Local Cluster
Earth, Destiny Ascension
The atmosphere on the bridge of the Destiny Ascension was one of balanced deliberation. An established rhythm intermixed with the gentle concert of technological melody. Staffed by an experienced crew who had served a century and more, the core of the dreadnought was ready to swing into action should the situation demand it. However, the situation that played itself out on the huge display over the holotank required no response at all. All eyes were fixed on the most extraordinary sight none of the crew thought they would ever see. None was paying close attention to their duties.
Lidanya could almost forgive such a lapse for she was as fascinated herself. The object she thought of as steadfast and immobile, impossible to shake from its moorings, was moving with inexorable momentum. The initial glimmer of the mass effect field that enveloped the Citadel five minutes ago had intensified, obscuring the alien ships totally. The only visual clue to their presence was the bright flare of their engines and that would require some searching if their positions hadn't been noted down.
"What's on scans?" she asked.
The operations officer start, as if from a dream, but recovered quickly to check the read outs. "Reading a negative phase mass effect field surrounding the Citadel," she said in a awe hushed voice. "Acceleration is holding steady, speed reaching sub-light."
"Any structural damage?" Lidanya wanted to know. There were assurances there wouldn't be any but she wanted to be sure.
"Scans are unable to penetrate the generated field," the officer reported after running another check.
"Have we lost communications with Citadel Control?" Lidanya wondered what could be done if that was the case.
"No, Izharia. The comm link to the Citadel is clear," the communications officer said behind her, surprise in her voice.
Perhaps the alien ships were relaying the signal. "Get me supervisor Malek," Lidanya said. Her tension eased when communications was established quickly.
"High Admiral." Malek inclined his head towards the video pickup at his end.
"What is the status of the station?"
"We are reading high levels of dark energy from various..-," Malek glanced to one side, as if to affirm for himself, "element zero nodes around the station. Generated field is stable, no damage to hull integrity."
"Maintain an open comm link and update status every fifteen minutes until we reach the relay."
"Yes, admiral."
"Perimeter patrol?"
Lidanya removed the real time vid to reveal the master plot in the holo tank, breaking the hypnotic hold on the rest of the crew. The station had already left its synchronous orbit, moving rapidly clear of the debris field. It would be outside the approximate reach of any offensive strike from the field in another few minutes and well on its way to the Charon Relay.
"Scan data from patrol and sensor platforms are clear, Izharia," the ops officer said crisply. "No unusual signal or activity detected."
"We shall proceed as planned." Lidanya nodded. She was satisfied that for this part of the operation, everything was going well. Goddess grant the rest would be just as smooth. "Signal Citadel Fleet to assume phase Alaudia."
"At once, Izharia."
Citadel
The readings were sky rocketing off the screens. The M&R crew in the auxiliary control room was not panicking, yet. With their hands full trying to decipher the frenzied data, they didn't notice the dispute taking place at one section of the workconsoles. The argument between Westir and Drake was low and intense, with a wealth of hand gesticulation from Westir.
Malon stood by listening, interjecting several calming statements when his colleague looked ready to take a swing at the supervisor when he shook his head again and again to several points raised. Realising that he was making no headway, Westir was ready to storm out, with or without permission. Seeing this, Malon quickly intervened. Westir didn't care that Drake was more willing to listen to Malon's argument than his. All he was concerned about was getting his way.
Half an hour later, they were both jogging down the amber lit corridor leading to the lifts, their equipment and footsteps jingling and echoing eerily in the emptiness. A sound Westir never got used to when the station began shutting down and the wards closed off. It was a reminder of an emptiness he had been trying to forget. Heart pounding, he tried to pace himself so Malon wouldn't outstrip him completely. The salarian checked his omni-tool as they reached the lifts and waved at a tiny sensor on the wall on the right. A hidden maintenance access door slide open to a lit platform with six tracks running through on opposite sides of the access shaft.
It was a mode of travel that Westir preferred not to use for the maintenance speed rails were not his idea of moving around the station. There were no vehicles, just handlebars and footrest contraptions on a frame the crew called the d-wagon, attached to the tracks. No one had any idea if the rails were part of the original station design. Powered by redundant backups, the rails would continue to function if main systems were shut down. Hurtling through air at speed in either direction was harrowing but it was the only way for the M&R crew to get from one level to another during emergencies. Most of the crew had no complaints about it, often running bets on who could rack up the fastest speed on the rail. It was a bet he never bothered to take. The first time he tried it, he spray painted his dinner on the walls.
Malon made a sound of satisfaction as he double checked the power to the rails. A healthy green light glowed. "Ten levels down?" He programmed the rail he would take as Westir did the same to his. "We'll have to do the fastest run."
Westir winced at that but made no protest. "Yeah, junction zeta-three-one-two-sub then down to Crutland." Frowning, he squinted at his omni-tool, "I hope I got it right," he said worriedly.
"Don't worry." Pulling a carabiner with a cable attached to it from his belt, Malon hooked it in to the safety bar of the d-wagon. "We'll find them."
"Thanks for backing me up back there." Westir touched him on the arm before he could step into the foot brackets.
"You are right, he is right." Malon shrugged. "Neither of you are wrong. The station is in no danger but the children are."
"Yeah, okay." Grimacing, Westir clapped a hand to his chest. "Listen, if anything happens to me, you'll get them to safety, right?"
"What is wrong?" Malon eyed him carefully.
"Nothing. Just a precaution, that's all." Holding a similar carabiner, Westir hooked it to the opposite d-wagon from Malon's. "Go ahead, I'll see you below."
Malon stared at him a bit longer before nodding. Holding on to the handlebars, he fitted his feet into the foot brackets of the d-wagon. A quick tug on the cable to ensure he was secured. A soft ping sounded; the d-wagon was ready for drop. "Safe fall," he said without turning his head before punching the release button on the handlebar. He vanished immediately.
Taking in several slow deep breaths, Westir stepped into the foot brackets, the auto stirrups clamping to his boots. As he grabbed the handlebar and pulled himself close to the frame, a hidden sensor ran a quick check along the perimeter and the projected drop. The dreaded ping sounded. Closing his eyes, he hit the release button and held on tight.
The whistling metal tinged air plastered his clothes to him like a second skin. Gritting his teeth, he tried to pretend his stomach was not in free fall. He almost lost it when the d-wagon decelerated as it neared its programmed destination. Malon had to help him out, his legs were trembling so much he couldn't move. Fear for the children forced him to his feet. He stumbled after the salarian out into the corridor.
Regaining his equilibrium as they jogged down the narrow passages that ran parallel to the power conduits, he checked his omni-tool once more. The junction they were heading for was just outside one of the secondary power stations, near the intersection they were approaching. Past that, they had to drop down one of the maintenance shafts to Crutland, one of many waste processing stations on the Citadel.
"What the hell is that?" Westir stared in bewilderment at the shimmering wall blocking off the intersection as they rounded the corner. "It's not supposed to be here." He walked closer.
"We're a level above Foundations." Malon brought up a map of the junction. "Wait, West, don't go too near. That wall is radiating immense amounts of energy."
Retreating uneasily, West didn't take his eyes off the wall. "How far?"
"We'll have to go around and take the auxiliary access route."
With a flick of his fingers, Malon enlarged and highlighted the route on the small screen of his omni-tool to show Westir who nodded without argument. It would take them longer to reach the trapped duct rats but they would reach them assuredly. Between them, he was confident they could solve the problem and get the kids out.
"Let's go."
Thessia
Despite the mat covering the floor, Shepard could feel the pulse of the bass drumming through the soles of her feet, beating in unison to her heart as she ran and somersaulted over the vaulting platform. She rolled and came up swinging into a punching bag secured to a flexiframe. Sweat rolled into her eyes as she swung, jabbed with elbows, knees and feet. The punching bag jounced hard with every hit as her muscles loosened further. She upped the tempo, following the beat of the music and pivoted away from the bag as the music segue into the next piece. She struck out with the edge of her hand at the bag. Images began to intrude.
"Why are they trying so hard to hold on to this?" She stared at the shattered smoking landscape from the battlements of the fort and waved away the energy bar offered to her.
Markus unwrapped the bar and took a generous bite from it. "It's their statement. They came out here to stick a finger to the Alliance. To show they can do without it. But what happens when the shit hits the fan? They come crying and bitching to the Alliance they swore to leave behind."
He saw her frown. "They're all ready to kiss the ground we walk on now but it never lasts. Just wait and see." He thumped his hardsuited chest with a fist. "Look at this, genuine hundred percent ape shield with a bleeding heart. Ready to serve, in every way possible," he grinned when she rolled her eyes. "But we're never appreciated. When the going's good, we make good punching bags. When shit hits the fan, we make even better punching bags. We're on the lose and lose. But damn, the brass just don't know it. We always get sent out to bleed for ungrateful hearts."
He wolfed down the rest of the bar. Her frown deepened. Grabbing the bottle of water beside him, he took a swig and swallowed.
"They think they can grub a profit out here," he continued. "What they don't get is that the chase is a whirlpool. Nine out of ten, they find themselves dealt a crappy deck and go all the way down." He whistled for effect as his finger made a swirling motion of water going down. "No matter how times how they shuffle it, they can't deal themselves a better suit. They'll bail soon enough."
"They know exactly what they're getting when they came out there," someone said behind them. Harrington waved them down when they would have leaped to their feet. "Whatever their reasons in choosing to settle here, it takes a lot of hard work to establish what they have." She waved at the fortified town of the colony. "They're not soldiers yet they have the gumption and courage to go out into the unknown, to fight for their future. They're still fighting. They're not giving up."
Markus flushed red at Harrington's reproving eye on him.
"We're not here to hold their hand, we're here to fight with them. To ensure that courage, that fighting spirit to build a better brighter future is not extinguish. That it will continue to endure, flourish and shine as an example to everyone." She flashed a smile at them before she moved away. The tall slim figure vanished in the midst of a fog.
Shaking her head to rid the memories, Shepard moved into the next part of the exercise without breaking rhythm. The music died abruptly. Startled, she looked around to see Liara standing by the gym console.
"Liara." She wiped away the sweat from her eyes with a hand.
"I am sorry, Shepard. I did not mean to interrupt," Liara said quickly as she turned to pick up the towel left on the nearby bench and handed it to her.
"You want to talk?" Rubbing her face vigorously with the towel, Shepard looked at her warily.
"How did it go with Telienos?"
"Fine." Shepard wondered at her bondmate's nervousness though she hid it well. "Not what I expected but I think it's really helping. I'm a little tired but I'm not used to melding for so long."
"Melding?" Liara said apprehensively but distractedly before adding in a rush. "But it is good to hear that you find it productive. Telienos is one of the best healers. It has not been easy to convince her to step in but dad has her ways I supposed. It was such a relief..," she broke off abruptly, aware she was babbling. Shepard only looked attentive. "I...I came here to...I want to apologise."
"For what?" Shepard was puzzled.
"I should not have.." Liara paused for a moment to collect herself. "I mean, what I said before, that we should keep apart for a while. I was too hasty."
"Oh, that." Shepard frowned. "I don't think you've done anything wrong," she said slowly, thinking of the session with Telienos, "I didn't realise how much ground I have to cover. Recover really." She slung the towel around her neck and sighed. "I feel as if I've been bumbling about in fog I never realised I was in."
"What do you mean?" Liara kept the tremor out of her voice.
"It's just that." Shepard rubbed her right eyebrow ruefully. "I'll tell you when I'm ready but you're not wrong to say we should distance ourselves from each other."
Dismay warred with relief. Stomping away the desire to capitulate and accept Shepard's decision, Liara said, "I...we were hoping we could sit down together and have a discussion."
"We?"
"Shiala and I."
Brows beetled, Shepard looked away, thinking hard. Liara waited edgily.
"That'll have to wait," she said after a while, turning back to see Liara's conflicted expression and continued before she could argue. "I'm not ready to sit down and thrash it out until I have sorted out my own problems."
"We can do it together."
"I'd like to but this is something I have to deal with myself."
Defensively hugging her swollen belly with her hands, Liara asked anxiously, "Did Telienos say how long it would take?"
Shepard's eyes dropped to Liara's belly. She was surprised by the doubt she was feeling. It hovered on the tip of her tongue to voice her reservations about participating in the awakening of the child but that sharp air of care about Liara worried her.
"She didn't say but I'm sure it wouldn't take very long. Several days maybe," she said instead and touched her bondmate lightly on the arm in reassurance. "Don't worry, I'm not going anywhere. I'll be right here for the ceremony."
Relief swamped Liara though she wished Shepard hadn't removed her hand so quickly. Guessing what Shepard was about to say next as she raked her hair, she said, "I am sure you'd want to clean up before dinner so why don't you go up to our room? It is ours is it not? I would feel safer if you are there," she finished in a rush to forestall any objection.
Shepard was thinking of sleeping in one of the guest rooms but Liara obviously had changed her mind about sharing a bed with her. Perhaps something happened while she was away. Shiala? Perhaps the two had an unpleasant exchange over her actions on Feros and Illium. Was that what was making her so uptight? Yet, she had the feeling Liara's turnabout wasn't entirely about Shiala.
Liara's last statement tickled her curiosity however. The implication was puzzling. Perhaps she wanted someone to watch over her, should something happen during the night. She was after all, close to birthing, and often complained of discomfort.
"All right." She smiled when Liara's cheeks dimpled briefly. "I'll be down in a flash so you don't have to come up with me. I'll see you at the dining room." She gave her a quick peck on the cheek before exiting the gym.
A sigh escaped Liara's lips. Her moment of reckoning had been postponed. For a while. Hopefully, she could surmount that obstacle when the time came. In the mean time, she should make sure dinner was ready. She moved towards the door and stopped short when it open. Her eyes met those of Shiala's as she came in.
SSV Glasgow
Dorrin glanced at the communications tech but there was no sign he had anything to report. Turning back to the holo tank, the green icons representing the Citadel and its escorts glowed brightly near the heliopause of the Sol system. The projected enemy assault had not happened. Yet. With no further updates from Intelligence HQ, he wondered how long the fleet and ground forces were to remain on the alert, waiting for the axe to fall. Would it happen today? Tomorrow? Or weeks later? Every man and woman was ready to defend their home but they could not permanently stand on the edge.
Almost twenty-four hours had gone by. Most of the civilian populations were evacuated to the underground bunkers. Rubbing his chin thoughtfully, he studied the secondary plot displaying the positions of additional marine battalions despatched to the suppression zones. Unless the TI were sleeping, they would know something huge was going on. It was the opportune time to strike. So why didn't they? Unless they were waiting for something. Waiting for a signal? Were there hidden transmitters in the debris field? It would be all too easy to hitch a ride on one of the thousands of signals perpetually bouncing around.
Tugging at the collar of his skinsuit, he turned and headed for the command chair, only to freeze mid-step when the operations officer said, "Sir, picking up anomalous readings in the debris field. Signals are being relayed."
"Confirm that."
"Unable to lock down transmitting source or specific target. There is interference," the officer said tensely. "Reading multiple power signatures coming live across the grids."
Why now? His heart seized. "Condition one."
The alarm blared. The crew in CIC strapped themselves into their seats as Canning hurried in from the briefing room. Damage control and readiness reports began to flood in.
"I want Diamondback and Zeta wings launched and deployed three klicks out. Relay their scans to Ops. They are to respond at will at the first sign of attack."
"Aye, sir."
"Signal from Flag, sir," the com officer said. "To all ships, hostile action imminent. Firewall is in effect."
He nodded, eyees intent on the master plot. A mass of red. The remnants of two massive fleets that fought in the skies years ago, the grim reminders of the struggle now took on another spectre of death. An encirclement that was impossible to counter. The Home Fleet and First Fleet were the only protective wall between the Earth and whatever was going to come. It was doubtful the Citadel Fleet division that remained behind outside the perimeter would make much impact. Short of deploying extensive bombardments to fracture the debris field that would create havoc in space and more collateral damage ground side, they were down to playing catch and hope for the best.
"Still no word from ANI?"
Canning shook his head. "I don't think they're going to crack this nut any time soon."
"Sir! Incoming bogeys! Reading detonations in the debris field."
Shocked, he stared at the display. A massive white wall of projectiles were heading towards them in staggered waves. The first wave pulverized drifting detritus, paving a clear path for the rest following on its heels. The tracking plot began to scale rapidly. His mouth went dry as the numbers climbed into the thousands. Where were they all heading?
"Trajectory?"
"Looks like blanket volleys, sir."
Blankets shots to sanitize the area? His eyes narrowed as his mind worked furiously. "Fire the main gun the moment we have any targeting solution."
It would be like trying to bail out a leaking boat with a spoon but it was that or stand around and wait to drown.
Three klicks away, for captain Fokker, it was another familiar view of another gigantic shit storm coming at them. In his opinion, the Reaper perspective was worse than this one. There was no way any of the interceptor squadron could punch any big holes in that titanic tsunami so there was only one thing left to do.
"Alright people, light up some of that crap or we'll have no tin can to land our butts on," he drawled. "Diamondback, take the right flank."
As the interceptor wings sped to meet the oncoming fire, the Gardian turrets on the Glasgow began to acquire targets. The darkness around the cruiser began to disappear in a storm of lights. There were so many that the turrets could not destroy them all. Hundreds slipped past to impact against kinetic barriers that strove to shrug the impact aside.
Others simply sped on beyond and immolate themselves in the atmosphere. On the ground, marines looked up at the distant fireworks uneasily. Standing at the perimeter sentry point overlooking the terrain of HZ1, Colonel Pike in charge of the ground forces paid no attention to the overhead display. He rapped out orders to prepare for engagement. Alarms began to sound before he finished. Reports began to flood in. The lieutenant beside him pointed towards the horizon but he didn't need to hear any reports to know what was rushing at them.
Local Cluster, Unknown Location
At ANI headquarters, EDI was already running her tracking program when the launch was detected.
"Activation is instantaneous across the grids. I have successfully pinpointed the locations of several transmitters. I am targeting the closest device over unshielded populated zones."
Minutes ticked by. Miranda watched as code after code was generated across the screen before her. She looked to the screen on the right, this one a direct link to the tactical overview on the command cruiser of the Citadel support fleet. The number of projectiles was horrifying. Cerberus had to have emptied out the entire arsenal from the military division. She tried not to imagine what it must be like out there. The odds were decidedly not in anyone's favor.
"Third wave in momentum," EDI announced.
Miranda bit down on her tongue to stop herself from asking a futile question. If the genoid had broken through, she would say it. She viewed the alarming progress of the encircling assault around the planet. How much of the fleets would be left when they were done?
"Positive feedback. I have control of grid 34. Powering down torpedo launchers."
The announcement ran like a electrical shock up Miranda's spine. It seemed like a miracle. She tried to say something but couldn't. EDI's next statement broke her paralysis.
"Sentry probes are picking up a translation at the Charon Relay."
"How many?" Miranda waited with dread. Was an enemy fleet coming through?
"One. A shuttle. No transponder beacon. Forward Citadel scouts are responding," EDI paused for a moment. "No answer to hails."
"Only one shuttle? Hardly an invading fleet."
"No. Its arrival is suspect. It may have intelligence pertaining to the current event."
SSV Glasgow
Bracing himself, Dorrin listened to damage reports coming in and winced as a third wave came racing in. The kinetic barrier was strained to the limits with the beating it was taking. They would not be able to hold out for much longer. The cruiser trembled when the hull was struck again by a fusillade that went on and on. Then, everything went still. Nothing showed on the display. Was that the end of it?
"Sir, Ops have finished their analyses. The projectiles are short range torpedoes with minimum yield," Canning reported. "Fire from the main gun partially eliminated the clusters directly ahead." The display panned out to show the results. "Diamondback and Zeta cleared some of it along the flanks. Kinetic barriers are barely holding. Essen and Almada report no damage."
The comm officer spoke up. "Sir, captain Fokker requests permission to approach debris field and run in depth scans."
The CAG probably wanted to locate the firing platforms. Dorrin opened his mouth to refuse the request then changed his mind. If they could manage to find some of those platforms and take them out, they might just survive the next onslaught.
"Give him the green light."
As the words left his mouth, the ops officer said tersely. "Sir, scans are picking more energy readings." Too late.
Dorrin slammed his hand on the intership comm button. "All hands, brace for impact!" Reaching for the helmet racked under the arm of the command chair, he put it on but did not seal it. Every crew member in CIC had theirs sealed when he turned back to the holotank.
"Signal from Flag, sir. TI forces have engaged ground fortifications at HZ1 and HZ2."
That answered the question on the matter of cooperation between the TI and Cerberus. They had it all cooked up and waiting for an opportunity to serve their intentions. That triple wave of light middling torpedoes had to have been the signal to the Ti and the pathfinder for whatever was to come. This fourth wave rolling in would be the sledgehammer, he felt it in his guts. It would come at them hard and continue on down to ground targets. With the enclaves emptied, civilian casualties would be near zero but the deployed ground forces would take the brunt. There was nowhere to fall back to unless they go underground.
Canning said anxiously. "Gunnery control report targeting computers are not able to lock on. Captain Fokker reports his wings having similar problems, they're going to eyes."
"Have GC go to manual. Keep firing that main gun."
He turned the torque of his helmet and sealed it. On the master plot, the tracker displayed an estimation pf the numbers; fewer than the three previous waves but still overwhelming. The distance between the cruiser and the on coming wave shrank quickly. The icons for the interceptor wings converged on the torpedoes as he watched.
"They still can't lock on?" he said when no target vanished from the plot.
"Both wings report they have their targets on sight but are unable to inflict sufficient damage. Fifty seconds to zero-zero." Canning's eyes widened. "Signal from Taskforce CF2 (Citadel Fleet), they're going to saturate the debris field to try to take out the firing platforms."
That was hardly going to remove even one percent of whatever's hidden in the field. An act of futility but Dorrin understood the commander's desire to pitch in instead of standing helplessly outside looking in.
"Ten seconds."
Fokker cursed as he rode down the torpedo till the last few seconds, trying vainly to destroy it. He watched hopefully as the rest of the wing unleashed their fire. His heart sank when the missile continued on serenely. With all their disruptor torpedoes expended in the earlier waves, they might as well be splashing duds at it, nothing seemed to be working. The cruiser loomed large in his sights. Something flared bright off to his right; one of the missiles had struck the hull. There were more as the missiles slammed into the cruiser that was in the path of their programmed route and tore straight through bulkheads.
"Break off! Break off!" he ordered.
He banked sharply and almost creamed himself on another incoming missile. Frantically, he dodged another and more as he maneuvered his way through the deadly rain. There was a burst of static over the comm. An icon on his HUD disappeared; one of the pilots wasn't so lucky.
"Sir, the Glasgow. Her barriers are shot."
He watched in horror as flames flared briefly from numerous breaches in the hull. The lower flight decks on the port side exploded when ordnance went up, vomiting chunks of metal, bits of debris and bodies. The cruiser shuddered, seeming to stagger and started to yaw. Turning his head frantically, he looked for lifepods. There was none. Did no one survive?
The scream of alarms was deafening. Pulling himself to his feet, Dorrin tried to see through the smoke from burning and sparkling wires. His breath harsh in his ears as he turned over the body at his feet. He nearly gagged when he realised it was decapitated. But there was the stripes on the sleeve. He knew he was looking at Canning's remains. Swallowing hard, he worked his way through the wreckage of CIC, throwing junks of metal aside and pulling out bodies trapped under debris in his search for survivors. A few were thankfully moving about, on the same task as he was. He coughed as he struggled with a jagged piece of metal beam pinning down a crew member, unaware someone was calling him until his arm was pulled.
"Sir, captain Dorrin." A pair of green eyes stared anxiously at him through the helmet visor. "You're hurt, let's get you to the lifepods."
He shook his head. "No."
"Sir, we have evacuated as many as we can find on the lower decks to the lifepods but there is no way we can stay on the ship. The drives are shot up, containment is impossible. We have to go."
She grabbed his arm, slung it over her shoulder and with an arm supporting his weight, pulled him away. Dimly, he saw hardsuited marines bringing the other survivors to the lifepods and tried to count how many there were before he lost consciousness.
Groundside, HZ1
The fires had come. That was what they were waiting for. That was why they had stayed quiet, gathering their strength. With renewed fervor, the TI rose up at the first sign in the sky and launched themselves at the enemy that kept them in. The sky darkened, thundered and flashed with the storm of blazing fury thrown up by both sides. Enemy gunships rushed the defenses en masse and smashed themselves into fortified positions, killing dozens of marines. More surged forward on the ground, uncaring that many were falling. Unrecognizable frenzied shouting could be heard.
The perimeter was over ran. A desperate struggle broke out as trapped marines tried to fall back to secondary positions. Makos fired over the heads of the combatants as more boiled up over the ridges and even they began to retreat when suicidal TI fighters broke through and attacked the crews, often blowing themselves up the moment they reached into one of the tanks. The perimeter was now untenable. By the time reinforcements arrived, there would be no one left. The level of ferocity was utterly shocking. A downed and wounded marine was a dead marine but not before being tore at and pulled apart. Even briefed on the psychological deterioration of the TI, Pike could not countenance the savagery he was seeing, despite having seen similar gut wrenching scenarios in the Reaper War.
He gave the order for a full retreat and looked up when his aide shouted in warning. It was then he realised the futility of retreat when he saw the fiery shapes appearing from the clouds. The fourth wave of missiles fired from the debris field up there was coming straight down. Everyone was at ground zero, there was no escape. The missiles plunged down and down, scattering, smashing aside and killing all those in their way but did not explode. The TI howled.
Picking himself from where he had flung himself, Pike surveyed the landscape in puzzlement. There was none of the massive explosions he was expecting, just holes in the ground. Exchanging a look of confusion with his aide, he made his way to the nearest crater left by a missile. Peering cautiously over the edge, he saw a tunnel. A deep one. Realisation struck at once. He fought against the fear that gripped him and immediately tried to contact Alliance Command. He was too late. The ground trembled violently beneath his feet.
The surface of the Earth exploded.