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The night before the battle was a strangely somber one, for what he knew of the Krogan people.
Inside an hour, the rubble and ruins around the Hollows were covered in scattered campsites. Each clan that had come, before the meeting or after, had staked their claim on a stretch of ruined Tuchankan land and done what they could to build it into a workable camp. Rubble was heaped into loose barriers around them, walls were braced up for privacy and shelter, and fire-pits were dug out and set alight throughout it all. A more ordered area right beside the Hollows' towering, domed exterior had been set aside for the Alliance and Turian soldiers to use, and they had flattened the land out and set up tents and their own cooking stations, along with a long row of tall metal prefabs housing a dozen or so Makos and their maintenance bays.
The sounds and smells of cooking, maintenance, drinking, fighting and arguing were ever present…
John was happy to see it, of course, but…
He found himself at the edge of the impromptu settlement, sitting at the top of a ragged wall of rubble that had been heaped around it all. His new Avenger laid across his chest, he'd taken first watch along with a few dozen Krogan warriors scattered across the ragged, literally ruinous line, listening to the festivities behind him while he kept an eye out. He'd been brought food, of course - some kind of roasted meat the Krogan were serving that he'd been told by Mordin was safe - so he wouldn't go hungry.
And it was… Nice, to have some peace and quiet before tomorrow.
"The sky on this primitive pile of rubble is… Quite a sight." A familiar, faintly flanging voice behind him spoke, drawing an unbidden smile to his face as he cocked his head. Quietly, Javik asked, "I'd like to sit."
It wasn't phrased as a question, of course, but John read it as one.
"Not my planet." He shrugged, looking up at the sky. Jagged, angry clouds dotted it, but between them he could see a stretch of stars and star stuff, left entirely visible in the lack of light pollution. "And yeah. The sky is quite a sight."
"Hmph…" The Prothean rumbled, taking a seat beside him, the both of them leaning back against a stretch of ancient wall he'd propped up in the mound - both as a more comfortable backrest and a more sturdy front if it came to fighting from behind the slope on its other side.
For a while, they just sat in the quiet, watching the uneven stretch of ground beyond the ragged wall for motion and listening to the faint whistle of wind through ancient metal and stone. He offered Javik his canteen and the ancient warrior took it, sipping at it before he handed it back and offered him another ration length of the roasted meat. Which John took, setting his helmet on his other side and gnawing at it while he watched the land in front of them quietly.
It was… Nice.
Finally, though, Javik broke the silence and said, "I'll be serving in the vanguard. Biotic artillery for breakthrough into the Shroud."
"Same." He nodded, "With the Krogan."
"Not the Alliance?"
"Shepard said they asked for me." Or rather, one specific Krogan had, and Wrex had passed it on and said it was important. "Didn't give me a reason."
"I would wager it has something to do with fighting the Reapers without a shirt on…"
"They didn't give me a shirt."
"I see." Javik snorted, actually laughing lowly. "That makes it far more sensible."
"Yeah." John smiled, "I'd say it does."
Another moment of comfortable silence passed before Javik offered his hand and rumbled, simply, "Shepard asked that I pass on her regards."
He took the hand with a nod and, after a heartbeat, felt it wash over him. Warm affection, hopefulness, and anxiety all hit him in an instance. All running behind the woman's trust, like water behind ice. Only a few words carried through, sounding as much as though Shepard were speaking as Javik was.
"Kalahira guide your hand." They said, "And you do not have permission to die yet."
He could tell which words came from which, even without the skill and ability to understand Javik's method of communication as well as Shepard did.
As Javik withdrew and stood, John pulled his helmet on, nodded, and said, "Be safe, Javik. We have way too many Reapers to kill to die here. Yeah?"
"Indeed." Javik nodded as he left, calling back, "Naked ape."
John just rolled his eyes.
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They woke up under a dark, earling morning sky spattered with heavy grey clouds that the vaguest hints of the orange sun were barely beginning to color. The shadows stretched long across the camp, but lights from the Makos and Tomkahs began to break through them as the clans loaded up for travel, and the Alliance and Turians loaded into assault and transport Makos. They streamed away to the North and South towards their flanking positions while a handful of mercenary gunships repaired and fitted by the Turians but being manned and fielded by the Krogan lifted off to follow them, all painted in the Urdnot blue and red. John stood on the top of one of the Tomkahs, holding onto the exterior ladder that lead up the top of the driving turret with a hand while his other held his rifle, to watch them go.
He saw one of the Makos tanking a scouting vanguard heading straight towards the Shroud jump a ramp and boost with its thruster to turn and land before rocketing off and smiled, shaking his head.
"She still can't drive worth a damn…"
"Doe!" A by-now familiar, heavy voice called from below him. Turning, he looked down at Tar, dressed in heavy red Warlord armor with an open-faced helmet, and the Krogan waved him down, "We're leaving! Sixty seconds to get down or we hit the gas and see if you can hold."
"I do have mag-boots." He called back, sliding down the few inches of the slope he'd climbed and then turning to clamber on the edge with a hand and drop the last few feet.
He grunted as he stood and turned for the stairs, taking Tar's offered hand and letting the Krogan yank him up and into the tight confines of the Tomkah. Two other Krogan were already inside, not counting the driver up the stairs to the left of the door, and both paid him nods. Each was armored in heavy orange and red armor like Tar's and armed with a Revenant light machine gun they had the barrel of poking out an armor slit to either side of an armored ammunition rack that ran from floor to ceiling. There were two more like it to either side of him, with backless seats, and he took the one at the back, where there was less space to sit, and slid the barrel of his Avenger out the door.
"Still don't know about this." One of the Krogan muttered while Doe did his best to ignore both their staring, "Why a Human? We have plenty of Krogan…"
"A favor to the Chieftain's alien friends…"
"Do we have a problem?" John asked flatly as Tar climbed in, pulling the door shut behind him. He never looked away from his chosen window, though he adjusted the butt of his rifle in on his shoulder, in case he had to turn. Instead, he just added, "Because we still have time if we need to step outside and settle something, Krogan."
A heartbeat passed before the other Krogan snorted, shook his head and grunted, "Still doubting, Wratch?"
The complainer just rumbled a laugh as he turned to his window and muttered, "We'll see how long he lasts once the fighting starts."
Tar didn't say anything to any of them, just huffing and dropping into his seat, picking up his own blue-painted Revenant from the floor and shoving the barrel out the window. He pounded his fist on the wall twice and, with a rumble and a hitch, the Tomkah pulled forward alongside a Make, who spun its turret towards them in acknowledgment before facing it forward again. Another Tomkah rolled up on their other side, its telltale engine rumble vibrating even through the armor between them, and he knew it'd be flanked by another Mako. But, finally formed up, the assault-vanguard finally pulled away, trailing another three Makos fitted for transport that would support them.
As they rolled along, he heard static in his comm-piece and, a moment later, a Turian voice that grunted, "Broad-comms established for assault force. How copy?"
"Green." He muttered, mirrored by dozens of Alliance soldiers, Turians and Krogan as they checked the feed was clean and clear.
"Acknowledged." The Turian answered dryly, "Remanding secondary comm-lines to unit-leads. Unit-secondaries, only open the line if-"
"Contact!" He heard Shepard suddenly break in, "Reaper air power! Harvesters, moving in defensive pairs ahead of the old city!"
The Turian comm-officer cut him out of the line before the forward-skirmish could pollute comms, but when he looked he could tell Tar was still listening. He scowled and John felt his stomach turn with anxiety that he couldn't quite quash entirely, and pulled his gaze to the Krogan beside him. After a second, Tar saw him looking his way and waved him off with a fist and a nod, which he took to mean Shepard was fine. Even if his anxiety still swam…
"Focus." He muttered, shaking his head and turning back to his viewport as the flanking Mako pulled away to accommodate a more spread out formation as they trundled over the ruins. "She can take care of herself."
"She's a SPECTRE." Wratch surprised him b offering from the other side of the Tomkah. "Tougher than whatever the Reapers have."
"Right…" He sighed, "You're right."
"We can see the Old City." Tar cut in, shouldering his Revenant and grunting, "Reapers have dug in throughout it. At least, what they left of it…"
"I remember seeing the Old City when I was a whelp…" Wratch muttered quietly, "How much will even be left of it?"
"Plenty." John offered, "And plenty to get revenge for, too."
"Spoken like someone with experience…"
"Yeah, well…" He sighed, "Let's just say I have plenty of that when it comes to this."
"Rough terrain." Tar grunted before anyone could dwell further on that. "Brace, we aren't slowing down."
John had fifteen seconds to do just that, before the Tomkah lurched.
The sturdy Krogan war-trucks had been designed centuries prior to traverse the ruined and rubble-filled stretches of Tuchanka, so the shocks were designed to be more than up to par. But they were still meant to slow down over rough terrain to work well, and years of abuse hadn't done them favors either, so John found his entire world vibrating angrily as they struck the rougher terrain and kept going, occasionally pitching to either side as a wheel hit something hard or badly angled and threw them off-course.
Outside, he heard the Mako finally open fire, its heavy mass accelerator firing bursts of automatic fire into the air ahead of them. It swivelled as the Mako jerked to the side and a heavy, explosive something slammed into the dirt beside it, spraying rock and dirt over its side, and the ODST thumbed his safety off as he followed the shadow cast by the early morning light.
But he couldn't see - the angle was just too bad for it - so he swore and kept watch.
Suddenly, something grey and misshapen rolled past on the Mako's other side, and the tank's turret swerved towards it. Its barriers sparked as a round slammed into its rear ide, pitching it to the side, and John snarled.
"Enemy Tomkah!" He barked, "It's been… Mangled."
"I see it." Tar barked, "Damn things… What have they done to it?"
As the Mako slowed, one of its wheels spinning unevenly, John got a better look at it.
The forward tower Tomkahs had was still there, albeit pitted in places by weapons fire, as were the heavy wheels. But the belly and rear of the vehicle had been overtaken by a greyish, cancerous mass of flesh and metal that leaked black ichor as the amalgam moved. Some kind of heavy rifles poked out of the same ports John was using, the metal warping around them and bulging unnaturally while veiny wires of flesh ran up to exposed hunks of meat exposed where armor plating had been pushed out of its housing, and seemingly held on out of pure spite.
Spite and the adhesive oils leaking out of the Reaper flesh.
It made him want to vomit…
"Fire!" Tar barked, opening up with his Revenant as light fire sparked off the side of their transport. "Aim for the wheels!"
John obeyed, opening fire in short bursts of automatic fire that sparked off the misshapen wheels of the Tomkah. Hunks of rubber and metal were blown off but, for how distended and warped they were, as if the weight of all the meat crammed into the truck was just too much, they held. And, behind him, he heard the other Krogan open fire as well, which told him a second monster truck had pulled up to intercept them.
Suddenly, he felt himself jerk back and nearly fall out of his seat as a round managed to slip through the view-slit and hit him, sparking off his Kinetic Barrier.
"Human?" Tar snapped, reloading and flicking him a one-eyed side-eye in that Krogan way.
"Barrier held." He snapped, straightening, reloading and returning to his firing position. "Like those wheels are! What did you line them with, titanium?"
"Ha!" Tar barked a laugh, "That's just Krogan eng- Damn it!"
John turned as the Krogan shook his hand, splattering blood across the floor and shaking his head. The alien snarled but waved him off, returning to firing quietly.
Still, the thing persisted and he shifted fire to the meaty masses over the guns, firing in long arcs as he turned. One or two rounds managed to hit the ropey cords, cutting them in a spray of blue pseudo-blood as the guns below spasmed. They didn't die, but whatever he'd hit was important enough that the guns began firing slower, which made it click in his head.
"It's hot!" He barked, "Whatever they did, the internals are hot! The cables are exterior to keep the guns cool!"
"Good eye, Human!" Wratch called from behind him, "Chief?"
"Hit the hoses." Tar answered, which suddenly made him realise exactly what the old Krogan's rank was - which was new, as far as John knew.
But, whatever the case, he joined the ODST in targeting the exposed cables. They were thin, and the Tomkah jerked and wobbled now, like it was trying to protect them. But one, then two and three more cables were cut through by mass accelerator fire and one of the guns went still and silent, spinning in its socket like it was confused. Them, finally, fire belched out of the warped viewport and, moments later, the back end burst open in fire and smoke, shedding metal and meat as the truck rolled along, weaving like a wounded beast until a round slammed into its rear end and it pitched over, rolling in a heap and hurling metal skyward until it exploded.
"Good work." A man said, sounding exhausted already over the comms. "My Mako is done, one of those rounds shagged one of its wheels, but the other Abomination Truck is down, too. Slowing to join the second or third wave."
"Acknowledged, Shark-Four." Tar grunted, "And good shot on that cannon. Get up here soon, we'll need aim like that for the Shroud."
"Ten-Four." The driver grunted, exiting the comm-line as quickly as he'd come in.
Turning in the silence that followed, or what passed for it inside a Tomkah at least, he opened one of the Clip drawers and starting pass out refills on ammo, dumping the spent ones that were handed back to him in another drawer. Ideally, they'd be cooled later for reuse, but for now he was just careful not to touch the super-heated filaments and glad not to have them rolling around the floor where he could get burned.
That would be a hell of a way to get taken out of the fight…
Before they could finish, though, a shriek echoed overhead and he threw himself back into his seat as a shadow passed over them.
"Harvester!" He warned, trying and failing to get an angle as the abomination wheeled around in the sky, turning and strafing them with its face-mounted heavy cannons. He saw it look almost directly at him and snarled, "Son of a-"
"Brace!"
The Tomkah pitched as its armor caved in along John's side of the war-truck, and he was thrown out of the seat as the driver yanked the truck back the other way, fighting for control. It levelled out, but just in time for another strafing run to slam into the other side, only missing by inches and blasting the truck up off its wheels on that side before it slammed back down. Pulling himself into his seat, he looked out the just a bit wider gap as the creature wheeled around again, pursued by automatic fire from their other side where he assumed the other Tomkah had fallen back to make space for the other escorting Mako.
Assuming the other Tomkah was even alive, that was…
Whatever the case, the Harvester ignored whatever small fire hit it, and evaded the smoke-trailing heavy round the Mako fired at it as it came back. This time, John doubted the armor on the truck would hold, and he braced for the crash-
Before three missiles arced into its back, detonating in a series along its spine and blowing a wing off.
The gunship that limped into place where it had been was damaged, blue-painted armor pitted, warped and missing in places that streamed smoke, but it was still in the air. And, a moment later, a Krogan voice broke into broad-comm, "All hands, the first defences have been cleared. We're in rough shape, though."
"How rough?" Wrex asked over the line.
"Down a quarter of the Tomkahs and half the Makos, crippled or destroyed." The pilot answered, "As well as two thirds of our gunships."
"Vanguard, what do you say?" Wrex asked, "Can you make the breach assault into the Old City to get at the Shroud or do you need the second wave?"
"We'll hit them." Tar grunted, "But no guarantee we punch through before you get there to back us up. Recommend you and Eve fall back to third wave."
"Understood." Wrex growled, sounding displeased but understanding, "Slow your advance by a scratch to close the time-gap, and hit 'em hard. Remember, if you meet stiff resistance then dig in."
"Yes, War Chief." Tar nodded, "We'll get it done."
"Mhm."
For the next few minutes, they rode in relative silence once again. All of the Krogan were pockmarked by injuries they glanced over, wiped off, and left to heal. And the Tomkah's wheels were groaning, now. Damaged, he figured, from the rough treatment and the battle combined. Twice he heard something bang off the sides where he figured a piece of metal - either shrapnel from the explosions or plates knocked loose, he couldn't tell - fell away. He gave the wall a look each time, eyeing the weld-points and connections warily, but…
The old war-truck held, and so he relaxed.
Finally he was pitched to the side a bit as the truck turned and screeched to a stop, and Tar stood to rumble, "We're here."
Outside, morning had truly broken over Tuchanka, bathing the world in dim lighting under a dark grey, overcast sky which rumbled with thunder and, distantly, sprinkled intermittent showers he could just barely pick out with his VISR's thermal systems. The storms, unfortunately, had taken as much of a hold as sunrise had, apparently.
"This'll complicate air support…" Tar rumbled, disembarking and standing at the edge of the ruined Old City with John, looking up as thunder echoed around them. The gunship that had saved them chose that moment to pass overhead, turning and head back the way it had come,and Tar added, "Air power is pulling back. Metal up high draws lightning, and we're hoping it passes soon."
"Mhm…" He nodded, turning to climb up onto the Tomkah's tower once again for a better view.
The Old City itself posed its own problems already, which the storms were compounding. Who knew how many centuries old, the city had been abandoned since before the Shroud had been built. Ten story tall buildings had been, over the years, reduced to only one or two, buried in soil and their own rubble so old and worn it was as dirt and loose rock formed into rolling hills. Still, though, he could see the ruins in old entrances where the debris fell into mouths like caves, or holes in roofs left deep dips in the land. Gnarled twists of ancient rebar and girders stuck into the air in and around the centers of the block-sized hills, reaching up as if to catch the lightning that blasted down, scattering along their twisted fingers and, as often as not, making them explode in sprays of metal and rust.
And all of it in the shadow of the ruined temple that rose up miles in, and the Shroud that rose up from it in turn, all black against the sky save for when lightning arced along the tops of either.
"It's almost… Beautiful." He murmured before he could catch himself.
"Yeah." Tar rumbled, chuckling darkly, "Tuchanka is like that. Harsh, sure, but… Damn."
"Damn indeed…" He murmured, shaking his head and grunting, "But where are the Reapers?"
"Shepard and a couple other Mako units pulled their attention further south." Tar grunted, gesturing in the vague direction and rolling his shoulders. "The southern contingent will hit there soon, but we need to head in. Take as much space as we can for the second wave. Rinse and repeat to get to the Shroud."
"Or get buried." Wratch grunted as he came down the steps, frowning deeply and shaking his head. "Being here, surrounded by all the old ghosts and the old world, is a bad omen…"
"It's Tuchanka." Tar shrugged, as if that countered everything the other Krogan had said. Wratch just grunted, though, and moved to stand near the front of the Tomkah, eyeing the steep slope between two of the mounds where Doe assumed a road had been, once upon a time. Turning, Tar grunted, "How's the truck?"
"Driver says it's fine." The other Krogan rumbled as he poked his head out of the doorway, "Secondary fuel line took a hit, so he needs to take it slow, but-"
A whistle and crack broke the silence and the Krogan lurched to the side, fumbling for the door as he tumbled down the stairs. His Revenant hit the ground almost at the same time as his body did, and he spasmed as the ruined stump that had been his face leaked vibrant yellows, oranges and a gout of red.
"Sniper!" Tar bellowed as Wratch roared in anger and pain and a handful of things ran through Doe's mind.
The Krogan had been shielded from one side of the Tomkah, and had pitched back the way they had come, so he threw himself to the side and down against the hull of the Tomkah, rolling onto his back and pulling his Avenger up across his chest. He heard two more of the whistling cracks, and a round pinged off the hull of the Tomkah. But both Krogan kept yelling orders and call-outs back and forth, searching for the target.
While they did, he did math.
With the angle of fire and rate, the sniper had to be relatively nearby, and in the Old City. Two of the massive hills fronted the war-truck, but he hadn't seen any movement there and, apparently, neither did the Krogan trying not to get their own heads removed while they looked. No other shots had come his way, so they weren't on the flank to the right of the truck or back the way they had come, where he was entirely exposed. That left one avenue of aim and, combined with the angle, narrowed it to only around thirty degrees directly ahead of the armored Krogan transport.
"Here goes nothing…" He muttered, pulling a grenade out of his belt and taking a breath.
Pitching to the side, he rolled off the truck and dropped eight or so feet onto the loose, gravelly ground. Pain shot up his shins, but he ignored it, hurling the grenade into the sand and soil ahead of the truck. The loose ground sprayed up, obscuring the entire road, and he charged, bringing his rifle up and switching to his VISR's broad thermal-electrical detection format.
He spotted a figure several yards up the road in an open, flat area that had probably been an intersection as he burst through the sand - vaguely Turian, though lacking anything below the sternum and affixed to a sort of pedestal, with a huge rifle in its arms. And, he realized, partially fused to its shoulder. It swivelled towards him as he raised his rifle but he was just that tiny fraction faster than the abomination, and Avenger rounds ripped through its unprotected, naked body as it fired. The round shot right by his chest, so close he felt the wind and the force made him stumble, but he turned the fall into a drop, hurling himself against the loose soil of the hill to his side and filling the Thermal Clip with shots that eventually left the monster headless and limp.
He stood slowly, reloading and checking the walls that rose up to either side of the little dip in the land, leading all the way to the enemy creature. When he found nothing, he called back, "Clear!"
Instead of joining him, he heard two more cracks behind him and spun, watching Tar lower the Revenant he'd pressed against the dead Krogan's chest. Moving back to them, he looked at the alien's now-ruined chest and frowned, flicking the scarred Krogan a look.
"Krogan are sturdy." Tar explained quietly, "Losing our heads… Isn't enough, all the time. Better this than lying there, struggling."
"I see…" He murmured, turning as the Tomkah trundled past and up the road slowly, using the armored driver's tower to keep a look-out as the other two turned to follow just behind it to either side. Jogging, he grunted, "I'll get on top."
"Is that a good idea?"
"My VISR has thermal and electrical detection." He answered as he passed the warrior, "i can detect any more… Watchers."
"Right." Tar nodded, "Keep your head down."
He nodded as he reached the open door of the Tomkah and pulled himself up, sliding his Avender onto the mag-lock on his back and climbing back up on top, taking a knee with it to scan for targets.
The ruined roads of the Old City wound like a honeycomb, twisting and turning as they went in a way that John knew had to be purposeful. Defensive, he figured, allowing plenty of avenues of ambush and defensive hard-points. The latter, he figured, were why they ran into the occasional wider, more open areas they ran into. He'd seen similar schemes at play in UNSC-built colonial cities, on and off Earth, through the years and he knew they were effective. Which is something Krogan would have picked up on.
Unfortunately, the Reapers had noted it too.
They encountered no less than ten cabals of Cannibals lingering in the open areas, waiting to rush them, and three times as many Watchers scattered along the roads. The groupings and sentries were easily dealt with, but the shrill whistling of the Watchers' rounds had to be intentional. Which made them excellent both as a stalling measure, slowing them down and forcing them to let him check corners as the sky darkened. And, finally, the storm broke.
The rain was cold and hard, and Tar had warned him it could be acidic, too.
But, as the rain began to patter harder and harder against the Tomkah under him, he started to notice… Errors in his VISR and systems. Static washed over his vision further out, and that was steadily tightening. His armor was hardened well enough against the latent pollution in the rain, long since managed by the Shroud funnily enough, so it couldn't be that. So, what then…
Regardless, he opened comms and reported, "Tar, I'm getting visual interference."
"Audio too." Tar answered, voice laced in a layer of static. "I'm having trouble getting word out to the other units. The assault and infiltration is underway on every front, but…"
"What could be doing this?" John murmured, before a heavy raindrop slid across the front of his visor and the answer struck him. "The rain."
"The rain…?"
"The Reapers have the Shroud." He answered, "It can manipulate the weather…"
Tar was silent for a long, long time as the realization and all its many implications went through his mind, before he grunted hotly, "Everyone into the Tomkah. We have to get to the Shroud before they go from jamming comms to using poison. The Salarians are bound to have something there, even if the Reapers haven't breached access yet…"
Nodding, John turned and clambered down and in. He barely found his seat before the war-truck surged forward. But he did find it, shoving his rifle out his firing-gap and watching the outside warily. And as closely as the intensifying rain would allow.
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So I wanted to do the entire final Battle of Tuchanka in one, but I wanted it to be SOLID, too, so I'm splitting it into two likely mega chapters. Sorry for the inconvenience lol.
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Devil Goblin :
Shepard is, in fact, driving her own Mako. Lmao.
Ekinar :
Glad you like it! XD