Chapter Four: August 4th, 1942

...

At first look, it looked like chaos. Then it became clear that the chaos she thought she was seeing had intention to it. Soon there was something intrinsically beautiful watching as an army of men and machines started to organize

It was finally about to happen. The Afrika Korps was readying to march.

The infantry assembled, armoured vehicles ranging from trucks to four of quite possibly the largest anti-vehicle tracked behemoths she had ever seen rumbled past her. One of which was louder than the other three. Some sort of song was being sung inside that heavy vehicle… panzer… which had the markings 'Sigrid II' painted on the side. It was peculiar to say the least.

Admiral Utala'Falan, disguised of course as Rommel had requested, along with thirty other officers of a variety of ranks marched up the line where thousands of men prepared to fight the enemy at any moment. She looked into their eyes and saw a mixture of emotions; from nervous anticipation to optimism, to straight out casualness in what they were about to embark on.

One by one the enlisted men turned and snapped to attention. Not for Falan and the other leaders whom they reported directly to, but to their overall commander, the man holding the campaign together; Generaloberst Erwin Rommel who led the officers to his waiting command centre.

He offered the enlisted men a salute, an action that garnered a swift response. He turned away letting the enlisted men go back to their duties. Falan had to admit that she was impressed. He seemed to treat his army as though he was a captain in the migrant fleet watching over his crew.

Over their heads, several fighter planes flew in their direction. RAF planes by the looks of it, which broke through the fighter patrol the Afrika Korps' Luftwaffe detachments promised to have existed. Several of the officer's ducked as though they were personally being targeted; many other seemed unfazed, amused at the reactions of the men who thought about their safety. Frowning, Rommel turned his attention to several giant guns and their artillery crews.

"Get those guns targeting the fighters; Relay the order to the other crews!" Rommel commanded the crew commander turned and started issuing in a loud bark; the guns came to life, spinning up to target the planes over head and fired, thick black clouds clashed against the clear sky, scaring off the planes into moving on.

Falan flinched at each deafening explosion the three anti-aircraft guns gave off, but turned and noticed Rommel gesturing the officers to follow him. Falan, deciding to forget her place, she quickened her pace and joined the General. Her approach was not lost to the man who raised his brow and smirked. It was not lost to the other Generals and officers either.

"You can tell who's a field commander and who rides a desk…" Rommel muttered to the disguised admiral.

Falan glanced back to one of the men who looked visibly disturbed by how close to the front line he was. The commandant of the 7th Army - an older dignified sort of looking man - locked eyes with Rommel with no small amount of animosity, but turned away.

Saluting the guard around the headquarters they entered the hut like building, where waiting them were more officers, different then the fresh faced ones, they were covered in sand, their skins cracked and weathered. They were members of Rommel's command, veterans of this desert war. They stared at the new commanders joining their ranks, they all stood at attention. Once again saluting, he gestured to the officers to all take a seat. He turned briefly to Falan who nodded and stood separate from the collection of German officers.

"At ease, I suppose that introductions are in order," Rommel greeted his personal staff, as he took his place at the front of the room, in front of the maps on the wall. "This is Generaloberst Dollman, 7th Army, Generalmajor's, Balck and Fehn, 11th and 5th Panzer Divisions. They have come to help us break the English. Please, take a seat."

Chuckling at the Desert Fox's enthusiasm, every German found a seat, most of them chatted idly to each other as they waited for Rommel to bring order to the gathering once again. Falan watched as Rommel's hands dug into his trousers and pulled out a creased letter.

"Gentlemen, not long ago I received a letter a month ago," he spoke up, holding the letter high over his head. "The letter is from OBW in France, specifically, from Generalfeldmarschall Gerd von Rundstedt."

His words broke the soft chatter and captured their immediate attention. It was no secret to anyone about the mutual animosity the two men held for one another. Rommel cleared his throat and opened the letter.

"The stronghold of Tobruk must be conquered by the end of August," he relayed the message sent to him by the old Prussian. "The invasion of British held Egypt must commence no later than October."

Folding the letter back up as the silent room stared at him. He slipped the letter back into his pocket; Rommel looked up to the gathering.

"As those of you whom have served under me, you should know by now, I'm not particularly good with orders from High Command that calls for me to act conservatively in battle," he spoke wryly as his hand wiped the back of his neck

The Afrika Korps officers burst into laughter at the words offered by the mildly grinning General. Rommel allowed the laughter to reign for a few more moments before he held up his hand.

"Thanks in part to our English friends, I have a new timetable," he announced to the laughter of his men, "Tobruk in three days, Egypt by September."

The room went silent at the timetable presented by the Generaloberst. Even Falan found herself wondering what was going on. This was unusually ambitious even for a maverick commander such as Rommel.

"English chatter indicates a mobilization of Tobruk," Rommel continued on. "We believe General Harold Alexander appears to be making the first move against us. Further east Montgomery has decided to dig in across the Suez. Intelligence reports an attack on our line in a matter of days. The British 8th Army has decided to knock us out of North Africa for good. If their attack should fail, they will fall back to Tobruk expect us to attack by the closing days of August."

Rommel gestured to the map behind him.

"What the English don't know is that we'll be ready before they anticipated," Rommel informed them, hand slapping against where the map indicated they were. "Our new reinforcements in the 7th Army will take up the defensive against the attack, supported by elements of the 5th Panzer Division."

"What about the rest of us, Herr Generaloberst?" a man interrupted from Rommel's own command staff. "You should not hide us from the fight!"

His weather beaten kameraden chuckled at the call out of their boss. The remark came off as rude to the new generals and commanders new to this front, but not to Rommel, who was a man who enjoyed the enthusiasm of his eager officers, so long as it was constructive.

"Once the English and Commonwealth troops attack, The DAK and 11th will swing wide around their assault, breakthrough the demobilized South African divisions protecting the city and take Tobruk." Rommel spoke again, the pointer stick swing wide from the southernmost point of his line and rolled straight up to the city. "With their lifeline cut, 11th Panzer and the fast armour units of the Afrika Korps will attack Alexander's advance from the rear."

Allowing a moment for the strategy to sink in, he turned to General Fehn.

"5th Panzer will wait midway to Tobruk," He informed the division commander. "Once the Tobruk is completely under control, 5th will bottle the 8th Army in while 11th and the DAK break the army against the defensive line."

Hermann Balck held up his hand, catching Rommel's attention.

"With all due respect," addressed the Generaloberst in a surprisingly soft tone. "This is assuming we don't get spotted by the RAF."

"The RAF will be busy over the line. Luftlotte 3 will harass the English from the air." Rommel brushed off easily. "Once we reach Tobruk, You all must relay commands not to destroy English stationary guns, Anti-Air, Anti-Tank, artillery. We'll be traveling as light as five hundred tanks and one hundred thousand men can travel. Once we make it into the city we must be ready for potential English counter attack from Egypt. We will need to make use of whatever captured equipment we can get our hands on."

Rommel paused briefly as though to wait for questions and concerns. None were offered to the Generaloberst. Rommel nodded, his expression satisfied by the lack of question he had been given.

"We will meet again in two days, you are dismissed," he concluded.

With his briefing concluded and the men dismissed, the officers stood from their seats, chatting lowly as they left the room two by two until finally it was just two people standing there. One was Rommel, reading his maps. The second was his quarian liaison, Falan who stood there still leaning against her place on the side wall.

"Bold strategy…" she called out now that they were alone.

Rommel simply shot her a look, decided now was a good time, Falan removed her glasses, pushed herself from off the wall she leaned against and stepped lightly to the General , who had turned away to stare at the maps. He turned slightly as he noticed the quarian standing next to him, her hands dug into her pocket.

"Roll up your sleeve, Herr Generaloberst."

Amused that she issued an order to him, Rommel obliged the alien woman's request. Before he could realize it, a cold metal device was latched around his right arm as though it was a wristwatch. Falan touch it, the device lit up into glowing blue, making Rommel's eyes widen in shock at the sudden display wrapped around his arm.

"This is an omni-tool," was her simple explanation to the human. "Judging from your insistence to wage this war fast I don't have the time to show you how it works, instead I have set up a series of preset functions."

Pressing the control panel, the holographic project lit up, revealing that a bird eye view of the city Rommel intended to capture. The details were as accurate as if Rommel staring through a pair of binocular, Commonwealth soldiers, preparing for the assault on Libyan line. Rommel forced his eyes away from the spectacle and to the amused Admiral still holding his wrist.

"I have spy drones up in the stratosphere watching from here to Tobruk, with a few modifications, to Cairo if you so choose," was her smug response to his dazzled amazement. "You know everything real time and it will give you a chance to counteract it pre-emptively."

Her finger grazed against the interface, a digital button next to the spy drone uplink.

"Press this button and it's give you a direct line to your command centre," she continued. "It will-"

"Cut relay time down to mere seconds…" Rommel guessed astutely. "You have my sincerest thanks, Admiral. This will make my life significantly easier."

Bowing her head respectfully, Falan disabled the interface and turned to leave Rommel who stilled stared at the device thoughtfully.

"Tell me, Admiral," Rommel called out forcing her to stand still. "Are you heading back to the safety of your fleet? Or would you want to see the offensive first hand? Few people can say they watched a battle unfold where I sit."

Falan turned back to the human who stared at her expectantly.

The report to the Admirals could wait. How could she refuse to take part in history?

...

...

"So you can see my troubles. Ernst. The Heydrich circle is once again gobbling up the power our efforts produce. With the failed assassination of Heydrich, the Fuhrer and the Reichsführer will continue to allow the centre of the circle to get away with anything they so choose."

Ernst Kaltenbrunner leaned into his seat, sliding a drink over to the man who had come to see him on such short notice. Gerald Langer. Gone was the good nature in the older man, replacing it was bitter annoyance.

For the past few months he had been harassed by Heydrichian circle that that threatened usurp even the Reichsführer himself. Why Himmler would allow that to happen was beyond Langer's understanding, as had it been to Kaltenbrunner as well. It was good that Langer's concerns were shared.

Ernst Kaltenbrunner. To say he was an intimidating man was to understate it. He lacked any of the charm Heydrich had. He was a drunk who chased women despite his status as a married man. He was built like a giant, taller than Heydrich, taller than most men in the SS, if not all men he knew. He was also one of Himmler's personal students, one of the few that strayed far away from the Heydrich clique. He held neither love for Heydrich, nor the young man he personally had recruited, only to let him fall into Heydrich's hand, Adolf Eichmann.

"So... Eichmann is interfering with secret projects…" Kaltenbrunner mused, almost humoured by the thought. "I suppose he must get tired of being a cog in the Heydrich machine."

Langer nodded; it definitely seemed like the case.

"He tried to have my Obersturmbannführer, Joachim Hoch shipped off to Russia… My Hoch." He repeated furiously as though the mere thought was heresy. Kaltenbrunner nodded his head, sympathetic to the anger from the junior officer.

Snorting furiously, Langer shook his head.

"I've spent years... seven years teaching him all I knew. Educating him, putting him through officer school... When I found him he was nothing but some street kid who ran away from home, I took him into my home, I raised him like he was one of my own, a son in all manners but blood; and Eichmann has the nerve to go over my head and whisper into Heydrich's ear, who in turns whispers to the Reichsführer…" Langer fumed violently as he downed the second drink offered by Ernst. "That little piece of shit, bureaucrat… if he gets his way..."

"And what exactly would you have me do?" Kaltenbrunner interrupted the Standartenführer's raving. Langer looked up to him, he leaned into his seat and slowly, a smirk came onto his face.

"Come up with some trumped up charges," he suggested furiously. "Say Eichmann is fucking some Jewess. Something that will keep his mouth shut."

Kaltenbrunner rumbled out a deep, bellowing laugh.

"I have it on good authority that such a thing is already happening…" the giant scarred faced SS General smirked. Langer in turn laughed as well at the implication the giant made.

"Figures," Langer grumbled as he searched himself for a cigarette. "He's working towards deportation while he takes a couple in as his pets."

"I can speak to Himmler. Perhaps I convince him that Eichmann neither has the charisma nor tact to play ambassador…" Kaltenbrunner finally spoke, his tone reassuring the older man. "The last thing we need is another Ribbentrop conducting ambassadorial affairs. We need someone they trust, and it appears your boy is the right mould."

Langer tried his utmost to hide the pride he felt for the assessment made. He could definitely agree with Kaltenbrunner's assessment of Hoch. Joachim was the best handler for the aliens... well, most of the time. At least he was when he wasn't drunk... or grouping that quarian girl... or drunk and groping that quarian girl.

With that said, Kaltenbrunner stood from his seat, as did Langer who knew when the general of the Ordnungspolizei needed to press on with his business.

"I'll be in Vienna in a few weeks," Kaltenbrunner informed Langer with a shark like smile as he shook Langer's hand. "I would like to meet this quarians. Someone outside the Heydrich circle should make contact, right?"

Langer nodded as he allowed the grip to fall away.

"Good," he agreed with his boss. "You'll come over; my wife will cook just for such an occasion. Bring your wife, might distract them from us for a while."

The two men laughed as they left the offices.

...

...

To say Hanala felt ridiculous was to understate it.

Morning had come and she had found that Joachim was no longer in bed with her. In his place was a pile of clothing. Long sleeved white blouse, tan trousers that flared out to accompany her curved legs, long, black leather boots that rode up and hid her shins as well as gloves.

She pulled the outfit on after she applied her make up to give her a more human tone. Deciding she had just enough colour in her face so that she did not look sheet grey by human standard. She glanced down and found that Joachim had left his little gold cigarette holder. Without as much as a second to think about it, Hanala snatched it up and pocketed it.

She wasn't quite sure what this whole outfit was about as she fixed her hair and stumbled down the stairs, still somewhat affected by the time difference between human and quarian sleep cycles. Quarians needed between ten to eleven hours compared to human's seven to eight. With a thirty-six hour day, that many hours of sleep would not eat up half a day like it would here on Earth. Still, she was getting used to it and Joachim understood about that difference they would have.

Joachim could appreciate those differences, as well the inevitable and unchangeable biological separation between the two of them. They could not share consumables with exception to water. Sex would, in all likelihood continue to be painful, sweat would irritate each other, if they were serious about this, and they would not conceive any children that were both of theirs... All of these things were non-issues that Hanala appreciate he could be rational about.

What Joachim could not comprehend was the vast cultural and ethical issues that would plague them for… well, probably forever. The humans would undoubtedly fear what they did not understand. The thought of one of their own falling for a pre-space exploration alien would probably start a renewed xenophobia. Quarians would be no better about the more personal nature of mixing the two species together, who had spent almost fifty years being told that aliens were not to be trusted. She had proof though her mother who thought her daughter's choice to like Joachim was a mistake she made during Hanala's childhood.

It seemed to her that behind the uniform Joachim wore and the cynical views was the heart of an idealist, especially when it came to humans and quarians coexisting in relative peace. Why he would not accept that the revelation of quariankind to humanity would not be smooth was beyond her.

Fumbling for a cigarette, she found herself standing in the front doorway self-consciously as she noticed several young women walked in front of the Hoch home. They seemed to be giggling in rapid German as they seemed to pause briefly to check out the staff car parked in the front of the house, then looked up to the windows of the home.

Hanala rolled her eyes as she took a seat on the front steps, lighting her cigarette. Of course, of course Joachim was bound to get admirers – simple looking girls with big blue eyes and light brown hair or blonde hair - wondering if the big war hero was going to ask them out.

One of the girls, a blonde turned her eyes and froze as she caught sight of Hanala sitting there as though she owned the place. She poked her gushing brunette friends and they too turned their attention to Hanala, each of them gave her a less then pleased glance. Ducking her shaded eyes she tried her best not to kill the women. Killing three little girls would probably would get Joachim in trouble.

Smoking and fuming about little human girls assuming that Joachim was free for the taking and her lack of ability to go out and cut their throats, she did not pay attention to the noise of approaching hooves until she looked up and found two giant beasts looking over her as though she was their meal.

Hanala stumbled back, her heart racing hard as she tried to look for an improvised weapon to use.

"Hello, Fraulein. Might you join me for a ride?"

Hanala blinked at the voice and looked up past the heads of the animals staring at her curiously and found that Joachim sat on the back of one of them. He was dressed in full uniform. He appeared to be smiling down at her, silently laughing at her reaction.

Hanala swallowed her anger and fear and stood up.

"A Whorse?" she guessed, the foreign word felt extremely alien on her tongue.

Joachim blinked at her.

"A Horse, Hanala. I borrowed these two from the local Polizei..." he spoke as he dismounted the beast and joined her side. "I figured I'd throw my rank around for once, Picked that outfit up a while back. I just got around to finding some Horses. I figured you'd be up to doing something different today."

Hanala glanced at the second animal faintly, watching as Joachim's hand rubbed up and down his muzzle. Taking a deep breath, Hanala mimicked him, her hand grazed against the nose of the creature. IT was a slightly wet affair.

Exhaling, Hanala looked up to him nodded resolutely. She would give the ride a try. Laughing slightly at her shocked reaction to the beast that stared at her, Joachim guided the quarian to the side of the second animal and boosted her up into the leather set that was wrapped around the giants back. She took a seat and accepted the leather ropes which controlled the animal.

Giving one last inspect, he nodded, satisfied that she sitting properly on the giant animal, Joachim remounted his own horse, one hand gripping the reins on Hanala's ride, the other touching against her arm. As he moved, so did Hanala who yelped once before control her voice as she slowly lead the animal along as the animal moved.

"That's really good, you're doing it right for your first time," was his approval, shining bright enough to make the quarian blush. "We'll take this very carefully, but you seem to have a handle for this."

Hanala decided not to tell him that this was not particularly challenging, instead she simply smiled, she gingerly trotted the horse next to him closer, just in case. It was not long before the two of them passed by the women who seemed to have sneered at her for simply standing outside of Joachim's home. They glanced to Joachim, who fortunately paid no attention to the girls and then they turned their attention to Hanala, once again becoming a throne in their side. Hanala sneered right back, her teeth bared at him before turning back to Joachim.

"Some friends of yours, perhaps?" Hanala nearly hissed as she caught Joachim's attention.

Joachim could only grin at her tone.

"Lonely young women… all the men are in other countries..." He explained to her they passed on by the girls. He paused smiled and added. "I would not worry; I'm more into the bright eyed sort..."

Hanala smiled. He was flattering her. It was a good move.

...

...

"With all due respect to your rank and ego, but why should I believe you? That brown mob that you intend to overthrow a government you did nothing to stop in the first place?"

Gerd von Rundstedt ignored the insulting remark of the junior officer who stood there. He had refused to sit, refused to drink, refused to relax. He stood there, standing half at attention, a cavalry sword slung his belt, a monocle in his eye which he refused to remove for anyone; instead he stared impetuously at the superior officer who had summoned him. It was clear as day to Rundstedt that this man held no love for the government he served. He was far too traditional, far too blue blooded for most of the fascist mob that took over their beloved Fatherland.

Dietrich von Saucken was a man who received the highest of praises from men such as Heinz Guderian, but he did not relish in it. Having been wounded seven times during the first war, his attitude was more Walter Model, then Rommel or any other General for that matter. For starters, his background was his life.

The son of a judge, He was from Prussian aristocracy dating back to the 14th century, he went to the finest schools, his studies however were interrupted by the declaration of war in 1914, which he proudly served despite receiving seven wounds throughout the duration. The most notable were the ones he took to the face; the injuries twisted his face up considerably. Had he been like most other men, he would probably have lost a taste for war. Not Von Saucken. It was a way of life, even if it meant answering to the brown mob he so hated.

"How do I trust that you don't have half the Gestapo in France listening to us?" the younger man demanded. "That you aren't checking for loyalty"

"I had outsiders scramble the phone lines; I have done nothing wrong to inspire ire from the Führer and by extension, the Chicken Farmer." Was Von Rundstedt's explanation, the mention of Himmler's nickname earning a smirk from Von Saucken "He has since realized that my withdrawal was for the best. He trusts me. Besides, the Gestapo is nowhere near the size it threatens it is. Paranoia is their trump card."

His brow cocked, Von Saucken stood there, still unconvinced by the elder Junker.

"Say I believe you, Dietrich spoke final, his teeth gritted as he looked at Gerd wearily. "Say that overthrowing the brown shirts is the ultimate intention. What makes you think I have any power to help with a coup?"

Rundstedt folded his hands together, pressing them onto his desk as he returned the interrogative stare issued by Saucken. He exhaled slowly, his mouth forming a ghost of a smile for the ambitious young aristocrat.

"I imagine that school is cramped, boring, day in and out teaching the same thing over and over again." Rundstedt empathized with Saucken. "I can get you back in the front lines if that is what you would like."

Von Saucken's eyes lit up, the offer of service, not behind the lines, but rather in the front ranks hit the button. All of his defiance seemed to crack and fall away. He lowered his head, his hand digging out his monocle as he took a seat. It appeared that he would be ready to listen to whatever the Generalfeldmarschall had to say to him.

"Gustav Fehn is slated for promotion and to move on to bigger and better things." Rundstedt elaborated for the attentive young Junker. "Would you like to take his place as commander of 5th Panzer Division? They have been transferred to Libya for a renewed offensive. Rommel has made assurances that he will commence an offensive within a few weeks."

Saucken quirked his lips at the offer flouted in front of him.

"Serve under Rommel?" he mused, almost disgusted by the thought. Von Rundstedt could understand the young man's plight. He had just given up his 7th Army to that braggart in the desert.

"We must take the bad with the good," Gerd gently reminded the increasingly sympathetic young man.

Von Saucken allowed a low chuckle at the expense of the southern German bumpkin. He simply nodded, accepting the post offered up to him. Von Rundstedt smiled slightly and with that out of the way, he explained what he was intending to do with the National Socialists. It was to be a fate that Von Saucken could not believe in more.

...

...

It was nearly dark before the two of them got home. Hanala and Joachim rode past the city of Berlin limits and out into the countryside. There they spent much of the afternoon sitting under an Oak tree, watching as Luftwaffe planes buzzed over their heads off to some distant airfield or fight. They talked about everything they could possibly talk about. From the girls that Hanala wanted to murder, to the various little cultural differences between them.

All in all it had been a nice day, a few moments occurred between them where they nearly made love. Though, Hanala had a sudden prudence of being public about such things. Joachim drew the conclusion that not only was getting caught in the middle of sex probably came second to being discovered of her true origins. When they had passed by a stream, Hanala had commented that she did not know how to swim, but longed to try it. It would be another thing to teach her.

All these little things, swimming, for example, It seemed so mundane to him, but to Hanala it was memorizing. It was like that for one reason and one reason only.

The geth…

They killed tens of billions and now they were slowly killing off the culture of the quarians. Well perhaps once the war drew to a close and the quarians finished settling down, building their biosphere's as Hanala had called them for artificial environments for quarian crop growth, then the little things could start coming back. Swimming, leisure time...

He turned to Hanala but she was not paying attention to him or the Horse. Her eyes were turned to a Kubelwagen parked in front of his Mercedes and a familiar giant standing outside of his door, a MP-40 in his hands.

"Unteroffizier Fuhrmann?" Joachim called out to the man. Fuhrmann looked up, his mouth forming a huge smile for both Joachim and Hanala as they approach.

"Oh... Hell, Herr Hoch… Ca-Captain Jarva…" he spoke to the two of them, unaware that she had not been a Captain for quite some time now. Dismounting from the horse and tying the reigns to the fence, he stepped forward and patted the boy on his shoulder.

"Congratulations are in order, Heinrich," Hoch spoke happily to the engaged man. "Helena Langer? I got to say you're quite a lot braver then you look. What brings you here?"

Hoch turned away and helped Hanala climb off the side of the animal. He did not notice Fuhrmann had pushed back his Stahlhelm and rubbed his forehead.

"Langer said that you requested a couple visitors to come over," the Unteroffizier announced. "Well they're here."

Joachim's heart actually stopped. They were here? HERE? Hoch had expressly told Langer not to send them his way until Hanala was ready? It seemed though that Langer or they had other plans. Well they realized it or not, this was not going to go over smoothly with Hanala at all. Perhaps it wasn't too late. Fuhrmann could sneak into the house and evacuate them before things got really bad.

Of course, that plan would have worked if Heinrich Fuhrmann had not opened his gaping fucking maw of a mouth and for the first time ever, directly speak to Hanala.

"Captain Jarva," he spoke up, his voice bright and dumb as ever. "Your parents are pretty nice... Your mother is a bit... well..."

He trailed off at the quarian woman stared at him, her skin going somehow more pale at the revelation. Fuhrmann immediately clamped his mouth close. He had realized far too late that this wasn't a topic to broach with the quarian who did not expect that she would again be in her parent's presence with the human she had come to like. Staring hard between the two men, Hanala pushed past Fuhrmann, knocking him to one side as she entered the house.

"Um, sorry Herr Hoch…" was all he could get out.

Joachim exhaled. Offering the Unteroffizier one last congratulations, he stepped through the door and closed it.

There stood Hanala, in the hallway, her eyes turned to two other occupants. One was fully suited, Hanala's mother, Galina'Jarva, her arms were crossed as she stared down her defiant daughter, who stood there still dressed in her equestrian attire. The second was Admiral Alaan'Jarva, his mas was off, his face forming a mild smile for his daughter. He glanced over to Joachim and nodded. Joachim returned it quickly; their exchange earned a glare from Galina'Jarva that could put Martus'Xen's to shame.

"Mother, Father, why are you here?" Hanala nearly growled, shaking.

Before Hanala's mother could reply, undoubtedly sparking a miniature total war in his lounge, Joachim stepped between the two, his hands held up as he played peacekeeper.

"Please Hanala. I sent word back to Langer and invited them to my home when they found the time. I did not expect them this soon…" Hoch defended their presence, shocking Hanala. Before she could lash back at him, he added. "If you weren't going to deal with the parental issue, then I am."

Hanala blinked. She could not believe what Joachim was saying. It appeared to him that for the first time in her life, someone had flat out gone behind her back to fix things on her behalf. To say she was not impressed by his intentions would be an understatement. Before he knew it, Hanala had grabbed his arm and dragged him away from the staring Alaan and Galina'Jarva.

"So all of today, you sweetening me up with a horse ride, soft words and the beautiful countryside, all of it were meant to soften the fact that you invited them here? And I wasn't consulted about this until now?" she hissed like a feral animal, so low that he imagined that the parents could not hear it.

Before he could defend himself, she shot him one last glare and turned to leave her parents with the human. She headed upstairs, unimpressed with the way the day turned out to be. Joachim groaned lowly, his hand rubbing his throbbing skull.

"I think I'm in trouble…" he mumbled to Admiral Jarva as he heard his bedroom door slam shut.

Admiral Jarva was amused, he genuinely was. He did not seem to have any of the hate for him that Hanala wanted to believe both her parents had. Galina however was much less amused. Behind her faceplate, her eyes narrowed at Joachim, glaring hard in his direction. It seemed that their first encounter back on the fleet did not take out any of the sting, the distrust the woman held for him. Not that an anti-Semitic rant would help win her over.

"It's a reactionary trait she learned as a child," Galina snapped to the human that was trying to make nice with her. "Not that I can blame her for her outrage. I have no desire to be here either. The only reason I stand here is because Alaan seems to think it is acceptable to sell my daughter off to the likes of you."

Galina pushed her husband's arm off her and shoved her way past Joachim; she made it a point to hit his arm hard enough to throw him out of her way. She followed her daughter's path. It wasn't long before the two of them started screaming at each other in their native language. All the while Alaan and Joachim stood there, both of them thoroughly confused with just how volatile this had turned out to be.

"I would not wish to offend either Hanala, or your wife, but it appears that attitude is hereditary..." Joachim spoke up, breaking the silence between the quarian and human.

Alaan nodded gravely, though his expression was fighting off a grin.

"It is," Was Alaan's faux sober tone to the remark. "Just remember you did not have to make your life difficult for the next few days. This was your decision alone."

Joachim groaned, so it was. This had to be the worst idea he had ever come up with.

…

…

Changes:

Clean up

Deleted a scene involving a gas chambers demonstration; It was too interwoven with the old Ostaro plot line and it gave the impression Heydrich was some supervillian; his real life activities are all that needs to be addressed to make him a son of bitch.