22/01/2017
Thank you to Pax Humana for betaing
Thank you to everyone for reviewing.
Part 1 The Fall of Humanity
Chapter 2 A Taste of the Future
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2189
Kaidan Alenko shook his head as he walked past yet another ad for free IVF. "Things have changed a lot since we fought with the Commander."
Ashley Alenko nee Williams chuckled as she held the hands of their youngest kids. "That's for sure! And not all of it for the worse, Mister."
Kaidan put his hands up in mock surrender and agreed. "Okay, honey. You're right."
"And don't you forget it." Ashley grinned then smiled wider as her husband held the door for her. "Now, don't forget to be on your best behavior, kids. We're going to be on television soon and a lot of people are going to be watching. It's the third anniversary of Commander Shepard becoming the first volunteer for immortality."
Both of them had volunteered to be with the first shipment but Admiral Hackett had pulled them aside and told them that he had another mission for them. They'd been confused for a few minutes before he'd looked significantly at them. How the Admiral had known that they had been comforting each other, neither had ever found out and so they'd gone along with the mission. It wasn't exactly a hardship and Shepard would understand.
"Yes, Mom." The triplets chorused in long-suffering tones. Their mother was pregnant, again, and they'd already learned from their father that it was best just to go along with what she wanted whenever that happened. Their father was quietly glad that her pregnancy kept them safe from the selection lotteries.
They lined up and passed through security at the studio. Afterwards, the kids were settled into daycare until it was time for their parents, heroes of the War of Betrayal, to tell everyone again why the deal with the Reapers was a good one for Humanity, granting immortality of the mind.
And all without telling the public the full truth because no one wanted the Reapers working that out.
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2189
"Quentius, I have a favour to ask," Irissa told the Turian sourly after her omni-tool connected her through to the Turian Councillor. Sure, the Asari had been trying to instill a sense of diplomacy in the Turians for centuries but the latest Turian Councillor was a little too diplomatic for her liking. Especially towards the Humans.
"What do you need?" Curiosity was evident but Irissa was glad to hear the slightly guarded note in Quentius' voice. The Turian wasn't a complete infant.
"I need you to redirect a patrol around Human space," she said.
"Our patrols have found nothing," Quentius replied. "The Humans are being quiet."
"Your patrols found nothing. One of ours has gone missing."
"You don't patrol that space." There was an odd note of accusation mixed into Quentius' fluted voice.
"Not a patrol," Irissa dismissed the words. "An expedition."
She didn't need to see the small image of Quentius to know that the Turian would groan. Turian thoughts about Asari expeditions were well known. Yet all of them knew, even if they wouldn't admit it, there was only one right way to introduce species to the rest of the galactic community. The evidence proved that.
Just look at the fiasco with the Humans. The Turians had introduced them to the galaxy, so of course there were going to be problems. The Krogans. Their introduction might have been centuries ago but the issues there were caused by the Salarians. More recently, the Quarians. Again, the Salarians introduced them to the galaxy and then failed to keep a watchful eye on them.
The Volus had first contacted the Asari, and look at them. They were a peaceful race, well established and respected in the galaxy. The Hanar and their Drell clients. Another set of peaceful races, another set of races found by the Asari. The Elcor were similar. Peaceful and contacted first by the Asari. Every successful Citadel species had been found and introduced to the galactic community by the Asari.
Those who weren't simply failed. Humans, Krogan, Quarians, they were all proof that only the Asari should attempt first contact. She had thought the Batarians might be an exception but they were holding out on rejoining the Citadel and there was evidence that the relationship was souring. As such, the Asari expeditions would continue, as much for themselves, as for the benefit of the newly found species.
"Send me the coordinates," Quentius managed to say politely yet Irissa could almost hear his thoughts. "I'll redirect the nearest patrol. It shouldn't take more than a few days," the Turian Councillor added.
"Thank you," Irissa said, reminding herself that no matter what she thought Quentius wanted to say, she could only react to what he did say, and he had been polite the entire time. "I'll forward them now," she added before signing off.
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2190
Quentius looked at the report. It was a bloody disaster. "You are sure of this?" he asked the Captain who was on screen.
"Positive."
The Turian Councillor took a deep breath. "Pull back. Do not land or attempt rescue. I'll send a reinforced fleet to deal with this."
"Understood sir. I'm just glad I don't have to storm that facility."
"You've had experience?"
"My Father fought on Shanxi and I was over Proteus when we took it."
Quentius nodded. Shanxi was an old battle but well respected and anyone who had taken part in the Second Human War knew what they fought like. It was not good news that a Human colony had been found outside of Sol. It was even worse news that the colony appeared to have been there for quite some time, though because the system was the closest to Sol, it had been the most likely target for their first interstellar settlement.
How many other colonies had the Humans not mentioned?
That was a question for the Council, for later. For now he had to organise a strike force. "I'll let you know when reinforcements are on their way."
"Thank you Councillor," the Captain said, saluting before Quentius cut the signal.
Councillor Irissa was not going to be happy but at least they had found her missing expedition.
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2190
If Harbinger had been an organic, he would have been smiling with cold satisfaction.
In another departure from the normal path of ascension, only one of the races was being harvested right now. The four-eyed organics thought themselves the superior form of life in the galaxy, a view that had been reinforced for centuries as they got away with taking slaves from the other races despite the current Council's ban on slavery.
These Batarians had also participated in the attack on Harbinger's temporary allies (and wasn't that a strange state of affairs), taking slaves that could have formed another Ascended. For many reasons, this moved the arrogant race to the top of the list. Since they weren't going to overwhelm all of the current races at once, having to save them for the newly Ascended Humans, they were trying different tactics and strategies while they could. It was a nice alteration from the tedium that was the reality of most harvests. When production of Human Ascended reached full capacity, the whole fleet would have to focus on eezo production to ensure smooth ascension.
Besides, it was not like they were much of a challenge even if they hadn't been influenced by the broken shell of an Ascended on Khar'shan.
However, Harbinger didn't want the rest of the organics to get any ideas from watching the slaughter of this race so he had first disabled all the Mass Relays leading into Batarian space except for the ones leading to Earth. This isolated the race nicely and left the rest of the galaxy in the dark about what was coming for them.
And right about then, Hetrans was leading a handful of Ascended in a long-range bombardment of the final military base guarding the last Batarian world. The gouts of superheated plasma flashed in his sensors in patterns that the first Ascended found pleasing, even soothing, even as an army of husks was landing to search the base for survivors. And kill them.
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Ever since the damned Humans had killed the Council's top Spectre and made up their self-serving lies about the Reapers, Jath'Amon's career had taken off. When he had been trapped into becoming the Hegemony's Ambassador to the Citadel, it was seen as important but a dead end for any ambitious Batarian. That had changed over the last few years.
The Council's actions against Humanity had thawed relations with the Batarian Hegemony as a direct result. The former Human colonies were now available for proper settlement by the more deserving race and the Council had in effect admitted that they were in the wrong to side with the greedy newcomers.
And so, Jath'Amon was puzzled at this summons from the Council. The two-eyes had ordered him to appear at once to explain the actions of his government.
Tuning out the formalities of his summons, Jath'Amon's brain ran through the possibilities but kept coming up empty.
At last, the damned Asari bitch had ran out of flowery phrases and the Turian, Quentius, could get a word in.
"Ambassador Jath'Amon, would you care to explain the latest developments within the Hegemony?"
"I would be happy to be of some assistance to the Council but I find myself at something of a loss for how to answer. Perhaps if you could specify which developments you wished to have clarified."
It galled him to admit his ignorance but unfortunately he didn't have much of a choice. Hegemony policy was to go along with the Citadel races for now, not to rock the boat, unless pressed. That would give them time to expand and consolidate.
"For the last two days, no ship has been able to enter the Hegemony's space. All scheduled traffic has been turned away by the Relays. Why are you breaking the trade agreements?"
Jath'Amon frowned internally. "I know nothing of this," he said aloud. "If you will allow me to contact my government, I am sure we can resolve this situation soon."
"I hope so, for your sake. It hasn't been that long since trade resumed with the Batarians," Irissa hissed. "If you cannot maintain your agreements then there will be repercussions. The Asari Republics will have no reason to trade with you if you do not honour your word."
"I'm sure it won't come to that," Jath'Amon said, tapping a few keys on his omni-tool to make the call to his Government.
"You are free to use our facilities while you await your government's response, Ambassador," Esheel said, gesturing towards a small, secure side room.
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As the arrogant Batarian Ambassador made use of one of the private meeting offices, Quentius turned to his fellow Councillors. "I don't like this."
"You've never liked the Batarians," Esheel dismissed his concern.
"No," Quentius shook his head. "It's more than that. This is too much like the Humans."
That got the attention of Irissa and Esheel. They both remembered how the final stage of that campaign had gone. The Turian Third and Fifth fleets, along with representatives from the Asari and Salarians, and even some Batarian privateers had swept through Human space, intent on entering Sol System and dealing with the Humans once and for all. They had expected heavy resistance. Given the way the Humans had fought for every inch of space before this, with every movement they made deeper into what was once Human territory they expected ambush.
They found evidence of the Humans, massive mine fields, booby trapped settlements but they had found no Humans, and in some cases the settlements just weren't there. It was as if something had erased them from the galaxy. That had caused a few moments of concern but no one had officially accused the others of the use of banned weapons so the military expedition pressed onwards.
With no resistance in former Human territory, everyone had been ready for a final stand from the Humans, at or near the Relay into Sol. What they had instead found at the penultimate stop was something even more impossible.
The Relay was gone.
Painstakingly thorough scans of the entire system came up blank. They found the remains of a Human space station, Arcturus or whatever the Human tongue had called it. The remains of Human warships were around it but only a few, not enough to be their entire remnant fleet. But that was all they found. Even stretching the sensors to the limits, none of the races present could find so much as a whisper of the Relay's location.
Arcturus was three days travel from Sol system and there was some thought given to travelling there to deal with the Humans but such a venture would leave them vulnerable. Most ships could just travel that far without discharging their drive cores but travel combined with combat was risking destruction of the entire fleet. While the crews would be fine, their ships would be at their limits and any battle that lasted an hour could see Council ships blow up without any help from the Humans.
In the end, the decision was made that if the Humans wanted to isolate themselves in their home system, then they could. Even the most begrudging of galactic lawyers acknowledged the point that the Sol System was their sovereign territory, the only territory they had undisputed legal claim to. Probes were sent towards Sol but Esheel had reported that they had been destroyed enroute, without ever spotting the vessels which had done so.
Though the mystery remained. How had the Humans moved the Relay, because to this day, it had not returned.
"The Batarian Relays are still there," Irissa pointed out after a moment.
"True," Quentius conceded but his tone was doubtful. He was still worried. Something didn't feel right. Relations with the Batarian Hegemony hadn't been this good in centuries, so there was no reason for them to isolate themselves. And even if they had, how had they closed the Relays completely? If the Batarians could do that then… he didn't want to think of that. There were too many implications to consider. He needed more information before he thought about those implications. "I…" Quentius paused, taking a deep breath. "No. I'll wait."
"Wait for what?" Irissa prompted, her voice projecting a gentle concern.
"For the Ambassador's explanation," Quentius said looking up as Jath'Amon entered their Chamber again.
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Patrolling the Harsa system, Nomiri's sensors picked up a coded signal coming in via Khar'shan's primary comm buoy. Subprocessors translated it automatically an instant later. No organic race had ever come up with a signal they could not decode so the Batarians' best security encryption might just have well not been there. She listened to the Batarian's plea for information and forwarded it along to Harbinger with a low-priority request for instructions.
A minute later, a small eternity at their speeds, Harbinger answered her. "Just let them call. Silence will serve the cycle better as the organics wait for answers that will not come. They will not expect our arrival and will not resist ascension as well."
"And the Relays remain ours."
"Khar'shan cannot answer." Harbinger terminated their connection and Nomiri settled in, noting with amusement how the foolish organic's stress rose with every second his call went unanswered.
This was a nice break from orbiting the neutron star the ascended used for eezo production.
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The Intelligence noticed the signal sent out from the Council Chambers. That was why the facilities existed, after all. It found that this cycle had another deviation from the norm in that a race which had started to be Ascended, the Humans, hadn't yet been finished off despite the ability of the Ascended to have finished by now. The arrival had not become general and open, either.
And now, they were Ascending the Batarians in secret, as well as disrupting the Relay network. The Intelligence had to go back into archives a billion years old to find the last time its creations had been so circumspect at the start of a cycle.
While an organic would have been irritated by the unexplained change, the Intelligence was content to wait and see. It was sure that Harbinger would have a good explanation for defying its standard operating procedures.
And besides, this wasn't as boring as it had expected the cycle to be. The current races were not even a tenth of the challenge the Protheans had presented. Even an immortal synthetic could grow bored.
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2190
Earth Prime Minister Sharon Allen resisted the urge to sigh as she looked at Jack Harper. The man looked old. That was an anomaly these days but he was powerful which was why he had a standing appointment whenever he wanted. "You needed to see me?"
"Yes. While our deal with our allies is all well and good, things can always be improved." Harper said casually while he finished turning off all the recording devices.
Sharon sighed. After the first couple of weeks in office she'd given up on attempting to remove all the bugs. Some of them had kept coming back so fast that they almost had to be self replicating. "Don't worry, only yours are still recording."
Satisfied, he continued. "As I said, while our deal with the aliens will allow us to crush the Council, in the long term, it is not good for Humanity."
"I thought you were one of the people who proposed such a deal? I know the SA didn't come up with it by themselves."
Harper leaned back. "I am in favour of it in the short term. In the long term, however, it's a death sentence for our species. At any time, the Reapers could look deeper into our affairs and change their minds. When that happens, we are as good as dead. I won't let that happen."
"So what do you suggest? You know we're trapped in Sol. If these Reapers don't get us, the Council would. I read the SA reports on how the battles were going. We hadn't quite lost every colony but we were going to." Sharon watched the man carefully. She couldn't detect any trace of deception in his tone but while she was a good politician, she acknowledged the businessman was a master.
Harper was undaunted by her questions. "Not via the Relay, which the Reapers are monitoring, nor via FTL. But I'd like to try to have a contingency ready before the Reapers come for us, using one of the old plans before we found the Prothean Ruins on Mars."
Sharon frowned. "What plans? We could barely get off Earth before we found the Prothean Ruins."
"Back in 2070, Victor Manswell funded an interstellar colony ship to travel to Alpha Centauri. We didn't have mass effect technology but Human ingenuity found a way, sending 300 colonists in cryogenic freeze. I believe that with current technology, we can improve on that number and get thousands off Earth and out of the solar system, sending colony ships to multiple destinations that are too far for conventional FTL."
"Is that wise? I can see why multiple colonies would be best, but smaller colonies risk destruction by the rest of the galaxy."
"The real challenge is always going to be to slip this past the notice of our allies. By the time the colonists arrive, centuries will have past and the Council races will be gone." His satisfaction at that prospect was plain.
Sharon picked up the slim slip of pages Harper had pushed towards her earlier and flicked her eyes over the text. Harper still used paper because he claimed that the evidence was more easily destroyed. The fact that he thought that way was worrying but even though she was young for her position, she hadn't gotten to be Prime Minister without learning how to keep secrets. "Because we destroy them?" She smiled softly. She hadn't been old enough to be really affected by the growing war with the Council but she had learned to hate, just as the rest of her generation had. They remembered what had been done.
"One way or another. Their time was coming to an end so they tried to crush us before we crushed them."
She narrowed her eyes. "So what would you need for this plan?" She'd read Hackett's notes about Harper. The old war dog had been very blunt in his assessment of the man. Manipulative was about the kindest term he'd used but the warnings were balanced with the statement that Harper would do whatever it took to make sure Humanity survived.
Harper wished Hackett were still around. While the pair hadn't really seen eye to eye, the old Admiral had at least had the experience to keep up with him, about as well as anyone could.
"It's better if you don't know the full details but I'll need some authorisations and some targeted tax concessions."
"For yourself?" Sharon held back a snort.
"Of course not," Harper growled. "That would be too obvious. I know there's half a dozen departments watching me like hawks. The concessions will simply grease the wheels, encourage some other captains of industry not to ask inconvenient questions."
"So it's true then?"
"What's true?"
"The ballots."
Harper chuckled. "As I told Juraj before he was retired, rigging lotteries isn't a problem."
Sharon stared at Harper for a few moments. "Don't retire me, or I will make sure you retire with me."
The older man smiled. "Dear, if you could touch me, you would have done it by now. I was in this business before your parents were dating." He looked at her until she got the message. "Besides, Juraj couldn't see the big picture. He balked at doing what was necessary, lacking the vision for Humanity's future."
"How?"
Harper smirked. "The Reapers, Madam Prime Minister. He had no stomach for using them."
"That was years back!"
"Then don't make his mistake. You must do what is necessary for all Humanity. That was why I supported your election."
"I'll do as I choose best."
"Of course, you will."
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Francis Crick looked down at the blue document as the lecturer droned on. The woman wasn't saying anything he hadn't heard before. Fourth year applied physics didn't get many students but he was devoted. It shamed him to admit that it had taken about a year for him to work out what his mother had meant. Not about the Systems Alliance or Earth Gov being right about immortality for the mind but what they were doing with encouraging the birth rate.
It was so obvious! At least, it had been once he got sobered up enough to read the information packets that had been sent to his mother once she had volunteered. Or maybe it was before. He didn't know. The information had been broken into two sets of documents. A blue one, the one before him now, explained what would happen to his Mother in the alien processing building. He hadn't been able to read that one yet. The other documents had been aimed at the family. They didn't quite explain but it did strongly hint as to why the Gov was pushing so hard for large families.
The alien super machines wouldn't go away with the creation of one or two ships. The information had included quotes from various System Alliance commanders, including Shepard. The quotes explained, as much as they could, what the super machines did, how they harvested the galaxy and how Shepard had known they were coming. It was what the documents didn't say that held the answer. Humans had agreed to provide the biological material for a set number of super machines a year, ramping up as time went on to ten a year.
But the numbers were there in black and white for anyone to work out. Well… anyone who knew anything about Human reproduction. They could win against the machines. The first years of production would hit their population but if the reproductive rate could be brought up, quite a bit, true, but still at a biologically sustainable figure, then they would keep ahead of the super machines. Yes, just about everyone would go into the production of a machine and Francis had felt sick about that for days, but the Human race would go on. It was going on. The Professor lecturing him was six months pregnant and already had three children at home. If he looked around the lecture room, he could see there were at least two babies sleeping beside their mothers, which said nothing about those who were listening online. It had only been a couple of years but the campus had become very kid friendly.
Plus, if the System Alliance hadn't lied, when they had enough super machines made from Humans, they were going to lead the battle against the rest of the galaxy. The arrogant Council species would be brought low by Humans and the Batarians… those slaver scum would suffer. That was probably what had sealed his mother's decision. His dad had served with the Systems Alliance and had been killed in some nameless battle against the Turian invaders. A desperate delaying action, like all those battles had been. They didn't even have his body. Just his foot locker and the confirmation from his Captain that he had fallen facing the enemy and taking them with him.
So his mum had told him to find a nice girl and settle down because with her volunteering, that was how he could help. He hadn't yet. Francis intended to but he hadn't yet. He was too busy studying. The payout the government had given him because of his mum's volunteering had kept him in booze and food in the first year, and then the rest had paid for tuition on his degree. The last of it had gone this year but that was acceptable. He had almost finished his study and had secured a scholarship for his honours year. He could have graduated last year but because a member of his direct family had already volunteered in the last five years, and he was studying, he was exempted from the ballots.
He'd majored in applied physics because that had seemed best to understand the super machines. The course had delved heavily into the science behind Element Zero, even running some small experiments with the stuff to show its properties. It seemed pretty simple. Have Element Zero and some simple electronics, make a mass effect field, and voila, lose mass. Apply force for propulsion. More element zero meant more mass reduction but what their class had not covered was where and how the super machines were getting that much element zero to power themselves and the Human super machines.
Soon after the first Human super machine was made, the Shepard, it… he! the voice was definitely masculine. He had landed on Earth. Two kilometres long and landing in Earth's gravity well? Francis hadn't been far enough into his course then but he remembered it and he'd crunched out the numbers for a rough approximation of the Element Zero required for Shepard to move that much mass. It was an impossibility. He'd taken the numbers online and while there had been a lot of noise in the replies, people just exclaiming about the number, there had been a few who seemed to understand. They had been pretty nonchalant, and had adjusted some of his estimations on Shepard's overall mass. But they had generally agreed that 'Yes, that's about the figure we get too'.
The thing was the Element Zero core would have been bigger than needed for a hundred normal dreadnoughts just to get equivalent performance, which the aliens certainly exceeded. Superships or not, it just wasn't worth building that big according to everything he knew. Nothing in his course, which had focused on the super machines and their use of Element Zero even hinted at what might be the correcting factor and there were rumours and theories everywhere.
Francis bit the inside of his lip, growling to himself as he pulled his mind back into order. Those long-worn theories were not what he was meant to be doing now. He forced himself to look down at the blue document before opening them. What's the worst they could say? They just told him what happened to his Mother's body and how her mind could be preserved. That's what they were meant to say… except, it was still a sore point to him.
Advanced applied physics, yeah whatever, talk about his mother, absolutely not. God, he was a coward. All because he couldn't have said he was sorry and at least pretend to understand her decision.
He hoped that, by doing this in the lecture hall, he wouldn't break down but he wasn't certain of it. It had seemed like a good precaution at the time. Now that the time had come, he wasn't so sure.
Resolutely he opened the blue document, closing his eyes briefly so that he wouldn't have to see the words. Then he took a deep breath and opened them, forcing himself to focus on the words. It was the picture he saw first. Donnel Udina. One of the chief politicians of Earth Gov. He'd written the preface. Francis snorted when his eyes saw the first words. Veritas semper. Udina was a politician. He wouldn't know truth if it bit him on the… yeah… he didn't know how to tell the truth. The contents were written by Dr. Gavin Archer and Dr. Karin Chakwas. That made him feel a bit better. He didn't know either name off hand, but presumably they would have the appropriate qualifications to explain.
Francis took another deep breath and flicked straight to the contents. There had only been a few headings and the document wasn't long. He bit his tongue as he read and he couldn't help but think of his mother reading this, perhaps sitting in bed. It described what would happen. That she'd be taken into the alien processing ship. From there, while the two authors were credible, Francis had read enough papers to know when someone made something up. What happened after that, they weren't sure. If his mother was genetically acceptable, then her body would have been decomposed into component elements while somehow keeping her mind intact. Then the physical part that made her was transported into space and used in the construction of a new alien super machine.
The lecture ended but Francis remained. He looked up, as if he could see through the ceiling to the sky above. The two Doctors had hinted at how the mind might stay intact but they weren't clear. They weren't clear on anything! With a growl, he tapped his tablet, going straight to the University's Library page and typed in Biology. A list of book files appeared. Some were simple. Human Biology 101, but while others seemed more helpful - Transformative Biology: A Guide to the Alien SuperMachines - he thought they'd be full of speculation, just like the blue document.
Francis laughed to himself. He'd waited so long to read that! The little blue document that had him scared these past years really wasn't that bad, because it gave no details. But he wanted them. He pushed himself up. He could get the book files from the LIbrary at any time, but he had to see the Dean. If that was the level of knowledge then he had to know more.
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Captain Tarquin Victus settled into his new command, touring the newer model cruiser with his XO. As much as he wished he was in command of the expedition into Batarian space, that honour went to Septimus Oraka who had been brought out of retirement for one last mission.
Showing how seriously the Citadel Council were taking the loss of one of its members, they had authorised the deployment of two dreadnoughts for the expected six year journey. On the way, the Salarian science vessels that were accompanying them would explore hundreds of star systems, hopefully finding enough planets to allow the fleet to discharge their drive cores and complete their journey quickly. Who knows? Maybe one of them would even be a new garden world for the Turian people.
He shook off those thoughts. The Salarians had assured the Turian Hierarchy that the probabilities of finding sufficient discharge points was near unity and that their fleet would not become stranded thousands of lightyears from home. What they couldn't guarantee with such confidence was that they'd be able to do it in a timely fashion, and for that reason, the fleet was bringing supplies and processing facilities to support them for ten years. That was the reason they were bringing along so many civilian long-haul craft, further increasing the financial strain on the Council races.
And all of that at a time when the big three races were coordinating construction on a large number of dreadnoughts. Tax rates were at a hundred-year high and shipyard workers could just about write their own checks as the major races worked not only to replace the losses suffered in the Human campaigns but to expand their fleets well beyond that.
Assuming whatever had happened to the Batarians gave them the time to do so.
By the time his expedition arrived at Khar'shan in three years' time, Victus expected that the Hierarchy, at least, would have made good their losses, even if their Salarian allies hadn't. The Asari Republics should even have made a start at increasing their weight of dreadnoughts, assuming no major problems arose. That was something that would have caused problems under the Treaty of Farixen's restrictions on permitted ratios except for their current spirit of cooperation and the leeway each race was allowing the other two.
The associate races might follow their lead, too, once shipyard space became cheap enough again.
Victus snorted at the thought of the Vol Protectorate fielding a proper navy before looking back at the hundred cruisers gathered at the rendezvous point, escorting the dreadnoughts while the frigates scouted around them. Just seeing them restored his faith in the success of their mission for the Council.
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Four years ago, in another life, Leida Ballam had been the main warehouse manager for the Alliance's biggest pharmaceuticals supplier which meant that she knew the importance of security, keeping your stock list coded, and she knew how to move stock so that it arrived exactly where it needed to be, when it was needed. With her new job, all that had changed was the stock. Instead of organising large quantities of very desirable and expensive pharmaceuticals, she now organised and controlled the transport of Humans into the ten areas where the alien ships had dropped processing plants..
She knew what was happening in the plants. Every Human knew. What was left of Earth's civilian governments had made that clear at the insistence of the Systems Alliance. There were a few complaints but Leida thought they were from disgruntled politicians who were slowly realising they no longer had any importance. While countries had remained, even after first contact, they had been slowly consolidating power within the political arm of the Systems Alliance. With the Betrayal, and the subsequent aggression of the Citadel and most other aliens, that power had consolidated further right up until the Arrival.
Now, the Systems Alliance, or what was left of it, was in charge. If being in charge meant overseeing the fulfilment of a deal made with the genocidal super machines. Well… it was what it was. No one had ever said the galaxy was a nice place to be. The Council had proven that more than adequately.
Still, the deal had given her a new job. She had to move 136,986 people to each intake area each day. The logistics were huge, terrifying and exhilarating! Twenty four hours a day, seven days a week, three hundred and sixty five days a year, one hundred and thirty six thousand, nine hundred and eighty six people were sent to each of ten fixed locations around the globe. Each location currently held a cluster of fifty Processor facilities with plans for more next year. It certainly beat moving one hundred thousand units of Xanax to the New York City distribution warehouse. Sure, the people were dying, sort of, in the plants but this had a real purpose.
Leida had seen the calculations some of the Systems Alliance statisticians had run on the sly. She was pretty sure she wasn't meant to have seen those calculations and the reasoning that lay behind it but someone had left out the folder and she'd read it before closing it and handing it back to the Admiral's assistant.
The thing with the super machines is that they weren't machines, not entirely. They were organic. Their core was anyway. Each of the super machines had a core of millions of living beings, all broken down into their component molecules, with their minds becoming a giant super computer which controlled the machine.
The deal called for Humanity to provide the raw organic material for three ships a year. Production would then ramp up over the next eight years until they were providing the material for ten ships a year. That was the limit of production of the processing plants. So far things were going well and they were entering just year five and by year eight, she would be overseeing the transport of two hundred and seventy three thousand, nine hundred and seventy three people to each plant, each day. Each ship created was Human. Millions of Humans together but still Human, still loyal to the pale blue marble. The first ship brought online had proved that. It was the Shepard. The first Human taken for processing by the super ships and the one who had brokered the initial concept of the deal.
The other super ships had been mining the necessary ores but that operation was slowly being taken over by the new Human ships. When there were enough of them, Human ships, then the Citadel and the rest of the galaxy would be sorry. But that wasn't the real kicker. The information she'd seen had shown her what the real plan was.
The production of ten ships, taking out one billion Humans from the population each year would not result in their extinction. Not if the birth rate was increased enough and already there were social campaigns encouraging the formation of family with children, lots of children. Leida lay one hand on her stomach. She wasn't immune to the campaign and the bonuses offered. Whoever had left the calculations out had obviously done so to give her comfort, to let her see that she wasn't sending millions of Humans to their deaths, that she was instead sending them to become the most potent weapon Humanity had ever created.
That was just part of the challenge. It had taken her a while to accept that, but she had, and she knew that even though it was brutal, even though it was bloody, Humanity had never backed down from a challenge.
And this challenge was the greatest of all. Survival.
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