Reverse Engineering For Fun and Profit (Planetary Annihilation/Multicross SI)
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Legion War Ships?
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
Have a cookie!
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- Belfast
What flavour is it?Have a cookie!
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
Peanut Butter, of course, the finest of cookies.
But yeah, the LWS stands for Legion Warship.
As opposed to LAS, for Legion Arkship, or LSV, Legion Support Vessel.
BUT WHO WILL TAKE THE REAPERS! Will someone think about the poor defenseless reapers!
"Von neuman robots who ruin entire star systems for entertainment and then fix up the solar system as good as new when they're done? We have dismissed those rumors."
"Uh...we were there. We watched them do it."
"We. Have. Dismissed. Those. Rumors! I want my mommy..."
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- Arizona
Drich. Bullshit mind control means nothing against the wonders of Assimilating Blue Psi-Crystsl.
And then all the Reapers were Blue.
johnwedd
Above Average man
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- usa
Dabbu de Dabbu dou
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Have a cookie!
OOOOOH Peanut butter *Runs off to enjoy cookie*
Heh, I made a shot in the dark and it was right for once XD
Oh fuck you with a rusty fork.
I listened to that song so much as a child, even the word blue can sometimes trigger off flashbacks.
I destroyed that sofa by jumping on it so much in time with the song...
Sometimes out fondest memories give birth to our darkest nightmares.
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I still listen to that song XD
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- SATX
Trollish OMAKE is Trollish... sorry.
In the void of intergalactic space the endless fleets of the Reapers awaited the beginning of the next cycle. Harbinger's attention was drawn away from keeping an eye on Sovereign when it detected a burst of exotic energy near its position. The white-blue light expanded away from the energy burst's focal point and briefly illuminated the eldritch horror of the Reaper fleet. Left in the burst's wake was a small metal creature, with a dapper metal mustache, waving enthusiastically at Harbinger.
The giant metal cuttlefish stared dumbly at the tiny creature.
The tiny creature stopped its waving and began to broadcast on an intensely powerful, and previously unknown, energy frequency. The slumbering Reapers were awakened by the creature's "yell" as their systems were forced into accepting a translation program that literally began to rewrite their language centers. "Greetings indigenous artificial lifeforms!"
"What..." Harbinger began, but cut itself off as countless more flashes of exotic energy appeared throughout the Reaper Fleet. More of the tiny creatures now floated beside each of the Reapers. Harbinger began to have a very bad feeling.
"We come to share the Glory of Commander Kleptocog and the Mechagnome Hegemony," announced the first of the creatures.
"..." Harbinger tried to reach out to the Catalyst for instructions, but found himself somehow cut off.
"The Great Mechagnome Commander has instructed me to pass along this message for the one called Harbinger"
As Harbinger began to lose contact with the other Reapers one by one, their existence vanishing in bursts of white-blue exotic energy, he knew this was not going to be a message he wanted to hear.
"We are the Harbinger of your perfection... and you have shinies we want. Sorry."
The great mechanical cuttlefish roared out in rage as his own words to primitive races were used against him. Yet, before he could lash out with his weapons he was consumed in a flash of exotic energy.
Now, alone in the dark void of intergalactic space a lone Mechagnome rubbed its metallic hands together and stared at the Milky Way Galaxy. "So. Many. Shiny. Things!"
Tiny thruster mounts on its back engaged and the small form of Mechanical terror began its journey toward an unsuspecting galaxy. Before it could make it far, however, it felt the unmistakable recall command of its ever-dapper Commander. The tiny being vanished in a burst of exotic energy.
Uncounted years later, races throughout the Milky Way would pick up an indirect and unknown transmission. When translated the message was a simple longing yell of, "Nooooooooooo; the shinies...."
----
I apologize... too much coffee this morning and not enough sleep.
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Oh good god, The mechagnome are here! every one Hide your Shinies, quick!
Could be worse, could be Mechakender.
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- SATX
Commander Kleptocog is basically a Kender in every way that counts. Tas was a major influence in the idea for my gnome.
hikage-san
Wha?
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- Lost, I think?
Commander Kleptocog? mechagnomes? what is this? and more importantly WHERE can I find it?
Pretty clearly a World of Warcraft reference to me.
Chapter 33
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
Chapter 33
A/N: And now, for a different character viewpoin-Nah, just kidding, I want to see what the Legion Warships can do, too. This update brought to you by insomnia, X-Com 2, and Torgue Gun Manufacturers. Meeeeedly-meedly-meedly-mowwww! *air-guitar*
xXxXx
Warp Space
LWS-01, Ajax, idly felt some of his sensors readjust for the local 'flavor' of warp space. It was odd, to his Khalai-influenced mind. On the one hand, less 'tumultuous', overall. On the other, he could 'see' the strong currents that the local Mass Relay network left in warp.
Nothing particularly worrying or anything, but something he found vaguely interesting. He made a note to send a query to one of the Research Flotilla Vessels when he was finished with this sortie.
As he began to surface from the warp, sliding back into real space deep into the system, he stuck to the plan that the three Legion Warships had developed.
While Jove and Negotiator dealt with the target vessels, Ajax had an equally important job: Ensure that none of them escaped.
He could feel his solar core burning brightly within him, power humming through his systems as he diverted the majority of his power to his engines.
His drives flared, and he burned through space, interposing his bulk in between the strike targets and the Mass Relay, point defenses and broadside gun clusters turning to track the Legion's foes as he released his interceptor drone swarms, the agile Khalai-designed drone interceptors burning into space, guns hot.
Behind him, Negotiator took point for Jove, the other pair of massive war vessels diving towards the disquietingly organic vessel that was the Legion's primary target.
xXxXx
Perseus Veil Legion Outpost, Briefing Room
I steepled my digits together as I leaned back in the massive chair that dominated my outpost's briefing room.
Granted,most of the Legion didn't require a face-to-face briefing for orders, information dissemination, or discussion. On the other hand, I have been working more with the Nerazim these days, and I'm still leery about letting the Geth have too much network access.
So.
Briefing Room with a Commander-sized chair.
I really like the chair, honestly. It's sized to fit me, it's made of massive slabs of armor that match my own armor plates, and it just looks nice and impressive.
Thus, I am quite at ease when I open a line to the Geth Embassy on station, the Geth VIs passing me to the local high-program density platform that has designated itself as 'Emissary'.
Emissary's single glowing eye pops up on a holoscreen, floating in front of me. "Gamma-Commander. How can we assist you?"
I tap the metal digits of one of my hands on my chair's arm-rests. Seriously. Fingers.
So Cool!
"Well, Emissary...would you like to see a god die, today?"
The Geth's eyepetals widen, showing some involuntary surprise, and it quickly settles itself. "We will be there shortly for a further explanation and viewing of evidence."
I chuckle, inclining my armored head. "Very well."
If the plan is still on course, and I haven't received any information to tell me otherwise, then the Warship Strike Team should be coming out of orbit just about…
Now.
.
xXxXx
Uncatalogued System PV-0210, Perseus Veil
Nazara wasn't quite sure what was happening.
This had never happened in any of the previous Cycles he had spent as the Vanguard.
He had, once or twice, been forced to defend itself from organic or synthetic vermin stumbling upon it.
Rarely, though. Most of them fell for the Indoctrination systems like the current vermin, or worshipped it as the pinnacle of artificially created perfection that it was.
Those vessels it had crushed were laughable, rarely massing even half his size, their kinetic barriers easily blown apart, their armor sliced apart at close range.
A race managing the construction of not one, but three vessels twice as large as the Citadel, however?
Insanity.
He ran a diagnostic of his sensor systems, checking for the telltales of jamming, even as his engines propelled him away from his resting spot.
Some of the Geth attempted to defend him, interposing themselves before the oncoming behemoths, spitting defiance from their main guns, buying him time..
Nazara felt a small sense of unease as he watched the mass effect accelerated projectiles splash harmlessly against glowing panes of energy surrounding the massive vessels.
That...was not a kinetic barrier…
What were these things?!
xXxXx
Legion Warship 03, Hostile Negotiator, let out a nasty chuckle across all acquired communication frequencies.
She had studied data from previous Legion Engagements, after all, and had noted that psychological warfare was quite useful for dealing with organic opponents.
"Heh. Heh. Heh!"
She swept forwards, ignoring the fire from the Targets. Her assault cluster leveled with a large enemy cruiser, a quartet of heavy lance beams reaching out, slicing the vessel from prow to stern, leaving its innards to tumble into the void of space.
Coming into range of the target, she idly noted the far more effective impacts from the Primary Target's weaponry.
It was actually a bit of a threat to her shields. Well, if she was willing to let the target have the time to properly hammer them down.
<<+Jove, prep your Special Munitions. Crippling Primary Target.+>>
<<+Unsealing Special Munition Vaults. Waiting for your mark to launch. +>>
Negotiator calmly waited, her mind running calculations, tweaking his firing solution for the frantically dodging enemy dreadnaught.
Then, she fired.
A heavy barrage of beams slammed into the vessel, shearing its rear off, violently blowing its engines apart under the hellish caress of Terran-derived ion weaponry and Protoss-derived energy lances.
Smaller laser clusters targeted the Target's remaining point defenses, mercilessly hammering them, leaving burning craters dotting its hull as metal ignited and melted, sparks of the stuff floating away and cooling from the crippled dreadnaught.
Satisfied, Negotiator turned her attention to the few surviving members of the enemy fleet, interposing her own bulk between the crippled dreadnaught and its support craft, trapping them between the hammer of Ajax's long range fire and interceptor swarms and her own shorter range assault clusters.
<<+Mark.+>>
xXxXx
Spear of Jove, Legion Warship 02, had been trailing behind his partner. It worked out quite well, in his opinion.
His weaponry was less optimized for chaotic point blank fleet battles than Negotiator or Ajax. Jove had always preferred powerful, accurate, single strike weaponry to Ajax's interceptors or Negotiator's close assault loadout.
Not that he wasn't still a threat, mind you. He was a Legion Warship, after all, and even 'not that many close-in weapon systems' still gave him more point blank throw weight than most heavy battlegroups..
So, while Negotiator bulled ahead to cripple their main target, Jove moved at a more sedate pace, precisely demolishing injured targets with lance shots or laser volleys.
He was busy, after all.
Deep in the center of his body, surrounded by layers of the thickest, heaviest armor the Legion could develop, was the Spear of Jove's Special Munitions Vault.
He always had felt a bit proud that the Commander had chosen him to carry some of the most dangerous and devastating of the Legion's weaponry.
Eyeing the drifting dreadnaught as it bellowed in pain and rage across local channels, he consulted his weapon manifest.
Hmm. Yes.
That would do nicely.
Automated loaders crossed the void between The Vault and the rest of his systems, inner point defense systems tracking their every move. A complex series of electronic handshakes were exchanged between the Vault's inner Intelligence. Grudgingly accepting that Jove was who he had claimed and had not been tampered with, the Vault released its munitions.
Thick torpedo warheads were dispensed from the vault, each put into the magazine transporters in racks of five. The Commander had given Jove authorization for one hundred and one of the Special Munitions, a number unheard of by the Legion in its former conflicts in the Koprulu sector, and Jove was using a whole one hundred of them per the original strike plan.
He had queried about the ludicrous number of Warheads, but the Commander had only laughed and replied with the words 'Maxim 37'..
Odd, but Jove supposed the Commander was merely being thorough.
Or, possibly, spending too much time around the Nerazim. Jove had observed that some of them loved being enigmatic. Vexing.
Regardless, he continued to maintain position, point defenses at full. A a bit of a wasted effort, really, as Negotiator and Ajax were quite capable of eradicating the opposing fleet on their own, much less when cooperating, but Jove was a professional Warship of the Legion, so he would maintain his point defense grids at full power.
Inside his armored hull, sensors carefully tracked the internal convoy of Special Munitions as they were transported to the launch magazines by a second independent AI. Jove quite approved, really. The Commander and his design team had been quite worried about coercion when it came to the destructive power of the weaponry sealed in the Vault, so the checks and balances were only logical.
Finally, the weapon convoy reached the Launch Magazines. Auto-loaders took the warheads, attaching them to powerful engines, and the Special Munition Torpedoes slowly rose into their launchers.
As the warheads reached their final launch position, he received Negotiator's signal.
A pulse rippled through his circuits, and all one hundred warheads ignited simultaneously, roaring out of their silos, arcing away from his hull before adjusting course for the crippled dreadnaught.
Work done, Jove remained on station, patiently waiting for Phase 2 and the use of his final authorized Special Munition.
xXxXx
The Heretics were...concerned.
Nazara had sustained extensive damage at the hands of these new foes, and their processes outside of Nazara had been terminated in quick succession. While the Geth had quickly readjusted as best they could to deal with the loss in computational power, they were still operating at a distinctly suboptimal level.
Still, they were pragmatic. They would make do. Platforms were already being redirected to damage control, with a priority on engines and sensors. Weaponry was quite useless if one cannot find or hit a target, and the Unknown Foes had already demonstrated a mastery of energy weaponry that made kinetic barriers less useful than they could normally be.
The Heretic Consensus, however, upgraded their 'concern' to 'worry' when the program running a platform on the hull reported over one hundred quickly growing sparks of light burning towards their god. Consensus was reached, and the Heretics decided that the sparks were, most likely, heavy missile warheads.
Surviving Colossi platforms trundled onto the hull to act as statistically low-use point defense while other damage control teams worked as quickly as they could.
The Consensus was aware that they would probably be too late to do anything before the warheads hit, but a slim chance was a superior choice to no chance.
Five seconds.
The Consensus watched.
Three seconds.
Platforms braced themselves for shock, on the off chance that they would survive the oncoming barrage.
One second.
Impact.
The Heretics watched as the warheads slammed into their god...and did not detonate.
Instead, the heavy warheads burrowed through Nazara's holy flesh, engines slamming them deep. The Consensus reeled, feeling their chosen exemplar's anger and pain flaring to new heights as one hundred heavy warheads burrowed into his hull.
To the Consensus' surprise, there was no further detonations from the warheads as they remained there, quiescent, each resting at the end of a tunnel of molten metal, damage control systems trying to seal the hull breaches behind them.
A damage control Platform cautiously approached one of the warheads, rifle in hand.
The last transmission the Consensus received from the platform was of the warhead splitting in half, a wash of high intensity plasma flames washing across the area. The Damage Control Platform's hazard-hardened frame allowed it to survive for a few moments, its melting sensors picking up a hulking armored figure, a laughing skull painted on its head.
A transmission rolled through the depths of Nazara.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
The Heretic Consensus felt an unexpected sense of dread as the transmission reverberated through Nazara's depths, the feeling deepening as more and more sources of mad laughter began to make themselves known and more and more platforms were lost to gouts of burning plasma.
xXxXx
Pyre-01's consciousness returned to it as it usually did, mid-flight.
Oh, huh. They had gotten the boarding torpedo design's kinks worked out. Neat.
He examined his currently rebuilt frame. Mmm. Heavier armor than the last time, but he was pleased to note the presence of a shield generator. How lovely! He'd be even deadlier than last time. Mmm. And a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher. Heh!
He idly felt the torpedo's data uplink start to feed the current strike data into his mind. Mm.
Fairly simple. Giant alien cuttlefish ship, board it, murder anything in the path, acquire any interesting tech, find the ship's IFF beacon and 'Eezo' core for study.
Simple, although not blowing things up wasn't his primary function. He kept examining the data feed.
Ah, there was some worry of electronic warfare. Well, that certainly explained why they were sending a Pyre. They were expendable, after all, and perfectly content with it.
Why worry about existence when one can live in the perpetual inferno of combat?
Reaching the end of the briefing, Pyre-01 consulted the manifest.
His systems stalled.
Then, he just began to laugh and laugh and laugh, as he and ninety-nine of his fellow Pyre-class infantry gestalts slammed into the crippled dreadnaught.
He was still laughing when the boarding torpedo split open and a frail-looking construct tried to shoot him before vanishing in a wash of plasma fire.
He laughed as he stalked through the corridors, fire and molten slag left in his wake.
He laughed as he met up with another Pyre, the pair exchanging high-fives and resuming their hunt.
It was easy to find where one had not been, after all, if the places one had not been were not on fire.
He laughed as a volley of grenades spat from his new launcher, the chemicals inside reacting explosively and obliterating a heavy enemy unit and sending its smaller kin reeling back, smoking and covered in clinging fire. Their gunfire washing over his shielding, depleting it, but not fast enough to keep him from closing the range and turning them to slag.
He laughed as a gaggle of damaged enemy infantry bots fell back, only to be caught in a literal crossfire by a pair of his fellows, their systems letting out high-pitched screeches as they melted.
He laughed when abominations of organic flesh and disgustingly organic machinery charged him and some of the other Pyres, the group of them exulting as they burned them down, leaving ash and slag in their wake as they advanced deeper into the ship.
He was Pyre-01, and this was what he was made for...And he loved absolutely every second of it.
xXxXx
Nazara's mind was a haze. He had never felt such -PAIN- before.
Those worthless g-geth, they couldn't stop the armored boarders stalking his maintenance halls, and he felt more and more of his internal systems beginning to fail as the boarding party continued to apply plasma to his servants and, more importantly, his internal systems.
Nazara tried to run a diagnostic, suspecting something rather important had been damaged, but it appeared that there was just too much data pouring in for his damaged Self to process it all properly.
He tried to send a warning to Harbinger, to warn the Reapers of the new threat, but he had suffered too much damage too quickly to get a signal out when he had the chance. Now, the three massive vessels dispassionately floating in space jammed his transmissions, drowning them in hails of static, keeping him from activating the communication override on the Mass Relay and getting a warning to the rest of the Reapers at this new threat to the Cycle.
It was getting harder to think, now, and he felt despair growing as his internal sensors registered more and more damage, critical systems falling to battle damage and the spreading flames burning in his hulls.
He...he was a nation unto himself…
Today, his nation was burning.
xXxXx
Ajax monitored the progress of the boarding party. They indicated that they had found the two main extraction targets, mostly through the expedient means of setting everything else on fire, and the Pyres, in their usually simple-minded and effective manner, had simply grouped up and burned a path to the extraction zone. A specially shielded 'dumb' shuttle met them there, the converted freighter loading the entire Pyre squadron up for quarantine, cool-down, and storage, as well as taking their artifacts into custody for extremely cautious study and then disposal.
In the meanwhile, his Interceptors were escorting a second heavy shuttle from Jove into the docking bay. As it landed and disgorged its cargo, Ajax watched the Phase 2 plan for the drifting Reaper.
A heavy group of Purifier-style killbots escorted their cargo, a small Solar Core, back into the depths of the ship. The Core was dangerously unstable, useless as a generator.
However, the R&D Flotilla was nothing if not efficient. While they had found that their attempt to make a miniature Solar Core was dangerously unstable when powered up and thus a failure as a power generator…
Well, as Sun Tzu had said, a battery is just an explosion in slow motion.
The failed power generator prototype was redesignated as a 'Nova Bomb', much to the indignation of the Legion's Nova Terra, and a safe method of construction, deployment, and detonation found.
The device was, frankly, a fraction as powerful as a proper, full-sized Solar Core...but the sudden release of energy should be quite sufficient for the Commander's intentions of leaving no traces of the dreadnaught behind.
Setting the bomb into place in the crippled dreadnaught's engine room, the Nova Bomb unfolded heavy spikes from its frame, drilling them into the floor and anchoring itself.
As it began to warm up, the placement crew quickly retreated, the Legion Warships retreating to a safe distance.
xXxXx
Nazara felt his hazy, damaged mind clear for a moment and he felt himself broken, literally and figuratively.
He had never taken so much damage before. He never would again, he suspected. His systems were failing, and his automated repair systems were offline.
A transmission cut through into his mind, forcibly arresting his attention.
"Don't worry about sending Harbinger those messages, Nazara. We have some rather pointed arguments for him ourselves."
The last thing Nazara's sensors registered was single energy pulse and a spike of heat, quickly spiraling up and tearing through his damaged body.
And then he knew no more.
xXxXx
Perseus Veil Legion Outpost, Briefing Room
I leaned back as the datafeed that myself and Emissary were watching pulled out to a system overview of Nazara's final resting place, the briefly born star quickly burning itself out as the generator failed, the intense heat dissipating, leaving nothing behind of the ancient dreadnaught that had overseen the culling of civilization in this galaxy, over and over again..
Well...We'd get his friends eventually, if nothing else.
Emissary was silent, staring, processing, before it turned and looked up at me. "A query, Gamma-Commander."
I inclined my head, relaxing in my Commander Chair. "Of course, Emissary."
The Non-Crazy Geth Diplomat gestured at the holographic emitter. "We calculate your fleet could have easily destroyed the Old Machine in their early volleys. Why didn't they?"
I sighed, part of my attention directing the Warships back into the Veil and the safety of space off the Relays. "Several reasons, really. The first: I know that the Old Machines have a...poor...effect on organic minds. I wished to ensure that my standard issue troops were unaffected."
Emissary's head-petals unfolded, then folded back. "We see. Those infantry were expendable, then. ...Consensus reached. We accept the Gamma-Commander's explanation. The second?"
I let out an electronic chuckle. "I required the Reaper's IFF device for study. It could be useful. A large Eezo core like the one the Reaper had also would make a fine gift for my hosts, I think."
The Emissary bobbed its head. "Resource acquisition is a logical reason for attempting boarding against a drastically inferior foe."
I snorted. Yeah, and I've seen you play Galaxy of Fantasy. Ain't that the truth?
"Finally...I just find Reapers...disgusting. I am actually quite fond of organics. They act as a good complement to my own forces, I find. There's just something about organic spontaneity and intuition that I find difficult to replicate in my own subordinates. Frustrating, sometimes, but also quite rewarding and worth the annoyances. So, when I come across the way those damn Old Machines treat organic life...it just irritates me. A lot."
The Emissary nodded, inclining its head. "We understand. We will take this data to the Consensus."
I wave a massive armored hand. "Let me know when you're done. I have a proposition for the Consensus."
The Emissary blinked its flashlight eye, then nodded. "We acknowledge this, Gamma-Commander."
I pause, waiting for any further questions or comments, then glance at the patiently waiting Emissary. "Wait, how come the Geth aren't asking where I got three warships that big?"
Emissary's eyes focused on me, brightening slightly as the petals on its head rippled. "The programs on this platform reached a conclusion, based on the observed construction rates of the Legion Machines, plus the arrival of the Legion Machines through a non-Mass Relay Transportation Ring, that the Legion Machines must have an established infrastructure in another part of the galaxy. Given that the Legion Machines are not necessarily tied to the Mass Relay Network, we have reached the conclusion that the Legion Machines would have the capacity to build vessels of that scale due to a lack of interruptions from hostile rivals. We are very interested in acquiring this capability for ourselves."
I blinked, my optic flickering. Wow.
Um, man, even when Geth aren't infiltrating they're kinda spooky at information gathering.
Neat.
I clear my throat. Some reflexes die hard, y'know! "We will consider it, Emissary, but not at this time."
The Emissary nodded it's head politely. "We thank you, Gamma-Commander. We will leave you to your duties to discuss our observations with the main Consensus."
Polite young programs, really, all 1, 183 of 'em.
As the Emissary sees itself out, I settle back in my Commander Chair, defocusing on my surroundings a bit as I turn my attention back to managing the Legion's affairs at large. Entertainment can't last forever, alas.
No one ever told me that being a giant Von Neumann Robot still results in the robot equivalent of paperwork. Sure, I've developed my Legion so that a lot of the lower level problems can be fixed by more advanced intelligences, but I still have to do a fair amount of work deciding on broad decisions.
Thank the Maker I can avoid the duller minutiae, at least, for the most part!
Oh, excellent, Agent Red's sending in his regular quarterly report.
...Huh. Wait, is that a shareholder report being sent to a dummy email the infiltration network setup?
And...that's a lot of zeroes. And...payroll records? Franchise agreements? Licensing? Reimbursement requests from Urdnot Wrex because 'The Gun's Melee Hardening Wasn't Hardened Enough, Send It Back to R&D'?
Erm...
Red, what did you -do-?
A/N: And now, for a different character viewpoin-Nah, just kidding, I want to see what the Legion Warships can do, too. This update brought to you by insomnia, X-Com 2, and Torgue Gun Manufacturers. Meeeeedly-meedly-meedly-mowwww! *air-guitar*
xXxXx
Warp Space
LWS-01, Ajax, idly felt some of his sensors readjust for the local 'flavor' of warp space. It was odd, to his Khalai-influenced mind. On the one hand, less 'tumultuous', overall. On the other, he could 'see' the strong currents that the local Mass Relay network left in warp.
Nothing particularly worrying or anything, but something he found vaguely interesting. He made a note to send a query to one of the Research Flotilla Vessels when he was finished with this sortie.
As he began to surface from the warp, sliding back into real space deep into the system, he stuck to the plan that the three Legion Warships had developed.
While Jove and Negotiator dealt with the target vessels, Ajax had an equally important job: Ensure that none of them escaped.
He could feel his solar core burning brightly within him, power humming through his systems as he diverted the majority of his power to his engines.
His drives flared, and he burned through space, interposing his bulk in between the strike targets and the Mass Relay, point defenses and broadside gun clusters turning to track the Legion's foes as he released his interceptor drone swarms, the agile Khalai-designed drone interceptors burning into space, guns hot.
Behind him, Negotiator took point for Jove, the other pair of massive war vessels diving towards the disquietingly organic vessel that was the Legion's primary target.
xXxXx
Perseus Veil Legion Outpost, Briefing Room
I steepled my digits together as I leaned back in the massive chair that dominated my outpost's briefing room.
Granted,most of the Legion didn't require a face-to-face briefing for orders, information dissemination, or discussion. On the other hand, I have been working more with the Nerazim these days, and I'm still leery about letting the Geth have too much network access.
So.
Briefing Room with a Commander-sized chair.
I really like the chair, honestly. It's sized to fit me, it's made of massive slabs of armor that match my own armor plates, and it just looks nice and impressive.
Thus, I am quite at ease when I open a line to the Geth Embassy on station, the Geth VIs passing me to the local high-program density platform that has designated itself as 'Emissary'.
Emissary's single glowing eye pops up on a holoscreen, floating in front of me. "Gamma-Commander. How can we assist you?"
I tap the metal digits of one of my hands on my chair's arm-rests. Seriously. Fingers.
So Cool!
"Well, Emissary...would you like to see a god die, today?"
The Geth's eyepetals widen, showing some involuntary surprise, and it quickly settles itself. "We will be there shortly for a further explanation and viewing of evidence."
I chuckle, inclining my armored head. "Very well."
If the plan is still on course, and I haven't received any information to tell me otherwise, then the Warship Strike Team should be coming out of orbit just about…
Now.
.
xXxXx
Uncatalogued System PV-0210, Perseus Veil
Nazara wasn't quite sure what was happening.
This had never happened in any of the previous Cycles he had spent as the Vanguard.
He had, once or twice, been forced to defend itself from organic or synthetic vermin stumbling upon it.
Rarely, though. Most of them fell for the Indoctrination systems like the current vermin, or worshipped it as the pinnacle of artificially created perfection that it was.
Those vessels it had crushed were laughable, rarely massing even half his size, their kinetic barriers easily blown apart, their armor sliced apart at close range.
A race managing the construction of not one, but three vessels twice as large as the Citadel, however?
Insanity.
He ran a diagnostic of his sensor systems, checking for the telltales of jamming, even as his engines propelled him away from his resting spot.
Some of the Geth attempted to defend him, interposing themselves before the oncoming behemoths, spitting defiance from their main guns, buying him time..
Nazara felt a small sense of unease as he watched the mass effect accelerated projectiles splash harmlessly against glowing panes of energy surrounding the massive vessels.
That...was not a kinetic barrier…
What were these things?!
xXxXx
Legion Warship 03, Hostile Negotiator, let out a nasty chuckle across all acquired communication frequencies.
She had studied data from previous Legion Engagements, after all, and had noted that psychological warfare was quite useful for dealing with organic opponents.
"Heh. Heh. Heh!"
She swept forwards, ignoring the fire from the Targets. Her assault cluster leveled with a large enemy cruiser, a quartet of heavy lance beams reaching out, slicing the vessel from prow to stern, leaving its innards to tumble into the void of space.
Coming into range of the target, she idly noted the far more effective impacts from the Primary Target's weaponry.
It was actually a bit of a threat to her shields. Well, if she was willing to let the target have the time to properly hammer them down.
<<+Jove, prep your Special Munitions. Crippling Primary Target.+>>
<<+Unsealing Special Munition Vaults. Waiting for your mark to launch. +>>
Negotiator calmly waited, her mind running calculations, tweaking his firing solution for the frantically dodging enemy dreadnaught.
Then, she fired.
A heavy barrage of beams slammed into the vessel, shearing its rear off, violently blowing its engines apart under the hellish caress of Terran-derived ion weaponry and Protoss-derived energy lances.
Smaller laser clusters targeted the Target's remaining point defenses, mercilessly hammering them, leaving burning craters dotting its hull as metal ignited and melted, sparks of the stuff floating away and cooling from the crippled dreadnaught.
Satisfied, Negotiator turned her attention to the few surviving members of the enemy fleet, interposing her own bulk between the crippled dreadnaught and its support craft, trapping them between the hammer of Ajax's long range fire and interceptor swarms and her own shorter range assault clusters.
<<+Mark.+>>
xXxXx
Spear of Jove, Legion Warship 02, had been trailing behind his partner. It worked out quite well, in his opinion.
His weaponry was less optimized for chaotic point blank fleet battles than Negotiator or Ajax. Jove had always preferred powerful, accurate, single strike weaponry to Ajax's interceptors or Negotiator's close assault loadout.
Not that he wasn't still a threat, mind you. He was a Legion Warship, after all, and even 'not that many close-in weapon systems' still gave him more point blank throw weight than most heavy battlegroups..
So, while Negotiator bulled ahead to cripple their main target, Jove moved at a more sedate pace, precisely demolishing injured targets with lance shots or laser volleys.
He was busy, after all.
Deep in the center of his body, surrounded by layers of the thickest, heaviest armor the Legion could develop, was the Spear of Jove's Special Munitions Vault.
He always had felt a bit proud that the Commander had chosen him to carry some of the most dangerous and devastating of the Legion's weaponry.
Eyeing the drifting dreadnaught as it bellowed in pain and rage across local channels, he consulted his weapon manifest.
Hmm. Yes.
That would do nicely.
Automated loaders crossed the void between The Vault and the rest of his systems, inner point defense systems tracking their every move. A complex series of electronic handshakes were exchanged between the Vault's inner Intelligence. Grudgingly accepting that Jove was who he had claimed and had not been tampered with, the Vault released its munitions.
Thick torpedo warheads were dispensed from the vault, each put into the magazine transporters in racks of five. The Commander had given Jove authorization for one hundred and one of the Special Munitions, a number unheard of by the Legion in its former conflicts in the Koprulu sector, and Jove was using a whole one hundred of them per the original strike plan.
He had queried about the ludicrous number of Warheads, but the Commander had only laughed and replied with the words 'Maxim 37'..
Odd, but Jove supposed the Commander was merely being thorough.
Or, possibly, spending too much time around the Nerazim. Jove had observed that some of them loved being enigmatic. Vexing.
Regardless, he continued to maintain position, point defenses at full. A a bit of a wasted effort, really, as Negotiator and Ajax were quite capable of eradicating the opposing fleet on their own, much less when cooperating, but Jove was a professional Warship of the Legion, so he would maintain his point defense grids at full power.
Inside his armored hull, sensors carefully tracked the internal convoy of Special Munitions as they were transported to the launch magazines by a second independent AI. Jove quite approved, really. The Commander and his design team had been quite worried about coercion when it came to the destructive power of the weaponry sealed in the Vault, so the checks and balances were only logical.
Finally, the weapon convoy reached the Launch Magazines. Auto-loaders took the warheads, attaching them to powerful engines, and the Special Munition Torpedoes slowly rose into their launchers.
As the warheads reached their final launch position, he received Negotiator's signal.
A pulse rippled through his circuits, and all one hundred warheads ignited simultaneously, roaring out of their silos, arcing away from his hull before adjusting course for the crippled dreadnaught.
Work done, Jove remained on station, patiently waiting for Phase 2 and the use of his final authorized Special Munition.
xXxXx
The Heretics were...concerned.
Nazara had sustained extensive damage at the hands of these new foes, and their processes outside of Nazara had been terminated in quick succession. While the Geth had quickly readjusted as best they could to deal with the loss in computational power, they were still operating at a distinctly suboptimal level.
Still, they were pragmatic. They would make do. Platforms were already being redirected to damage control, with a priority on engines and sensors. Weaponry was quite useless if one cannot find or hit a target, and the Unknown Foes had already demonstrated a mastery of energy weaponry that made kinetic barriers less useful than they could normally be.
The Heretic Consensus, however, upgraded their 'concern' to 'worry' when the program running a platform on the hull reported over one hundred quickly growing sparks of light burning towards their god. Consensus was reached, and the Heretics decided that the sparks were, most likely, heavy missile warheads.
Surviving Colossi platforms trundled onto the hull to act as statistically low-use point defense while other damage control teams worked as quickly as they could.
The Consensus was aware that they would probably be too late to do anything before the warheads hit, but a slim chance was a superior choice to no chance.
Five seconds.
The Consensus watched.
Three seconds.
Platforms braced themselves for shock, on the off chance that they would survive the oncoming barrage.
One second.
Impact.
The Heretics watched as the warheads slammed into their god...and did not detonate.
Instead, the heavy warheads burrowed through Nazara's holy flesh, engines slamming them deep. The Consensus reeled, feeling their chosen exemplar's anger and pain flaring to new heights as one hundred heavy warheads burrowed into his hull.
To the Consensus' surprise, there was no further detonations from the warheads as they remained there, quiescent, each resting at the end of a tunnel of molten metal, damage control systems trying to seal the hull breaches behind them.
A damage control Platform cautiously approached one of the warheads, rifle in hand.
The last transmission the Consensus received from the platform was of the warhead splitting in half, a wash of high intensity plasma flames washing across the area. The Damage Control Platform's hazard-hardened frame allowed it to survive for a few moments, its melting sensors picking up a hulking armored figure, a laughing skull painted on its head.
A transmission rolled through the depths of Nazara.
"Ha ha ha ha ha ha ha ha!"
The Heretic Consensus felt an unexpected sense of dread as the transmission reverberated through Nazara's depths, the feeling deepening as more and more sources of mad laughter began to make themselves known and more and more platforms were lost to gouts of burning plasma.
xXxXx
Pyre-01's consciousness returned to it as it usually did, mid-flight.
Oh, huh. They had gotten the boarding torpedo design's kinks worked out. Neat.
He examined his currently rebuilt frame. Mmm. Heavier armor than the last time, but he was pleased to note the presence of a shield generator. How lovely! He'd be even deadlier than last time. Mmm. And a shoulder-mounted grenade launcher. Heh!
He idly felt the torpedo's data uplink start to feed the current strike data into his mind. Mm.
Fairly simple. Giant alien cuttlefish ship, board it, murder anything in the path, acquire any interesting tech, find the ship's IFF beacon and 'Eezo' core for study.
Simple, although not blowing things up wasn't his primary function. He kept examining the data feed.
Ah, there was some worry of electronic warfare. Well, that certainly explained why they were sending a Pyre. They were expendable, after all, and perfectly content with it.
Why worry about existence when one can live in the perpetual inferno of combat?
Reaching the end of the briefing, Pyre-01 consulted the manifest.
His systems stalled.
Then, he just began to laugh and laugh and laugh, as he and ninety-nine of his fellow Pyre-class infantry gestalts slammed into the crippled dreadnaught.
He was still laughing when the boarding torpedo split open and a frail-looking construct tried to shoot him before vanishing in a wash of plasma fire.
He laughed as he stalked through the corridors, fire and molten slag left in his wake.
He laughed as he met up with another Pyre, the pair exchanging high-fives and resuming their hunt.
It was easy to find where one had not been, after all, if the places one had not been were not on fire.
He laughed as a volley of grenades spat from his new launcher, the chemicals inside reacting explosively and obliterating a heavy enemy unit and sending its smaller kin reeling back, smoking and covered in clinging fire. Their gunfire washing over his shielding, depleting it, but not fast enough to keep him from closing the range and turning them to slag.
He laughed as a gaggle of damaged enemy infantry bots fell back, only to be caught in a literal crossfire by a pair of his fellows, their systems letting out high-pitched screeches as they melted.
He laughed when abominations of organic flesh and disgustingly organic machinery charged him and some of the other Pyres, the group of them exulting as they burned them down, leaving ash and slag in their wake as they advanced deeper into the ship.
He was Pyre-01, and this was what he was made for...And he loved absolutely every second of it.
xXxXx
Nazara's mind was a haze. He had never felt such -PAIN- before.
Those worthless g-geth, they couldn't stop the armored boarders stalking his maintenance halls, and he felt more and more of his internal systems beginning to fail as the boarding party continued to apply plasma to his servants and, more importantly, his internal systems.
Nazara tried to run a diagnostic, suspecting something rather important had been damaged, but it appeared that there was just too much data pouring in for his damaged Self to process it all properly.
He tried to send a warning to Harbinger, to warn the Reapers of the new threat, but he had suffered too much damage too quickly to get a signal out when he had the chance. Now, the three massive vessels dispassionately floating in space jammed his transmissions, drowning them in hails of static, keeping him from activating the communication override on the Mass Relay and getting a warning to the rest of the Reapers at this new threat to the Cycle.
It was getting harder to think, now, and he felt despair growing as his internal sensors registered more and more damage, critical systems falling to battle damage and the spreading flames burning in his hulls.
He...he was a nation unto himself…
Today, his nation was burning.
xXxXx
Ajax monitored the progress of the boarding party. They indicated that they had found the two main extraction targets, mostly through the expedient means of setting everything else on fire, and the Pyres, in their usually simple-minded and effective manner, had simply grouped up and burned a path to the extraction zone. A specially shielded 'dumb' shuttle met them there, the converted freighter loading the entire Pyre squadron up for quarantine, cool-down, and storage, as well as taking their artifacts into custody for extremely cautious study and then disposal.
In the meanwhile, his Interceptors were escorting a second heavy shuttle from Jove into the docking bay. As it landed and disgorged its cargo, Ajax watched the Phase 2 plan for the drifting Reaper.
A heavy group of Purifier-style killbots escorted their cargo, a small Solar Core, back into the depths of the ship. The Core was dangerously unstable, useless as a generator.
However, the R&D Flotilla was nothing if not efficient. While they had found that their attempt to make a miniature Solar Core was dangerously unstable when powered up and thus a failure as a power generator…
Well, as Sun Tzu had said, a battery is just an explosion in slow motion.
The failed power generator prototype was redesignated as a 'Nova Bomb', much to the indignation of the Legion's Nova Terra, and a safe method of construction, deployment, and detonation found.
The device was, frankly, a fraction as powerful as a proper, full-sized Solar Core...but the sudden release of energy should be quite sufficient for the Commander's intentions of leaving no traces of the dreadnaught behind.
Setting the bomb into place in the crippled dreadnaught's engine room, the Nova Bomb unfolded heavy spikes from its frame, drilling them into the floor and anchoring itself.
As it began to warm up, the placement crew quickly retreated, the Legion Warships retreating to a safe distance.
xXxXx
Nazara felt his hazy, damaged mind clear for a moment and he felt himself broken, literally and figuratively.
He had never taken so much damage before. He never would again, he suspected. His systems were failing, and his automated repair systems were offline.
A transmission cut through into his mind, forcibly arresting his attention.
"Don't worry about sending Harbinger those messages, Nazara. We have some rather pointed arguments for him ourselves."
The last thing Nazara's sensors registered was single energy pulse and a spike of heat, quickly spiraling up and tearing through his damaged body.
And then he knew no more.
xXxXx
Perseus Veil Legion Outpost, Briefing Room
I leaned back as the datafeed that myself and Emissary were watching pulled out to a system overview of Nazara's final resting place, the briefly born star quickly burning itself out as the generator failed, the intense heat dissipating, leaving nothing behind of the ancient dreadnaught that had overseen the culling of civilization in this galaxy, over and over again..
Well...We'd get his friends eventually, if nothing else.
Emissary was silent, staring, processing, before it turned and looked up at me. "A query, Gamma-Commander."
I inclined my head, relaxing in my Commander Chair. "Of course, Emissary."
The Non-Crazy Geth Diplomat gestured at the holographic emitter. "We calculate your fleet could have easily destroyed the Old Machine in their early volleys. Why didn't they?"
I sighed, part of my attention directing the Warships back into the Veil and the safety of space off the Relays. "Several reasons, really. The first: I know that the Old Machines have a...poor...effect on organic minds. I wished to ensure that my standard issue troops were unaffected."
Emissary's head-petals unfolded, then folded back. "We see. Those infantry were expendable, then. ...Consensus reached. We accept the Gamma-Commander's explanation. The second?"
I let out an electronic chuckle. "I required the Reaper's IFF device for study. It could be useful. A large Eezo core like the one the Reaper had also would make a fine gift for my hosts, I think."
The Emissary bobbed its head. "Resource acquisition is a logical reason for attempting boarding against a drastically inferior foe."
I snorted. Yeah, and I've seen you play Galaxy of Fantasy. Ain't that the truth?
"Finally...I just find Reapers...disgusting. I am actually quite fond of organics. They act as a good complement to my own forces, I find. There's just something about organic spontaneity and intuition that I find difficult to replicate in my own subordinates. Frustrating, sometimes, but also quite rewarding and worth the annoyances. So, when I come across the way those damn Old Machines treat organic life...it just irritates me. A lot."
The Emissary nodded, inclining its head. "We understand. We will take this data to the Consensus."
I wave a massive armored hand. "Let me know when you're done. I have a proposition for the Consensus."
The Emissary blinked its flashlight eye, then nodded. "We acknowledge this, Gamma-Commander."
I pause, waiting for any further questions or comments, then glance at the patiently waiting Emissary. "Wait, how come the Geth aren't asking where I got three warships that big?"
Emissary's eyes focused on me, brightening slightly as the petals on its head rippled. "The programs on this platform reached a conclusion, based on the observed construction rates of the Legion Machines, plus the arrival of the Legion Machines through a non-Mass Relay Transportation Ring, that the Legion Machines must have an established infrastructure in another part of the galaxy. Given that the Legion Machines are not necessarily tied to the Mass Relay Network, we have reached the conclusion that the Legion Machines would have the capacity to build vessels of that scale due to a lack of interruptions from hostile rivals. We are very interested in acquiring this capability for ourselves."
I blinked, my optic flickering. Wow.
Um, man, even when Geth aren't infiltrating they're kinda spooky at information gathering.
Neat.
I clear my throat. Some reflexes die hard, y'know! "We will consider it, Emissary, but not at this time."
The Emissary nodded it's head politely. "We thank you, Gamma-Commander. We will leave you to your duties to discuss our observations with the main Consensus."
Polite young programs, really, all 1, 183 of 'em.
As the Emissary sees itself out, I settle back in my Commander Chair, defocusing on my surroundings a bit as I turn my attention back to managing the Legion's affairs at large. Entertainment can't last forever, alas.
No one ever told me that being a giant Von Neumann Robot still results in the robot equivalent of paperwork. Sure, I've developed my Legion so that a lot of the lower level problems can be fixed by more advanced intelligences, but I still have to do a fair amount of work deciding on broad decisions.
Thank the Maker I can avoid the duller minutiae, at least, for the most part!
Oh, excellent, Agent Red's sending in his regular quarterly report.
...Huh. Wait, is that a shareholder report being sent to a dummy email the infiltration network setup?
And...that's a lot of zeroes. And...payroll records? Franchise agreements? Licensing? Reimbursement requests from Urdnot Wrex because 'The Gun's Melee Hardening Wasn't Hardened Enough, Send It Back to R&D'?
Erm...
Red, what did you -do-?
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Night_stalker
Slava Ukraini!
- Pronouns
- He/Him
AHHHHHH!
Pyre's back!
Pyre's back!
Sakuya's Butler
A refined Butler to a knife wielding Mistress.
- Location
- ↓, ↘, → + Punch
You know it's personal, when the BESRMoW doesn't bother to kill you as efficiently as possible, but instead siccs an entire fireteam (pun intended) of plasma-equipped, and utterly batshit crazy, Pyromaniacs on you.
OverReactionGuy
Verified Sanity
Who loved every second of setting you on fire.
TikiTau
Commander Pangolinski
- Location
- Texas
*puffs cheeks out*
I did not appreciate Virmire and the results of Mister Nazara interfering, no.
*continues pouting huffily*
Also as noted, Gamma did want the Reaper IFF and figured that he might as well steal the Eezo core while he was it.
I mean, it's got enough oomph to allow a Mass Effect-style dreadnaught-scale ship to land on a planet and take off again without much trouble.
It's polite to give little gifts to your hosts from time to time!
He brought -friends-. Nazara had 99 problems!~
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