Chapter 31: Reaper Invasion
Cosmic thunder roared.
The Force had predicted the invasion even before the Reaper flotilla reached the outskirts of our galaxy. But this time it was different – not like in past cycles, when the enemy won through traitors and the weak, passing through the Citadel Relay.
The Prothean Empire fell due to a lack of information about the enemy, the absence of a multi-level defense system, and a shortage of serious weaponry. We eliminated these weaknesses, and my Empire managed to catch up with the Prothean civilization in a short time.
Even surpass it in terms of unity.
Independent systems ceased to be a thorn in our side. All sentient races worked together, no divisions into factions or groups. Cerberus was no exception: all it took was paying a visit, banging their mercenaries' heads together, and capturing the Illusive Man's mind, and the Reapers lost their last chance to sabotage from within.
This isn't a battle of spies and intrigues.
Force against Force.
Unfortunately, our opponents weren't feeble punching bags. Fleets of overgrown squids appeared in our systems where we hadn't yet managed to deploy defenses, and began incinerating all life with scarlet beams. The batarians fell first: their colonies were burned from orbit, and millions of lives turned to dust in a matter of hours.
But I wasn't going to wait for the moment when the enemies reached the heart of the Empire – the Citadel.
We hastily dispatched the first fleet to intercept. And the enemy had to face not a continuation of their victorious march, but fortified orbital platforms and energy shields that prevented not only attacking but also retreating. From whom? From the newly formed Empire, capable of fighting back.
Javik revealed all his knowledge about the enemy and Prothean warships. Captured Collector trophies and the perfectly preserved Sovereign became our keys to new technological breakthroughs. The geth, like ants, embodied ideas almost at the speed of light. And all races left with no choice but to fight were forced to work in three shifts, squeezing the last resources out of their pockets. Yes, in the post-war period, this will smell of sulfur. If... we survive at all.
Victory is still far off.
Regrettably, we were vastly inferior in space battles. For every destroyed Reaper ship, there were four, or even five of ours. An unfair ratio, considering we threw the best, far from suicide bombers, into the interception. Therefore, the losses were almost irreplaceable. It's hard to build new ships when the Reapers destroy everything cleanly.
Time was playing against us.
— The Empire's first space fleet is completely destroyed, - Saren shook his head. We watched together as the hologram of Reapers moved into the next system. — Wonderful, we lost the elite a thousand times faster than we raised it. If we send the remaining six fleets... we can kill half their forces. The other half will kill us.
Saren was probably even overly optimistic, speaking of half.
— Moving through relays to the Tikkun system, - Shepard announced, stating the obvious. — Right here.
— Our fault, - Legion noted unemotionally. — We recorded how they hacked the extranet, Citadel databases, and several of our programs. But couldn't stop them. Now the enemy is informed. If not better than us, then on par.
— I sense fear, - Javik snorted. — The Reapers are afraid of our weapon.
— Empire forces have deployed defense platforms on the Perseus Veil. If they invade, ha... ha... - the quarian breathed nervously. — We have something to answer with, - Tali'Zorah, now commanding the united quarian fleet, stated uncertainly.
— Look, - Garrus drew our attention. — Flying out of different relays. A significant part is moving... Saren, this is all because of you. The Reapers dislike you so much they attacked Palaven.
— Uh-huh, and Tuchanka, - Wrex grimaced before hitting the terminal.
— Thessia, - Liara whispered.
— Earth was no exception... All the cradles of our races? - Shepard sighed.
— Looks like they decided to split up after the first battle, - I nodded. — How are forces distributed?
— Signals are jammed, and your new devices work with a delay... Wait... - Liara quickly scrolled through reconnaissance data on the terminal. — It came. I'll show the ratios now.
Palaven, Sur'Kesh, Earth, Thessia – ten each.
Tuchanka and Omega – five each.
Perseus Veil, where the Death Star is located... half of their entire fleet.
Seven targets to defend, and we have six fleets.
Sacrificing someone without a fight... not an option. Will have to risk it.
I began distributing flotillas across systems, leaving the Perseus Veil practically without cover. There were powerful geth defensive systems and minimal necessary personnel due to automation and quarian efforts. The problem was that there was simply no one to fight in space within the Veil. So, I'll be fighting in splendid isolation. And for starters, I'll try decoy tactics, that is, I'll try to destroy as many Reapers as possible on Starkiller-I, and those I can't swat... I'll lead under the Death Star's shot.
— Any volunteers to go on a suicide mission? - I raised a finger, watching the Imperial Council quickly leave the command center.
What, absolutely no one? Well... at least someone?!
Lowering my head, I silently headed to the ship, where only EDI met me.
Ideally, she could use a mobile platform for movement and participation in meetings. Some synthetic one. Soft and ahem... suitable for combat tasks. Well, of various kinds, but still combat!
— Starkiller, when you sit silently in the pilot's chair, my program experiences a load comparable to human emotions, - the AI greeted dryly.
— Here's the thing: need to kill half the Reaper fleet.
— With the whole fleet? With the support of the entire arsenal? - she clarified.
— Well... almost.
— Just the two of us?
— Yeah.
Deadly melancholy hung in the command cabin. I hope EDI isn't angry with me.
Fortunately, the silence was soon broken by the noise of starting engines.
We went into dead space and an hour later came out to a gigantic armada of overgrown squids.
Several years ago, I fought one. Now the feat had to be multiplied by hundreds. Could it be worse? For example, if the number of enemies equaled the geth army. No Force would help here. Although... maybe there is still a chance?
I surrounded the ship with a force field and ordered EDI to enter hyperspeed to burst into battle on the move. On the downside: we were immediately snagged by five lasers, each of which could pierce an entire planet. Additionally spent about a percent of my own reserves just on defense during first contact. And ahead lie ramming the barrier, breaking through the hull, and another dash.
Enemies without melee weapons, only terrifying long-range lasers. One even hit an allied target, trying to shoot down the annoying gnat – me. True, it helped little. The rest of the enemies tried to disperse and move away.
Unpleasant.
Tried to stay within the encirclement or near enemy clusters, taking down squids one by one by ramming or crushing targets with Force compression. Telekinesis has long outgrown the framework where there was no difference between sky and earth, depth of the abyss and gloomy space. Space no longer existed. And all the energy absorbed from Omega-4 – was saved precisely for this life-and-death battle.
— Power core load reached fifty percent, - EDI upset me.
If we overheat – that's it, explosion and the end.
— Any ideas? - I asked, closing my eyes and squeezing fifteen ships at once with the Force.
Blood flowed from my nose, capillaries burst in my eyes.
Hate batarians. But Reapers much more. Death machines are damn hard to break because their structure is heterogeneous and anomalous. Hybrid mechanisms are completely fused with organics, which prevents draining energy from them.
What if...
— Retreat? - EDI suggested.
— Changing the plan. I'll try to drain life from them, - I suggested, but immediately almost cursed with all the Hutts I knew.
A third of enemy ships broke out of the close combat zone and began randomly shelling us from all sides, ignoring even allies. Calculated that this way there are more chances? That's why I dislike drones and synthetics: zero emotions, hundred percent efficiency.
Raised my hands and focused on creating a field that absorbed energy and directed it to me; a whole chain of techniques where the slightest mistake was fatal.
The ship shook, causing me to almost hit my head on the panel, but – managed. And even had time to restore strength at the expense of enemy lasers, immediately redirecting everything into the "Life Drain" technique.
EDI maneuvered between enemy groups, avoiding rams and simply flying past scarlet beams. But that was enough. Dozens of enemy ships failed, literally losing the primary basis of their existence under the attack of my technique.
It seems in past cycles Reapers didn't just kill, but ran organics through a biomechanical blender, creating new reinforcements. A nasty fate for those who lose. But, the enemies' strength became their weakness.
Increasing absorption speed, I ordered EDI to bring the power core load to the limit. Need to exterminate as many more as possible. So far we killed slightly less than half – which was clearly not enough. If enemies break through the defense and get to the Death Star, then my Empire will be remembered for the shortest term of its existence.
— Beautiful, - I muttered, looking through the Force.
Waves of bloody energy left enemy ships and flowed to us, settling in me.
Now I was sure I could embody one of the techniques – "Force Storm."
— How exactly do ships cease to function? - EDI asked, whose sensors and cameras did not capture the whole picture of what was happening.
— Tell you later. For now... we retreat, - I gave the command and covered the ship with a double shield.
We couldn't just break away from the pack of squids – they hit us from all sides. Dozens of lasers dug into the force barrier, cut through it, but dissipated on the second – and with each of their failed attempts I only became stronger.
Perhaps this angered them?
Reapers gave chase, even when we flew into the relay and ended up within the Death Star.
— Activate, - I whispered.
— Your ship is in the line of fire!
— Orders are not discussed, - I cut off coldly and immediately covered the ship with another technique – an advanced form of invisibility, temporarily excluding us from the perception of the world.
The superlaser cut through space and hit us, causing not the slightest harm. But the Reapers were less lucky – dozens of killer ships evaporated in a blinding flash.
It all happened in a second, and the beam itself continued to act like the finger of Death, drawing a line through their formation. However, not everyone was destroyed, and the Reapers did not retreat. Their fleet scattered, avoiding the kill zone and direct collisions with geth ship fire. Moreover, the squids tried to hack our defense systems, launching viruses.
Bad attempt: I introduced a language unknown to our enemies – native from another galaxy. Deciphering it will take time, and this is a scarce resource not only for us.
Flying inside the Death Star, I removed the camouflage and addressed EDI:
— If we survive – a mobile platform is on me, - I coughed, almost staining the mask with my own blood.
— For my help, you owe me much more. I am the only one accompanying you in space battles, - as always, women want more. That way, a marriage proposal isn't far off.
— Will go on a date with you... if we survive the storm of star wars, - I grumbled, got up with difficulty and headed to the Council hall.
— Our AI barely bypasses their algorithms, - Legion reported. — They are too ancient. Can only temporarily slow down or cause chaos. Destroy... impossible. We lost a dreadnought. Hyperlaser preparation... Shot. Too many enemies.
— Use everything we have? - Shepard turned to me.
— Unless a Sith storm, but after it I will be incapacitated for several days. Fleets of the Alliance, Cerberus, Turians, Krogan, Asari... I won't be able to help them if one of the Empire's fleets fails.
— And if we fail, even victorious allies will lose, - Saren noted. — While you are unconscious, Garrus and I will head to Palaven. It is our home.
— Can't say I love Earth, - Miranda noted. — But I am ready to help... you.
— Thank you, - Shepard answered with venomous sarcasm instead of me. — "Normandy" will go to support the Alliance.
— Asari will help asari, - Matriarch Benezia stated coldly, casting a glance at Samara, Morinth and Liara.
— Ha, turns out, I have to pull my people out of the ass again with an army of half-baked clones, - Urdnot Wrex just beamed with prospects, albeit with righteous anger.
— I will stay here... - Tali shook her head, fingering three digits.
— Not my business, - Zaeed drawled, not letting go of a flask with suspicious liquid. — But my guys won't refuse support on Omega. If anyone is free...
— If you are free but cannot protect what is important – what's the difference? - Mordin intervened. — Better good armor and a reliable ally. Although, if the ally is a voracious varren, that's another story. By the way, Sur'Kesh has a shortage of volunteers for a rescue mission. And I am not a mercenary leader. Scientist. Philanthropist. Poor, but generous. That's why poor. I mean to say that salarians need reinforcements more.
— Take Jack and... Proxy with you – he has two lightsabers, and he waves them no worse than me, - I suggested.
— A woman and a fencer made of scrap metal? Generous... But, Jack is not a bad biotic. Saw her dossier. Will do, - the salarian accepted the modest help.
— Zaeed. May the Force be with you! - mentally prayed for him and Omega. — Javik comes in the set.
— Chances are crappy, ammo is scarce, and Reapers probably already marked in the calendar "The Day Omega Explodes", - the Prothean quipped, crossing his arms. — Fine, Zaeed. If you are torn apart – I will try not to laugh... out loud. And if me, be kind, remind Reapers that I warned the Universe: it will bitterly regret my defeat.
— I don't trust those with more than two eyes, - banging his fists, Zaeed reluctantly nodded.
Any help in war is worth its weight in gold.
— Before your departure, I will demonstrate "Force Storm". If you survive – there will be something to tell descendants.
Don't think my body will withstand a second time.
But there is someone to look after me – Tali'Zorah stayed.
Chapter 32: Force Storm
Space is the crappiest place for a battle. No matter how strong you become, there is always a risk of becoming a victim of an exploded ship and... dying – if not immediately, then on a nameless planet, amidst debris and ants.
However, this time the stakes were much higher than in the battle with Sovereign. Then we risked the Citadel fleet and our lives. Now a superweapon and the survival of an entire galaxy are at stake. Failure threatened not only my death among debris. Our defeat will restart the cycle, and far from in our favor.
We must win at any cost.
There was a time when I lost to Darth Sidious just a step away from victory – because of cursed indecision and striving for Light. Now we have almost defeated the enemies, but if I show weakness now as before, then history will repeat itself.
— Weakness is a sin, - I whispered.
Imbuing mind and body with dark side energy, I swiftly headed to the observation deck inside the Death Star, where there were no protective devices and fences between me and the emptiness of space.
Firmly fixed legs with telekinesis, and simply ignored the need for oxygen. I don't need it – Force flowed in the body, not letting die... while my enemies are alive. Although they can be called "alive" only with a great stretch. Mechanized squids created based on organics that existed many millennia ago.
Time to bury them properly.
All of them.
Just for this case, I have something more interesting than telekinesis and lightsabers stored, albeit created by my worst enemy. With the power of will, one can summon an energy storm of destructive power that cannot be stopped or controlled. Only I delved into the Force better than Palpatine, and was sure I could subordinate even the unbridled Sith technique.
A tiny spark ran across the palm, and then purple lightning burst from the right hand, weaving into a web of pure chaos. Discharges insatiably devoured space, tearing reality, twisting into a funnel and paving the way to their targets – to Reaper ships, which were instantly swallowed by the storm. Metal melted mercilessly, exposing bloody flesh inside – the very same that had been hiding under armor for centuries.
Beautiful and much more powerful than that weak junk with which Darth Vader scared admirals before strangling them. True, Force users' nerves start burning with hellfire from this technique, and blood boils like water on a fire.
Justified price.
The first blow to the Reaper ship resembled a whip swing – wide, the size of a starship. It cut the enemy ship in half without the slightest resistance. The second turned out to be even more interesting: lightning burst out of the storm, shattered into a dozen parts and pierced several targets at once.
A couple of ships tried to retreat, but they greatly underestimated the technique that can be rolled into a wormhole. It possessed the properties of a black hole and even tried to pull the Death Star to itself. What to say about small Reaper scout vessels or medium ones like Sovereigns. Their engines worked at full power, but only delayed the inevitable, resisting insane attraction.
A moment later, another discharge overtook their tail – similar to a grenade explosion, showering with sparks of chaos capable of burning through anything, including enemy hulls. Through another, an electric wave swallowed five Reapers.
And the deeper I immersed myself in memories, the more furiously the all-consuming storm raged. It had excellent fuel. My parents were Jedi hiding from the Empire, but Darth Vader killed them with a scarlet blade. Took me as an apprentice and turned into a tool – into one who kills the innocent, blindly believing in a higher goal. In pursuit of his approval, I ruthlessly cut out the last Jedi. For what? For many years I was fed false promises: that we would overthrow Palpatine and rule together, as master and apprentice, according to Sith precepts. In the end, I was betrayed... twice. And then I went on a suicide mission for barely familiar Rebel Alliance leaders, assuring myself that for the first time in my life I was doing something right. Something that would give the opportunity to live... just a normal life together with Juno.
— Life is the ashes of burnt hopes, - I hissed through the mask, watching the storm devour Reaper squadrons. Grinds, turning technology and organics into dust – and it into nothing. Their collective mind is probably screaming in horror: from surprise, from fear of real Force. Naive piles of scrap metal imagined they knew everything about war, about Force, about death, about how we should live better, taking their genocide for mercy.
But, ha-ha, they didn't know me, Galen Marek.
No, now only Starkiller.
— Kha, - I staggered.
Muscles burn, and blood flows from nose and eyes. Controlling a Force Storm is like holding a black hole on a leash. But I must emerge victorious from any battle. Because if I break now, the storm will continue its march, pass through their fleet, through stars and entire systems. We will die first, the rest will wait a little for their turn before the cosmic harvest.
— Upstart, - I snorted when one of the Reapers, turning on engines at full power, broke into the green zone around the Death Star.
Found a loophole.
Discovered the epicenter of the threat.
Think by destroying me they can stop the storm? Naive creatures.
I am the only one deciding now: who lives and who dies.
Smiling broadly, raised the second hand and squeezed it into a fist.
The enemy ship collapsed like a tin can under the foot of a battle droid. Hutt, exploded. Fragments slightly scorched the station surface, but it was a negligible price for the opportunity to keep the entire galaxy in check.
Blinking, I noticed the storm began to absorb the green zone, completing the reprisal against enemies. This is already not good: it will be extremely sad to die from own weapon.
Raising both hands, like a conductor I began to slowly compress not an enemy ship, but the phenomenon itself. Huge flows of energy resisted, trying to break out, not wanting to meet their end so early. Alas, my life was much more expensive than my creation.
Clap of palms.
The storm contracted into one point, concentrated and exploded with a supernova effect: our huge station was thrown back almost a kilometer. Fortunately, the shield I set up worked perfectly – without it... the matter would not have been limited to one hole in the Death Star.
"If gods exist, do they also... kha-ha, bleed?" - a thought flashed through my head.
Body tended to sleep from overexertion, but I somehow managed to return to the safe zone on the station. True, even before the team arrived, my legs gave way, forcing me to lean miserably against the wall.
Team... How much can I trust comrades or lovers? Isn't it easier to crush everyone before they do it first?
Shaking my head, I drive away thoughts inspired by the dark side. Like a parasite, it climbs into the mind, striving to capture it. Although sometimes suggests very useful ideas – especially in matters of security and extermination.
No, need to keep self under control.
Sith history proved: fanatical submission to darkness brings even great Empires to ruins; and blind belief in good destroys Republics. Balance between darkness and light – that's what is necessary. Like Revan... No.
Looking up to the dead is nothing but disgrace.
I am Starkiller. Now other Force users must look up to me.
Taking off the helmet, I crushed it with telekinesis and threw it aside.
Not like before Miranda, then I tried to get rid of the old... to pick it up again in the morning. Time to free myself completely, become who I am – the strongest star killer.
Will order to forge new armor, better than before, stronger...
It gets dark in the eyes.
The last thing I hear is exclamations and heavy steps on the metal floor of the Death Star. Hope medical devices are in the hands of allies, otherwise I won't make it to the bacta tank.
***
Light blade trembles in hands.
Blue plasma clashes with crimson blade the color of dried blood.
My opponent was Palpatine – old, hunched freak, long lost the image of wise chancellor as I saw him in holograms of galactic war times. But at the same time he was abnormally strong. Blows seemed supernaturally fast, agile and absolutely unpredictable.
— You are not a Jedi Knight, - he hisses, crossing blades with me again and forcing retreat. — Starkiller... insignificant mistake of my apprentice! Weak and helpless!
Cold sweat obscures vision.
Hands almost don't obey.
Every step resonates with the feeling of falling into the abyss: below us – only blackness.
Another attack pierces my defense, burning the shoulder. His style differed sharply from Vader's crude pressure: every blow thought out, and every trick deadly dangerous. I barely managed to parry.
Suddenly sharp pain pierces the body: Force lightning bursts from his free hand, digging into the chest. Body refuses to answer, mind completely forgets about defense. Result is natural: muscles cramp, teeth clench to crunch, consciousness clouds, body falls into darkness that desperately tries to absorb me.
— Look! - laughing maliciously, Palpatine points at me with the tip of the blade. — Your defeat is inevitable!
It seemed just recently I heard Juno's laughter in the "Rogue" cabin – warm as sunlight on Kashyyyk. Even earlier saw Rahm Kota's last dash – without a shadow of fear, only with steel determination... And if blind old men fight to the last, then I all the more need to fight even with severed limbs.
— Then I will burn the present to the ground, - I finished the phrase slower than stood up, and rushed forward like lightning.
I finished what was started and what I always dreamed of. How pity that severed halves of just part of a crappy nightmare fall on the floor. But one day I will bring my dream to life. Or... leave everything as is. I have my own Empire, team, friends and new lovers. What's the point of chasing the past if, no matter how much you cut it, it still won't go further than dust?
Real crossroads.
Accept thoughts as proper or spit on them, chasing to put an end to long-standing enmity, dooming millions of organics and synthetics to death. Who will already spend years recovering from the battle with Reapers.
— Is this the price of your revenge? If it is so easy to brush aside, then what is it worth? – as if reading my thoughts, spoke the upper half of the chopped opponent.
— The dead were not given a word, - with the last swing I decapitate the image from the past.
But he is right in something, as my throwing about is right in something. Pushing two Empires head-on is a sure way to mutual destruction, and revenge is a dish served cold, but eaten to the last crumb.
If not act through the Empire, then through Force Storm in its full execution? Creating a wormhole, I can return whenever I wish... alone, with lightsabers and already harnessed Force. Me alone is more than enough to tear apart an entire galaxy. Pawns are useless to me.
Raising gaze, I smile ironically.
Bitter dream began to crumble into shards, which became a sign of awakening in the bacta tank. Body connected to tubes, orange liquid eats into flesh, restoring damaged cells. I am in the Citadel Research Institute, judging by familiar faces of scientists under Miranda's control. She herself is not there, as are others – except Tali: she was digging in the omni-tool, checking news feed.
Quarian: hardworking, but rest is not alien to her; loyal to her race, but often hangs out with aliens; naive, but in battle behaves like an experienced soldier.
I am limited by facets of dark and light sides – aimed at killing.
Using the Force, I signaled the staff that it was time to pull me out. They were slightly surprised by the anomaly, but quickly realized what was happening and helped get out.
Managed to tidy up only after water procedures and an hour of relaxed rest. But peace is only a dream when the war is not over yet. Dressed in a dark robe, I stretched my neck and left the rest room, running into the quarian.
— How are you? - she asked worriedly.
— Ready for battle, - answered confidently. — How long did I sleep?
— More than a hundred hours, - Tali surprised unpleasantly. — Uh... all ours are alive, but fleets are heavily battered. Saren says restoration will take years, if not more. But there is a big Reaper ship – we couldn't destroy it...
— Mothership? - assumed. — Death Star will handle.
— We can't destroy a whole planet! It is on Tuchanka... And sabotage sorties end with destruction of our troops. So we, well... waited for you to wake up, - she faltered, which could look cute. Were their hope not such a heavy burden.
— If someone needs to be destroyed, then the best solution is to entrust the matter to a star killer, - smiled tensely, lowering gaze. — And let it sound wrong, but I hope we arrange a feast right after the plague. Invite everyone who helped us win.
— Just not that lightning thing of yours! - she waved her hands.
— What party without a Force Storm?
— G-good one...
It is, however, very fun to tease her. Even calms a little before the last battle.
But after, hope I manage to weigh everything and choose... lesser evil.
Sith revenge or Jedi order.