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Requested by : Laurel

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"Shepard, I don't even…" Hackett sighed, voice laced in gentle static from distance and the audio-synthesisers inside the QEC. "What, and I can not stress this enough, the actual fuck, Commander?"

John snorted at the rarity of Hackett losing even a bit of his composure, leaning against the corner.

"As far as we can tell…" Shepard sighed, at least trying to pretend like she could handle this seriously, and galactic history hadn't at least been rewritten partially. "We've discovered a second precursor species. A proper one, not like the Protheans, but like the Reapers themselves. The details are, well…"

"About as existent as Utukku."

"Right." Hackett hummed, "The planet that vanished. Right after a part of it carried you to space to escape the Reapers."

"You have our sensor packages, sir." Shepard shrugged, "You know the truth as well as I do."

"I do, but… Damn it, Shepard, it feels like I'm going insane." Hackett shook his head, he pointed between them and grunted. "I want a detailed report out of the both of you sent to me via QEC as soon as you have it. Whatever can be gleaned from this, I want it."

"Aye."

"Yes, Sir." He nodded, choosing not to make the obvious joke about his lack of command over John. Instead, he asked, "And the Queen?"

"You're sure we can trust her, Commander…?" Hackett asked by way of answer.

"Honestly, Admiral? No." Shepard turned to smile when John shot her a look and went on quietly. "For all the… Thing on Utukku seemed to imply it didn't detect anything from the Reapers controlling her, and for all we can't either, indoctrination is harder to catch. For all we know, she's already theirs."

It wasn't something John could argue against, not in any real, worthwhile way, and silence hung for a moment because of it…

But, eventually, he said, "I think we can trust her."

"Why?"

"I don't know." He shrugged, "It's a gut feeling."

"You're suggesting I make a large-scale, galaxy-affecting decision based on… A gut feeling?"

"Yes, Sir." He nodded, "We have no data otherwise, and… I won't support genocide to be on the safe side. It's against everything in me."

"And in me." Hackett sighed, frowning deeply, "Damn it all, Shepard… Nothing can be simple, can it?"

"Unfortunately not." She sighed, "Sir. That said, I don't believe we should be the ones making the decision here regardless."

"Explain."

"The Rachni mean a lot to a lot of the galaxy's races, Admiral." Shepard explained quietly, flicking a wary look past John and into the command room, as if the Krogan chatting by the far wall might be listening in - or could even try to over such a distance. "John is, technically, speaking on behalf of the Krogan. Krogan who I have had to work very hard to keep from rioting over the Rachni in my hold… And Krogan who won't be special in that regard, if we unilaterally decide to bring the Rachni into the fold. It would risk him losing his place, and our alliance losing the more or less unending support of the Krogan."

"And if that goes, the offensive against Palaven loses steam…" John murmured, "Even if they eventually agree, or not enough pull out to stop it, confidence would waver."

"And we can't allow that." Shepard nodded, "Not here, in our first proper, planned outing as allies. Tuchanka was mostly reactionary, but this?"

"It's our chance to impress," John frowned, "and we can't risk it."

"I'll speak to the Coalition's representatives, then. I'll pass along your opinions, of course, if you include them with your reports." Hackett nodded, sounding very much like he wasn't looking forward to it at all. John didn't blame him, either. "This information will be classified, for the time being, however. High Warlord Urdnot Wrex and the Primarch will be made aware, but I don't plan on anyone else. Not right now."

"So don't share it." John nodded, "Understood."

"Aye."

"Good." He nodded, "With that settled… We've received several messages over the last week, utilizing old Alliance protocols."

"How old?"

"Before you died."

"Ah." Shepard sucked her teeth and grimaced, "Got it…"

"We've also received several on a smattering of frequencies, ranging from old Turian to Batarian and Asari." Hackett went on, sounding almost amused, in a seemingly bitter, ironic sort of way. "Not by codes, though. The frequencies are from their hardware, but they all use the same signal codes, overlaid onto the differing formats. Analysts say this means their fleet is a piecemeal affair."

"The Quarians, then?"

"Indeed." Hackett nodded, "Broadcasting from two adjoining systems… Both beyond the Perseus Veil."

"Beyond it…?" Shepard hissed, "Damn it all, they did invade, didn't they?"

"That is what it looks like." Hackett nodded, "And two separate individuals are messaging you as a result, and have been trying for some time, it seems. One is broadcasting from Rannoch system, too."

"Rannoch itself…?" She murmured, then sighed, "Legion."

"Ah, yes, your Geth… Ally." And gods, it sounded hard for Hackett to even consider the two words together. As if 'Geth' and 'ally' simply could not sit in the same pair together, in his mind. In fairness, John was sure he'd have reacted the same way to a Sangheili ally.

The thought made him want to laugh… And shoot something at the same time.

"Legion is a friend." Shepard nodded, sliding as easily into her role as diplomat - even against Hackett - as any of the other hats she wore. "Their assistance in dealing with the Collectors was pivotal, as was their willingness to share limited technological data, which helped our ship and infantry defenses. Their information regarding the Geth as a whole has been invaluable, by my understanding, as well."

"Our own research is advancing quickly, yes…" Hackett nodded, "And we've been able to ferret out the last of the Geth left from the first Reaper invasion."

"Thanks to Legion." Shepard nodded, "Who helped us against the Heretics, who serve the Reapers. They're an ally, Admiral."

"I won't argue." He sighed, "I'm old enough to know when my biases are in the way. If yo bring Geth to the fight, I won't turn them away. Just… Be careful, Commander."

"I always am, Admiral." She nodded, frowning, "The other transmission has me concerned, however."

"It's the Migrant Fleet." John grunted, "Has to be."

"Our analysts say the same, and it lines up with reports we have on the Migrant Fleet's movements." Hackett nodded, frowning gravely, "In the months prior to the invasion, the Migrant Fleet was discovered to be mass-buying old, second-hand weaponry. Defensive systems, too."

"Such as….?"

"Everything." Hackett answered plainly, "On both accounts. Reports say they even had feelers in the Hegemony's markets, before…"

"Utter annihilation?"

"That." He nodded, taking a datapad from someone off to the side and reading off of it, "They preferred heavy cyclonic barriers, high-end heat sinks and rapid-repeating mass accelerators, however, alongside dual-linked heavy accelerators. The exact type of equipment our researchers found to be moderately effective against Geth warships. Their infantry equipment purchases were more broad, but…"

"They're invading." Shepard nodded, "Because now is the best time… Damn it."

"Intelligence has confirmed two people from the Migrant Fleet are the origins of the other messages as well, Commander." Hackett grunted, scrolling down the datapad to, John assumed, the second report waiting on it, "Tali'Zorah and Admiral Shala'Raan. Both are requesting assistance and offering Quarian fleet support. Commander, the Quarians have the largest logistical fleet in the galaxy, and if they've rearmed them for war…"

"It would become the largest irregular combat force in the galaxy." Shepard murmured, "I assume we're being dispatched?"

"You are, yes." Hackett nodded, "Urdnot Grunt and what's left of Aralakh Company are being sent along with you by Urdnot Wrex as well. Alongside you, Doe."

"Oh?"

"Tuchanka needs logistical support if it's to become the production hub we need for this war." Hackett explained lowly, "The Quarians would be ideal for helping the Coalition prepare, and rebuild Palaven when it's freed as well."

"That's hopeful…"

"All we have is hope, Doe." He grunted, "Hope and mass accelerators."

He couldn't argue the point, so he just nodded and grunted, "Fair."

"I'm forwarding coordinates to rendezvous with a light scout fleet in the region." Hackett grunted finally, "Offload the Rachni, resupply as best you can, and get to the Perseus Veil. I'll have messages sent to get a meeting point, and send it to you via QEC."

"Yes, Admiral." Shepard nodded, "I'll get them on-side."

"See that you do, Commander." Hackett sighed, "More allies can only help, in a war like this."

"Agreed." Shepard smiled, flicking John a look, "I'll let you break the good news to your cousins, John."

"Oh, they'll hate getting to go fight in a big war, I'm sure." He laughed, nodding as the QEC holo blinked out. Turning to head into the room, he went on, "I mean a big war, prestide, and bringing more ships to Tuchanka? They'll be drowning in mating match-ups. And Ryncol."

"You know, we both have a handful of requests on our own…"

"Oh, don't remind me." He sighed, "I'd say I hope I understand why they'd do that one day, but…"

"You don't want to know?"

"Not even slightly." He shook his head, "I just want a nap."

"Fair." Shepard grunted, "Break the news and get some rest."

"Aye, Aye, Captain."

XxX-XxX-XxX

It was a rare thing, for Harbingers entire attention to become fixated on one, sole, singular item during a Harvest's first and hardest years. Under normal circumstances, there were usually two to ten major capital worlds in the galaxy that required focused attention, to cripple any resistance as the inevitable marched on, and mitigate their own losses. Here, now, they'd arrived to find four, including the so-called Citadel which Sovereign had so gloriously failed to claim. The Batarians had proven weaker than anticipated, and should not have been counted - but they had arrived and they had acted on Sovereign's intelligence, and whatever the case, it lay in ruin now. The Citadel was nearly in reach as well, once Palaven had been finally subdued, and its lured-in would be saviors were destroyed. And Earth?

Earth burned below them…

And yet, that intermittent signal remained, appearing seemingly whenever their attention was diverted.

"Report."

"Report." Harbinger acknowledged, accepting the broad-band quantum communique from Antaka. "What is the result of your collection?"

"There has been no collection."

"Clarify." Antaka did, forwarding them what would have been a mountain of data for a lesser existence, alongside a video file. Yet again, Harbinger had to pause as they registered… Shock at the information. At what they saw.

A rare thing to register in their emotional bandwidth, before the prior decade had begun…

And, in it all, a quantum signal. Two, in fact, although one was short-lived, broadcast directly into the Normandy. They set aside the agitation that threatened to manifest in the deepest of their registries and instead focused on the second quantum signal. That one, somehow, scattered as it left, traced by Antaka as best as they could manage on their own and unsupported. The more easily traced one, expectantly, lead to the burning world beneath them. The other, however…

The other vanished into the galactic core itself.

"Impossible." They spoke, "The galactic core is only mapped by us."

"The trajectory calculations are as they are." Antaka spoke, "Our logic is undeniable."

"Indeed…" Harbinger answered, "Our logic is. Go. Scour the Core. Dispatch Oculi and destroyer craft."

"Understood." Antaka understood, "And the Earth signal?"

"We are scouring this world and its moon already." Harbinger answered, "This will continue. Even if it destroys this world."

"We are certain?"

"We are." They were loath to ruin a garden world, even one as developed and needing of reconstruction as this one, but something strange was in play. And it was something they could not tolerate any longer. "We have spoken."

"Understood." Antaka answered, withdrawing a moment later as Harbinger returned its undivided attention to Earth.

"This cycle…" They rumbled to no one, "Is vexing."

XxX-XxX-XxX

Antioch was a bigger city than Ratchet been in for at least a hundred years, if you didn't count Omega. Omega was a station, though, with everything crammed in together wherever it could be forced to fit, while miners worked away around it to make space and credits alike, while Antioch was a sea-side city for fishermen, with long concrete and steel docks wide enough he was sure four Krogan could walk abreast that reached out onto the water. They'd been blasted to melted off, ragged slag, of course, along with the fishing ships.

"Sucks." Ranet rumbled beside him, voice muffled ever-so-slightly by the heavy black helmet he wore. Waving his Phaeston towards a mast sticking out of the water, he grunted, "Always wanted to see a Turian sailing ship… Don't export 'em all that much."

"Why the hell would you use wind to sail…?" Arnaut grunted from Tan's other side, wearing the same matte-black armor as the rest of them. He carried a bulky, modified Carnifex, though, to free up his other hand for the hefty hammer he carried.

"It's old school."

"It's moronic."

"Then you two should be right at home." Ratchet rumbled, cutting them both off and stepping over what was left of some sort of mostly metal stall, collapsed and crushed under who even knew how many sets of feet.

And claws…

"Come on." He grunted, "We need to sweep this edge of the city."

"It's dead…"

"Someone sent a broadcast." He barked, turning only enough to regard Ranet with one of his eyes. "We've been tasked to find out who. So get to work."

"Yes, Leader…"

The city was a massive one, crawling along sea-side hills around a massive space-port maybe three kilometers away. The city had exported a lot out of there, mostly in terms of farmed fish and seafood that went feeding the Turian navy, and the Reapers had taken that into account when they atomised most of the center of the city from orbit. That had crippled logistics and evacuation for the entire region in one fell swoop, and the Reapers had been all to eager to come down to handle the rest of the city.

Personally.

They saw plenty evidence of that as they navigated the tight, interlocked streets of the southern district. Turians built every city, even on their homeworld, for defence, and Antioch was no different. Its city was broken up into four large circles around the space-port district, and the roads and buildings inside were placed on alternating rows like bricks, broken up by wide avenues that ran out from the central district ike spokes, cutting through the blocks as needed on their way.

The main avenues had been reinforced with defensive outposts, fortifications and hold points in the Turian style, so those roads had been pulverized by Reaper fire, and were basically impassable. From there, he could tell the rest of the city had fallen to block-to-block street-fighting, and didn't envy anyone involved in it. He enjoyed a good fight, of course, but the battle here had been so bad that most of the buildings had been destroyed - blasted outward as often as inward, though he couldn't tell why - and even these smaller roads forced them to climb and clamber around debris.

"Feels like Tuchanka…" He rumbled, tapping a grey slab of concrete that had crushed the front of a machine gun emplacement. "Except greyer."

"And quieter."

"Don't say that…" He sighed, just a few moments before a quiet chittering reached his ears as they reached a corner. He waved them into cover and, slowly, peered around it…

Fourteen figures were huddled around a ramshackle barricade, built out of ruined aircars and rubble, up at the next intersection. They were armored, huddled close together around a fire and whispering to each other, so his first instinct told him they were survivors. But…

"Out in the open?" He rumbled, flicking the darkening sky a look. "A fire would be visible to anything in the air…"

"Smoke, too."

"They're in armor." Ranet pointed out, kneeling beside him. "Turian soldiers would know better."

"They would." He agreed. "But… Look around you. It's like Tuchanka, just like you said."

"Meaning…?"

"Meaning…" He sighed, "They might not care."

"Hmph…"

"Cover me." He grunted, flicking Ranet a look when he growled lowly, angrily, and shook his head. "They could be the source of the emergency broadcast. We have to find out."

"Against that many guns?"

"Figure something out." He grunted shortly, "You have a brain in that skull, right? Use it."

"Fine." Arnaut sighed, rolling his hammer shoulder slowly. "Don't get yourself killed, old man. I'd hate to have to lead this lot."

"Uh huh…" He rumbled, stepping out of cover and taking a breath as he advanced. When he reached a sturdy enough looking pile of rubble, he called out, "Turians! You called for back-up?"

Instantly, the half dozen of them went stock still… And then, as one, rounded on him. He only had a second to see their gaunt, half-starved faces, backlit by the fire, before he saw metal glint as rifles came up. He dove for cover as mass accelerator fire ripped through the air around him, long arcs of automatic fire ripping up hunks of concrete as he snarled and swore. He drew his Phalanx, hoping the half-starved, apparently insane Turians would lose in a contest of accuracy, and laid across the rocks. Rolling to the side he held his weapon in his off hand and lined up a shot, ignoring the rounds that sparked off the concrete around him.

Two shots nearly decapitated one of the Turians, and drove the other into better cover, bracing on the concrete and alternating long arcs of fire to keep him from leaning out again.

Then his brothers arrived, rushing up the street with the ruined hulk of an armored car held in front of them, its treads dragging as it went. The Turians focused their fire on the two and he took the chance to stand and raise his Phalanx, using the accuracy it gave him to pick off two more while his Krogan closed the gap. When they did, they slammed the armored hulk down and he watched them trade glances before they each pulled little balls from their waist and hurled them over the cover.

The flashbangs blinded the Turians and the two Krogans rushed them, slamming into them and pummeling them to death as they tried to recover. He stood to join the two but by the time he reached them the last Turian died, kicking and clawing as her head was ripped from her shoulders. Arnaut dropped the corpse, breathing and bleeding heavily, and turned to give him a nod as Ratchet reached them and snarled angrily.

"Indoctrinated?" Ranet asked lowly, "And left here to… What, wait?"

"Who knows." He grunted, "Douse the fire and get ready to move. We stay here, we die here."

They were both wounded, and clearly angry that he wasn't aside from a few unlucky tears on his arm where rounds and shrapnel had found space to bite down between his armor plates, but they knew better than to argue. Or at least, to argue here. They'd be a bitch to handle later, he was sure…

But they needed to get to 'later' first.

Arnaut kicked the trash bin the fire was burning in over and, as darkness came for the city, they slipped back the way they had come and continued up the road, until they found a building to shelter in.

It was squat and utilitarian, with what was left of a carved, cartoony fish laid across its front and the glass-windows that ran in front of it blown in. Inside was an obvious restaurant, with tables overturned, pitted and burned in places, and dozens of dead Turians and even a few Asari laid behind them, ripped up by weapons fire, claws, and the rot of time. Past them was an open air sort of bar, recessed with bits of rotted food left on it from when the attack had come. He saw lights flickering along the bar and hummed.

"Power…"

"Give it to the Turians, they build sturdy." Ranet growled as he advanced on the bar and forced his way through the too-thin door into the ruined kitchen beyond. "Let's clear the fridges and hook up our crap. Been a day and a half since my damn lights had any juice…"

"Shouldn't use 'em anyway." He growled, following the younger Krogan, "Too easy to spot."

"Yeah, outside." He barked, "I'd use 'em inside. Anything sees my light, they probably already see me. And I need to see them right back to shoot them."

He just sighed and let it go, stepping past him to the huge freezer, recessed into the wall at the back. Bracing for a stench - if the power wasn't enough to keep it on, the food would have weeks of rot - he yanked it open.

And froze.

The Turian in front of him was curled up in a sort of nest of boxes, and only came up to his hips at best. Its mandibles flicked nervously, looking up at him, and Ratchet heard the other Krogan suck in a breath of surprise. He heard their third join them and mutter something, but he just huffed to silence them and forced them both back with his hands. Then, slowly, he knelt while the young Turian's bright eyes watched him closely.

"Hey." He rumbled, "You okay, kid?"

"N-No…"

"Is something wrong?"

"My mom…" She murmured, looking past them at the defensive line. "S-She put me here, said to stay while she… Helped."

"I see." He rumbled. She was dead, then. One of the dead Turians behind the tables. Quietly, he said, "We didn't see her. Did we, boys?"

"We…" He shot Arnaut a look and, after a moment, he grunted. "No. Just men out there. Must have pushed 'em up the road."

"Really?"

"You bet." He smiled, "Know what she looked like?"

"U-Um… She's pretty! And, um-" She frowned and rubbed her eyes, "I-I'm sorry, I'm not good at… Describing. S-She had blue face paint!"

Quietly, he gave Arnaut another look and, over their internal line where she couldn't hear, he said, "I see two of them… Far end of the room, blue face paint."

"Was she with someone…?"

"Grandpa." She nodded, "We came to eat."

Then that was them… He sighed and forced his voice to stay soft, and flat. "We'll look for them, soon as we get back. I'm sure they're worried sick, but they'll be damn proud of you for staying safe all this time."

"Really…?"

"I'm sure of it." He nodded, "Just tell me their names when we get out of here and-"

"Solana!" She cut in, suddenly excited, "A-And grandpa is, um… Castus? I dunno, he never…"

"Hey, don't worry." He cut her off when she looked like she was going to cry. "It's fine. We're gonna go find 'em right now, if you can manage it. But hey, big, brave girl like you? You're fine, right?"

"Y-yeah!" She nodded, "Just… Hungry."

"I bet." He nodded, grabbing one of the little Turian ration bars he'd brought along and offering it to her. "Come on, now, let's get out of here. You can call me Ratchet. What's your name?"

"Sonia." She smiled, taking it gently, "Sonia Vakarian."

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Whoo, ran long, but wanted to give Palaven some light while things escalate elsewhere. To illustrate shit is still going down there, and segue to the next arc.

Which went SPLENDIDLY FOR EVERYONE in the original story, so NO ONE IS WORRIED. Right?

Right?

XxX-XxX-XxX

Sci-Fi Guy :

There isn't enough Forerunner stuff to win the war, rest assured.

In regards to 'the anomaly'... Well, i can't rightly say what all it will entail or be linked to, but there's a decent amount I intend to do. Saying more would ruin any surprise.

I have no plans regarding the Ain Jalut. Mostly because… I never knew it existed. Lmao. Can't find much on it, honestly.

Thessia will be very different in this story, as you shall see soon enough.

As to the rest of your questions… Most either have been, or will be, addressed in time. Hope you enjoy the ride.