mother, soldiered on through her difficulties, earning a degree, and then joining a science mission into space. She turned out fine, Hayes told herself. The pain in her severed leg returned. She imagined twitching her toes.
She was annoyed. She had lost a limb, so she shouldn't be feeling pain in her toes. She had lost a family, so what was with all this guilt? They were severed from her.
The coldness of space began creeping up her suit.
"I'm loosing air." Hayes muttered to herself. The seal of her battle armor didn't close over the severed leg. It was inviting death through the rupture.
Just like Messalina. The Unwanted child of the Unwanted child. Like a greek prince of an ancient fable, karma had returned to bite her. The severed stump was not only giving her pain, but was now killing her. Messalina, the angel of death, was living up to her nickname.
Alone, Emily Hayes felt her heart tug at her, closed her eyes in pain, and never opened them again.