Destiny Lost

by Twisted Fate MK 2

The Gods left remnant together, with the statement they would never return to it or influence it. Only, that wasn't true, was it? The God of light, ever the hypocrite and liar, didn't abandon Remnant. Instead, he reincarnated someone to do his bidding and bring Remnant to them. Cue, the now dead Pyrrha Nikos and the God of Darkness' ideas. / Supporter Requested by Espacole & Spork

87. Destiny - Part One

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Requested By :

Espacole and Spork

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General Petrovsky eased back into the command seat of his flagship as the assembled fleet of warships arranged themselves on their approach to the Omega-4 Relay. The formation was as described, more or less, in the short meeting all the respective fleet-leaders had held before finally moving in.

His ships, the Geth, and the STG frigates were all interspersed in a ring around a half dozen charitably described light-cruisers and two converted freighters refitted for carrying strike craft. The light-cruisers and freighters were mercenary craft and hung back, with the ring over more standard combat craft forward in the ring formation. He lead in front of them in his heavier SR-3, the staff officers arranged in the ring in front of him already checking and rechecking barriers, weapons and secondary systems. It was a solid formation, allowing defensive batteries on the combat ships to cover the carriers and the like while not overly limiting their own capacity, but…

He had an itchy feeling this wouldn't work out quite as they hoped.

"Normal for combat, though." He murmured, watching the clock count down to the decided upon time before he cued comms and reported. "Cerberus, ready for launch."

"Geth, ready."

"Special Strike Group Forty-Nine, standing by." The Salarian Commander reported, "Extending ECM fields and relaying bypass codes."

"We have 'em." The mercenary fleet answered, the heavy Krogan voice echoing and reverberating through the comm-speakers deeply. Which he noted as odd - most of the mercenaries, mainly infantry aboard the freighter, were Turian hires. And, doubtless, a sprinkling of special forces scattered amongst them. So a Krogan commander was… Odd. "And standing by, too. Let's go get our scrap, eh?"

"Bypass codes received," he added, flicking a look to his systems officer to ensure their own firewalls weren't being probed and going on when she nodded, "everything is green on our end. We are quite ready."

"Geth as well."

"I have two dozen Alliance Marines in my bay and a heavy particle cannon ready to go." A jovial voice he recognized from his dossiers reported, "Normandy is ready to Relay. Waiting fleet-wide greenlight, and taking point-position. Special-network VI is standing by to relay and coordinate systems in case of Reaper counter-ECM and infiltration. Commander?"

"No speeches, no delays." The woman spoke calmly, voice firm as iron. "All ships, prepare to Relay in three. Two."

Petrovsky nodded in the silence of 'one' as the fleet moved forward, nearly sixty strong, counting the handful of Geth drone-pickets that were attached to their light ships, and put the pilfered Reaper codes through to the Relay. Orange light reached out as they approached and, not for the first time, he felt a familiar anxiety creep through him as the massive, ancient, alien construct got to work. But compounded, now, by the oh-so-real chance the codes wouldn't work. Would simply rip them apart or hurl them into the black holes scattered throughout the galactic core the Relay was preparing to hurl them towards.

Moments passed…

And his flight office reported, "Sir, Relay successful. Drifter under four hundred kilometers. Formation… Only moderately broken, reforming."

"Any losses, fleet?" Shepard asked, and she and Petrovsky both listened as the command officers all confirmed that they were very much intact.

Before they could entirely finish, though, one of his LADAR monitors called back, "Sir, debris field around us in all directions. Non-static, constant motion, and we're detecting signals."

"Signals…?"

"Foreign, indecipherable." He answered, "These ships are ancient, though. Could be old ghosts in the-"

"They aren't." He cut the man off, leaning forward in his seat and cuing the outbound comm back up, cutting off the Geth as they reported their own intact status. "Commander, we're detecting signals throughout the debris field. With permission, I have a standard probe complement I will dispatch to explore our surroundings."

"Do so, and report whatever you find."

"Yes, Commander, launching now." He nodded, waving a hand to signal an officer and watching the display screen mounted in front of him as they spread out. "The accretion disk is several hundred thousand kilometers tall, so to speak, and the signals are… Continuing, but we can't identify the-"

"The signals are foreign, but uniform, and reacting in a pattern to bursts of data echoing out from our position." The Geth cut him off just as he had cut them off in a way that Petrovsky had just the tiniest inkling may have been meant as a sly bit of payback, if AI were even concerned with such things. Whatever the case, it went on, "Analysis programs confirm these match the behavioral patterns of autonomous sensor suites. Likely as a listening network for the Collectors. Recommendation : assume combat positions and begin mapping a route over or under the accretion disk in search of signal source."

"Understood. Carriers, prepare launch. All others, route barrier power forward and advance upwards at approximately forty five degrees." She ordered, "We'll climb above the accretion disk, corresponding to standard parlance with Relay orientation, and advance from there. Everyone, eyes up. The Reapers are tricky, so… Expect everything."

He scoffed and shook his head at the incredibly obvious direction, but sighed and nodded, "Yes, Commander."

It took nearly fifteen quiet, tense minutes to climb to the height of the accretion disk even at full burn, so incredible was its breadth. And it was so dense that, even as his probes navigated deeper through the debris field, their signals… Weakened. Dispersed and disrupted through the debris field, he was sure. Mangled by stars knew how many errant, broken signals from decades and millennia old wrecks. It was enough to make him feel small, and almost enough to make him consider the sheer titanic scale of the galaxy, of history, heaped literally and liberally around them.

Almost - but he was a professional, and schooled those thoughts.

"Scans?" He asked as they reached the rim of the accretion disk and, maintaining formation, the battlegroup rounded it and moved forward.

"Scattered, Sir." An officer reported, "But… Thermal signatures."

"Thermal…?"

"Slight, but warming." He elaborated, "And mobile. Sir, I suspect they're-"

"Strike craft or drones." He cut the other man off, cuing into the broad-comms the fleet shared. "Mercenaries, I suggest you-"

"Yeah, yeah, they're moving." The Krogan voice reported as the ceiling opened up above Petrovsky, lighting up with a visual feed from around his ship, where he could see the entire fleet outlined in blue - joined by several flights of mixed group fighters that lit up in green, to allow more rapid designation. "We're going to slow by one metere a second - to keep you ahead of us, and let point defence- Agh!"

"Massive heat sig, below and behind!" An officer reported at the same time Petrovsky reached up to spin his display around, facing behind them as a lance of golden wrath ripped up, into the belly of the blocky freighter.

And then through it, as the warship came apart in a spray of debris, Eezo and fire.

"Ladar responding!" An officer reported as the fleet began to come apart, ever ship deviating course as his own surged forward, eager to evade before another shot. "Collector vessel emerging from the debris field below!"

"On screen!" He ordered, spinning his displays back to center as they blacked out, replaced by an inverted feed from the stomach of his ship.

Below and behind them, a long, semi-organic ship pulled itself free from a housing of other ruined warships, trailing mucus and cables that came away as it pulled free and turned. This was clearly a different ship, with a broader head but shorter, stockier overall length, but as before he only detected the multi-layered particle emitters at the front, and heat from the rear engines. As hundreds of smaller signatures came in from all directions, and fighters and frigates calling out warnings and requests echoed in his ear, he sighed.

"Come about- Ninety degrees, all hands brace." He ordered, leaning back in his seat, "Engineering, clear primary-core room in case of overheat."

"Petrovsky-"

"We will handle this, Shepard." He grunted, gritting his teeth as the entire ship lurched around him, hurtling around at such speeds even their Mass Effect engines couldn't compensate. Not entirely. He sucked in a breath as it ended and his VI reoriented his screens, back to top-mounted ones with them hurtling towards the warship, and then angling for a flanking manuever when it turned to match. Sucking in breaths, he grunted, "There will be more- I require a flight of superiority craft tasked to me. We will reinforce where able but, for now, I suggest you divert your attention to the large heat anomaly several hundred thousand kilometers forward of our position. If I were a betting man…"

"Their base."

"Indeed." He nodded, "Go. Cerberus has your back. My ships are tasking to your sub-net now."

"...Understood." The woman grunted after a moment, "Don't waste your men."

"Never, Commander." He chuckled, wiping spittle off his moustache. "Never."

He sent the comm-connection to a secondary line as he formed up his own armada-comm, leaving the rest of what Cerberus had brought to reorganise under Shepard's care and advance forwards, towards the distant heat-anomaly. While fighters tried their best to flock around screening-capable frigates to combat the designated 'Oculus' units, he turned his attention ahead of them and ordered his own screening fighters to short forward to meet two dozen of the little orbs - supported by bursts of heavy fire from his wing-mounted mass accelerators. Most missed, hurtling ahead to blow apart segments of meaty Collector warship, but three hit the swarm-fighters, blowing them apart dozens of meters ahead of their fighters joining.

"Pilot," he grunted, "I want their engines- Aim to disable. Scans of the original vessel indicated power sections were located just in front of them."

"Yes, Sir." He smiled at the words, folding his hands in front of himself as his ship shot forward.

Cerberus would have salvage, when all was said and done, of that he was certain.

"Adjust heading as ordered en route, Pilot." He grunted as the fighters scattered, on both sides. Most of the Oculus craft were either hounded by his, or chasing his, but half a dozen curved around his ship, and he tracked them on his monitors.

A simple keystroke and his math was forwarded and his ship angled, allowing eight spinal-mounted GARDIAN lasers to open up on four of the six now vulnerable on their approach. They jerked and bobbed as their light barriers tried and failed to defend against the bursts of laser-fire, before each one popped one after the other, each craft faring worse as their brethren died and more lasers turned on them. But, with that victory, he grit his teeth. If his timing was right-

His warship jerked and turned as impacts resonated along the hull and the remaining two vessels screamed by, arcing to either side as the max-heat GARDIANs tracked but held fire.

"Damage!"

"Deck seven breached - multiple locations, their energy weapons cut right through our barriers." A crewman reported, "Multiple breaches, sealing by barriers. Power load is-"

"Fifteen percent." Engineering called over, "And engine four is down, along with wing stabilization. One carved a lance along it, presumably to overload barrier power."

"Crews to respond." He ordered, "Engineering, work with Damage Control to isolate unnecessary decks and segments entirely depressurized. Disable the barriers. Evacuat and seal remaining sections, then power down those too."

"Oculus craft on return, coming for our rear."

"Pilot," he growled, "slam the brakes and upward burst. Power control, maximise energy output to upper barriers."

It was an insane maneuever, especially with the Collector vessel still trying to orient on them, but his math told Petrovsky they were safe. They had accelerated at an angle, leaving them with thirty degrees of freedom from the Collector warship's primary weapons. The accretion disk had gravity of its own, it was so massive, and so there was an atmosphere according to his scans. Thin, toxic, but present - and enough that throwing their belly into it would cause drag and deceleration.

"No choice." He grunted, "Trust the math…"

Even if he'd had to throw it together himself in mere seconds, it was all he had.

He roared in pain as his ship suddenly went vertical, pitching up so hard several crew officers moving between stations were hurled up and to the side, into walls. And he was sent sidelong into an arm rest, sending pain lancing up his side and driving the wind out of him. He coughed as he inhaled, and forced himself up, looking up to his display-

Just before one of the Oculus craft slammed into the tail end of the ship and exploded across over-clocked barriers. And burnt through them, bathing the rear of his sheep in superh-eated Eezo that melted away several layers of armor and atomized his rear camera. A low cost, he decided as the pilot took the initiative and shot up rather than trying to reorient, turning to bring the upper section around towards the Collector vessel while Petrovsky tracked the remaining Oculus and the half dozen others fighting what was left of his strike-flight.

Which wasn't much…

"Brace for evasive!" His pilot snapped before Petrovsky was hurled to the right again, wincing and looking up as his ship came around and shot down, particle fire creeping steadily up behind them until- "Impact- Rear!"

The entire ship shook as statice trailed over his feeds, and several shorted out. When it was over, Damage Control barked, "Multiple decks breach, rear! Power fluctuations, all! GARDIAN systems faltering! Captain, we need to-"

"Prime the Thanix." He ordered, "And bring us around- If we can't kill the Collector ship, we cripple it well enough it cannot pursue."

"If we do that, Sir, then-"

"We die." He nodded, stomach sinking as terror welled up in him. "All hands, administer chemical suppressants as needed. We die so Humanity survives."

"Aye, Captain." The pilot's voice trembled, "I… Am going to stay sober for this."

"As am I." He nodded, "Bring us around, Jennings."

He didn't respond, reorienting their damaged vessel and accelerating while he watched half his staff cross themselves, mutter prayers, or inject the emotional suppressants stored in their consoles and resumed working. He didn't begrudge any of it, and as the Collector vessel primed its weapons once more, he reconsidered his own stored in the base of his seat.

"Oculus, approaching our stomach!" The pilot reported, "Sir, I'm ignoring and diverting power to the Thanix."

"Acknowledged." He nodded, "Go ahead."

In spite of his words, he swapped his view to below, where he still had most of his cameras operational. Enough to see the strike-craft coming at them, orienting towards the Thanix cannon as it extended from just below the warship's nose and rolled out, both barrels discharging static as the magnetohydraulics prepared to fire. He ran the math, and they had time, but if they waited the Oculus would hit he weapon as it wound down, blowing the front third of his ship apart before the second, killing shot they needed to truly beach the whale.

"Damn it, what am I-"

Suddenly, lances of blue fire ripped through the air, knocking the Oculus off course as a sleek blue warship slid into view from one his new blind-spots. The Oculus tried to recover, banking up and around before a missile met it.

"Cerberus-Vessel, we are supporting." The Geth ship reported, "We carry a salvo of plasma-disruptor torpedoes, and will take its cannons off-line. You must disable its engines."

"Acknowledged." He barked, punching the green-light signal on his console before Jennings could argue.

The Thanix held its charge as they turned, veering down along an angle that forced him to swap to his top-mounted feed, watching the Geth ship rocket past the Collector warship, dispensing twenty torpedoes along its front and port side, overloading the weapon. Instead of simply petering out, however, the discharge ripped apart the front of the ship, swallowing the Geth destroyer in fire and Eezo. Alien machine or not, he watched it emerge from the other side, trailing fire and Eezo of its own as it spun and came apart, with no small amount of…

Discomfort.

His ship shot up on the wounded Collector vessel's port side and braked on one side of it, using the less functioning flank of his ship to spin them and orienting on the target's engines, right on its flank. At barely five hundred kilometers, the Tanix fired, punching through organic segments and sending fire spewing out several of the engines. Lighter mass accelerator fire followed from his working wing-gun, peppering along the engines as they strafed around behind it, until the entire assembly went up in a violet and orange flash that ripped the vessel into pieces.

"Damn the salvage." He growled under his breath, "That was for the Geth."

"Sir?"

"Damage control," he barked, "get me a report! And relay to Shepard - one warship down, but we're crippled and withdrawing."

"Aye, Sir."

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Shepard listened to the report as the Collector ship that, once, had sent her reeling into orbit drift, burning itself out as it collided with an ancient dreadnought and split in half. Fully half of her fleet was gone, including all the mercenaries, but she was barely ten minutes from a massive station made of the same techno-organic materials as the rest. Leaning on the overhead unit Joker was using to bring them about, their prototype armor groaning around them, she frowned.

"All right everyone, easy part's over." She grunted, "All hands, prepare to board. We locate critical points, plant charges, and exfil."

A chorus of assent reached her and Shepard smiled, turning and sliding her helmet on.

"Joker," she growled, "set us down right at the hot point in the middle."

"Got it, Shepard." He sighed, "Parking at the mouth of the murder-hornet hive and shaking our ass, eta twenty minutes."

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So… Much… Drawing to maps out this fight…

My fucking FINGIES!

Anyway, hope you enjoyed - next chapter should lead into the finale or be it. Unlike canon, no one to rescue here. The plan, as Shepard says, is simple - board, disable what you can, blow the rest up, and fuck off. Hope you enjoy!

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