Right. This is a big one so let's get my excuses out of the way up front.
Ahem.
1) This chapter is big. Could have split it but I wanted some action to come in and eh, whatever.
2) I can't write action worth shit, so look forward to that.
3) Prepare for some 40k shilling. There had to come a point where my bias became obvious over which universe I liked more and since this whole fic is basically 'The Rogue Trader show featuring Mass Effect' this shouldn't be a surprise.
4) I'll likely going to have something happen with ME or 40k tech and their interaction that you won't like. For this I apologise in advance.
5) I haven't played the Horizon mission in, like, two years and really I'm not writing a transcript of the game anyway so this is just broadstrokes. You'll notice things that are wrong. I noticed things that were wrong. I just don't really care. I am lazy.
6) Oh yeah. Travel times are hella jacked. I'm not even pretending. I'll come up with a handwave but it's really just a figleaf. This wasn't a particularly serious story to start with anyway...
I think that should be it. Anyway, let's get this over with.
Following dinner, interaction between the guests and the crew of the Normandy was kept by mutual, silent consent to a bare minimum. The journey was only going to take a few days, after all.
To Shepard's immense relief there was no ruckus. The ten armed men sitting in their big, bulky shuttle full of guns caused no trouble whatsoever. If anything they seemed pretty happy with their situation - just sitting around the hold fiddling with their guns and playing cards, though she did have to tell them not to smoke so much.
All things considered it could have been worse.
She also decided to take a personal lead in learning more. Mostly because the group setting didn't seem to have worked out so great, but partly because she was also genuinely curious.
Even if they all turned out to be completely full of shit - and Shepard was a little alarmed at how much she was veering away from this opinion, given the whole 'we fell through time' thing - the more she got out of Jarrion the more of a read she might get on the guy and on the people he had around him.
That could only be good.
So, on the second day, after Thale had been sent back to the lighter and with Loghain sitting in her top bunk thumbing through a dataslate, Shepard invited Jarrion up to her cabin for a chat.
Loghain wasn't actually reading it the dataslate, it should be pointed out. She was just pretending so as to unsettle anyone who saw her doing it. As far jokes went it was a lot of effort for not a lot of payoff, but Loghain got bored easily.
The chat was a punt Shepard decided to take, guessing that Jarrion might be more talkative and more relaxed in an informal captain-of-a-ship-talking-to-a-captain-of-a-ship sort of a setting. She was completely right in this.
Jarrion had had amasec packed - on the off-chance there was anything that needed celebrating, commiserating or anywhere in-between - and he had the bottle brought up. Shepard found the stuff palatable, if difficult to describe exactly.
"That's got a kick," she said after downing the first glass, wincing only a tiny bit as Jarrion poured out another measure.
"It does rather, doesn't it? Picked it up on one of the worlds we were touring before this whole, ah, time adventure."
"Touring?"
"Turn of phrase. Mostly I was flying the colours. House Croesus worlds, you see? Ones brought into the fold by my House, ready to be incorporated into the greater Imperium as and when. Lost colonies, some of them, freshly-founded in some other cases."
"And so you were...what?"
"Assisting them if they had problems, settling issues, reminding them where their loyalty lay, that kind of thing."
"Is that what a Rogue Trader does?"
"Ah, no. Well, maybe. It's what I was doing. Duty to the House, you see? My father is, strictly speaking, the Rogue Trader, I'm just operating with House authority. Not that that makes me any less of a Rogue Trader, you understand!"
"Course not, Jarrion, course not. Just so I'm clear though, could you really just lay out this whole Rogue Trader thing one more time? Bottom line it for me."
There followed a very truncated version of House Croesus's history, dovetailing with a better explanation of what exactly a Rogue Trader was and what Rogue Trader did. This time, Shepard actually grasped the concept, which now seemed pretty simple.
An empire in which all interstellar travel was tightly controlled, with sprawling borders and which was unable to be everywhere it needed to be would, indeed, benefit from individuals going into the places between what was mapped out to scope out useful places, find things that might have been lost and otherwise fly the flag when it wouldn't be prudent to commit resources to what might turn out to be a complete waste of time.
Still seemed kind of arcane and unwieldy to her, having a literal piece of paper giving someone permission to go off and do this, but hell. It was the future. They did things differently there, apparently.
That, and the whole 'Rogue Traders are allowed contact with aliens' part being a big deal. Shepard spoke to more aliens before breakfast than most Imperial citizens were apparently liable to meet in their entire lives. Some Imperial citizens, Jarrion said, weren't even aware aliens existed. This she found difficult to comprehend for citizens of an galaxy-spanning empire, but did not wish to press.
After that they took to talking shop in a more general sense, as it were. One heavily-armed captain of a ship to another, exchanging whichever anecdote came to find first. Shepard gave a loose rundown on what had happened on Purgatory, being as it was the most recent mission with any real combat. Jarrion lapped it up.
"Very exciting! Double crossed! Ah, mercenaries. They have their uses but really can't be left to their own devices, poor things. Have I met this, ah, Jack? Can't saying it's ringing a bell."
Shepard frowned. Come to think it she hadn't seen Jack in a while either.
"No, I don't think so. Almost like she got a bit forgotten about somehow. I'm sure she'll show up soon enough now we've mentioned her."
Generally how these things worked.
"She sounds quite the character," Jarrion said, swirling his amasec around his glass.
"That is...you're not wrong."
For his anecdote Jarrion ran through the time fairly early towards the start of his little tour where he had had to assist a colony in eradicating a sudden outbreak of feral Orks. And sudden was the keyword, being as how at no point in the planet's surveying or subsequent history of colonisation had Orks ever been mentioned. But now here they were, rampaging across the plains and roaring out of the jungles with spears and axes to make life miserable.
It had not been difficult, assisting, in the grand scheme of things, but it had not been fun either. By the time Jarrion had arrived with the Assertive, the attacks had already rendered much of the outlying colonial settlements into charred ruins, and put the colonists themselves on the defensive.
Once Jarrion had armsmen on the ground though this quickly turned around. An Ork with a spear was no joke, but was much less threatening if you happened to be stood behind a heavy bolter.
Eventually the Orks were traced back to a crashed ship of theirs deep in the planet's wilderness regions. When it had arrived and how no-one had noticed it crashing was unclear, but there it was, the obvious reason for why they were there.
Jarrion had the site purged from orbit, though he suspected that the problem would likely flair up again before too long, Orks being Orks.
Shepard, for her part, listened to the story with mounting puzzlement, being as how she'd read a fantasy book or two in her time.
"Orcs?" She asked.
"No, Orks. Disgusting beasts, get everywhere. Even these feral sort were troublesome. Rather glad we won't be running into any around here, I must say. They are, ah, unpleasant."
From the story she'd just heard, Shepard didn't doubt it.
This sort of martial talk led quite naturally into a discussion about firearms, a topic that Shepard always enjoyed. Going with the flow of the conversation she briefly extolled the many virtues of her Mattock (which she loved dearly), her fervent desire to someday soon acquire a M-98 Widow (which she was certain she would also love dearly, especially now she was a cyborg death machine and so able to actually use one on her own) and then finally rounding off with unholstering and handing over her Phalanx to Jarrion so he could have a look at it.
He, in turn, responded by letting her have a look at his bolt pistol. The thing was ludicrously enormous by comparison but Shepard felt it might be rude to point that out, instead, she asked how it worked, and so Jarrion explained it.
Sounded like some sort of rocket propelled grenade-cum-gyrojet mashup to Shepard, who found the concept baffling in the sense of the whole thing just seemed unnecessarily complicated.
The detail that particularly stuck out to her was the part where the projectiles were specifically fused to detonate inside the target. To her, that seemed perhaps just a touch more brutal than it really needed to be.
And that was coming from her. Someone who could - and had, at least once - headbutt someone to death.
From there the conversation went - fairly naturally - onto what other weapons Jarrion was carting around, specifically the ones on his ship. This was an area Shepard was low-key very interested in, and hoped her burning desire to learn more didn't come across. Luckily for her Jarrion was always more than happy to ramble about the Assertive, so she heard a bunch.
A Dauntless class light cruiser - which the Assertive was, she learnt - had a moderately light armaments by some standards, but a definite kick that it would be wise not to underestimate. While it's macrobatteries were sufficient if unimpressive, its lances were truly a fine and ferocious weapon.
What was a lance? A massive energy projector capable of searing through metre upon metre of armour plating before burning deep into the vulnerable guts of whatever ship happened to be unlucky enough to be targeted. A weapon designed to cripple battlecruisers.
What sort of energy did it project for it to be able to do this? Jarrion did not know.
Unhelpful, but at least it was something.
Shepard came away from the talk feeling, well, not any less confused and unsure about what was going on but at least better informed. Jarrion wasn't as mysterious as all that, and while everything he did and had was built and organised along entirely different principles to everything Shepard was used to it wasn't all that complicated, really.
Not long after this - a day, perhaps, or a few days - they arrived with FTL distance of Horizon, and started moving on in.
Time, then, for a briefing.
Shepard gathered her super team into the briefing room along with Jarrion, Loghain, Pak's servo skull and a very bewildered, anxious looking armsman sergeant who was doing his best to keep as far away from all aliens present as possible.
Jarrion was already passingly familiar with everyone else there and nodded polite hellos to all, aliens included - courtesy costing nothing, after all, and also being quite valuable when one was soon to drop into a combat environment shortly.
The only one there he did not know was Jack, because Jack had been mysteriously absent up until this point and so he hadn't had an opportunity to be introduced yet.
The reason for Jack's absence from the welcome dinner had been due to her having slept through it, and her sudden appearance took Jarrion off-guard, mostly because he was unprepared for a woman wearing a strap to come hoving into view with no warning.
He got over it though, and shook her hand to say hello. This Jack was not wholly cool with, but she got over that, too, mostly because Shepard mouthed at her over Jarrion's shoulder to just bear with it.
With that out of the way the briefing could start.
"Alright," said Shepard, moving up and laying both hands knuckle-down on the conference table. "This room's a little more snug than it usually is but we all know why that is so let's not waste time on that. Not long from now we are going to be putting down on Horizon. Colony world, wonderful holiday destination and next target for the Collectors, at least according to reliable information from our benefactors."
The holographic projector was then switched on, cycling through a few establishing shots of Horizon the planet, the colony, before settling on a much more useful overview of the colony layout itself. Fairly standard stuff, at least for Shepard. Jarrion found it fascinating.
"We have a rough idea of how Collectors operate when they come in, thanks to what we've pulled from the colonies that have already been hit. Communications get blacked out, ship comes down, Seekers released, drones follow and just roll everyone up. Simple process, really. What we don't know is what happens when someone - in this case us - steps in to mess with them. We're going to be finding out. My advice: expect the worst."
She clicked around with some controls on her omnitool and brought up an accompanying image to sit alongside the colony map. It showed what were obviously some large guns.
"What we also know - and what's useful for us to know - is that Horizon was recently kitted up with a bunch of GARDIAN lasers courtesy of the Alliance. Pretty unusual all things considered but hey, desperate times I guess?"
Jarrion did not appreciate what this was talking about, but rolled with it. Lasers at least he could understand.
Shepard continued:
"In an ideal world they'll blow the Collector ship out of the sky but I doubt we'll be so lucky. Collectors aren't idiots. They'll come out of nowhere and take those guns offline somehow so they can work in peace. So the way I figure it, once we're on the ground I say we make for those guns as quick as possible, get them back up again. As much as I like to think we can take out their ship with harsh language and stern looks I don't want to rely on that."
The image of the lasers disappeared again and Shepard started highlighting areas on the map.
"So here's the plan, just so we're all clear: me and my team is coming down on this side of the colony here. Jarrion, your lot go the other side. Once we're all down we both move into the colony proper, take out any Collectors we run into, try to avoid getting killed or paralysed, locate the GARDIAN controls and get them up and running. Boom, job done. Simple, eh?"
Most plans were simple at first. Problems typically happened once things got going. As far as simple went though this plan was wonderful.
Shepard looked around for questions but none were immediately forthcoming. Then she remembered something, snapping her fingers.
"Oh yes, which reminds me: Seekers. Kind of an issue. I need to explain this to you guys."
This she directed specifically to Jarrion, who blinked.
"Hmm? Commander?" He asked, pleasantly enough.
"Technical detail of the mission. My team know what it is, but you don't. Come with me. Mordin? You too. Everyone else go check your gear - Joker? How long we got?"
"About two hours, Commander," said a voice from above.
"Right, you heard the man, go get ready."
Shepard left the room at speed, Mordin following and with Jarrion and Loghain bringing up the rear, servo skull bobbing behind them. The armsman sergeant went back to the cargo bay as quickly as possible to relay what he'd learnt of the mission to the rest of the squad and also to get away from the aliens.
In short order Shepard et al filed into the lab, Jarrion and his lot taking up position on one side while the Commander and Mordin went to the other. Between them was the laboratory work bench, covered with various bits of apparatus and other assorted scientific bric a brac but, mainly, occupied by a big case in which was bouncing and bobbing around an unpleasant insectile creature.
"And this would be a Seeker. Not sure how we got it but there it is. These things are a problem but, hopefully, one with a solution. Right, Mordin?" Shepard asked, her arms folded.
Mordin, busy with a console, just nodded.
"Delightful," Jarrion said, looking at the thing with distaste.
"Basically, the Collectors just release hods of these things, they swarm out, sting everyone, everyone locks up, the drones come out to just roll everyone up. Pretty effective, really. Not something we really want to have to come up against, ideally. Hence countermeasure, yes?"
Again she looked to Mordin who, still busy, didn't even hear that time.
Jarrion looked at the Seeker again, and found it repugnant. Loghain was also looking at it - for a given value of 'looking' - but her expression suggested she wasn't so much disgusted as thinking through something. She appeared to be concentrating,.
"Can I try something?" She asked, out of nowhere. Shepard glanced to her.
"Uh, possibly. What did you have in mind?"
"Some psyker jiggery-pokery, no doubt," Jarrion said, earning himself a sideways, overly-sweet smile from Loghain.
"You know me so well," Loghain said.
Shepard was none the wiser, and could almost feel the conversation again slipping into areas she was entirely in the dark about.
"Psyker?"
"Ah, yes. Our esteemed colleague Loghain here is a psyker on top of being an Inquisitor," Jarrion said pleasantly. Shepard remained none the wiser. For the sake of clarity she clarified thusly:
"When I said 'psyker' I should probably have been more direct and asked: 'What does that mean'?"
Jarrion was beginning to lose track of what he had and hadn't explained to Shepard at this point, and of which concepts had only been mentioned but not delved into. Psykers were clearly one of those things that had not been covered in detail yet.
There really was an awful lot to unpack.
"Oh sorry, I quite forgot. Psykers are, well, psychics. Individuals with, ah, abilities?"
Jarrion really wasn't sure where he could even start. Shepard had at least heard of psychic powers though, in the context of fiction, obviously, and so latched onto this pretty quickly.
"Psychic powers? What, like mind reading? Telekinesis?" She asked, not even bothering to be outraged at this latest revelation about her guests.
Psychic powers sure, cool. Why not, given the way things were going? In for a penny, right?
"Just the telepathy, I'm afraid," Loghain said, still peering intently at the Seeker in its box, continuing to buzz around.
"That so? What am I thinking, then?" Shepard asked.
Always the first thing anyone asked. Loghain had long-since stopped seeing the funny side, but rolled with it anyway and didn't let her irritation show. Instead, she just cocked her head a little, still not looking away from the Seeker.
"You're thinking you don't believe me."
"Uncanny," Shepard said, flatly.
Now Loghain turned, straightening up.
"I could probe further, if you wanted convincing. That sort of thing is typically considered rude without consent," she said.
Off to the side Jarrion made strangled sound on hearing an Inquisitor use the word 'consent', having to hammer his chest with a fist to keep from choking. This was ignored.
"Well consider this consent. I'm curious now," Shepard said.
Loghain smiled in that very particular way of hers. This time though it didn't seem to reach her eyes. Or, rather, where her eyes should have been,
"If you're sure, Commander. You may want to sit down."
"I'm good," Shepard said, folding her arms. Loghain just shrugged and stepped in closer to her.
Shepard did wonder what was going to happen, if anything. Would there be hand movements? Chanting? Some sort of beam of energy? Nothing at all?
She did her best not to just stare Loghain in the eyesockets. It felt like a rude thing to do, and also they really were quite unsettling to look at, especially up-close. Those eyes had clearly not left her head quietly or gently.
Loghain, for her part, had gone very quiet.
The temperature dropped. Not horrendously, and not throughout the whole room, but just enough for Shepard to notice and for her to shiver. And once she'd finished shivering, she noticed also that the cold seemed to really be focusing on some spot in the middle of her skull.
"What the-" she had time to say before that little spot of cold wriggled, and her eyes widened. That wasn't normal.
"A few details. Bit of a gap. Ah, you really were spaced? That wasn't much fun, was it? But that's nothing you haven't already mentioned. Let's go a little further," Loghain said, quietly.
The cold spot got fractionally bigger. Shepard gritted her teeth. Mordin - who had started watching at this point - made to move in but Shepard raised a hand and stopped him in place.
"Elysium, hmm? You did very well there, so it seems. Ah, but not quite well enough, you think? Could have done better? We all think that, don't we? When we cast our minds back? I wouldn't worry about it. Things would have been very different had you not been there, and you know that. And now I know that, too. See how this works?"
"You-"
"You did do well, didn't you? Ah, I can see why they made you a Spectre, certainly. First human Spectre, no less. Quite the historical event. An awful lot of important events do seem to turn around you, don't they? Saren, Citadel...Reapers? Hmm. There's a lot here. Very interesting..."
"Could you-"
"Outside interference, too. Bit of a mess. Some sort of artefact left its mark here, I can see that. Very confusing. Xenos artefact. Tsch, always tricky. You should be more careful, Commander."
Loghain then took a step back and the cold spot vanished, though the temperature around Shepard - and in the greater room, the drop having spread - did not immediately rise again. Shepard, whose whole body had tensed up, released the tension and very nearly flopped to the floor, just about managing to stop herself in time through sheer force of will.
"I could go further, but I think you get the idea," Loghain said.
Garrus, Miranda and Jacob appeared at this point in a state of some agitation. EDI had informed them - not just them specifically, but the crew in a general sense and they'd been the first to respond - of an anomalous drop in temperature coming from the laboratory. Suspecting the worst, they had rushed there with all haste and also with guns.
They were holding these guns as they entered, and on seeing Shepard sagging looked set to start aggressively asking for some answers. Shepard held up a hand though, and stopped them.
"It's alright, it's alright. I brought that on myself," She said, steadying herself. Once she'd done that, she looked up to Loghain, who was still fucking smirking. "You weren't kidding, then?"
"Sorry if I ever gave the impression I was. I suppose being unfamiliar with psykers it's only natural you might be skeptical. Are there really none at this time?" Loghain asked, taking that whole 'time travel' thing for granted, either for ease or for comedic effect.
Of course, having been inside Shepard's head, Loghain knew the answer but it was polite to ask all the same, she felt. Shepard rubbed her temples.
"Can't say I've ever bumped into one before now, no."
"Consider yourself lucky," Jarrion said, quietly, flicking a spot of frost off his armoured forearm. He'd been stood too close to Loghain.
"Can they all do stuff like that?" Shepard asked.
"Some can do much worse," Jarrion said, and Loghain did not dispute it. Because he wasn't wrong.
That was another of those ominous statements Shepard didn't really want to probe too deeply, like the distinction between cleansing a planet and blowing it up. She looked to Loghain again.
"I imagine that trick of yours comes in handy," she said.
"In my line of work? Maybe once or twice."
By this point Shepard was beginning to sympathise with the level of antipathy towards Loghain she had picked up coming from Jarrion during their first meeting. She could get it, now. But professional courtesy was still important.
"Anyway. You were saying you wanted to try something?" Shepard asked. Loghain took a second to realise what it was the Commander was talking about.
"I'd quite forgotten about that, yes. If you don't mind - ?" She asked, gesturing to the case and the Seeker within.
"Be my guest."
Loghain moved back to the case and bent down again, bringing her face almost level with the little thing, still buzzing around without a care in the world. The temperature, which had been climbing, dipped a little, but not much.
"It has a mind, this thing. A crude one, a simple one, but still a mind nonetheless. And the wonderful thing about minds - particularly simple ones - is that they can only take so much strain…"
The seeker started to bob in the air more erratically, jerking around so much it started to bang off the side of the case, across which more frost was forming. Then it stopped, shivering so much it almost seemed to be vibrating, just for a second or so.
And the seeker then dropped out of the air, plainly stone dead.
"Fancy that," Loghain said, standing up.
"That's handy. If they send one of those at us I'll be sure to stand behind you," Jarrion said.
Shepard was frowning at the dead Seeker. She looked over to Mordin, who was kind of unreadable about everything that had just happened.
"You didn't need that, did you?" She asked.
Mordin was perfectly still for a moment, then, as if nothing had happened, moved back across the lab and started working on another console.
"Countermeasure already ready for deployment, as stated. Refinement possible but unlikely in time available. Seeker surplus, though possibly required in future for improvements."
"That's lucky. We'll pick you up another one," Shepard said.
Meanwhile, Jarrion and Loghain were still having their quiet little conversation:
"You made all that look very easy," Jarrion said, nudging his chin towards the dead Seeker.
"That's because it was. The Warp is so calm and still I must admit that I feel quite flush with power. I could probably kill you by looking at you especially hard. Were I so inclined."
"Colour me reassured."
"You should be. I should easily be able to repel these creatures, should they be set on us while on the surface."
This genuinely surprised Jarrion, who had been quietly wondering what the point of the whole demonstration was. He'd just sort of thought Loghain had been showing off.
"Really?" He asked, and she nodded.
"Really. Or don't you trust me?" Loghain asked sweetly, hands clasped before her. This was a deeply disturbing thing to both see and hear. Jarion did not immediately respond because he took a few seconds to both recover and also to look at the Inquisitor with intense doubt.
"You can't tell but right now I am looking at you with intense doubt," he said.
"Oh, I can tell. Rest assured though Lord Captain - you'll never be in safer hands than mine."
Loghain held up her hands to illustrate this point. For some reason. It didn't add a whole lot, and Jarrion felt himself become even less reassured. He had to turn away.
"Perhaps I should shoot myself now and save myself the bother of the journey down..."
With all of that excitement resolved it was down to the cargo bay for final checks and loading up. Jarrion had politely insisted on declining Mordin's countermeasure, assuring Shepard at length that they had the matter well in hand and would be fine.
This was naturally because Jarrion would be damned if he was trusting the safety of himself or his crew to the concoction of some alien scientist. Even as much as he didn't trust Loghain he trusted the Inquisition more than he trusted xenos. Rocks and hard places had rarely looked so uninviting.
He put it more delicately to Shepard though, of course, who mentally prepared herself for writing off a whole half of the mission as and when Jarrion and his lot got taken out by Seekers. Prepare for the worst and all that. She was confident they could accomplish the mission if it came to that, and so wasn't especially worried.
It could cause problems, sure, but those were future problems and could be dealt with as and when. Assuming they even came up at all. Fingers crossed.
Jarrion had not seen Shepard in her armour before and had to admit that it definitely suited her a lot more than not being in armour. Just the way she carried herself.
He, of course, was back looking how he'd looked when he'd first arrived - armoured up, jacket on, sword and pistol on his hip and ready for anything. He swaggered on over for a final chat whilst throughout the hold equipment was checked and rechecked and preparations made to head on down.
"Your lads solid on the plan?" Shepard asked, not looking up from checking her weaponry as Jarrion came on over.
"Oh yes, fully clear. Don't worry about us, Commander."
"Good, glad to hear it."
This business-like brusqueness rather took the wind out of Jarrion's efforts at small talk. He persevered though, casting his eye around for something else to comment on and spotting Jacob and Miranda off to one side. To his surprise they were still wearing whatever it was they'd been wearing the whole time they'd been on board. Which is to say, not armour.
"Aren't your, uh, are those two not wearing armour?" Jarrion asked, nodding his head towards them. Shepeard looked up and over and got what ti was he was talking about before returning her attention to her Mattock, which she loved.
"I know, right? I'd insist but they figure kinetic barriers are enough and I'm just in charge and a decorated veteran and someone they spent billions of credits bringing back from the dead so what do I know?"
Miranda and Jacob's ears must have been burning because they chose this moment to look up and over, perplexed. Shepard waved.
"Don't come crying to me when you get shot," she said under her breath, smiling.
"Kinetic barriers, you said?" Jarrion asked, having latched onto this bit.
"Yes?"
"Suggests that they are only effective against projectiles?"
Shepard gave him an odd look. This wasn't new.
"Yes? You worried about lasers or something?"
"Are these barriers widespread? As a defensive measure?"
"Pretty popular, yes. I feel like I'm missing something here."
"Just learning more about where I find myself," said Jarrion.
These sorts of pedantic details could be quite important, in his experience.
"Huh, right." Shepard said. Then feeling it was her turn to ask a question and seeing Jarrion's squad of guys all huddling down on one knee in a circle for no obvious reason she pointed over and asked: "What are they doing?"
"Hmm, oh, praying. I believe the corporal is leading the prayers there, from the looks of things. A fine habit."
"Praying to the, uh, God Emperor, was it?"
"Primarily. I can't speak for my armsmen, of course, but the Emperor foremost. Possibly some Saints too for blessing and protection. And for the Machine Spirits of their equipment, given they'll be relying on them soon. Very wise."
Jarrion was suddenly struck by the awkward realisation that he hadn't done anything so pious recently. He'd just been rather busy and it had slipped his mind, but now he felt exposed and unworthy. Hopefully he'd have enough time after this conversation was over for a small prayer and maybe have Pak appoint his weapons, if possible. Just to be on the safe side.
Shepard looked at Jarrion sideways and could see that he was in no-way joking.
"You're really serious about this God Emperor thing, aren't you?"
Jarrion turned and looked at her, and saw that she too was in no-way joking.
"Why wouldn't I be?"
"Have you ever seen him?"
Jarrion bit his tongue. He could see where this was going and even the insinuation turned his stomach.
"I don't mean to be rude, Commander, but I'd rather not have a discussion about this if it's all the same to you."
From his tone and suddenly very, very rigid body language Shepard could tell that while she perhaps had not crossed a line she had started approaching one.
"Wasn't implying anything Jarrion, honestly. I'm just curious, honestly. Why wouldn't I be?"
This kind of deliberate repurposing of what you'd been saying before and turning it around to make it seem as though you'd been saying the exact opposite was masterfully done stuff. Shepeard was clearly a woman with the gift of the gab. Had he been less-used to talking to people Jarrion might even have believed it.
Jarrion sighed. As much as he could see this subject might be a thorny or a messy one he was loathe to pass up an opportunity to enjoy the sound of his own voice. He caved:
"I'm hardly a theologian. Though, really, if I was that probably wouldn't help you either. There's a cult for everyone. Some of the variants I saw not even that long ago while touring the colonies and flying the colours, for example. Emperor as benevolent harvest father, Emperor as the stars themselves and able to peer into the minds of men, etcetera, etcetera. It's varied."
"Obviously."
"Look, I'm not really the right person to ask. As and when the Assertive arrives I'm sure I could find a member of the Ecclersiarchy to answer any questions you might have - there's more than a handful on board for the crew's spiritual needs."
Given that Shepard had at most an idle curiosity on the subject, the prospect of having a member of some clerical body set on her was not one she relished.
"No, I think I'll be fine," she said, hastily.
Jarrion felt it best to conclude now.
"Ultimately, the God Emperor is, well, a God. What sort of God probably depends on your upbringing but a God he is and that is that. As long as you hold to that you can't go far wrong," he said, adding emphatically: "That he sits on the Golden Throne guiding and protecting humanity is a fact. Everything else after that is, well, let's say cultural."
"So what sort of God do you see him as, then?"
"Me? Oh I don't know. I just think he wants us to prosper, that's all."
"That's very broad."
"I did say I'm not a theologian. The clergy can argue about the details, I just know that I have a role to play out for Him, and I am going to do so to the best of my ability for His glory and for the glory of His Imperium."
"Good for you, Jarrion," said Shepard, who honestly could not think of a single other thing to say in response to this sentence. Jarrion smiled and clapped her on the shoulder.
"It is, rather. Now if you excuse me seeing the men's piety has reminded me that I've been somewhat lax in the same regard. I'll pray for you too, if you like. The Emperor protects, you see?"
"Uh, sure, thanks. Even here though? The past and all."
Again, playing along with the time travel thing. At this point what could Shepard lose by pretending otherwise? She'd had her mind read earlier. Reality was plainly out to lunch.
Jarrion just kept on smiling.
"Everywhere, Commander. His reach knows no limits. And apparently his servants are pushing the limits, too! Be seeing you on the surface."
Quite unprompted he made the sign of the Acquilla across his chest, and Shepard did not understand what it meant.
What with their shuttle blocking the cargo bay, Jarrion and his lot had to be the first ones out. I watched them all load up and watched them back up and out, again scratching up the inside of my ship. Really hope we can fix those.
"I still don't like this," said Garrus.
"Not a fan of our guests?" I asked and he shrugged.
"It's all just to convenient. And strange. Two ships bumping into each other by accident? In space? In orbit? Language issues? Tech that's nothing like anything we've seen before? Nothing about this seems right to me," he said.
Adding, after a moment's consideration:
"And they're racists. Not the warmest or fuzziest of character traits."
"Yeah well. Can't argue with that," I said.
"You learn anything else from him?" Jacob asked.
"From Jarrion? Oh yeah, heaps. All insane, obviously. Well, all just unreasonable. You know they weren't kidding about the God Emperor, right? He is literally a god. Or they worship him like one, at least."
"Kind of hard to believe they'd carry that sort of thing forward into the future. Assuming they even come from the future. Ugh, kind of hard to believe I'm taking that seriously…" Miranda grumbled, rubbing her face.
"I had my mind read today, apparently. At this point I'm willing to suspend my disbelief a little. And right now who cares, really? We've got other shit to worry about. Let's just focus on getting through without getting killed and then worry about all this nonsense when we get back. Alright?"
No-one argued with this.
It was a short but bumpy ride to the surface of Horizon.
Knowing the importance of such things, Jarrion was the first one off the lighter the moment the ramp was down, sword in hand and bolt pistol firing the instant he spotted a Collector. The Collectors, bewildered, had approached the craft with weapons raised, though were still caught off-guard when humans came out immediately shooting. They just hadn't expected it.
"For the Emperor!" Jarrion shouted, striding forward with confidence and also in the direction of the nearest cover. His men followed close behind, as did Loghain.
Every bolt that struck home was a kill shot, the sheer mass of the rounds punching through the drones' ablating armour to blow away limbs or heads, dropping aliens left and right. Invigorating stuff. Jarrion had rather worried he'd lost his touch.
It was much more natural to be shooting at the aliens than eating dinner with him, Jarrion had to admit. For all of his understanding of the need for tact and delicacy he was still an Emperor-fearing citizen of the Imperium. The revulsion he felt on even looking at an alien would never go away, and as well it shouldn't.
Similarly, the delight on watching that split-second between a bolt striking an alien in the head and that head then disappearing would never go away either, for which Jarrion could only be grateful. It never got old.
Crisp burts of lasfire knocked down more drones as the armsmen split up to get into cover and flank. The drones who found themselves in the line of fire were understandably alarmed. Their barriers proved no help at all and their armour - sensibly designed with repelling mass-accelerated rounds in mind - turned out to be rather too moist to react comfortably to the sort of sudden, violent changes in temperature a laser typically introduced.
The bony plates were solid, yes, the muscular underlay was not. Many drones were caught completely off-guard before they, almost as one, moved to covers as well. This really helped them cut down on being shot.
Every so often there'd be the hiss-slap-boom of Rolf - the armsman carrying the plasmagun - using it to destroy any substantially hard cover the aliens were using to hide behind, having now recovered from their immediate surprise enough to do so.
Hiss-slap-being rather what Jarrion had always only ever been able to hear plasma fire as. The hiss of the bolt slashing through the air, the slap of it hitting the target and splattering, the boom of whatever it was detonating from the sudden dump of kinetic force and horrendous, immediate temperature change. He did like that sound.
What return fire there was was confused and desoultary. It seemed as though the Collectors had not expected to find humans coming at them from this end of the colony, and certainly seemed like they had very little idea what to make of Jarrion and his entourage. The rounds from their rifles, when they did find a target, found the plasteel and ceramite of the armsmen carapace unyielding, ricocheting off harmlessly.
Initial impression seemed horribly unfair, as far as Jarrion could see.
A handful of minutes after the Imperials had landed and cut a swathe through what drones they'd found the Collectors pulled back, as one. To cover their retreat they sent in Husks.
Seemingly out of nowhere dozens of naked human bodies shot-through with glowing circuitry appeared, flopping off of roofs and crawling out from beneath hab blocks before running, screaming at Jarrion and his team.
Jarrion's team responded by shooting the Husks, which worked well. It was only the sheer number of the things and their utter indifference to the firepower into which they were running that presented an obstacle. Once one Husk got within melee range that was one less gun firing, which meant the others had a much easier time of it.
Gunfire was replaced with shouting and cursing as the armsmen struggled to keep the screeching Husks at bay. Combat knives were drawn and skulls stoved in with lascarbine butts. Jarrion found himself right in the centre of the fray and put his sword to very good use, impaling bodies and lopping off limbs with abandon as armsmen produced combat knives and drove them through skulls.
One Husk seemed to want to do something spectacular with electricity, but got shot through the back of the head before it got the chance. Probably just as well.
By the time the heavy bolter had been set up most of the Husks had already been put down, though it certainly helped in ensuring that no more made it close enough to pose a problem. Not that it mattered. They'd done what they'd been sent to do, which was chew up time. There was no sign of anymore drones. At least not right at that second.
Jarrion took a moment to catch his breath, during which time he had a good, long look at the decapitated, still-twitching body of the one of the Husks.
Not that he knew what they were called, obviously. But that's what it was.
Was this the fate of the colonists? Was this what the xenos had planned? To defile the holy form and shape of humanity with their alien technology? To turn honest, earnest - well, not Imperial citizens, but humans all the same - settlers into slaves? Weapons to be set loose?
Blasphemy! An abomination! Jarrion felt bile rising in his throat.
What better evidence of the loathsome nature of aliens than this?
"Oh I'm quite upset," he said with far more restraint than he felt.
Of course he'd heard of worse. Seen worse too, once or twice. Still, one never got fully use to the cold, hard reality of it when coming face-to-face with such vile work.
He was reminded of one of the earlier colonies he'd visited, which had been experiencing a pirate problem. Xenos pirates, specifically, with a fine line in selling humans as slaves.
Their modus operandi in this had been to swoop in from their hidden location on-planet, snatch up the population of an isolated settlement, subject their captives to a foul fungal concoction that served to rot away higher brain functions and leave the poor wretched souls as little more than drooling animals capable of just about performing simple, menial tasks, thence to be sold off-world
A ghastly business. And so inefficient! What could their margins have been to make such a business even close to profitable? Jarrion imagined it must have been motivated mostly by spite, aliens being aliens, and partly by commercial ignorance, aliens being aliens.
Aliens in this instance being both malicious and stupid, obviously.
After being briefed by the colony's governing council he had located the pirate's vessel in-system, destroyed it, and then tracked them to their lair on the planet itself, had all of its subsidiary exits sealed, parked himself and a lot of angry men with a lot of guns outside the one remaining exit and then had the whole lair filled with gas.
Results following this were predictable and satisfying. No survivors.
Of course all of the human 'stock' that the xenos had had on hand had been beyond saving, and so had received the Emperor's mercy. An unfortunate coda to the whole business, really, but there had been nothing else to do for them.
Thinking about it now Jarrion rather saw some parallels between those xenos - now gloriously deceased - and the Collectors. Funny how things worked out, he thought.
All of which was nice, but not a lot of use right at that moment. Jarrion stopped daydreaming when he caught a bit of movement out the corner of his eye and noticed a single drone, its legs shot off at the knees, weakly crawling between some crates, heading who-knew-where.
"I think now," Jarrion said, striding over bolt pistol in hand.
He was stopped from finishing the thing off thought by Loghain, who appeared at his side almost as if from nowhere, and gently but firmly pushed his gun-hand down.
"I'm sure you have a good reason for doing that?" He asked her.
"I can make use of this," she said.
"What? This?" Jarrion asked, nodding to the drone, which was still doing its best to get away but not exactly going anywhere fast. Loghain squatted down beside it.
"Know the alien, the better to kill it," she said.
"Going to have a chat with it? They didn't strike me as the talkative sort," Jarrion said. But then he got what it was she was actually referring to and suddenly felt a little bilious. Loghain, who could see the wheels working in Jarrion's head even without having to look inside, was smirking up at him.
Since she had a helmet on though the effect was somewhat blunted. Jarrion cleared his throat and had to look away.
"Well yes, obviously, but still! There have to be limits, don't there? That sort of...contact can't be good."
"I have experience," Loghain said, gesturing off to a nearby clutch of very dead Seekers.
"Those little things hardly count!"
"I wasn't talking about those."
That put the wind up Jarrion.
"Oh. Well. If you're quite sure. Carry on. Just keep it quick," he said, drifting over to the nearest armsman and saying over a secured comm-to-comm channel: "Keep an eye on her. If she starts acting funny just maybe shoot her in the knee."
"Lord Captain," said the armsman, nodding.
"Rest of you, check for injuries and watch the perimeter. Now would be a very bad time to be counter-attacked."
A perimeter was duly set up while Loghain got to work, kicking the drone over and squatting down beside it, holding a hand out over its face.
"Here I come…" she said, under her breath.
The drone's back arched. It juddered, emitted the most horrendous whining sound which abruptly cut off with a frothy gurgle. Loghain pressed her palm down a little closer and the alien jolted violently, head smacking against the ground. Jarrion wasn't enjoying watching this, though he wasn't sure why.
"Fascinating. The mind of this creature has been, hmm, the best word would have to be butchered," Loghain said, moving her hand minutely and producing a corresponding twist and crunch from the drone, which contorted.
"What?" Jarrion asked.
"Yesss. Whatever it was was hacked and chopped and sliced away, remade into something - something! - by an outside force. A whole species! My, that is something."
Loghain leaned in closer and the drone's back arched more violently, cracking, the thing starting to bend in two, frost forming across its armour, thick ichor leaking from reopened wounds in fresh rivulets.
"Something very old, it seems. Something this race had been familiar with? Fighting? Hmm. Difficult to make out. Distant impressions, mostly forgotten, just scraps. Hardly matters now though, does it? Ah, but look what's happened to you. Such a shame."
Loghain then straightened up and turned to Jarrion, all the tension that had built up in the drone releasing so it just flopped out, limp but still alive. Just.
"A catspaw, nothing more. Quite interesting, don't you think?" Loghain asked, grinning behind the faceplate of her helmet. Jarrion guessed that she was grinning. He could feel it coming off her in waves.
"I'm quite agog," Jarrion said, flatly. "Can you tell me anything else? Something useful, perhaps?"
"No, not really. What little is there is patchy. I don't think whatever did it was especially concerned for the wellbeing of its subjects. Just concerned with making a useful tool," she said.
Aliens being aliens, in this instance to other, apparently lesser aliens. Hardly a surprise, and hardly the most interesting thing Jarrion had ever come across. He made a mental note of the information and then more-or-less forgot he'd heard it.
"Wonderful. Let's continue, shall we? I take it you're done with this?" Jarrion asked, gesturing to the twitching, bleeding, frost-crackling drone with his bolt pistol. Loghain looked down at the thing as though she'd quite forgotten it was there at all.
"Oh, yes," she said, so Jarrion shot it through the face.
This the squad took - rightly - as a signal to be ready to receive fresh orders.
What minor injuries there had been had been seen to. Carapace was proof against all direct hits, it seemed, but bruises were abundant and those few shots that had struck the flak underwear of the suits had required attention and repair. All seen to now though, as said, and everyone remained entirely combat-ready.
A very good start, all things considered. Surprise will do that.
After performing a brief check of his clip and deciding that reloading could wait, Jarrion turned and said:
"Solid work, team - let's continue and continue with extreme prejudice. Whatever their motivations or origins my orders to you are clear: every xenos we encounter is going to die immediately. I am not a fan of these ones."
Pak - who had spent the duration of the firefight wandering around in the background examining what technology they could get their mechadendrites on while occasionally letting their shoulder-mounted weapon gun down any drone who dared bother them, stray shots bouncing harmlessly from their armour without so much as making them flinch - let out a brief burst of static and Jarrion squinted at them in disbelief.
"You want one kept alive as well?" He asked, having got more-or-less the gist of what the static had been trying to communicate. Pak nodded.
"Emperor's teeth Pak, why?"
Pak said nothing to this. It was only then Jarrion noticed the spindly, spiky tip of one of the Magos' mechadendrites and noticed that it was dripping with the ichor that tended to spray out of the drone whenever they burst open.
Ah. Right. Live subjects.
"Does it have to be in one piece?" Jarrion asked.
Pak shrugged. This had been an odd looking gesture for a magos before, but in full-armour it bordered on the ridiculous. Jarrion did his best not to roll his eyes, even if he did have his helmet on. Something told him Pak would pick up on it anyway.
"Try and keep one mostly alive for Pak. The rest you can kill. Now, let's press forward! Doesn't sound as if the Commander's lollygagging, does it?"
Indeed, it did not. The sound of gunfire from the opposite side of the colony had been more-or-less constant, and was obviously getting closer, too, Shepard's team making good progress to the objective.
Jarrion then added:
"Oh yes, and to clarify: the aliens the Commander has with her are exempt from being killed. Try not to shoot them if you can help it."
And on they pressed.
Things did not stay quite so easy, sadly.
The Collectors recovered from the shock of Jarrion and his men appearing - something that had not been part of the plan - with remarkable speed, capably splitting what assets they had on hand and throwing everything more-or-less equally at Shepard and at Jarrion, though they seemed to take a particular interest in Shepard, treating Jarrion and his men more as something they needed to slow down, at best.
Husks boiled out of every crevice, coming in screaming and flailing to be gunned down by the advancing armsmen, throwing themselves into the teeth of the lasfire coming their way, heedless of losses. Thale in particular gave very good account of himself, his hellgun blasting holes clean through anything unlucky enough to wind up in his sights. So powerful was the beam, in fact, that Thale inflicted an alarming level of damage to whatever happened to be immediately behind his targets.
Noticing this, he dialled it down a notch. No sense in wasting power, after all.
Drones, too, moved in, buzzing up onto the rooftops of the surrounding hab structures in an effort to keep control of the higher ground and keep the Imperials pinned down. One or two drones were found to be carrying a weapon - a particle beam of some kind - that turned out to be capable of breaching carapace, as one unlucky armsman found out to his cost, finding himself very nearly disembowelled when caught hopping between two waist-high objects.
"Get that man into cover and get him back together!" Jarrion bellowed, standing in the open, refractor field flickering as shots fizzled against it, his bolt pistol raised as he picked drones off the rooftops.
Screaming, the man was duly hauled behind something solid where his guts were shoved inside him, where they belonged.
There were also Seekers. Not a lot, but they did appear. Fortunately, Loghain turned out to be just as good as her word and any Seekers that approached the squad too closely dropped dead on the spot, thunking to the ground and posing no threat whatsoever.
"And you doubted me," she'd said to Jarrion.
"Never for a second," he's said, agog, before turning smartly and with two precise swipes of his power sword neatly slicing both arms off a drone that had been moving in behind him. It was difficult to tell, but he imagined that the thing found this turn of events surprising.
Giving the now-maimed alien a kick and sending it toppling over backwards he yelled:
"Hah! That's one for you, Pak!"
Still, they were making progress. Yard by yard and building by building they moved towards the centre of the colony, where they were supposed to be meeting up with Shepard. Even the nearly-gutted man was still technically combat ready, even if his aim was impaired by the sheer amount of stims he'd had to be dosed with to stay upright.
He'd be okay. For the time being.
Much to their chagrin the Collectors were having to adjust their plans, divert far more resources to stopping these unforeseen elements. Somewhere, an unseen force was starting to be what lesser beings might recognise as annoyed, verging on the upset. Not that anyone on Horizon knew this, of course.
"Next courtyard over, lads! Almost there!" Jarrion yelled out after briefly checking the map he'd loaded into his armour's wrist-mounted dataslate. He checked the chronometer too. They'd made good time.
Amidst the various drones and snarling husks a lumbering, swollen brute of a monster came stomping around the corner. Evidently, it was another of the foul xenos' creations, another twisted form that had once been a human. Or, from the looks of things, several.
If you're going to turn one person into a monster, why not really go for it and use more?
"Rolf! Big chap!" Jarrion shouted, pointing. Rolf looked over and nodded acknowledgement, taking quick aiming and firing off a maximally powered shot, just to be sure.
The thing was blown apart, what stinking fluid that hadn't vapourised from the plasma spraying wetly across the grass and the walls of nearby habs. For a few seconds its legs tottered about the place before they collapsed.
"Capital work, Rolf! Eyes on more!"
And indeed there were more, stomping out, raising lumpen and misshapen arms. Rolf, still firing, killed one but one of the others managed to get a shot off. A strange, thumping surge of energy went thundering forth, seeming to just roll over anything in its path and rather painfully break the leg of an armsmen who had been taking over. Swearing, the man went down.
The big brute responsible for this did not get to enjoy this success for very long, as mere seconds after this it too exploded as Rolf found his mark. Its friend, too. Turned out being big and burly just meant that you got to stand around like a big, fat target and when your armour turned out not to be as tough as you thought it because someone had brought a gun that made a mockery of it, well...
These things happen.
In doing this though Rolf was, perhaps, overenthusiastic. Rolf, perhaps, let his excitement get the better of his caution and his training. Certainly, he seemed to forget that it was a plasma gun he was so gleefully firing.
He did not notice the rising whine that it was making, or the way in which it was glowing brighter with every shot. It came as a surprise to him, therefore, when that whining reached a sudden, violent pitch and all that built-up heat catastrophically vented. Right back at him.
The noises Rolf made were memorable, to say the least.
They were also loud enough - along with the very distinctive sound of the catastrophic venting - to catch the augmented ear of Pak, who came walking clean through the wall of the hab unit they'd been poking around in while everyone else had been shooting aliens. There had been a door, but that would have taken too long.
Scanning a keen eye across the scene Pak immediately sighted the writhing, wailing Rolf and the sizzling-hot plasma gun and started heading on over at once, heedless of everything and anything that might have been in the way.
This did not go unnoticed. Drones peeled off to intercept. This Pak noticed, idly.
The gun that had replaced Pak's arm came up and with a ripping, tearing, buzzing roar a beam sliced from the muzzle and struck one of the oncoming drones which immediately burst into flames so violently the fire engulfed its fellows standing too close and they stumbled aside.
Flailing, discharging its own gun wildly and taking out one of its flame-licked allies in the process, the thing keeled over into a burning heap on the ground, collapsing in on itself and then lying still.
Pak had not broken stride.
The Magos walked through the crossfire as though it wasn't even there, shots both stray and aimed rattling harmlessly from their armour, ignored like raindrops. They headed straight for the stricken armsman, catching a charging husk by the throat, snapping its neck and hurling the now-limp body aside. Again, this did not slow Pak down in the slightest.
Mechandendrites extended while the shoulder-mounted gun continued to fire on its own, Pak reached out for the plasma gun, still venting as it was, though now less violently.
Rolf's agonised wails increased sharply in pitch as Pak pulled the gun from his melted hands, taking a significant portion of said hands along for the ride. Not that Pak appeared to pay the man much heed, nudging him out of the way with an armoured boot while they turned the plasma gun over in their grip, examining it closely for signs of damage.
A drone came buzzing in to land behind Pak only to be unceremoniously gunned down by the Magos' shoulder-mounted cannon, which barely paused before firing again at fresh targets. Pak hadn't so much as flinched, so engrossed were they in checking over the plasma gun.
Once satisfied that the overheated weapon was not unduly harmed only then did Pak look at the man who had been firing it. Rolf - reduced now to piteous mewling - was duly hefted up in a fireman's carry as Pak casually strolled through the middle of the firefight to deposit the wounded armsman at the feet of the increasingly beleguard medic, Havel, who sighed and got to work doing what he could.
Disappointment was around the corner though as Jarrion was surprised to find that in the next courtyard there was no sign of Shepard. No sign of anything, in fact. The place was deserted.
"That's odd," Jarrion said, frowning inside his helmet. There was still the sound of furious gunfire coming from somewhere, though what with the surrounding buildings it was difficult to tell where. Had the Commander been held up? Had a situation arisen that had caused her to divert?
It was at this point Jarrion regretted not having established some sort of communication protocol with the Commander. Everyone makes mistakes.
"Pak, if you'd be so kind would you mind just sending your servo skull upward to have a little look around? See if we can spot the Commander?"
Pak gave a single nod and their servo skull obligingly zipped upwards, disappearing over the buildings. This gave them a quiet few moments to reload, check minor wounds and also enjoy the drugged-up whimpering of Rolf, who was going to need new hands.
Shortly the servo skull returned, relaying whatever it might have learnt to Pak who - in their own unique way - conveyed this information to Jarrion.
"Colony transmitter? Ah, I see it," Jarrion said, checking the map again. It was close by, thankfully. Would certainly explain the volume of the gunfire. This way!"
Sword waving over his head Jarrion led the way, cutting through yet more hab blocks and coming out into a wide, crate-stacked courtyard area within which Shepard had plainly been very busy. Dead Collectors abounded, and live ones continued to swarm in.
Seeing Shepard and her team hunkered down and raining all manner of technicolour hell on anything careless enough to stick its head out of cover, Jarrion ramped up the external volume on his helmet and yelled:
"Fancy seeing you here, Commander!"
The shock of this was enough to actually break Shepard's concentration, at least for a second. She then went back to putting mass-accelerated rounds through the heads of husks and drones, occasionally tossing a grenade to land in the lap of anything that felt like staying buttoned down.
Jarrion took in the scene, casting his eye around. He then pointed to the nearest building.
"Mikail, Irfan - grapnel up onto that hab structure there and set up the heavy bolter. Castellos, you cover them."
What with the drones having been observed flying around and all.
The armsmen nodded acknowledgement and peeled off, clambering up to set the weapon up. Jarrion led the rest of the squad - and Loghain, Thale and Pak, obviously - straight into the heart of the fray, catching the Collectors between the two forces. Their desperation quickly became apparent, but desperation isn't much use when flanked.
"Aha! They don't like that," Jarrion laughed uproariously as he watched a clutch of drones bursting apart in a hail of heavy bolter fire, the stragglers picked off variously with lasblasts and whatever it was that Shepard's lot were firing.
"We're waiting for the lasers to come online!" Shepard shouted over the din. "Just hold on! They come on we'll drive that ship of theirs off!"
"I think we can do better than holding them off, Commander! Forward, men! No survivors!"
Jarrion - perhaps unwisely, but then again it paid to be seen to be dashing - vaulted onto one of those handy, hefty crates, firing the whole while. Another of those particle beams licked out but caught his refractor field, which crazed. He turned to dispatch the offending Collector only to find that he'd finally emptied his bolt pistol. Holstering it he drew the Steelburner, only to find that by the time he had the drone in question was already dead.
Such was life.
What Collectors remained were clearly on their last legs, but showed no signs of retreating. If anything they threw themselves forward with even greater ferocity. Jarrion found a Husk clutching at his leg and rammed the barrel of his pistol into its eye socket before blowing out the back of its head, shaking the corpse free gingerly and hopping down off the crate, thinking that maybe he'd misjudged the whole gesture.
He found himself standing beside Shepard, picking his targets as he picked hers.
"Is that a laser?" She asked between shots, never taking her eyes off target.
Jarrion, shooting down a drone with two to the chest and one of the head before whirling around to shoot down another flying in directly for him, took a second to respond.
"Hmm? Oh, yes. Is that unusual?" He asked.
"Little bit!"
And all at once they realised that everything around them was dead. The quiet was deafening.
"Oh. That was it?" Jarrion asked, looking around and seeing nothing but corpses. He glanced up to those men with the heavy bolter and saw, to his relief, that they were fine. Everyone was fine. Or at least, no-one had been any more injured that he could see. That was nice.
"Something's coming," Loghain said. Again she'd appeared by his side without warning and this made him jump, but then he saw that she was pointing in the direction of the towering alien ship.
"What?"
"Something," she said.
At first he thought that maybe she was just imagining things, the strain of protecting them from the Seekers having taken its toll. But then Shepard raised a hand and had a look herself.
"I see it. What is that?"
No-one had any answers to this, though in a few seconds it hardly mattered. Whatever it was came swooping in, landing heavily in the courtyard. Something big and armoured and insectile and wrapped around a core of twisted human remnants. It did not move like a machine, but something living. An aberration!
"Filthy xenos…" Jarrion muttered before shouting across the squad-wide commnet: "Everyone fire NOW!"
And everyone did. Everyone who'd heard him, at least, which was those on his quad, though a split-second after they'd started Shepard and her team got in on the act as well. The more the merrier.
The alien machine basically disappeared beneath the fusilade. A storm of lasbeams and hellgun blasts and heavy bolter shells and that lethal heat beam of Pak's and even Rolf's now-soothed plasmagun, being fired by Pak from their mechanderites. Not to mention a hail of mass accelerator rounds and grenades and concussive blasts and overloads and everything else anyone might care to have thrown in the thing's direction.
It did not last, and by the time the order to cease fire was given there wasn't a whole lot of it left.
The quiet that followed this was considerably more deafening. No-one seemed to know what to say.
Jarrion, as was his custom, was the first one to speak up:
"Strange. One got the impression that was going to be serious. Oh well."
About this time the GARDIAN batteries finally started firing.
Targets locked and power charged the guns all turned as one and opened up on the Collector ship, blowing chunks off of it, their target a sitting duck. Each blast set off a detonation that seemed to shake the earth itself and, clearly not wanting to be picked apart while trapped and helpless, the ship immediately start taking off, jet roaring as it headed to the skies.
"They're going to get away! Bastards!" Jarrion spat, hands on his hips.
"They got what they came for. At least we stopped them before they got everyone. Bastards," Shepard spat, also annoyed.
"Something else is coming," Loghain said, head tilted. Jarrion sighed.
"Marvellous. Some lost monster left behind?"
"No. Something up there. The Immaterium."
That made Jarrion's ears prick up.
"The Imma…" he said, casting his eyes to the sky.
On the surface, everyone's teeth gave a single, sudden throb and high up above, just visible in the sky, a swirling rend in the very fabric of reality itself tore open and through it came the glorious bulk of the Assertive. Jarrion beamed.
"Emperor blind me but they made good time! And right where we needed them to be! Very convenient. Vox link!"
This Jarrion shouted while holding out a hand. Armsman Blithe - who had been thanklessly lugging around a vox pack the whole time they'd been planetside just on the off-chance they'd need one - dashed over and turned, taking a knee so that Jarrion could use the pack.
Finding the Assertive's frequency was easy what with it being practically hanging over their heads, and while the link was strong it was not as clear as it might have been. Still, it was there.
"Torian! Marvellous timing! I have urgent orders!" Jarrion yelled into the handset. He didn't really need to yell over anything, experience had just taught him that vox's responded better if you yelled at them.
"Lord Captain?" Came Torian's voice crackling back at him.
"That ship is attempting to escape! Do not let it! Fire on it immediately!"
This Jarrion said while pointing at the Collector ship. Obviously, he didn't need to do this either.
"Lord Captain," came Torian's confirmation.
Nothing to do after that but wait.
The Collector ship continued rising, moving now in an arc, travelling straight for the Assertive which had exited Warp dead ahead of it, the aliens clearly planning on breaking past it. Jarrion had no real grasp of what ships in these parts were capable of but he could feel in his waters that the window to departure was closing and closing fast.
"Come on Torian…" he muttered under his breath and as if by magic a moment later the Assertive opened fire.
Torian - wisely, Jarrion felt - did not spread the available power around and instead pumped everything that was on hand at that moment into the prow lance, and from this fired a five second salvo. The effect on the Collector ship was immediate and dramatic. Whatever defences it had, were they even raised, did nothing.
The lance beam sliced through the hull, burned deep, and after perhaps a second came exploding out the other side having cut through the whole length of the ship. The lance had succeeded in entirely transfixing the vessel end-to-end.
From the prow upwards the beam sliced, searing effortlessly through armour and superstructure and whatever else the foul Xenos craft happened to be made of. A whole segment of the ship was carved away, as one might carve off a chunk of cheese with a length of wire. Countless tonnes of partly-vapourised debris was blown clear of its stern in a glowing spray. Very dramatic stuff.
Those on the surface of Horizon saw all of this, and stood gaping the whole while.
The Collector ship, a moment later, exploded, detonations rumbling and popping all across its surface before it ruptured completely from within, coming apart with great force.
Jarrion raised the handset to his mouth again.
"Good work, Torian. That should do it."