REQUIEM
CHAPTER THIRTEEN:
ARCHAELOGY
August 13, 2251
1814 hours.
Grim Skulls' Base, Harpy District, Sanctum Civilian Zone, Alpha.
Terra-Rannochian War.
Viglante Samara.
She moved with purpose; her every step taking her closer and closer to her target, one she had thought long dead. Her red armor gleamed in the pink lights of Alpha's skyline, the light seemingly bouncing off her chestplate and helmet, a dance of lights commencing on its crimson surface. The armor she wore was custom made; a light weight defence that was laced with polymer, hints of steel and, as crude as it was, reinforced packets of sand deep inside. Her body glowed with furious biotic intent, the cold enveloping her, and the asari embraced it.
She felt anger. Confusion. Worry.
Morinth was back. How? She didn't know, but that was the word. She was alive, on Alpha, and leading the Grim Skulls. She couldn't have known who I was; my name is officially Red Star, not Samara. She can't have recognized me or my name; all of it has been erased. She quickly shook the thought away, not wanting it to plague her. I am not who I was; if I falter...Morinth cannot be allowed free; not again.
Morinth was not her daughter; not anymore. She was an Ardat-Yakshi, a monster...and she was going to die. But I killed her...Shepard was there, as was Tali...they saw me kill her...how could she be alive? I snapped her neck; noone could possibly survive that. But with current medical advances, Samara just couldn't be sure.
The door of the base came astoundingly closer, and Samara could feel her heartbeat increase, blood running cold as her biotics consumed them in a icy grip; unwilling to let go until Morinth and all her mercenaries were dead. She narrowed her eyes, approaching the enemy base with what seemed to be increasing speed; she felt like she was running almost, SMG at her hip going unnoticed.
All around her skyscrapers rose tall and high; the place where the Gozu District once stood being filled with the highest of Sanctum cosmopolitans and a great metropolis stood around them. Hard to believe that a Collector plague had once ravaged this place. The skycrapers were a hybrid of turian and asari design, a symbolism of how desperate the two peoples were to escape their executioners. Not even a hint of human, krogan or quarian design. Funny, especially considering the krogan fought on the Council's side in the PA War.
Samara looked back, watching as two intersecting walls began to encroach on her, as if herding her towards the door directly before her, giant titanium surface almost seeming to invite the asari. The door was simple in design and held a sort of turian feel, but there was not even a single sign of the Grim Skulls' trademark husk skull, just a grey door.
She approached, but almost stopped as she saw it open of its own accord, a line of rifles greeting the asari as this time, she did stop, looking at them as her biotics still ravaged her. A long line of mercenaries, all in dark brown and orange armor, stood there, numerous pulse rifles, shotguns, pistols and even a plasma repeater staring at her, as if daring her to move. They wore fully-sealed helmets, the two, circular eye pieces perputually wide eyed, watching her with glowing intent. And, on the front of their chestplate and shoulderpads was, of course, their logo; a husk's skull.
The Grim Skulls, along with all the other minor mercenary companies, weren't as picky as the major hitters, like the Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack. Where they only hired certain species, the others went all out and hired anyone they could. Even now, Samara could see two asari, one human, three quarians, a batarian and, to the asari's fear, the titanic, tankish form of a yahg, holding a plasma repeater that seemed too small for its hands, which had to be the size of human's torso.
The yahg growled something to its fellow mercs and the batarian approached, growling as it did, obviously a female, "You are Red Star?"
Samara gulped again, not allowing fear to enter her pose. Are they even that observant? She wasn't going to take that risk, especially with three quarians in the group, and straightened her posture, nodding, "That I am. Are you the commander here?"
The batarian scoffed, "Don't ask questions or Galo;Feer here will shoot you," the batarian thrusted a thumb at the towering yahg behind them and Samara noticed one quarian nervously shuffling his feet, obviously feeling belittled by the massive creature. Even the krogan would be in awe at such a beast. The salarians thought the krogan were nothing but brutal warriors, but the yahg...they didn't even build a civilization; their entire history is bloodshed, without even an once of peace. 'The Evolutionary War' the scientists call it.
The yahg grunted its agreement, Samara unable to tell whether she was looking at a male or a female. They all look the same. Samara nodded, showing no sign of her trepidation at the yahg's presence, "Very well. Are you here to kill me or take me to Morinth?"
The batarian chuckled mirthlessly, "Wouldn't have bothered asking for a name if we wanted you dead," she turned to her team, holding a fist in the air and spinning it. The mercs nodded, keeping their weapons lowered at the ex-justicar as they moved to the side, creating a space for the asari to move through, revealing a long corridor. The batarian turned back to you, "Your daughter would like to speak to you. Don't try to resist, or-"
"You'll shoot me," Samara finished for him, garnering herself a growl of irritation from the merc, "I understand. Its how you operate," with that, she clasped her hands behind her back and marched down the corridor, flanked by Morinth's henchmen as they moved behind her and at her flanks, the huge, repetitive thuds of the yahg echoing through the hall.
As they went through the base, Samara couldn't help but be intrigued by the way they had decorated their halls, old memories conjuring up. To her disgust, she saw the bodies of many husks and even a few adjutants having been impaled on spikes, paraded around the base like some kind of war trophy. You weren't even there in the final assault. You didn't fight the Reapers...yet you parade these dead husks and adjutants, like they were your kills...
But it just went on. She saw the remains of burnt Cerberus armor, discarded like scrap at one side, while another had the remains of a destroyed Rampart mech. And now they try to pretend they had a role in kicking Cerberus off of Omega...these people are despicable. Taking credit for battles they never fought or won. Those were Shepard's victories...the victories of heroes, soldiers...Samara remembered the final day of the Reaper War all too well, and the emptiness it left inside her. He died...but now he's back. I wonder, Marcus Shepard, where are you now?
Finally, after a few more corridors, they approached the entrance to Morinth's bunker, a new thought coming up in her head. Wait, why would Morinth have me brought to her? She knows I'm more powerful and has always been trying to run away from me because she knows this. Bringing me to her seems suicidal...something isn't right...But she didn't get anymore time on the thought as she reached reality, the yahg's plasma repeater stabbing her back and urging her on. So she continued.
They moved inside and she immediately felt the yahg's hand grope her, only for it to move away, SMG in its grip. And within a second, had crushed it, dropping its remains to the floor. Such a powerful creature...you would have given the Reapers pause...
The room itself was a work of art; a massive structure. Two golden pillars stretched out at the back of the room, reaching up to hold a roof that stood 15 meters above them, a massive glass dome encompassing the ceiling. The room was covered in bright light, with multiple doors off to the side, all polished and gleaming with light. An insurmountable amount of mercs occupied the room, all ranging from quarians to turians, along with the occassional raloi. Another yahg was present, flanked by two massive looking krogan that almost looked identical in size to the beast in their midst, both holding blood red claymore shotguns in their grip.
And at the center of it all, a walnut desk stretching five meters across, lined with terminals, pieces of machinery and a single, glowing, milky white drone, the spherical device floating above the desk and talking in mechanical undertones that made her ears hurt. Morinth, or so she assumed, sat behind her desk, helmet on and fully sealed, along with the rest of her whitened armor. Funny, as her breasts seemed to have grown...massively.
The woman met Samara's gaze, or so the asari assumed, and nodded, motioning for her to be brought forward. Samara ignored the batarian behind her though and moved of her own accord, bracing her arms against the desk as she ripped her helmet off, tossed it across the desk and met the asari's gaze with anger, "Morinth! How the hell are you alive!?"
Morinth cocked her head at the outburst, as if confused by the viglante's statement. She was moving to throttle the woman when the batarian woman grabbed her arm and began pulling her back, weapon poking the back of her torso. But just as she began thrashing, Morinth held up a hand, stopping the batarian's attack and waving for Samara to come closer, looking oddly calm given the circumstances.
With Samara in range, Morinth leaned over the desk and whispered in a careful tone. It wasn't harsh or deceptively calm, but it was soothing, relaxing and most of all...hinting at something. And the voice caught her completely by surprise as she recognized, a smile gracing the woman's lips.
"...oh, but I'm not Morinth," the woman stated, leaning back, "She has been dead a long time."
"Wait, then who the hell are you?" the batarian asked, raising her weapon, along with numerous other mercs in the room, but, to Samara's surprise, not all of them did, including the yahg that had escorted her inside. She eyed the asari, watching her regard the batarian with barely concealed disgust.
"None of your concern," the woman replied, a cruel smile crossing her face, "...at least not anymore. Execute."
Samara heard a gasp and spun around, looking, along with everyone else, as the yahg swatted one quarian aside like an annoying fly, before using its plasma repeater as a bat to wack an asari across the head. With an angered roar, it lowered the plasma repeater at the batarian and fired. Samara's face was painted with red blood, and she almost gasped in pain at how hot the blood was, the life force seeming to sizzle on her skin. The batarian woman's body crumbled to the ground, riddled with multiple plasma burns and blackened skin, the sound of boiling blood pouring out of wounds heard only by her ears as carnage broke out.
One of the krogan flanking the second yahg aimed his claymore at Not-Morinth but suddenly found his guts spilling out onto the ground, before a claymore was shoved into his mouth and his entire face blown to smithereens in a second, the second krogan having dispatched of his ex-buddy and turning to the face the yahg he once flanked, who now turned to face him.
The yahg swipped at the krogan, only to find his attack ducked as the krogan pulled out a massive hammer from his back, loosening it from its sheathe and bringing it down in a mighty swing, the blade tipping the hammer slamming into the top of the yahg's skull and burying itself, causing the massive creature to bellow a cry of pain and fury. Pulling the hammer out, the krogan slammed a grenade into the beast's mouth, leapt back, and watched as it detonated, blowing the yahg's head apart and sending meaty fragments in all directions.
The carnage was over in no time; with only one yahg, two krogan, a few asari, a turian, two salarians, five quarians and seven humans left after the battle. They all turned to Samara, but they didn't raise their weapons, instead snapping them down and throwing a salute in her direction.
But the salute wasn't for her, and she turned around, seeing the asari now standing, helmet off and on her desk, the woman smiling at Samara as her white drone hovered behind her.
Samara smiled back, remembering her old friend, "Liara T'Soni. A pleasant surprise."
"Not so pleasant for me," Liara replied, walking around the desk and eying the dead Grim Skulls mercs around her as she nodded to her men, most likely her agents in disguise and approached her yahg soldier, motioning for Samara to follow, "I do hate having to kill people, but it was necessary. These people were quite clearly corrupt."
She stopped infront of the yahg, whispering commands in its ear while her drone, Glyph, hovered beside her, obediently awaiting further commands. A few seconds later, the yahg nodded, scoffed and turned to move away, the rest of the Shadow Broker's agents following quickly behind in an organized and disciplined column, leaving Samara alone with Liara.
The asari turned to her, sighing heavily, "I went through alot of trouble to get you here."
Samara glared at the asari, circling her as she did, hands still clasped behind her back, "You sent that agent to kill me."
"Knowing he couldn't. The man was a merc, and was easily fooled," Liara replied cooly, not even wavering under the fellow asari's glare, "Besides, I knew you could handle one, incompetent merc. And I just knew naming myself Morinth would draw your attention. I'm sorry if it brought back horrible memories, but I needed to bait your attention."
"I understand," Samara stated, glare lessening to narrowed eyes, "But why the Grim Skulls? And how did you even take command of them without them questioning it?"
"Oh, there was questions," Liara smiled grimly, "But they were soon quelled, and my agents were quickly able to assert themselves into the organization. I named myself Morinth to lure you here whilst also to fool these mercs into thinking I'm their leader, who apparently had used the name as well, coincidentally, and then sent one pathetic little merc to lure you here. It all worked, and here you are."
"Why did you call me here, Shadow Broker?" Samara asked, choosing to use the asari's title instead of her real name, considering who she had become, "As you probably already know, I'm supposed to be handing Daro'Xen over to a partner of mine. A mutual friend, later this month. I currently have her imprisoned, but I must return soon."
"Mutual friend, yes. Miranda Lawson, I presume?" Liara asked and, noticing Samara's nod, quickly continued, a smug smile on her face, "Yes, well I'm sure that can wait. I lured you here for a specific reason, to tell you that your life is currently in danger."
Samara rolled her eyes, allowing a ghost of a grin to cross her face, "My life is always in danger; I am a viglante, it is my job to put myself in danger to protect the innocent."
Liara nodded, creasing her lips in a frown, "True. But you have fought mercs and the occassional second rate soldier. The threat I've come to present you with is something far more dangerous; an enemy you fought before on Lesuss."
Samara's confident posture evaporated in that instant, the asari slumping her shoulders in a brief representation of fear, but also anger, remembering what her old enemy had done to her last daughter, what they had aided in doing to her people; she knew she shouldn't trust Liara, considering the asari was effectively a traitor for helping the Dominion, but she couldn't help but trust her. The asari had helped defeat the Reapers, afterall. As did everyone else. She shook the thought aside, meeting the asari's unflinching gaze.
"Prometheus," the word felt alien rolling from her lips, the name spoken decades ago when the galaxy had been tearing itself apart for a second time. To her credit, she showed no fear as she replied, unshaking, "They could not be a threat to me; I have covered my tracks, and they clearly wouldn't dare operate on Alpha. They wouldn't risk war with the Sanctum."
The Broker shook her head, "A war with Sanctum is definitely something they want, if the intelligence I've gathered is anything to go by. But that's not the point; Prometheus is not what we've been misled to believe. They are actually a reincarnation of Cerberus."
Samara's eyes widened, "Impossible. The Illusive Man is dead."
"You better believe it," Liara replied, walking forward, "Cerberus is back, but the Illusive Man is not. I don't know much else, but I know that they are finally making their move. They've ordered a systematic assassination of everyone involved with Shepard. You were on his team, Samara, and one of his most trusted friends. You'll be on their hit list. They'll be coming for you; I don't know when, but they will be, and we both know who'll they'll send."
"Samara, how nice to meet you," the words rolled from the man's lips like venom and honey mixed together, eyes gleaming with malicious intent, "You're one of Shepard's pets. I will enjoy gutting you and seeing what asari blood tastes like."
Samara shivered, but otherwise didn't falter under the man's gaze, Lesuss burning all around her, "I will end you, whoever you are."
The man smiled, "My name is Siren, for those I kill."
The memory dissipated, Samara shaking it away, "Siren."
Liara nodded, "Exactly. I would recommend relocating."
Samara frowned at her, "What about Tali? Garrus? What of Tali's children? And everyone else."
"Tali is safe...Prometheus needs her alive to debrief Shepard," Liara informed her, "Garrus is much the same, but he is needed to build weapons; noone builds weapon like Vakarian Industries on Feros. I recently heard of Prometheus' attempt to end Thane'Shepard and Reby'Reegar's lives, but they survived the attack and currently reside on Virmire. As for Penya or Kaidan, I am unsure."
"And the others? Are they safe?" Samara asked, concern entering her tone. If Prometheus has harmed a single one of them, by the Justicar Code, I will destroy them.
Liara shook her head, regret in her eyes, "The others are...harder to maintain eyes on and have since disappeared, but Prometheus won't dare try and sever the head of Red Sky, so Miranda is also safe. As for the others, well..."
"I consider myself perfectly fine," said the familiar cheerful voice of a thief Samara once knew and the asari turned just in time to see the older, worn-out form of Kasumi Goto appear infront of her, a wide smile stretching across her features, "Broky here made sure I was informed of Promethean attempts to kill me before hand; I've tried contacting hubby, but I'm sure they won't hurt him. I managed to save Jessica though, and Ambassador Nara. They're back at the Shadow Broker's base."
"It is good to hear that. I have not heard so many friendly faces in all my decades on Alpha," Samara summarized, tone regretful, "I have missed you sorely."
"Don't get so mopey. Its only Prometheus wanting us all dead," Kasumi piped, crossing her arms, "Nothing out of the usual, right?"
Liara chuckled, "Its sad that the prospect of death is so casual to us," a moment of mirth between the group, before Glyph appeared at the Broker's side, voice the same dull, annoying monotone it always had been.
"Liara T'Soni," the drone drawled, "The base is secured. Agents are ready to pull out."
"Very well. Sound the call, myself and Miss Goto will follow soon," Liara replied, eying the asari viglante beside her as she then turned around, "As will you, I presume?"
Samara raised an eyebrow, "You presume wrong; I have a prisoner to deliver, and I will not fail my mission. Besides, the people of Alpha need me."
"You're not much of a justice-league hero if you're dead, Sam," Kasumi retorted, giving the asari towering above her frail frame a weary eye, "Alpha needs you, but Prometheus needs you dead. Anyone connected with Shepard they want dead. You can stay here, but they will find you eventually. You can't hide forever, and with the reputation of the 'Red Star' spreading, it won't be long before news reaches Dominion channels."
Samara considered the woman's words, and strongly considered going, but something held her back. And if they do come, and I'm gone? Will they kill everyone I've ever talked to? If I leave, how many lives will die to protect me from Promethean hands? And to let scum like Daro'Xen walk? Will Miranda even trust me to do such an errand ever again after letting her escape? No, I have a duty. My life has passed, and my death no longer hounds me. If I must die, I will do it protecting the innocent from Prometheus.
"No," Red dictated, taking both women beside her by surprise, "I will stay. If Prometheus want me, they can take me, but only my corpse. I have lived a full life and have no desire to keep living, or have any great need to keep doing so. I will die at my post, as I was always destined to."
Kasumi sighed, obviously disappointed by the asari's choice. Liara, however, seemed more sympathetic, if not understanding of what the viglante had to do. However, she couldn't help but noticed the twinge of disappointment in the asari's gaze as well, and knew that these two worried for her, something she was fond of. They care about me, and I reward their care by telling them I'm ready to die. But some emotions cannot be hidden; and this I must do.
Liara placed a firm hand on Samara's shoulder, face grim and devoid of the previous humor, "Then may the goddess watch over you, Red Star, for you will need it. You are wise and you are powerful, and I have no doubt you'll make Prometheus fight tooth and nail before giving in. I will leave two of my agents here under your command," she held a hand up to stall the asari's protest, "At least allow me that."
Samara sighed and gave in, nodding as Liara relieved her hand from gripping Samara's shoulder, before giving the asari a firm handshake and leaving, Glyph hovering on behind her. Kasumi let her gaze linger for awhile longer, before following behind the Shadow Broker, the rest of her agents following as Samara was left alone with a turian and a human. She turned to them, her face grim.
"I guess you two are now under my command," the two agents nodded at this, "Very well. Follow me, I have a prisoner for you to guard."
And Samara marched forth, two Shadow Broker operatives at her back as she left the Grim Skulls' base and headed for her skycar. Prometheus was on the move and would be prepared to hurt the innocent to kill Samara, this much she knew.
And Samara would do what she had for decades. She'd defend them, or die trying.
{Loading...}
August 14, 2251
1959 hours.
Broker's Office, Shadow Broker Base, Southern Hemisphere, Therum.
Terra-Rannochian War.
Spectre Jessica Alenko.
Jessica Alenko was not one who liked sitting around.
The entire base was almost completely silent, save the occassional hum of the base's power vibrating through the base and the sound of the Broker's agents moving by. She sat there, her armor removed and weapons stowed away, with her head in her hands and looking blankly at the floor, unable to find anything to do. This is what boredom is like.
There had been nothing to do since their escape from the Citadel four days ago, with the Broker's base being so well-hidden, that not even Prometheus couldn't find it, which made sure that Jessica would be bored out of her mind. Veetor had said that the lack of people trying to kill them should have been soothing and Kasumi...well, she had a feeling the thief was on similiar terms with the spectre, just not finding the idea of killing to survive being comforting.
Anything's better than just sitting here. But Jessica was a wanted woman now; she didn't know what lies Prometheus was making up to make her look like a criminal, but they most certainly wanted, and now she was a fugitive. I'm technically not even a spectre anymore. And they only wanted her dead because her father had been a friend of The Shepard's...figures.
We carry the burdens of our fathers, right? She missed her father, wandering what he would do in her situation, but quickly swatted the thought aside, the melancholy it brought not welcome in her current predicament.
The Shadow Broker's base was located deep underground on Therum, where the mass amounts of volcanic displacement and flows of lava kept them hidden from ground penetrating radar and sensors, making it the perfect place to place the discreet facility. At first, Jessica had been high on happiness to see her Aunt Liara again, but those thoughts had quickly died when Kasumi had told the asari about the recent attacks.
Liara had known; and she hadn't told anyone.
Jessica had shouted angry words, and the Broker had left with a sad expression, and Jessica and Veetor were informed that they could not leave the base for their own safety. A day later, Liara, Kasumi, and a platoon of operatives had left to warn the rest of Shepard's original team and their family before it was too late. The latest ping of info put their mission on Alpha to save Samara, who had refused to leave and stayed on the station.
So here she was, bored shitless, unable to do anything. She had been offered food, drink, supplies, magazines, books, games, and even a chance to watch the latest Blasto movie, but had declined all of them. One perverted man, her own species, had offered her a fornax magazine and she had been caught him eying her before, but she had rolled her eyes and ignored it. No point in scolding him.
She hadn't seen all that much of Veetor. The quarian had been surprisingly reserved, isolating himself ever since they went into hiding. He had barely spoken to her, but she had a feeling that the man was pretty devastated over losing his position as an ambassador, stating it had been 'all he had left' and had quickly isolated himself. She felt sorry for him, even if he was a politician, but she couldn't bring herself to confront him.
She wanted to shoot something. She wanted the feel of armor strapped to her body. She felt naked without it, and vulnerable without even a pistol. She raked a hand through her rare golden hair, sighing as she looked at the ground, desperately wanting to do something. I'm a soldier through and through. She was hugely attractive by most species standards, and even the scar on her face didn't belittle her features, but she still didn't have time for romance. Plus, it was against regulations.
Not that it matters anymore. My own people have turned against me.
And what? You thought you could trust them? After what they...did...
Tears welled up and she wiped them away, trying to keep the facade of the unfazed soldier up, even if no one currently occupied the room. I don't want to be alone. I get time to think when I'm alone; thinking leads to bad memories...I don't want to remember. I want to forget. I want to forget all of it. I need something to do.
So Jessica stood up, straightening out her clothes; a plain shirt with a pair of jeans and boots, and quickly approached the door, palming the interface and opening it. The door slid open without a sound, the whoosh of air as the two steel plates parted being but a whisper, and she practically glided through the frame, turning on her heels to move down the corridor.
It was chilly, with all the base's air conditioning systems active, but it was obvious that Therum's heat would always win out. The base literally sat ontop of a massive pocket of volcanic mass, with the builder's of the base making it so that the lowest deck of the facility was the thermal heating plant that kept the base operating, using the extracted heat and lava to power the systems. It also ensured that noone came looking.
But due to the sheer power of Therum's environment, the air conditioning did little but give you a swift breeze, with the heat always winning out, the colder areas being the top most decks. Jessica, as it was now, was closer to the volcanic activity, and she was sweating like a pig. She saw it in the operatives she walked past too; only the turians, krogan and geth being unaffected by it; the first two had been born on worlds that were almost always hot, while the third was a machine; sentient, but still unable to feel heat.
As she moved along the corridors of the base, heading for the elevator leading outside, Jessica wandered if Liara had chosen Therum as the place for her new base of operations because of its advantageous surroundings, or because of a feeling of nostalgia. This is the planet where she first met Shepard, afterall. Maybe she chose it for both? The ideal location, possibly?
She continued moving forward, trying to memorize the layout. The Shadow Broker's base was located one kilometer underground, buried under untold amounts of volcanic ash, rock and lava. It was scary to think about; one hull breach and a flood of lava could pour in and burn them all to death, that, or rock could blow the structural integrity, and they'd all get buried in a fiery tomb of molten rock.
The lone elevator shaft that extended from the base to the surface was extremely small to make an enemy assault difficult to coordinate; the only problem with this plan is that if the shaft collapsed, they would all effectively be trapped. Teleporation would be really handy in this day and age. All this technology, and we still can't do that! All the Star Trek fans must be rolling in their graves.
Her line of thought ceased as she finally reached the elevator, the door guarded by two operatives, both of them turians. She nodded to them as she went past, palming the interface and moving to go inside when one turian outstretched his arm, blocking her path. She shot him a look, but found only his helmet.
"Sorry ma'am, Broker's orders were very clear," the turian droned, "Noone leaves; no surface activity. Can't risk Prometheans finding you, or some Dominion citizen. You're on wanted posters all over the galaxy, and if someone were to see you...we can't risk it ma'am. You're to stay here until the Broker returns."
"I'm going for some fresh air, and I can handle myself," Jessica told him, "I'll be discreet and your boss doesn't have to know."
"I'm sure you can handle yourself; but this isn't a matter of fighting ability. We're not going to get killed because you wanted fresh air."
Jessica moved until she was in his face, but with the helmet on she couldn't tell whether he was intimidated or not by her form, "So I'm a prisoner am I?"
The turian looked confused and shook his head, "No, of course not! This isn't a prison-"
"Can I leave when I want?"
The operative stopped and scratched the back of his neck, "Well, not exactly, but-"
"So I'm a prisoner," Jessica cut in, moving closer, "Well this prisoner will get out, even if I have to make a prison break. I will not be holed up in here like some kind of pet. Let me through, or I'll see how far turian arms can bend back before they snap."
The guard shifted uncomfortably, eying his companion, but seeing no help forthcoming, he turned back to the ex-spectre, sighing heavily, "Fine, but if you get spotted...this place doesn't exist."
"I know how it works dolt," Jessica snarled, stepping past the turian and into the elevator, slamming the button for the surface level. A whir of mechanics, a screech of motors, and then the box slowly lifted, before finally shooting up, covering the distance in mere seconds, but making Jessica almost feel like her stomach was lifting up to come out of her throat. The feeling made her quesy.
The box finally stopped its ascent, the door sliding open with the sound of rock grinding against rock; it made her cover her ears in haste, the sound almost like nails against a chalkboard. As she looked outside, she felt heat slam into her in an instant, the constant change between boiling temperature and freezing finally becoming just boiling as the heat rippling off the lava heated the environment.
She stepped outside onto the surface of Therum, looking behind her to see the door shutting again, but not seeing a door, but a seemingly moving mass of rock and dust and dirt shifting to cover the grey interior. So cliche, yet so clever. Still going to take some time getting used to. She chuckled at her own thoughts, turning back around to let her eyes glaze over the scene.
Therum; a completely unremarkable world that had only been famous due to the Battle of Therum seventy years ago during the Eden Prime War. Hell, the planet had been practically ignored by the Reapers during the war due to the lack of population and the Council didn't even bother to contest Coalition claim over the world in the Post-Apocalyptic War.
Therum wasn't a popular place to live because of how unbearable a world it was. The planet was essentially one massive fireball, with nothing but volcanoes and lava and boiling heat occupying its barren surface, black clouds and plumes of smoke and ash coating the atmosphere. It was the definition of hell.
Yet, a colony existed; Nova Yekaterinburg, named after the city of Yekaterinburg in Russia, back on Earth. It wasn't a big city, with only a barely sustained, consistent populace of 34,000 people; a once multicultural minipolis, now turned into a major factory for Dominion heating cores for weapons, ships and vehicles. Therum had turned from a barely occupied world to a world that was inhabited only by mechs and, obliviously, the home of the Shadow Broker.
Luckily, their base was located hundreds of kilometers away from Nova Yekaterinburg, so they were well out of range of any Dominion patrols and escaped the toxic fumes that the war factory released. Jessica had half a mind to storm the factory and burn it to the ground, but she knew it was suicidal, and the thoughts were pointless; Prometheus was to blame, not the Dominion.
Is there even a difference anymore?
She growled, pacing around on the dust-smitten ground, clouds of ash kicking up in thick clouds on the ground or her feet simply scrapping rock. She was once again left to her thoughts, not knowing what to do to rid herself of them. Everywhere she looked was the same; glowing lava slowly trickling down in rivers, or the same black clouds. Everything was the same, and it wasn't helping Jessica calm down one bit.
Why can't I just-
She stopped and froze to the spot. A sound. Distant. Growing ever closer. But recognizable.
An approaching ship.
She spun around and immediately spotted a rock to hide behind, which hastily ducked behind, listening as she rolled up and heard the sound grow louder, very rapidly. She peeked over the rock, making sure her golden hair was obscured.
The sound skyrocketed and reached a screeching crescendo, the ship suddenly appearing overhead and she almost gasped when she saw its colors; purple and green. A quarian republican gunship. Must be one of the patrols. But what is it doing all the way out here? She peeked back over the rock, getting a better look at the vessel that now hovered over her location. They...haven't found us have they? I hope so. I'm itching for a fight.
It was a A-68 Seraph gunship, the successor to the obsolete A-67 Mantis, standard issue among all Dominion military forces and far superior to its predecessor. It was an odd looking ship; more akin to a bird of prey in shape. The design was sleek and flawless, the main body of the vessel at the back with two melded wings, the rest of the ship a narrow structure stretching out like a long neck, ending with the cockpit, quarian insignia painted on its sides.
The wings held a deadly arsenal; an entire array of Typhon automated siege rockets lined its wings, accompanied by a fellow array of Stheno ship-to-ship missiles. A single rotating plasma nonlinear chaingun lay on the chin of the vehicle; not rotating in the sense of a turret, but more like a minigun would when dispersing rounds.
The gunship was heavily shielded, but had sacrificed heavy armor plating to make it more agile and swift in combat. One well placed siege rocket would gut the vessel, but getting to hit its target was the pain in the neck. So, for the Seraph, the only achilles heel really was the armor; the rest was perfection. A long line of decoy deployers lay on top of the wings of the vehicle and four ballista anti-infantry Shadow heavy machine guns; she flinched when she saw them, two on each wing. It took a yahg to wield such weapons, as the recoil was too great for even a krogan, and the weapon's firepower could literally reduce a man to pieces of flesh.
The sound of the Seraph's engine was constant and rang in her ears like a loud ring, the added heat from the vehicle's engines making it hard not to shift. But she stayed hidden behind the rock, hoping to god that the gunship pilot didn't have the sense to use his sensors; thermal vision would be useless on a planet like Therum, but sensors would easily pick her up, especially the Cardia sensors, which could pick up someone's heart rate and home in on it.
She watched the vessel slowly turn around while still hovering there, the human spectre wondering if the gunship would ever notice her. It shouldn't even be out here...its far outside its normal patrol pattern...did they see us land? No, they can't have...we were cloaked!
To her immense relief, the gunship seemed satisfied that the area was empty and immediately began to speed up, before shooting off into the distance at speeds that would make most 21st century jet fighter pilots curse in awe. A blast of heat impacted her face from the sudden burst of energy from the vessel's engines, but it quickly died and she stood up, finding herself...shaking.
They almost saw me...if they did...Prometheus...I was defenseless...But it was a quarian gunship; maybe if she was captured and taken to Rannoch...no, she couldn't risk Aunt Tali's life like that. The woman was old now, and the last she needed was to bring about an assassination attempt on the poor woman's life. No, she had to lay low. If the galaxy thought her dead, so be it.
They won't continue thinking that if the Dominion spot me. Why did the Broker have to build a secret base on the same planet as a heavily-patrolled Dominion ammo factory? God I hate my luck sometimes...With a sigh, she turned back to the elevator door and hurriedly moved towards it.
Time to go back into hiding before someone spots me.
It was going to be a very long game of hide-and-seek.
{Loading...}
August 14, 2251
1835 hours.
Hall of Ascension, Sacred Tower, Tranquility Dome, Titan.
Terra-Rannochian War.
Covenant Prophet Eluam Ran'perah.
The elevator climb up the Sacred Tower of the Covenant was long and drawn out, but the view was magnificient. So, there he stood, Eluam Ran'perah, Batarian Prophet of the Holy Covenant of Titan, ascending to the Hall of Ascension, where his rightful throne awaited him.
He wore his finest armor, the armor that only a Covenant Prophet had the right to wear; it was heavy, and wore the bright crimson red of the Covenant. It was similiar in design to standard turian armor, and was almost the same was it not for the extended 'backpack' like attachment on the rear of it that acted as an antennae in a way and protected him from the effects of indoctrination.
His omni-tool was powered to activate a powerful omni-sword on his right arm, and a omni-shield on his left, the Covenant preferring to use more ceremonial weapons when not on the battlefield. The body of a Leviathan served as the Covenant's insignia, painted on his shoulderpads and the front of his chest; a declaration and symbolization of just who they worshipped. The batarian's four eyes gleamed behind a full-head helmet, with a cyan-colored cloak on his back to signify his status as a Prophet.
The armor was covered in multiple scars and bullet holes, along with a scorch mark on the back; all battle wounds sustained from previous prophets, Ran'perah being only the fourth Covenant Prophet to attain his position. However, the damage sustained from its time worn by the Third Prophet, Si Pel, had been too severe to be repaired, and the armor had to be completely replaced; not to mention upgraded due to many flaws having been discovered in the original. Ever since Si Pel's death, it was now rare for the Prophet to ever lead troops into battle, preferring to stay on Titan.
The elevator around him was about seven meters in width and length, being large enough to squeeze a Wraith inside. It was made of polished, majestic steel, carved to perfection and as smooth as a woman's skin. A large ring rimmed the lift with the shape of a Leviathan carved in the middle, the shape carved out of thick, heavily reinforced glass, which was so thick that even a Wraith would take time breaking it.
The Sacred Tower was a tall building, being three times longer than Harbinger had been; and it had been six kilometers in length. It was almost the exact same design as the Citadel Tower, but much thicker and fatter, more heavily enforced and the spire of the top was much bigger, looking alot like a pyramid in its shape.
So, as tall as it was, the elevator ride would obviously be a long and tedious ride. Luckily, the designers had seen fit to think of this beforehand and had removed the wall infront of the lift and replaced it by reinforced glass like the one on the lift itself, allowing a beautiful view of the Tranquility Dome; Titan's greatest achievement.
The Tranquility Dome, or Tranquil or simply 'the Dome', as many have come to call it, was the main structure of Titan, the upper area that served as the main megapolis and was the area seen in most of the vids transmitted throughout Covenant space and Dominion propaganda advertisements. It was one gigantic glass dome; enforced with the thick titanium beams used to be build Reapers, glass so thick it would take a ship ramming it to break it, and shielding so powerful that it would take the biggest fleet in the galaxy or a mole to shut it down.
The dome itself was a colossal 116 kilometers in length and width, and below its glass depths, was the city itself; skyscrapers of perfected batarian, turian, tilthan and yahg architecture all melded together, with skycars zooming through its streets and Covenant citizens going about their daily lives, with every city quadrant devoting a sizable mass of area to a Church of the Leviathan, allowing all to hear the truth of the apex race.
Titan itself was 327 kilometers in size, with 116 of it taken up by the Dome, while the other 211 kilometers was taken up skipyards, military bases, docks, civilian housing, more churches, armouries, forges, the power station, main reactor (which, alone, took up about ten kilometers), the industrial sector, the gardens and, of course, the Lake of Grace. Overall, Titan was a feat pulled off by the greatest of architects, a conglomeration of Reaper tech, and stolen schematics of the Citadel.
Titan itself was in the Cresent Nebula, in orbit of the Tasale Relay. Illium was even under Covenant control, and had supplied most of the eezo needed to construct the monster of a station, and was a staging ground for a major Covenant eezo facility and naval base. It was war the Prophet had recently returned from.
He growled angrily as his view of the Dome was obstructed, replaced red wall as the elevator began its final ascent into the Hall of Ascension. He have a sigh and wiped the scowl from his batarian features as the elevator slowed to a stop, having stopped in the middle of a massive chamber. The roof was at least forty meters above him, with a sphere of light hovering just below its apex symbolizing the globe of Desponia 2181; the current location of the Leviathans; their gods, the one and true apex species.
Rows upon rows of seats occupied the sides of the room, with the elevator being a lone platform in the middle of a massive congregation room. All seats lay empty of course, as the Covenant's leadership hadn't been assembled, and if he turned, he would see another testament to the Leviathans; a statue of Bellerophon, the leader of the gods.
He moved forward, down a red carpet that extended thirty meters before stopping at a raised dias supporting a throne, its edges jagged and sharp, and another observation window occupied the space behind the throne, with a water fountain just infront of the window and spraying water into a sizable pond. Just outside the window and the dome, you could see the Tasale Relay, pulsing with blue energy and currently swarming with activity, as a batarian dreadnought returned from patrol duty, along with its escorts.
Aligning the carpet's sides were the Prophet's elite guardsmen; Covenant Caliphs. They stood in rows, twenty of them currently on duty, with ten on each side of the carpet he marched down, with one extra serving as the Chief Caliph, or, as many called the position, the Ghost. The Caliphs were a specific sect of the Covenant military tasked with the protection of the Prophet, and would willingly die to protect him/her. Any gender was allowed to sign up, but once they had, they had to pass three specfic tests; the abandonment of emotion, the purity of faith, and the sacrifice of being.
The first test involved the person dumping who they once were, abandoning all signs of emotion and becoming a servant of the Prophet, a true believer; similiar to indoctrination, but more gradual and voluntary. The second stage involved many brutal tests that many failed; they had to show how pure their faith was by doing everything the Prophet said; maybe it involved self-injury, maybe it involved reaching a certain rank in the military. But some crueler prophets, most notably the Second Prophet, might order them to kill their own kin, to which the Second Prophet ordered the current Ghost to do, and he had done it; he had slit the throat of his own wife, killed his own children and bombed a nursery home, killing his grandparents.
The third one involved the transformation of a man or woman into a complete husk; they had to sacrifice all things pleasurable and desirable and abandon everything they held dear. For many this involved divorce, for others, it meant throwing out all their possessions. But for all genders; it meant castration; men and women were forced to cut off their genitals (for men, they must cut off their penis and testicles, and for women, they must get a vaginal hysterectomy). This completes the process.
By this point, they have gone through special Caliph training where they become immune to pain, do not get angry and talk back, cannot comprehend treachery and do not require much food or drink to consume. They become the ultimate soldier. Many don't survive the tests, and in the end, the Caliph group only has seventy-two members, with one Ghost as leader.
So, as he walked past, the Caliphs didn't even nod to him; they just stood there, men and women of batarian, tilthan and turian birth, all staring blankly at nothing, not even acknowledging his presence, despite knowing he was there. They wore the same crimson red armor he did, but wore red cloaks instead of white and their helmet had two struts poking out the middle, with a T like visor in the middle of the visor, opaque externally. They also held omni-swords at their sides, along with two high-powered plasma pistols and one omni-shield brandished on one side and helmet up to their side, always active.
He moved down the carpet until he arrived at the throne, where one Caliph, the Ghost, stood to his left, his posture straighter and more majestic than the others, her broadened shoulders and flat chest almost fooling people into thinking she was a man. Her helmet was larger and her armor a more blackened color, with her cloak flowing a combination of white and red. She was a Tilthan, her name having once been Clarity, but had since given up that name to become the Ghost of the Caliphs; his most trusted servant.
He stood past the Ghost and sat in this throne; the chair easily towering over him; built to withstand a yahg. Prophets could be any species, but so far, only one non-batarian had been Prophet, and that turian hadn't lasted long. The chair was semi-comfortable; with a steel surface and a cushioned backrest.
He turned to his Ghost, speaking hoarsely, "Where's this benefactor you told me about?"
Clarity's answer was short and collected, monotoned and emotionless, "Coming."
"How long?"
"Not long."
He sighed heavily, "Give me an estimate. A proper estimate."
Clarity seemed to stop for a minute and then afterwards responded, not even looking at her Prophet, "An estimate of ten minutes, sir."
He grunted, turning away from the Chief Caliph, "Fuck. The man's a slow behemoth. Can't blame him though; he is a yahg, afterall."
Wral;Bopa was one of the most boring yahg he had ever known. For a species based solely on violence, Wral was the worst warrior he had ever seen. He fought like a child and was good for nothing except for being a nice meat-shield. Wral wasn't a historian, a Covenant priest or even a politician; he was just...cannon fodder. That's the only way that Eluam could describe the beast.
So he sat there, in total silence, waiting for the yahg to get his fat ass into the Hall of Ascension so that they could get these talks over with. Eluam wasn't one for wasting time with these talks, and he had more pressing matters to concern himself with. Like getting past that damn Maginot Line and striking at the Citadel. I'll kill those humans, suit-rats and overbloated crocadiles in no time. Think they're so safe.
Finally, ten minutes later, the colossal yahg arrived and talks began. He spoke of their victory over the Dominion wolf-pack involved with the incident at Gellix, and how most of their ground forces were overwhelmed by a sudden swarm of rachni. Overall, he judged the attack a victory, even if it was small. We destroyed a few corvettes, how nice...I'd be more impressed if we had destroyed a dreadnought, or the Revengeance...
No, he would not bring that disgraceful ship name to bear.
The yahg seemed to stop talking, but that was only because he was waiting for the Prophet's response on his words. The batarian fixed the yahg with a comical expression before speaking, "A phyrric victory at best. What did we destroy? A few corvettes and two defenseless space stations? And what did we get out of it? We send a thousand troops on the ground, and they all get slaughtered by rachni. All those losses...for a few light picket warships."
The yahg fumed, his gloating evaporating, "Their forces would have grown in strength."
"Then you should have waited and attacked them first," the Prophet scoffed, laughing, "Maybe I'd be more impressed if you brought me the hull of a krogan battleship instead of a piece of metal from a corvette. Maybe, if had let those stations get completed and then attacked, I'd be slightly more appeased. The Leviathans do not reward the destruction of the little, only the strong."
The yahg thumped a fist against its chest, "Leviathans are eternal," the words came from his mouth hurried, like they meant nothing. Disrespectful maggot. "But maybe the Prophet is angry because we did not destroy the Revengeance."
Again with that name!
He shot up from his chair like a bullet, and he swore he saw Clarity flinch, only to see the Tilthan tense up and slightly lower her omni-sword in preparation for a fight. Her Caliphs mimicked her movements, like they were wired to her body and did what she did. They're like mirrors. She makes the movement, they copy.
He fixed the yahg was an ice cold glare, "Do not ever mention that name again. That ship and her captain are to never be heard of in this chamber, am I understood?"
"But I-"
He nodded to one of his Caliphs, and without hesitation, an omni-sword shot out and cut deep into the yahg's thigh, causing it to grunt in pain as it landed on one knee, the Caliph twisting the energy blade, and then ripping it back out, grey blood pouring out of the wound as the honor guard stepped back, gaze unwavering as the yahg shot him a murderous glare before the Prophet spoke, drawing back his attention.
"That ship's name and its captain's will never be mentioned again," the Prophet repeated, words pure steel and authority, "Am. I. Clear?"
"Perfectly," the yahg moaned.
"Unfortunate," the Prophet lamented, moving to sit down again, "And I was looking forward to being rid of you. Well, I've tolerated you this long." He was about to speak again when he felt a powerful presence and he immediately recognized what it was. He held a hand up, signalling everyone to stop moving and talking as the voice of Bellerophon, leader of the Leviathans, entered his mind.
The darkness has been breached.
The Prophet frowned. "Breached, Lord Bellero?"
Yes. The insects have seen fit to defile our land once more. They come to speak to me, and I will give them what they want, but you must be ready to eliminate them. They come with plans to excavate me and my brethren.
"How?"
It does not matter how; only when. They must be stopped. We are the Leviathans, the apex race and pinnacle of organic evolution. We are unmatched. We will not bow down to these apes, and we require your assistance in this matter. Send a fleet. I want you there personally.
"As you wish, Lord Bellero. It shall be done. I will make them burn."
Very good, Prophet.
And with that, Bellerophon's voice dissipated and he looked at his cohorts, gathering his thoughts. Every Prophet, when they achieved their position, was baptized in the waters of Desponia and given the 'Kiss of the Leviathans.' He would dive underwater, reach the Leviathans, and only then was he deemed worthy of his rank and position and power. They then entered his mind, some fools would call it indoctrination, and he became a part of them; the biggest honor a member of the Covenant could have.
"Gather the Fleet of Penance," he ordered, "We leave for Desponia. Our gods have called for help; the apes have dared to defile their land and they must be purged in holy fire."
A/N:
Sudden ending? Deal with it!
Anyway, I'm back in action and ready to get this show on the road. I must apologize for the massive delay, but as I've said, my computer's motherboard is dead, so I'm looking at a totally new motherboard OR, failing that, a new computer. This will be one of the last 2251-focused chapters of Requiem, so just a heads up.
So, what is the Revengeance? And her captain? Why do the Covenant hate it so much? Take a guess in the review section.
And yes, the Covenant in this are largely based on the Covenant from the Halo trilogy. Hell, when I thought of what Titan would look like, I was largely inspired by High Charity. xD