Chapter 10: War Cometh

Ten days later...

Location: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

For all involved they settled in quickly to the new routine even with the war prone to start at literally any moment. Despite it Lyta Lyle sat on the couch with relative peace of mind as people usually do, able to imagine that something severe was sure to happen later and not now, he remotely turned off the television after the currently most watched program about the prognosis of the coming conflict concluded and allowed the news to assert itself with a plethora of reassurances complete with footage of the full deployment currently on and around Nirvana.

Naturally he was worried about his former bond mate and his son Sullivan, who are in the military. The latter had at least sent a message and said that he was fine, but is currently on Nirvana.

Alas he was a full-grown dôji and has made his choice. And that was that no matter the father's concern.

Lyta Lyle extended his arms to retrieve the glass positioned on the table and carefully drank from it, the grasp from his right gauntlet very cautious and feeble what with how little it possessed currently in terms of functionality considering how plump it has grown with his and Pi's child to be, the result of their consummated relationship. Just a look on how strangely bulky that gauntlet's gotten was enough to provoke great anticipation, enough to quickly make him put the glass back down lest he accidentally drop it.

Logically this meant he could not work on the farm as much until after the kid's birth. Consequently much of the tilling was left to Balak, and Pi whenever he's done for the day at his store. That in mind he elegantly rose, his one plump gauntlet relaxing as he ventured out of the house, when a baritone voice cut the air like glass in tell-tale irritation.

"What's the matter this time?" Lyta Lyle inquired as he approached the tater patch, idle to note that all the gas bags in the neighboring enclosure had fled to the opposite side of their 'grazing' area.

Balak stood there tall, permeated by sweat from the effort of the work he was required to do, and wiped his brow after the tool in hand was put temporarily to rest at his feet. Different from when he first started out, the batarian finally seemed to get more into the swing of farming. At the very least he did no longer end up like one who just had his spine split in half. "Bloody pillars..." he swore and tried to shake the kinks from his wrists, "A bastard rock's in the way."

He looked to the soil where the gray tint of a rock shone through, "Can you not simply move it out of the way?"

"Too big." he informed simply, long since learned that he could go nowhere with rude retorts. While not the friendliest sorts, he has come to accept to an extent the means to at least a comfortable existence here. And while there are still misgivings, their co-existence is functional enough and could only get better with time. "Someone else ought to do it."

"Fine." Lyta Lyle shrugged, "I'll do it." as he stepped past the alien, put his one functional gauntlet to it and dug the claws deep into the soil where he articulated them so to get a good grip on the rock. Once secured, he braced himself and pulled the boulder – a very large one at that, he could tell – with a fair bit of effort. Dirt was thrown off to the sides as the crude object was dragged from where it had over the eons firmly lodged itself into and hoist into the air.

The rock dwarfed him by a fair amount, and rightly so with only one hand to keep it suspended stood wobbly under its bulk, a location Balak excused himself from with all due haste. Eager to toss it away, Lyta Lyle started to leave the newly made hole behind just after he gave it a look of displeasure. "Fill up this hole before you continue."

Balak watched him go with a non-uttered groan, "Yes... I'll get on that."

Nodding once, he went but did not get very far before the massive boulder of granite left his gauntlet, hefted instead by someone else. "Lyta Lyle, you really shouldn't." Pi insisted with a tidbit of severity as he swerved to face his bond mate – otherwise it'd be like talking to a rock with legs. "Pregnant as you are."

Lyta Lyle smiled fondly as he raised the bulky gauntlet between them, "I am not that helpless, dear." though the claws upon it twitched clumsily to partially disprove the point, "Someone got to do the heavy work when you're not here."

Not about to free up a hand, Pi briefly hugged the gauntlet in greeting to their child to be. "But now I am here."

"Thought you'd be busy for another hour yet."

"Slow day, so I took some liberty."

He smiled wryly, "Skipping on work? We can't have that."

"Just an hour early." Pi shrugged as he leaned back, "And I'm sure you'll give me lots of work worth that time."

"Uh." Balak pointed to the house, "I can leave you lovebirds alone if you..."

"No Balak. Continue as you were." Lyta Lyle rolled his eyes at the criminal, in the know that the four-eyed alien merely sought an excuse to take a break. "And Pi... you can bet your core that I'll do that. So be prepared, I'll work you down to the servo."

"Gotcha." the Son of Milieu grinned as he went and left with the rock, "Till then."

He shouted a terse, "Now don't you go snooze somewhere!" before he walked away from the both of them, and came to the side of their house when he saw Javik approach, on his way back from the tombstone he goes to sit by at least twice a day. The prothean had gone through a more sizable transformation than Balak, and though the dry wit remained the hostility had gone down significantly. In its stead he now wore a contemplative expression, this time even more so.

"Lyta Lyle, I require your attendance!" Javik called once he came close enough, "An answer is needed."

Slightly puzzled, he slowed to a halt and watched the alien expectantly, "Ask away."

"I was told Aspect Gauge would come on this day to see the facility. Why has he not yet come?"

Gauge? He blinked once, remembering the visit from before yesterday, "Not really in a position to comment on Gauge's punctuality. Is he late?"

"An hour ago he was supposed to be here."

"And you seem unexpectedly eager for his arrival. Did you want something from him?"

Javik shifted his posture a little, a frown present on him, "I was promised the means to access one of your genuine libraries for use to further my study of this cycle."

So that's what it was. Lyta Lyle nodded in understanding, much harder to not notice was his recently acquired appetite for information. "The vast majority of our library of information are about humans and our own history. You will find precious little information relevant to galactic civilization there. Did not Balak's omni-tool have a store of knowledge in it?"

"Far too little. Balak is just a tool with no interest for intellectual pursuits." the alien waved that away as if the topic was akin to a dark smog, "Limitation is not a problem, I will take it as it comes."

"All for your new direction in life, huh."

"There must be a reason I survived, and I will find it." Javik said in full conviction, borderline obsessed with the line of thought. One that Lyta Lyle saw no reason at all to touch upon further. The chance that rescue would have come for the facility was miniscule in a complete and utter sense, so much that the saving of just one life out of a million by outside intervention was nothing less than a miracle. And of all possible saviors it just happened to be the child of the fate weaver.

It was simply too much to be a coincidence, so he did not even begin to try and argue.

Lyta Lyle agreed and encouraged, "I am sure you'll find it. As for the case of Gauge... maybe something else require his attention. Anything mundane could have been done by another aspect, so the only likely reason is..."

"War. War is upon this system." Javik intoned.

"Or it very soon will be." he cocked his head at the other, "You don't seem so enthused."

"I have no longer the reason to be. It's an inconvenience."

"And it really is." Lyta Lyle turned around as Pi shouted to him:

"We need to get inside," Pi announced as he with Balak in tow hurriedly approached, "everyone's getting rather antsy!"

"Antsy?" he raised a brow as he looked to the closest neighbor, who was in a hurry on his way back to his house.

Javik's expression darkened in understanding, "War has come."

Searching his memory for a second, Lyta Lyle remembered and ushered himself and them to the house. "They did say that a broadcast would start soon as the conflict is nigh. It's on the final countdown. Must be."

It did not take long at all to assemble in the living room, damn all the dirt that was dragged in with them. He'd clean it up later. Pi was very prompt to turn on the television, its screen quick to grow lit with the image of two attractive news anchors who spoke rapidly in a live commentary of the proceedings to the image of an eccentric formation, the only hint of its presence being hundreds of burning exhausts that glowed a gentle neon-blue, just enough for position-keeping.

Soon enough they were seated, in wait. Balak and Javik took the chairs and stared expectantly in silence. Lyta Lyle on his side sported more a distant look, the memory of a thousand battle fields blurring past his sight. A feeling of unease forming at the bottom of his core that made a mockery of his earlier calm, how very fast things could change. A sensation made milder as Pi put a gauntlet onto his pregnant one to reassure both his bond mate and child to be.

Pi leaned in and gave him a half-hug, loving in its application. "Don't worry, love." he calmly breathed, "They'll make it."

"Oh spare me..." Balak lamented, a sound that dulled into silence under the force of a sharp glare Javik gave him.

Lyta Lyle smoothly ignored the interruption as he looked back past his bond mate's massive mane, those eyes of his now dazzling to behold. He smiled fondly and mildly snuggled in return before they continued to watch in more at ease. Though worried for what would be an entirely new kind of battle, on a scale likewise wholly new, he and all of them together, all of those who live in their thousands of newly built homes looked tot he stars. What lay before them most immediately was a dark future, but even the densest dark can be scattered by the lighting of a candle.

The Dôji have weathered many challenges before, and together they would make it through this one same as the rest. For what other choice is there?

Location: Utopia System; above Nirvana; Lower Maginot Line; Brahmastra-Class Dreadnought "Endymion"

Sophia squirmed nervously in his seat as he looked onto the display in a bridge illuminated by a comfortable blue light. It was far from behind even his hundredth time in command, but this was still different. His nervous countenance countered bluntly by the more confident radiance given by the much more massive Orgullo seated next to him. Supposedly that was why they were chosen, apprehensive nervousness against hearty confidence. To create a balance by weighing Wisdom against Pride.

He still thought Pardonner was far more suitable for fleet command – the reason he wasn't being of his business with work alongside Regula on the Tenjo, readying newer recruits and further ships to reinforce the Maginot Line as quickly as possible.

And with the Grand Aspects temporary role of serving on the front-most line it fell to himself and Orgullo to keep the fleet going. A fleet only somewhat trained and untested. Not the most favorable resources for taking on the galaxy with, but what needs must.

"With this formation and concentrated fire from all ground-based installations, we are sure to win." Orgullo grinned in a beastly manner.

Sophia looked onto the display, at the clusters of Cruisers positioned in vast groups of concentric circles shaped with the massive relay recently placed into orbit in mind, placed to account for all possible entry point algorithms. With the relay pointed straight to the planet, the invaders have no choice but enter directly into the line of fire like good targets.

Tactically the most unsound a position as he could immediately think of. Still he could not help but be insecure. Surely the Citadel have experience in that regard and can thus somehow counter this disadvantage. At the very least they had no idea of the reposition, so for now surprise would be on their side.

He almost jumped when Orgullo's much more massive gauntlet landed on his shoulder, a palm large enough that it could close up all around his upper body. "What, got the jitters?" the Aspect of Pride guffawed.

"Of course." Sophia pawed to push the palm off, his attention on the ship's communications dôji, "What is the status of the third probe?"

"It will be at the relay momentarily, lord. And... it's through..."

Even from so far away, he could see the relay light up brightly as the probe cycled through. "Now we just wait for the 'Kunato' to receive."

"Meanwhile..." Orgullo grinned, "All sections ready?"

"Yes, lord." the com dôji replied curtly as he sent Engraves to all ships and received just as quickly to reply with and confirm. "All in position... Gotten word from the 'Kunato'!"

The vaunted 'Kunato' was one of the nascent fleet's Kurma-Class Corvettes, their dedicated ELINT ships. It was that ship to which the probes sent through belonged. "Yes?" Sophia asked.

"Probe lost, but it counted a full five scores of enemy craft before contact was severed. Only two minutes out."

"No sign of a base?"

"None."

"They must have some kind of star base from which to coordinate their effort." Orgullo grumbled as he scratched his massive chin, "Maybe in the next system, wherever that is. Not much we can do about that of course. Not with our present forces."

"If there's none, they must be as confident as you are." Sophia mildly jibed then leaned forward, "Broadcast to all assets on surface and in orbit. Remove safeties and prepare to fire."

Orgullo continued; "Dispatch the countdown minus time passed. All Cruisers are to commence firing once only ten seconds remain. When they come I want a wall of gunfire there to greet them!"

Sophia appraised the order, "Aggressive."

"Less time they have the better. And with the nifty new tech we aren't like to run out of ammunition anytime soon."

"And now we play our parts." he lowered his head and briefly prayed. Like Pardonner he was not the religious sort, but there are so many uncertainties he was willing to take any reassurance possible, "Father willing, let it be enough."

Location: Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line Terminus; Kurma-Class Corvette "Camelot"

It was a small and fragile ship, but the only one suitable for the task of carrying them as unlike all the others these Corvettes are supposed to keep themselves invisible to enemy sensors. A perfect chariot for two Grand Aspects to launch themselves from. Unlike them Milieu would strike from right in the middle of their fleet, meaning he would take the enemy head-on. Comparatively speaking their own tasks held more safety.

Ultimo sat on its mottled black hull, his expression sad from the necessity he soon will have to partake in. His colleague on the other hand paced impatiently as well as able in the zero-gravity, and like himself Vice wore additions to his visors that would help indicate targets about to come under fire, and a locator that would help the fleet know where they are – both to prevent friendly fire.

More than a minute had passed since the countdown was passed along, each second of it passing like a thunderclap in the Aspect of Ultimate Good's mind. Too little time passed before the vital ten seconds remained, the words of which was pushed through his lips.

The fleet lit up, and a hundred and twenty-seven Shiva-Class Cruisers filled the outer orbit with their number's worth of mass accelerated rounds, then twice that amount, then thrice more. A lethal rain of projectiles that crossed the void in almost no time at all. Most of them went past the relay without even a target to hit, before an angular cruiser of alien make finally cycled through, a turian vessel with its wings spread wide like some predatory eagle. It progressed for a kilometer, but managed to go no further before several shots blanketed its frame. Two rounds were spent to dissipate the kinetic barrier, followed curtly by the splintering of its hull as the final round struck home.

It tilted and listed lifelessly, ablaze from within.

First blood. Ultimo thought bitterly as she watched it slowly pirouette from impacts taken, until a dozen more cruisers along with their escorts blazed into view in rapid succession, and returned fire the moment their position became apparent.

A sharp-clawed gauntlet reached out to him, and he belatedly accepted it into his own. Vice beamed at him, eager to get started. A smirk he did not return as he stood. The indication all too clear.

It was time to get started.

For all his dislike of the task, duty nevertheless called as lights from the planet indicated ship lost. An Asura split into its component parts as it took a round dead-center. No one seemed to have survived. Ultimo bit his lower lip and they leaped from the Corvette and ignited their thrusters in unison to join the fray.

"Noh power activate." Ultimo spoke onto the void, and their time quickened by several orders of magnitude. With a speed neither were capable of with conventional thrust, they crossed the thousands worth of kilometers distance in a few heartbeats until finally they were among the enemy, let go of one another, and sped to each their targets.

A vaguely sparrow-like frigate of Turian make lay before him as its transition concluded, itself at the head of a pack of four. At full speed from the start, it prepared to join the cruiser they were attached to... and only paused as he blasted himself into plain view of it, a technological angel in the blackness that the craft did not hesitate for an instant to let its guns loose at. Ultimo winced as a blue-tinted bullet raced past him, joined by several more that he with his Noh dodged effortlessly as he swiftly zigzagged and closed in on the nimble craft of some hundred feet of length. Its crew could not possibly be more than a dozen.

A dozen too many in his opinion as he came to the front of the ship and raised an arm for the final distance. "Karakuri henge..."

For a last resort, the frigate altered its heading slightly and met him head-on, most likely to ram him before he could latch on. Too bad for them he had no such plan. "Crane Sword."

The transformation of his gauntlet to an elongated blade four his height finished in less than a second, a speed much greater than that of any other dôji thanks to his Noh power, space/time manipulation. With another burst of speed he blurred past to the craft's side and felt an incredibly slight resistance as his blade carved into the frigate's hull at a height he was sure would cleave any organic who either sat or stood. Gruesome, but better a fate than be claimed by vacuum alive.

With that single cut, he sliced the frigate's top half clean off, and tried not to be nauseous at the splatter of blood upon his blade as it was pulled free. A feeling of filth descended on him for as long as it took for the other three frigates to pick up on the danger he posed and swerved to join their firing arcs.

By pure reflex, he shot himself out of it and closed in. Within the next thirty seconds he had sliced another two frigates in half. The third avoided the same fate only just barely, and barreled half its length worth past him before he pulled the blade-arm back and swung it along a vertical arc that split the ship's middle neatly apart.

Its engine spluttered awkwardly as it pushed the no longer connected front half before they tipped over and parted ways.

Ultimo hovered there for an instant to look upon his error and upon recovery of composure closed the gap to board the closer rear-section, and there came to stand before six aliens, four of them dying in the cold and harsh vacuum in a most horrible fashion. Two others had managed to seal their armor, and mercifully put bullets through their agonized comrades before they turned to the boarder.

He could not hear their voices, but by all indications both were very obviously enraged as a dozen neon-blue trails collided upon his slight figure in attempt to kill. Ultimo was not even scratched, though not the same could be said of his clothes, and he took a few seconds to accept the attacks delivered by their justified agitation before he brought up his other arm, "Karakuri henge: Lion Drum."

Pain traveled down his spine as all that lay before him was laid to waste by his follow-up attack, wrecking the ravaged craft even further with the force to make it blossom outward. After which a shadow fell on him.

By then the battle had broken out in full bloom and dozens of craft lay still, broken apart, around the relay. Still the fight raged on, and Ultimo looked onto the nose of this frigate's cruiser as it veered into view, its gun alight as it powered up to lay into him... before it explosively collapsed with terrifying ferocity as something smashed itself through the ship.

Only a few seconds later this certain something came to him. Vice was further stained than himself, but wore an immaculate grin to accompany the streaks of fluid and scorch-marks upon his barbaric countenance. "What's wrong? Gone tired already?" he mouthed just an instant before he with another prey in mind flew away.

Heavy at heart, he left the ruined hind-quarter and looked for the other piece. Only in all this wreckage and chaos therein he couldn't find it. Instead he was treated to the view of an extremely distant Brahmastra doing its thing – lighting up like a Christmas tree as it expanded its elongated hull in preparation. Once the charge-up completed, all of its segments collapsed inward, and a needle-thin beam of energy was produced from its spinal cannon that crossed the gap between the dreadnought and an offending cruiser much faster than a bullet could even hope to match.

Not much was shown for it as the beam ran the cruiser through from stem to stern. The only visible damage was a hole in the front and back, but that was only a facade. On the inside the gutted ship had turned into a molten firestorm, all life on board vaporized before they even knew what happened. The ship itself continued on its last instructed course for all of ten seconds before the internal damage overwhelmed its engines, like a ghost ship operated by a crew that did not yet realize that they were dead.

The thought of it was enough that Ultimo curled up and nearly vomited what was left of his breakfast. A position that sent him adrift while the nightmare continued on around him, as dozens of further vessels plunged into the system to assist their heavily assaulted brethren. Many of them falling apart as the dôji fleet continued their staunch resistance.

A score of frigates rushed down the middle of the concentric circles which the dôji fleet still maintained with few losses in attempt to get up behind it, only for all of them to be perforated by a withering volley of fire that seemed to come from seemingly nowhere.

Ultimo watched that beating heart of silver and indigo located at the very center, surrounded by long loops of fine filaments covered in firearms that all seemed antique, yet pumped with enough power to put down targets that should be infinitely far beyond the original weapons' ability to handle. Milieu had positioned himself to protect the only glaring flaw in Pardonner's special formation made for mass relays in mind, its center, and used the several firearms he had summoned to the unflinching defense of it.

All of the few that did manage to get past him were very soon swarmed by gaggles of fighters and destroyers, where they were savagely picked apart. For the moment none of their own frigates nor interceptors had chosen get clear of the cruiser screen – more nervous than the rest as they searched for an opening in the surprisingly well-cemented turian line despite the depth of their predicament.

Vice and Milieu had already caused much damage to that line, while Ultimo was already rendered sick, only able to watch – barely even that.

His watch faced an interruption as a cruiser appeared into this space behind him, which apparently did not notice him until he landed bum-first on its front-canopy in full view of its bewildered crew who stared as he seemingly came to lounge on its hull. A novelty he briefly shared before the ship shook weakly with the firing of its main guns.

That woke him up. Without ado he smashed his Lion Drum through the window and opened fire on the interior with full power so he may not see the crew's demise in excrutiating detail. Those within view seemed to go poof at the same time as their ship's rear section exploded outward as the titanic force gutted the vessel.

The very last he saw of the pilot before he disappeared was a confused expression. And the reason for it he could practically hear though it had no other source than his own thoughts: Why are you crying? Synthetics don't cry.

He wiped away his tears as he rocketed away from the ruined craft to rejoin the fight, and flared along several broken hulls along the way in search for another target. At every last he lamented for the course they had no choice but to take. So much death, and we have only just begun...

An enemy frigate fell off-course as he cut its engines off, and left it vulnerable for a passing Asura wolf pack – having dared to leave the cruiser-screen behind – to destroy.

Several more fell apart soon after by his claws, the destruction heralding the demise of hundreds of willing participants. But no amount of their willingness to fight put a damper on his despair, and even as he slaughtered them, he wept. All that could be done was render their demise as swiftly and painlessly as possible.

It continued in terrifying monotony until the battle faded and was replaced by the grim aftermath.

He descended onto the remains of a turian cruiser, now the tomb of its two hundred crew members, and sat down, with no desire but to be left alone for the time being. So much death... Ultimo repeated to himself as he looked onto the cloud of wreckage that now littered orbit, the vast majority of them alien in origin. A score of Shivas were missing, and a couple of times their numbers in lesser craft along with them. Despite their newness to space warfare, it seemed their home field advantage more than compensated. All Corvettes and Destroyers seemed accounted for, which told of their viability. Or as much as he could be told without a solid debriefing.

And this is just the beginning.

"How much until we are no better than the kurozu?" Ultimo gravely wondered, to which he received a reply that told volumes of to what extent he lost himself in time – the irony of that not lost on him. And the reason for that reasoning was that the sender of this Engrave was still supposed to be on the Tenjo. The flame-haired dôji looked up to see Regula descend from a Kurma that had come to a stop nearby, its name 'Presley' emblazoned across its dark hull.

"By no amount will we ever near their example, so long as we fight for the same reason we always have." was the Engrave the gently smiling aspect of Discipline sent. Regula was diminutive but possessed a uniquely monk-like quality to him, with much charisma born from centuries of preaching as the great leader of the Church. He came to stand on the hull and brushed imaginary debris from his clothes, "I can imagine you went through a rough time."

"Given the choice, I would never lay a hand on organics in anger. And if possible I will never again..." Ultimo soberly replied as he wrapped his arms around the knees and brought them to his chest, "So what counsel do you offer this time to make me feel better?"

"Most plainly what you did saved many dôji, and most of our fleet has been preserved for future battles. Sad it is to say, you are without a doubt bound to partake in further skirmishes." Regula informed bluntly before he smiled and sat down besides. "To act in the defense of friends and loved ones is a noble thing."

"I know, but I do not like killing. Only the kurozu provide the exception."

"Yet if we do not kill those who attack us, they surely will do it onto us. But on to that nugget that you so aptly named it, do you recall of what Father told us... about Asimov's three laws of robotics?"

"How could I forget?" Ultimo thought on it and knew deep down of what Regula wanted to touch upon and appreciated the reminder. It lay upon the mind of all dôji, yet in this ocean of death by his own making he had come to momentarily forget it. "First law: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Second law: A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, except where such orders conflict with the first law. Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such existence does not conflict with the first or second laws."

Regula nodded, "Exactly. And he made it a point to note that he never programmed any of the three into us. Instead he taught us to live by a code that one could interpret as an evolution of those three laws. Do you remember what he told onto us?"

Ultimo wiped a tear from his eyes at the memory that made his conviction burn anew, "Yes, I know..." and mouthed it as clearly as he could while they looked onto the planet below, and the distant Eden Prime beyond, home to many millions of dôji, and to the stars where countless more beings are, "We fight so others may live."

Author note: And here's the conclusion to Eden Rising. The war has begun, and will feature heavily in the next installment of the Robophobia Saga.