The morning team was full of dull eyes, and drawn faces. Shifts on a world like Rannoch were necessary, sure, but it was duller than one would really expect. Most of the people now had no family there, some had even left their loved ones behind on Earth or one of the larger Sol colonies to be out here. Their service was appreciated though, with many a smile passing their lips as they looked at the various pictures that had been gifted to them by the people below whom they safeguarded.
The afternoon team came in to take the bridge, the captain saluting the fleet admiral, who had no orders to give. Everything was quiet, and would hopefully stay that way for some time. So the afternoon team let their counterparts go off to whatever they wanted. Some would rest, meditating, or even dozing off if they so chose. Some were going to train, to further sharpen their skills. More than a couple were probably going to get a drink of some slurry in the galley, before enjoying the show from the planet below.
Even the afternoon bridge crew were partaking in that last, as monitors often showed not the space around Rannoch, but the space around New Raaya instead. There were parties in the street, as quarians, Terrans, and even a few geth put on performances, all in celebration of the city's one year anniversary. Smiling faces, roars of adulation from the crowd, and a dozen other things marked the occasion. Today, even though few had family below, this place was really starting to feel like home.
Some watched in awe as the quarians played traditional instruments of their people. Segmented flutes with five holes on either side, great metal drums that rang like gongs, or chimed like tiny crystals. Other behind the spectacle of a young Terran boy, juggling rings of light he pulled from his omnitool. The ones watching grew to applause as one of the rings dropped just out of reach, and drove itself into the metal stage, showing the sharp nature of the things, even as the boy added more and more to the act.
A few eyes were watching the colors playing off a much closer object, one that could be observed out of any port. Rannoch's newest satellite, a great mass of metal and wires, hung just outside the fleet's orbit. On board, almost all those geth who chose to remain as they had been, to find their own path rather than take that handed to them by the Terrans, were celebrating themselves. It had been almost a year since the Factory had built them this thing, a computer complex larger than any other in the galaxy, into which many of their number had poured.
Now they thought with one mind, and were defended with barriers, both those of the mass effect fields, and pinpoint barriers designed by the Terrans. They lacked offenses, of course, as the quarians would never have allowed them to have a single weapon on the great construct, but to many, they would have been a waste of resources. They were defended by the Terran fleet, and in the year they had known them, the Terrans had shown themselves to be both powerful defenders, and close allies.
Today was a day for celebration. That did not mean that the guardians of the world were totally distracted, however. When a small blip came on their sensors, a dozen eyes and hands turned towards zooming in, and identifying the anomaly. For a few moments, it seemed that the anomaly was just that, a glitch in the sensors, but then, slowly, the number of objects increased. Going from one, to a dozen, to hundreds, to finally thousands all at once. Worse, an alarm claxon sounded, fold communications had stopped working, causing everyone, on every ship in the fleet, to leap to their stations.
It was a testament to the skill of the soldiers of the Federation that everyone was in position in minutes, so they could all watch as the objects grew closer. They were, to put it bluntly, odd things. They registered as craft, but of no known design. To many, they appeared to be knives, thin and sharp on front, with cylindrical parts behind spouting fire. Weapons were locked onto them, missiles and reflex turrets all blasting out with fury enough that a world could have been striped bare by their power.
The protoculture blasts of the reflex guns splashed against the barriers of the knives like water, and worse, had just about the same effect. The bubbles of light and force popped as they always did with anything under a cruiser weight, and yet that did not stop them, and the bubbles seemed to have an infinite number of layers beneath each other, preventing the backwash of energy that left the ships helpless, and allowing those knives to slice ever closer to the fleet and the world behind.
The missiles might have done more damage, but as each grew closer, the glow of their mass effect fields covering the long, powerful weapons, lances of light, similar yet subtly different from the reflex turrets, shot out of the darkness behind the knives. These weapons slammed home, and every Terran got to watch as their weapons, that had never once failed to take out a target, were all destroyed in seconds, allowing the knives free flight right up to the fleet itself, while they could do nothing but watch.
Many of the knives slash past the fleet, making a line towards the world behind them, and several ships began to turn, intent on somehow stopping them once they hit the atmosphere. No ship could finish the turn before the knives hit them, however. The pointed ends were as sharp as they appeared, ripping their way through the metal hulls of the great war machines. The impacts were enough that every trooper was knocked from their feet, rising slowly, some in sight of the odd projectiles.
Within seconds, the nature of the weapons was made clear, as blades burst apart, scattering chunks of shrapnel all around. Those who were armored found that their metal skin provided protection for the moment, the blows driving them back, but not cutting into their flesh. Those without armor were sent reeling, their blood and flesh exposed on the cold deck plates beneath them, unable to do more than scream for a surprising moment, before even worse noises than explosions began to echo through the halls of the ships.
Gunfire and cannon blasts, and even a few metal on metal fights. Warmechs, squat and powerful machines, came out of the blades hilts. Five to a blade, and at least ten blades per ship, meant many problems for the crews. Especially as those with weapons in their hands, or on their armors, found the enemy mechs to be as protected as their ships outside from protoculture weapons. Many a Terran was cut down as they fired impotently at the enemy, whose own shots seemed to find them, following them even around corners or behind cover.
On the planet below, most of the people heard a small tone sound throughout the city, and the Terrans, if they weren't already moving, ordered their neighbors to the shelters at the city center. Protect bunkers, they would hopefully be safe there, as the alert continued to sound through the air. Above, eyes could see streaks of light as they tore through the sky, the blades breaking apart from the friction of reentry, but allowing the blade handles to land with explosions of fire, dirt, and glass.
Each handle broke apart, even as the defenders of the city, Quarians, micro Terrans, and the armored forms of the normal Terrans, all took their posts. A few geth, both the holographic independent ones, and the a few of the collective intelligent ones that were in platforms, began to rush to the defense of the city as well. They took up what arms they could, and soon not a single one of the ships that had come down onto the planet had less than a hundred weapons pointed at them.
As the dust, smoke, and debris slowly cleared from the air, every defender could hear the pounding of feet. Many were those of armored troops, their powerful strides clapping against dirt and stone. A few were far stronger though. Massive strides of metal that slammed down onto the ground, throwing more dust into the air. When a breeze finally came to clear away the clouds, everyone could see the hard fight ahead, as each ship had almost a hundred armored batarians, and one of the mechs in them.
The mechs were odd looking to the quarians, but any of the Terrans could have told them what they were. Destroids. Or at least, things that resembled them. Forty-five feet tall, they were shorter than the full sized Terrans, but broader at the shoulders. The frames were powerful, with barriers shimmering over their metal hulls, while weapons on their arms shone in the dying light of the sun. Those weapons, a cannon on the right, and a gatling gun on the left, began to hum, and with a roar of fire, the Battle for Rannoch began.
OoOoO
The boy's hand flew over his omnitool. The circle of buttons clicked and chirped as he studied scans, adjusting and recalculating something. Around him, screaming civilians fled, even as the slow, plodding forms of the batarians in their armor came forward. Rifles out, they shot at targets of opportunity, taking down anyone that looked to be in an area without anyone threatening to trample them if they fell. This concern on the part of the attacks was made evident when one noticed their weapons fired darts, not solid rounds, said darts instantly felling anyone they hit.
The boy ignored this, going over his calculations again and again, while continuing to run with the crowd. About him, he saw a few soldiers, quarians, Terrans, and geth, point weapons at the oncoming enemies. Most of them, sadly, wielded protoculture based weapons, the powerful beams of light shooting out of them splashing against the multi-layered barriers of their enemy, who either stood their, impassive, or worse yet, laughed off the attack, before returning fire with either darts on unarmored targets, or mass effect weapons for those that were protected.
The advance of the ground troops was deliberately paced. They moved at a steady walk, their boots thudding against the hard stone heavily. Watching this, and pointing his tool at the horde, the boy took another scan of the things, before rushing down a side alley. Here, several of his fellow civilians were being directed by a geth platform, who shouted with that mechanical voice for them to flee, even as behind the boy came three batarians, their weapons drawn and ready to fire as soon as they had a good clear shot.
"Got it!" shouted the boy, drawing his hand back, and then spinning on his heel. The geth heard his cry, and wondered for a moment what he was talking about, before he pointed his omnitool at the oncoming trio of attackers. With a flash of light, an ozone smell, and the sound of a pop, the omnitool launched an attack. Lightning played out over the target, and the batarians had to blink away spots in their eyes as they looked around, two of them seemingly fine, while the third stood there for a moment, his four eyes going wide.
"AAAAAHHH-CRACK!-" the sound of his scream and the resounding crack of bones echoed over the stone walls of the alley. The batarian who was the source of the sound was nearly doubled over, his legs bent at angles that spoke of broken bones. Luckily, his pain response was quick to knock him out, his mind swooning, even as the other two drew their mass effect pistols and took aim. They were far too late, however, as the child before them struck again, this time the overload pulse hopping from the one he struck, to the other, causing the both to fall over as well, though neither of them broke bones.
"Intriguing," said the geth platform, even as it motioned the other civilians to keep running.
"Do you have a line of communication with the other defensive forces?" demanded the child of the geth as he quickly ran over to the victims of his attack, scanning them with his omnitool.
"Affirmative. Fold communications are jammed at the present time, however the more mundane lines of transmission, including hypernet uplinks remain active," answered the geth.
"Good, transmit this protocol out to all of the forces that can use it. Tell them it should disable these bastards," he said this while rushing over to the geth and pressing a few buttons on his omnitool. The side of the unit ejected a small data storage device, which the geth took, before inserting it into his own arm and sending the data off.
"This is Legion-Platform, to all points, I am sending a modified overload program that has proven capable of disabling the on foot attacks. Stand by," said the platform to the air, and soon, the sound of overload pulses, and more screams echoed over the city, as the defenders, formally unable to seriously hamper the batarian advance, found themselves on the offense now, driving the four eyes out of their city.
"What's the situation elsewhere?" asked the child, and the geth took a moment to correlate all the various reports it was getting, whittling them down to a basic overview of the battle.
"Currently, the ground forces are being routed at all points, with the wanzers keeping a distance from the city proper due to their bulk making it hard for them to maneuver. What mass effect weapons we have in the city are being used to fight them, but it is slow going, as few examples of that technology remain in wide use," as it spoke, the unit displayed a hologram of the city as it understood it, showing off the four wards, with the west seemingly being the one getting pounded on the hardest.
"The larger Terran defenders have all been cut down, the Wanzers displayed the ability to cause their fire to track those forces. The situation in space is much the same, with Wanzers overrunning the corridors of the vessels, despite the efforts to fight them off," the holo now shifted to display the fleet in orbit, and the boy nodded as he tapped out something on his omnitool.
"One, two, punch. Take out the fleet in orbit first, then the ground forces. With no way to fold in through the jamming field, you can destroy both at your leisure, and capture both materiel and prisoners, and pull out before anyone can stop you," said the boy.
"Affirmative," agreed the Legion.
"Has there been any contact with Gloval Station or the like?" asked the boy.
"Before the hypernet to outside the solar system was cut off with the destruction of the beacon, a distress call was transmitted. However, it is impossible to know if this was received," the geth informed him.
"Of course, can't make this easy for us. I'm gonna go help at the western gate for now, want to come with?" offered the boy.
"This unit feels it is its prerogative to escort you to the city's central shelter, not to a battle in progress," countered the unit.
"Normally, as a nine year old, I'd agree with you. But I'm also the one who figured out how to take down the batarians on foot. I think it's worth a shot to see if I can take down the big Wanzers before they decide to cut their loses and just start firing into the city, right?" asked the boy, and the platform considered that line of reasoning for a moment, before the head of the unit seemed to shrug.
"This unit will accompany you to the western gate," it said at last, and the two started off towards the position, the unit eventually picking the child up and carrying him, as the platform was quite faster than the young Terran, and it freed his mind up to continue working on the problem at hand.
OoOoO
"Keep firing! Those barriers can't last forever!" shouted the voice of the commander as he ducked behind a bit of wall again, just as another hail of gattling fire assaulted his position, causing a shower of debris that blocked his view for a few moments. This gave the man, Han'Gerrel, a moment to consider just what he was going to do. Normally, in his position, facing armored units without any of his own, you'd call in an air or orbital bombardment. They did have ships up there after all. However, those ships were facing the same problems he was, and that meant he was on his own.
Before him was a killing field. A dozen huge armored Terrans lay dead on the ground, most without ever having damaged the enemy they fought. Two had decided to charge the foes, and had given good account of themselves, their blades finding the barriers easier to penetrate than their blasters. Of course, that had left them open for counter attacks, and with both of them dead, and only two non-protoculture weapons on this defensive line, it was slow going to whittle down the enemy.
A few minutes ago, they'd gotten a boost to their moral, as someone in the city figured out a way to disable the ground troops with a modified overload pulse. You could still here a few groans, where fallen batarians lay disabled on the ground. A few screams too, as those large mechs rarely watched where they stepped, and many a soldier that had been at their side, now found themselves crushed underneath the iron heel of their so called compatriots, who never let up with the fire.
The units were huge, though not as large as the Terrans at their full height. Their barriers were seemingly impervious to protoculture weapons, and while easier for mass effect weapons to penetrate, the things were armored too. Only the pilots were exposed, with huge glass cocoons holding the drivers in place against the chest of the units. Said pilots seemed to be enjoying themselves, if those sadistic smiles were any indication, and Gerrel swore under his breath, as another cannon blast tore apart one of his positions.
"Hold fast, soldiers! Remember, that's our families behind us!" he shouted, trying to bolster their moral, or at least get them to die fighting. The latter seemed the most likely, given the two or so dozen mech units walking towards them. Still, they would make the four eyes pay dearly for every foot of Rannoch's soil they defouled with their presence, and Han'Gerrel was just about to pop up and give a bit of return fire, when suddenly, a glowing circle whized through the air with a crackling noise, flying overhead and then soaring towards the mechs in the distance.
The disk was covered with arcs of electricity, and seemed to mesmerize everyone on the battlefield as it seemingly came out of nowhere. It slammed home after a moment, ripping through the layered barriers of the enemy unit it had been aimed at, and then digging into the glass cockpit. The circle of light burst apart as it entered the enclosed space, and one could literally watch as the controls the batarian had been using died, leaving the unit completely stopped, before it fell over with a deafening crash.
"I'm brilliant!" shouted a child's voice, and Han'Gerrel turned to find, unsurprisingly, a child standing there. What was surprising was the geth platform behind him, looking down at the young Terran boy, and then up at the quarian with an odd look in that single eye of his, as if asking him just what the heck was going on here.
"Now dance for me, fools!" he shouted, and spun around, as he did so, three more of the rings of light came off his omnitool, also crackling with lightning. The mechs, knowing what these would do to them if they struck home, tried to move out of the way, but the machines were bulky, and not designed for sharp turns. Worse, they'd been getting closer and closer as the battle had worn on, so two of the rings were able to hit their target with ease, with similar results. The third did manage to turn the unit enough to avoid behind hit in the cockpit, but stumbled into the unit beside it, causing both to fall down in a tangled heap of metal limbs and whining servos.
The return fire followed soon after, but the Terran boy seemingly danced through it, the gattling fire missing him, sometimes by inches as he wove his way through it. The cannons couldn't even get a bead on him, and every shot of them went wild, striking either the city behind or the ground around him, sending showers of dust and debris into the air, which only made him harder to target, even as more and more of the light rings came out of that same cloud. In minutes, all of the mechs were as disabled as their groaning infantry counterparts, and a cheer went up through the soldiers.
"Kid, that was incredible," said Han'Gerrel as he approached the youth, who didn't even seem to hear him as he tapped something into his omnitool.
"We've still got a lot of work to do. There's forces at all the other main gates, and those in space to deal with. Can any of you drive me to the other positions?" asked the boy, looking up.
"That's for us to worry about. Give us the specs for those rings, and we'll send them to the other positions," offered the quarian, wondering why he hadn't done that like whoever had figured out the overload pulse had.
"If that would have worked, I would have done it already. It'd take an hour to modify an omnitool to do what mine does, and since it's biolocked to me, no one else can use it. Now get me a ride, soldier," he ordered, with all the authority in his voice of a seasoned veteran. The rest of the command around him looked to Han'Gerrel for orders, given he was the highest ranker here, and he stared at them for a moment, before gesturing with his arm.
"You heard the kid, move it! Find a working vehicle in this mess and get him there, ASAP!" he shouted at them, and the men and women of his command instantly moved, trying all the ground vehicles that were left, before a jeep was found that still worked, and pulled up to the boy and his geth, both getting into the transport as it pulled up.
"North sector was the worst hit after us. I'll get you there, and we can give them all the help we can, but if things get dicey, I want you out, got that?" ordered Gerrel as he took the driver's seat, and then gunned the motor towards the point.
"Shepards don't ever run away from a fight," declared the boy, and the quarian and geth both stared at each other, before the quarian had to turn his eyes back towards the road.
"Shepard? As in, Colony Administrator Shepard's nine year old son?" asked the Gerrel.
"Yeah? Why?" asked the boy, not looking up from his omintool as he continued to mess with it.
"Nothing, nothing," answered Gerrel as he sharply turned another corner, and drove towards the sounds of battle.
'Just that I think my career is going to be over after this,' he thought to himself, as he drove the son of his boss towards the danger, rather than away from it.