*KO'LE*
CSV NORMANDY

"She's stalling for time."

Elam's declaration was one of frustration and impatience.

"Of course she is, sah," Pyke said incredulously. "She's ruled these 'ere lands as a queen for more than a century. Everything she has, she fought tooth and claw to get. You think she was just gonna throw 'erself at us and beg to be a part of the Conclave?"

"If she's smart, she will, before we take our offer elsewhere and she's the one who ends up in the cold," Jane said, looking up from studying the holographic map of the city that we had pulled up on the main display in the briefing room. "The Conclave is here, and it's here to stay. We could do to Xentha what we've done to Tortuga, or Cartagena."

"I wouldn't be so sure, Jane," EDI counted, her holographic avatar coming online. She was dressed in a Conclave uniform, looking very professional. "The Conclave's main battles in the Terminus have been space-based conflicts, usually centered around space-stations, or an orbiting structure such as Stormwall. Our campaigns on Sanctum was a relatively small-scale invasion, considering the planet's limited habitable-zone. Xentha on the other hand..."

The topographical layer of the map disappeared, revealing a complex series of bunkers, gun emplacements, and a myriad of other defensive networks.

"EDI," I asked, "did you… hack T'Ravt's military defense network?"

"No, Dad," EDI said, rolling her eyes, "Even I'm not that good. Her military network and servers are too heavily protected, behind wall after wall of code. The moment I touched the first, they'd have teams of mechanics and technicians to purge me from the system."

She smiled, deviously.

"So I simply hacked the power stations and gained access to T'Ravt's power grid. This is the dedication of power to the city and the surrounding areas."

"Oh. My. God," Jane marveled.

"Keelah."

"Neatly done, EDI," I said admiringly. EDI turned bright yellow to a darker golden tone, simulating a blush.

"Just doing my job, Father."

"The mountain," I observed. "It's been almost entirely hollowed out. It's her own personal fortress."

"It's not alone," EDI said. "There are at least nineteen other redoubts surrounding the city. Probably more hooked to plants that I don't have access to."

"It would take an army of millions to take this city," Jane said, still trying to take in the sight of the labyrinth of lines and colors showing the various power distribution of Celthani.

"Not if coordinated with organized bombing runs," Pyke said, his hand going to his gun. "Wipe out the whole bally lot of 'em before they could fire a shot."

"Nothing doing," Joker objected, leaning against the table. "See whatever's drawing that much power here, here, and here?" he asked pointing to several areas on the mountain brighter than the others. "That's gotta be anti-aircraft batteries. GUARDIAN lasers, or I'll dance a jig. They'd wipe out most of your fighters and bombers before they ever made it to their targets."

"Besides, let's not forget: there are innocent men, women, and children in this city," I replied, shaking my head. "I'm not about to wipe out an entire city just to gain a single planet."

"You may not have a choice, Imperator." Elam still had a tone of disbelief and skepticism.

"Elam," I said, turning to the quarian. "We fought off a Reaper from the Citadel, and delivered your people a world of their very own, where they had been wanderers for three centuries. I came here to win allies, not to win a war."

"From the looks of things, that's exactly what T'Ravt is preparing for," the young quarian replied. "She did not gain her territory by being a pacifist."

"She has been gathering weapons, ships, and firepower," EDI confirmed. "Four of the ten capital ships on the Blue Sun fleet roster are now in her armada."

"How did that happen?" Kolyat asked. "I thought Mr. Massani and the Black Suns took over everything. And what he didn't, General Blake sure did."

"Not everything," I replied. "Darner Vosque and few other loyalists took their ships and ran to Redcliffe, trying to claim the Blue Sun strongholds there for either Kuril or Jedore."

"T'Ravt attacked before we could," Pyke explained. "Took advantage of the chaos to seize the planets and installations closest to her territory. Dem fine, strategy. Flawless, I daresay."

"Her involvement turned out to be beneficial to us in the long run," I explained. "They were besieged at Redcliffe, so they could not reinforce Kuril's fleet at Erinle. We scattered he and Jedore's fleets there, and they're still hiding somewhere today."

"Sanctum would have been a tougher nut to crack, too, if she hadn't seized the eezo caches at Merrekesh," Pyke explained.

"So it seems," Turro said, still putting all the pieces together, "..that T'Ravt profited from the Black Sun coup almost as much as the Conclave did."

I nodded in confirmation. "And now with Gormak's empire fragmenting, and die Waffe reeling from the Battle of Stormwall, she has moved quickly to try and cement her place as the strongest of the warlords in the Terminus."

"What about Queen Aria's fleet?" Turro asked. "If those two asari were to ally themselves with some of the remaining powers, they might prove to be a coalition that might give us cause for concern."

I shook my head.

"Aria is not going to risk provoking the Conclave," I explained. "die Waffe was her main source of manufacturing and the main customer of her eezo: the source of both her strength and her revenue. We've already hammered out an understanding that we will keep supplying her with ships and buying the product of her eezo mines."

I smiled.

"We're her biggest rival, and also her biggest customer. If she were to move against us, she'd be cutting herself off at the knees. Sederis and the Eclipse Golden Fleet won't commit to any scheme of T'Ravt's without Aria's support. And without the two of them…" I shrugged.

"What about the Conquest shipyards?" Jane asked. "Doesn't die Waffe still hold those?"

"He does," confirmed EDI, "But if die Waffe is smart (and there is copious evidence to show that he is), he will scrounge what ships and replacement parts he can from the shipyards and scuttle them. The Conquest shipyards above Y-328 are smaller, and more isolated, but not enough. Their location is too widely known, and he knows this. Even now, General Blake and the 9th Battle Fleet is preparing to attack the structure from our FOB in the Dark Rim. I strongly suspect they will find the shipyards ruined and die Waffe gone."

I nodded, arms crossed as a hundred different plans crossed my mind. But for now, I had to focus on the moment.

"What did you find on the human who escorted us to the palace?" I asked. "Cieran Kean?"

EDI brought up a file, with a holographic picture of the human appearing in front of us.

"Cieran Kean: a human, raised by a batarian mother here on Xentha."

"So that explains it," I said. "Impressive: started as a slave, and ended up as a trusted advisor to the Warlord."

"Not exactly an advisor, Dad," EDI said, bringing up his military history. "Kean really helped develop the heavy power armor utilized by T'Ravt's forces to devastating effect on Redcliffe. Over time, he has gained a reputation as one of the Warlords most effective troubleshooters and…operatives."

"Assassin," Turro replied, stating Kean's less-diplomatic job description.

"Just so," EDI agreed. "According to the article in Badass Weekly, it was his team that infiltrated the final stronghold in the last offensive in the campaign. They succeeded in assassinating Legate Darner Vosque, bringing an end to the campaign."

The short video clip she brought up showed a human sitting cross-legged with the batarian priest Thul ul Aldaara. The pair sat next to one another, seeming to be mediating, even while artillery fire rained down all around them. Turro regarded the scene with genuine admiration, tilting his head far to the right. Then it went left with concern.

"It says much that this is the man the Lady has accompanying you in the city, Imperator," he said.

"He's meant to be intimidating," I agreed. "A show of force of what the Lady Warlord is capable of. Each of the people in that chamber was there for a reason. Batarian, Quarian, Human, and Turian. She's telling me she has the support of many cultures, and many species. All of them formidable fighters, hunters, and apparently, assassins. But I've met worse."

I grinned wryly, images of Brutes and Cannibals filling my memories.

"They are not to be underestimated, however," EDI cautioned. "Her fleet and her armies are now almost entirely composed of veteran fighters from the year-long campaign on Redcliffe. T'Ravt has been gathering the exiles of both our victories in the Terminus, and the Hegemony as well."

"Isn't that batarian some kind of an exiled nobleman?" I asked.

"He is, in point of fact, a Reyja'krem," EDI clarified, "a position denoting that he has lost his master. The human equivalent would be a master-less Samurai, or Ronin. He is still considered high class, but is only one of many such exiles who have found service with the Lady Warlord."

"She still does not have the numbers for a straight-up war, or the tech," I mused. "The Queen's Voice alone could decimate any three of her capital ships in a head-on fight. No one in her army or fleet has any experience fighting a Rachni sphere-craft. And with the Rachni occupying Stormwall and assisting at Irune, our capability to turn out ships has almost tripled the rate of any of her production centers."

"Nonetheless," Turro added, "the Lady has proven adept as setting herself up as the last alternative to joining the Conclave for many of the pirates and smaller despots of the Terminus. And at using assassins such as Master Kean to convince the more…hesitant of the hold-outs that joining her would be…beneficial to their longevity."

"Speak of the devil," EDI said, straightening up, "He and two others have just arrived at the docking bay. They are walking down to the edge of the gangplank now."

"Who are the two others?" I asked.

"A Terminus Quarian and a batarian female."

"Miss Voya'Chi vas Xentha?" Turro asked.

"Great…" Elam groaned.

"T'Ravt expressly told us she would be here," I replied. "She doesn't exactly strike me as someone whose orders are ignored. Shall we go, then?"

"SAH," Pyke said, snapping to attention. "Request permission to accompany you on this foray!"

I hesitated. "I thought you said vorcha were not welcome here, Morrell."

"That I did, sah! Too true, too true," the Sergeant Major agreed. "But if you're taking Master Koris into the Old District, 'not welcome' will be the watch-word of the day. If violence ensues, I would prefer to be there to give them the old' one-two, one-two, wot?"

"If there is a chance for war," Turro said, "I will fetch my weapon."

"There shouldn't be any fighting," I maintained. "The Lady Warlord gave us her safe passage."

"And you absolutely trust everyone in Celthani to respect that?" Jane asked.

"It does seem prudent to prepare for a possible hostile situation, given the Migrant Fleet's and Terminus Quarian's history, Dad," EDI said warily.

I took a deep breath in, somewhat exasperated.

"Alright, alright," I said. "Suit up. Let's not keep our Mr. Kean waiting too long."

And so it was that when the four of us stepped off the Normandy, we were all in full armor, rather than the dress robes we had worn the day before. Well, Elam, Pyke, and I were. Turro still sported the simple robe, but as he walked, the multiple layers of the garment revealed concealed shield nodes and tech-shield generators. Plus, he had his giant walking stick that was the weapon of his people. The way it had been described to me, I knew it folded into something akin to a bow and arrow setup, but I had yet to see it in action (or Turro, for that matter).

"Imperator," Kean greeted, looking my armor up and down. I could see his warrior's eye almost subconsciously looking for weak points and potential targeting areas.

"Commander," I replied.

I could see the amusement mixed with disgust in his face as he took in the sight of the fully armored vorcha behind me.

"You might consider keeping the vorcha here," he said, giving Pyke a sideways glance. "People tend to get nervous around them."

"Usually with good reason, sirrah," Pyke said to the human. "But I do believe I'll take my chances…"

If the vorcha has spontaneously sprouted a second head, Kean could not have been more surprised. He actually jerked slightly and his hand dropped to the heavy pistol on his belt. His companions weren't unaffected either. The female batarian's mouth actually fell open, and Voya'Chi actually took a step back, her hand moving towards the knives that she now openly sported on her belt.

"Commander Cieran Kean, Sergeant-Major Pyke Morrell," I introduced.

Pyke snapped his boots together, giving Kean a curt nod. Kean managed a nod in return, but his expression was clearly one of shock as he forced his hands away from his weapon.

Keeping on the subject of introductions, I turned to Kean's batarian companion.

"Forgive me," I said, switching to batarian and inclining my head slightly to the right, "but this is the second time you have accompanied me and my companions through your city, madam. However, I have yet to learn your name, Miss…?"

The batarian female's eyes went wide as she ducked her head deeply to the left.

"Rane'li ul Ben'mass, My Lord," she said respectfully.

I could see Kean bristling out of the corner of my eye, probably trying to figure out what motive a lord like I had introducing myself to his...lover?

Partner?

Slave?

The last possibility startled me, as I had not considered it before, and cast the relationship into a very different light indeed.

"Honored, Miss Rane'li," I said, as graciously as I could. I turned my attention back to Kean.

"Shall we go?"

Kean, apparently accepting the fact that Pyke was accompanying us, drew himself up, regaining his composure and his signature "guarded nonchalant" attitude. "Stay close," he said with an air of reservation. "Strangers aren't…exactly welcome in the District."

The skycar ride across the city towards the quarian district was tense. Whereas on the ship I had been worried about Voya's ability to be civil towards Elam, but the Terminus Quarian spent the entire ride glaring at Pyke. It did not go unnoticed.

"My all means, ma'am, keep staring," Pyke said, "I might do a trick."

I could see amusement creeping into the Sergeant Major's smile. Which granted, is not easy for the untrained eye to see for a vorcha.

"Watch your mouth, pet," the quarian sneered. "One of my people might think getting your teeth as a trophy are worth the effort to peel you out of that tin can you call armor."

The amusement faded from Pyke's expression as his hand slowly came down to rest on his lap, closer to the bladed SMG on his hip. Voya stiffened in response, like a coiled spring ready to release.

"I am a warrior of the Conclave, marm," Pyke said, with a very even tone. "a Sergeant Major and Commander of the 1st Heshtok Irregulars. Call me 'pet' again, and you will find out exactly why."

"Voya." Kean's single-word warning was enough to silence whatever retort the quarian had opened her mouth to say. I, on the other hand, caught Morrell's eye, shaking my head slightly. The vorcha's hand moved away from the weapons, and the potential crisis was averted.

The car set us down after a thankfully-short ride, and I got my first good look of the Old District:

We were walking across a wide-open space that I instantly recognized as a killing field. Anyone wanting to sneak into the District would have to cross three hundred yards of open ground.

Nobody was approaching the quarians' territory without their knowing about it.

And judging by the bodies hanging from the three-story walls, nobody was staying in their territory without their express permission. There was a variety of them, with several species represented and the corpses in various stages of decomposition. The worst was a pale human woman, the blood still dripping from where a hook had been shoved beneath her sternum. She couldn't have been dead for more than an hour.

Elam'Koris seemed slightly shaken at the grisly sight, his body language and expression doing everything except looking at the macabre vision of the bodies, and the hand-painted placards hung around their necks:

'Slaver.'

'Murderer.'

'Thief.'

Pirates, ye be warned, was the thought running through my head. Voya'Chi took the lead as we approached the main gate. A group of armed quarians came out to meet us, fanning out in a semi-circle around us.

"A huntress returns home after time afield," Voya'Chi spoke in a sharp, forceful tone. "Let the gates open, that she might rest in peace."

The guard nodded, bringing his right hand across his chest.

"Return to your home, honored huntress. Let our walls protect you while you rest."

Then he turned his head to us, and his eyes narrowed.

"Elder Shar is awaiting you in the main hall. Keep the vorcha on a leash, or you will be responsible for the damages he inflicts."

Pyke stiffened again. "Perhaps the vorcha will be responsible for his own actions…"

The captain of the guard recoiled like he'd been shot, his jaw hitting the floor as he regarded the unique vorcha.

"Yes, yes, the vorcha can talk, Kedesh," Voya said dismissively. "We're all so surprised. Close your mouth before you trip over it. May we go through now?"

"Uh…um…" Kedesh seemed lost for words, but stepped aside slowly. Voya motioned us on, and we began the walk through the gates.

"Hey! Suit-Rat!"

Shit.

Elam turned to the young terminus quarian who had yelled the insult. The child, maybe sixteen years old, made what I only assumed was a horribly rude gesture in Khellish culture. Elam didn't even respond, just turning back to continue walking down the road.

As we walked, I could see curious quarians peeking out from windows, from shopfronts, and standing in doorways. They were dressed in clothes, their manes of white hair free and flowing, recalling Ko'le's memories of the proto-quarian culture. The tall buildings rose on either side of us, archways and cross-walks connecting many of the upper stories, stretching over the road in a confusing labyrinth of streets and alleyways.

Here and there, I saw a quarian standing on the corner, gun in hand. From the looks they were getting and giving, I could tell they weren't usually there on a normal day.

Someone's gone to great trouble to ensure the Lady Warlord's guests go unhindered.

"We are drawing quite a crowd," I said to Kean in a low tone.

"When you bring a migrant, a vorcha, and giant bird in an all-quarian zone, you're going turn some heads," Kean replied with a dismissive tone.

The Main Hall was a single-story building laying in a courtyard, surrounded on all sides by taller ones. However, it was the first place I had seen full-sized trees, the clumps of green creating a park-like environment around the central building.

As we moved inside, there were more guards, and several individuals who were dressed as priests or priestesses. The long-robed quarians moved from tiny alcove to tiny alcove, incense burners in hand. Elam'Koris brought his right hand over his chest as we walked by, head bowed low in deep respect.

As we approached what appeared to be the main room, Kean turned back to me.

"It's best not to overcrowd the Elder," he said, "the fewer people in the room, the better."

I turned to my party.

"Turro, Sergeant-Major, wait here. This hopefully won't take long," I said.

"Voya, Rane, stay with them," Kean said to his two companions.

Voya looked annoyed, but slowly drew her knife and began twirling it in her hand.

"Don't worry," she said, her voice taking a darker tone than usual, "I can always use another trophy if the vorcha steps out of line…"

Turro whirled, activating his staff. A sinister HUMMMM sounded, and a purple arc appeared between the ends of the suddenly arched rod. A solid purple line appeared just under the quarian trophy-taker's chin.

"You would be dead before your stroke fell, quarian," the Raloi said, his previously calm and dulcet tones now harsh and grating, like nails on a chalkboard.

Alarm appeared on everyone's faces, and the quarian guards lowered their rifles in our direction. Voya's eye had widened at the Raloian's blindingly-quick reflexes, but her lips curled back in a snarl that showed her long canines. Her eyes were defiant, without a trace of fear.

"Treat my comrade with proper respect," Turro said, his eyes never leaving Voya's, "Or you and I will have…words…"

"Turro," I now interjected, my voice assuming a calming tone. "Lower your weapon. We are guests here."

"Not 'til she sheathes the blade, Imperator," Turro said quietly, but with respect. "There is murder in this one's eyes: a darkness and a terrible hunger."

"That tends to happen to brave warriors at the end of a Hak'kam," I replied. I of course had no idea what warriors usually did at the end of a Hak'kam, but I figured it couldn't be much different.

"VOYA." Rane'li's voice was sharp, and her tone was insistent. The quarian slowly lowered the blade, sliding it back home in its sheath. Turro deactivated his weapon, the curved bow bending back into a straight rod.

Koris let out a long, audible breath. The quarian soldiers around us also visibly relaxed, resuming their posts.

"Gentlemen," Koris said, "The Elder is waiting. The sooner our business is concluded, the sooner our presence here is gone."

I nodded in agreement. "Lead the way, Commander Kean."

Kean gave one more focused glare at Voya'Chi, then turned and went through the door. I braced myself for whatever was on the other side.

OK…Here we go….


*CIERAN KEAN*

Elder Shar narrowed his wide, gleaming eyes as we entered his simple office. There were no self-congratulatory medals or trophies upon the walls, only a few simple pieces of art largely devoted o the mountain range that Celthani resided within. There were no chairs for guests, and only a plain, battered one for himself behind an equally worn desk.

"Elder." I grunted his title as I entered, stepping aside to wave the others through. My head dipped a few hairs to the left in respect for the old man. He rose from his chair slowly, leaning heavily on a cane that looked like it had been carved from an Elcor's forearm bone. He wore plain business attire, and like most Terminus Quarian men had grown his white sideburns long to complement his equally long hair.

His wrinkled gray skin creased further as he gave me a polite smile, though the expression vanished as his two guests entered.

The Imperator bowed his head respectfully, his voice solemn. "Elder Shar, thank you for meeting with us."

"I am only meeting with you because the Lady commands it." Shar growled, his voice still deep and strong despite his age. "Otherwise outsiders wouldn't have been allowed through the gate."

The Conclave's leader blinked repeatedly, as if taken aback by the blunt response. There was a quiet sigh from the Migrant present, the young diplomat stepping forwards as he spoke. "Honored Elder, my name is Elam'Koris vas Qwib Qwib-"

Shar cut him off before he could finish. "I don't care what ship you happened to spawn on, boy, or what fleet captain had the pity enough to take you in from your pilgrimage wanderings. Tell me why you are here so that I might be soonest rid of you, enough of my time has already been wasted."

Koris's glowing eyes blinked once, then he continued as if he'd expected that remark. Which he probably had. "I bear a message from my father, the Representative of the Quarian Confederacy of the Galactic Conclave."

"Such fancy titles for the leader of a group of outcasts and space-gypsies." The elder shook his head, making his stiff hair rustle slightly. "Very well, boy. Give your message, and get you gone from here."

The Migrant bowed his head once. "My father gives you greetings, to you and all your people. He knows there has been…bad blood between us, and our histories are ones of jealousy, distrust, and outright betrayal, on both parties."

I rolled my eyes slightly at the gross understatement. For his part Shar simply pressed his lips together and waited for him to continue.

After a few moments, Koris did so. "But that is our history, and the history of our ancestors. My father seeks to write a new history: one our children can look back upon with pride."

Shar let out a quiet snort. "That will have to be quite the book, boy, to overshadow so long a history of shame."

There was a bow from the suited Quarian as he continued his obviously pre-prepared speech, "And one that cannot be written as a divided people. Your people are mighty, Elder. They have won strength and respect through the courage of their hearts and the strengths of their blades. We have had our…many differences, yes. But why should our children grow up hating one another? Why should it matter, what words were exchanged by Quarians long-since dead?"

"Enough of the meaningless words," Shar crossed his arms high on his chest."Tell me what he offers."

"My father wishes to begin a new chapter between our two peoples: to that end, he has sent me here, as a sign of good faith, and a symbol of his hope. He invites you, with the deepest of respect, to send emissaries of your own to Ilos. See the settlements we have begun, and see the life we are re-building."

Koris had largely managed to keep his tone polite and open, as a diplomat should have, but now and then I could hear the flatter tones of a man just going through the motions. He knew where this was going to go, but from the polite smile that the Imperator was wearing, he had no idea.

"And, if what you see, and if what my father says meet with your approval… Ilos is a large planet, lush and green, and provide for twice the numbers of Quarians that dwell in the Old District. Your strength can be joined with ours. And our people can be one again."

The Elder didn't so much as twitch, instead simply staring at the young man.

Another bow preceded the final piece of the speech. "This is not a decision that can be made overnight, I know, Elder, nor is it even the decision that need be made now. It will take years…generations, even, for the rift between our two peoples to even begin to heal. All my father asks, is that the long process begin…here, and now."

"Elder..." Imperator Ko'le spoke, taking a half step forwards. "I have known Zaal'Koris for a while now. He is a Quarian of honor. This offer is made of his own volition, and is, indeed of his own imagining. Your people need no longer live under the heel of others. They need no longer fear anyone, or be looked down upon by any in this galaxy. You can have a home again…"

Silence fell, unbroken but for the distant rumble of the city around us. After a few moments to collect his thoughts, Shar shook his head and spun neatly on his heel. Striding over to the room's only window, he stared out of it as he spoke. "Honor. You don't understand the word, boy, nor do you understand us. When your ship approached the mountains, did you see the hills to the south?"

The Imperator exchanged a glance with the diplomat before cautiously nodding. "We did."

"Our ancestors are buried there. My father, my grandfather, and his father before him all rest beneath the sod. They were broken by the lash of others, but they gave their lives to secure this District for their people." The Elder spun around again, the tip of his macabre cane slamming into the ground as lips twisted to show his anger. "This is our home, Imperator. The soil of Xentha is blue with the blood of quarians, watered with our sweat and tears, and fertilized by the bodies of our honored dead. You are right when you say we need no longer fear anyone. We do no such thing. And we do not need the charity of outsiders to grant us anything."

The caveman rocked back as if he'd just been slapped, his eyes blinking rapidly in confusion. Before he could say anything, the elder had rounded on the migrant, his cane up and stabbing towards the young man's chest. "You. Tell your father to come here himself, rather than send his spawn to carry his messages for him. Tell him to crawl, on his hands and knees, his visor in the dust, door-to-door, to every house in the District. Instruct him to beg for the forgiveness of every Terminus Quarian for three centuries of neglect, betrayal, torture, enslavement, rape, and murder. Then, Elam'Koris vas Qwib Qwib, he will have his fresh start you say he so desires."

A ragged breath followed as the old man sagged, the anger evidently having drained him. He turned away with another rustling shake of his skull. "The Lady Warlord has instructed me to give you safe passage through the District. I suggest you use it to return to your ship, and go back to your homes in the Conclave."

Ko'le opened his mouth to speak, but Koris touched his arm and shook his head. The Neanderthal's eyes turned white for a moment, and I blinked in shock at the sight. After a few moments, he seemed to sigh and then nod. While he turned and walked the few steps back to the door, the Quarian bowed to the old man's back.

"Thank you for the gift of your time, Elder Shar. I will bear your words to my father, who will be grieved to hear them, however merited they may be. Keelah'selai."

He turned to follow his ruler into the antechamber, only to pause when the Elder called to him. "Elam'Koris."

His helmet turned around as he looked back.

The Elder's wide eyes narrowed to slits. "You knew I would reject your offer, boy. If you ever attempt to waste my time again, your body will hang from the outer walls. Xentha mashan selai."

Even with the suit I could see him swallow, shifting back slightly before he offered another polite bow. And then he was gone, fleeing out of the room as rapidly as his legs would allow.

Rather than waste words, I simply offered the old man a slight bow of my head, a gesture he returned tiredly, before turning and leaving. I made sure to politely close his door behind me, finding the room to be even more tense than it had been when we'd gone in.

"Let's get moving." I spoke, cutting off the initial questions from both the Raloi and Voya. "We can talk on the way."

The Imperator's people all glanced to him, and didn't start moving until he gave a jerking nod and began walking towards the door. It didn't take very long to clear out of the building, with Koris in particular looking all too eager to put some distance between his suit and this entire city. The sight of him stumbling on the stairs outside made Voya snicker loudly, and I sighed at the sound.

I couldn't begrudge her enjoyment, but I seriously didn't feel like breaking up any more fights. "Rane, Voya. Go on ahead and make sure our path is clear. Secure an aircar when you get to the lot so we can get these idiots back to their ship."

"But it's..." Voya began to protest, closing her mouth when I flicked a glare in her direction. Her lips curled into a pout, but she eventually nodded. Rane gave me a slightly worried glance of her own, but didn't question the decision before the pair of them turned away and accelerated on ahead of us.

Sighing, I shifted myself out and slightly in front of the group, waving them on ahead as we got moving. The problem with my plan became almost immediately apparent, as the two guards who hadn't been involved in the conversation asked for details. Ko'le and Koris promptly gave them, which was tolerable enough. Amusing even.

But then the Imperator started to try and figure out what had gone wrong. Out loud.

I tuned out the irritating whining for as long as I could, though that honestly wasn't all that long. It didn't help that quite a bit of my annoyance was directed towards myself for sending Rane and Voya on ahead, depriving me of of the ability to talk with them to distract myself.

We'd scarcely walked three blocks before I couldn't take the idiot's confused self-pity anymore. What was worse was that the Flotilla Quarian at least seemed to grasp that this entire endeavor had been a waste of time from the beginning, despite the pretty words he'd offered to the Elder. Normally I'd appreciate such intelligence, but the inbred persisted in actually trying to answer the inane questions his boss was asking him. The Vorcha was at least being sensibly quiet, as was the bird. Though the latter seemed more interested in staring at absolutely everything around him, taking everything in as if it was vitally important.

"But why-" The Imperator began again, only for me to interrupt him mid-word as my patience failed me.

"Because you're an idiot." I all but snapped, "Seriously, do you understand anything about the Terminus?"

"I..." From the way his head whipped in my direction, he'd entirely forgotten that I was present. "What?"

Exhaling, I counted to ten in both Batarian languages, worked my way through Thessian as well, and then forced patience into my voice. "The Terminus. Xentha. Did you go over any kind of cultural primers? Talk with people who actually live here willingly?"

More blinking and a quick glance at the Vorcha. "Not really?"

"Sacred Pillars." Reaching up with my right hand, I rubbed furiously at my face before turning to Koris. "And you just let him walk into that unprepared?"

"I tried to warn him." His helmet shook, his posture showing more than a little irritation. "But he insisted on making the attempt."

The Neanderthal twisted his lips and crossed his arms, glancing at his companion before turning to glower at me. "Fine. What did I do wrong?"

"There isn't enough alcohol in the galaxy to last me through that conversation." I replied flatly. "I mean, seriously. Your fashion sense is terrible, that armor looks like you killed a lobster and crawled into its shell."

His eyes rolled. "What did I do wrong here?"

"Ah." Making a show of shaking my head, I let out a long exhale and shifted my body to show him my mild annoyance. "Do you want to start with the Elder, or the Warlord?"

"Elder."

"Simple enough." I supplied, turning away and resuming our trek towards the outer walls. "You expected to them to be something they aren't."

His heavy face pulled into a frown as we moved, his entourage trailing in our wake. "I... thought they'd be more like their kin."

"They weren't like us when they chose living here over the protection of the fleet." Koris supplied from his place behind us. "Much less in modern times. They've lived in the Terminus for three centuries."

"And been enslaved and abused for most of it." Ko'le all but growled.

"Yup." I shrugged. "And you offered them nothing but more of that."

His head whipped in my direction. "I did no such-"

"You would have transplanted them from their secure city here to a world they've never been to and asked them to trust a bunch of people they've never met with their very lives." I replied flatly. "Their safety would be entirely in other people's hands because you'd never allow them to keep all of the weapons they carry, and you'd probably outlaw trophy taking which would remove a massive corner-stone of their culture."

"A disgusting one." Koris muttered behind us. "How they could do that..."

"Would you try and enslave someone crazy enough to scalp a Krogan and carry it's crest around?" I asked.

"That's how that started?" The Imperator asked quietly.

"Originally." I shrugged. "Though honestly that's little more than a guess, they really don't tell outsiders much of anything."

"Aren't you close friends with one?" He pressed.

I snorted. "That doesn't mean anything. They don't explain their culture to aliens, period."

Silence fell for several steps before he shook his head and grunted. "Another legacy of being enslaved for so long. What could I have done differently?"

"Not made the attempt at all." I stated bluntly. "It was a bad idea to begin with, and a worse one thanks to your ignorance."

His lips twisted slightly, but he seemed to let that matter drop for now. "All right, what did I do wrong with the Warlord?"

"Also simple." I grunted. "You came here expecting to negotiate with the Council. What you got was the Terminus. Everything stems from that issue."

"People are people." He replied, shaking his head. "I mean, sure there's some differences but at the end of the day everyone wants peace and-"

I interrupted him by groaning and turning away from him. Taking a few steps, I paced back and forth in the empty street as I tried to work my thoughts out loud. I really had no idea why I was bothering, beyond a sort of general irritation at his ignorance of my culture, but that by itself was apparently enough to get me worked up. "Pillar of Strength grant me your aid... you really don't understand at all, do you?"

"Understand what?" He demanded, finally starting to look properly annoyed.

"People out here, in the Terminus in general..." I spoke slowly, trying to find the words to help the naive idiot understand. "Don't respect words like 'peace'. You came here without a fleet, with a bribe, and with words like 'peace', 'justice', and 'honor'. The first is actually insulting because you apparently don't consider the Warlord a sufficient threat to warrant a larger escort. I mean, fuck, you've got two guards with you."

"They're-"

I waved a hand impatiently. "The Vorcha and the Raloi are probably lethal enough as fighters, but I don't really care because they wouldn't save you if she decided you needed to die. As for the second item, bringing those ships as a bribe was really the only intelligent thing that you did. It put T'Ravt in your debt enough to hear you out despite the general incompetence of your presentation.

He twitched at the word 'incompetence'. I filed that away and continued. "And seriously? People want peace? Justice? Have you been to Omega? Nos Astra's outer suburbs? Tortuga?"

"We're helping Tortuga transition to a democratic government." He pointed out.

It was a fight, but I managed not to sneer or show my disdain in my body language. "Yes, and you're first attempt at an election nominated the Ha'diq who you've got imprisoned for slaving and drug running. The second had what, a two percent turnout?"

His jaw clenched visibly, the only sign that he wasn't pleased that I knew those details. Next to him, Koris shifted a little uncomfortably before seeming to idle away from us. He at least had sufficient instincts to leave a volatile situation, and I mentally increased his competence factor. The Raloi clicked its beak a few times, but said nothing while the odd Vorcha was locked in a thousand-yard stare, evidently prepared to tune out the argument entirely.

After a few moments, the Imperator managed to growl out the numbers. "Two and a half."

"Of whom how many were freed slaves?" I cocked my head a bit to the right, my lips curling in amusement. When he didn't reply, I did it for him. "Eighty-nine percent. You should have learned from that."

"Learned what?" He snapped, patience clearly at an end.

"People out here don't give a fuck about your values, your peace." My arms crossed as I stared down my nose at him. "They respect strength. Power. Determination. The will to succeed at any fucking cost. You've got ships, but where are they? You came here like a pauper desperate to keep T'Ravt on the sidelines instead of like the ruler of an Empire looking to vassalize a lesser state."

Ko'le opened his mouth to reply, then closed it and seemed to tilt his head as if listening to something. After a few moments he shook it as understanding seemed to flick across his features. "The greatest insult an enemy can be offered is to be ignored."

I bowed my head a little to the Krogan proverb. "And the second greatest insult is to be viewed as weak. Out here, weak gets you trampled into the sand, gets you abused, enslaved, or simply used. If you seriously want people to listen to you, you need to stop negotiating and start demanding."

"But that's what's wrong with the galaxy!" He snapped, a sudden personality flip that made me blink. Pillars, it even sounded like his voice had a slight shift to it, coming out in a different, almost younger tone. "No one cares about the little guy! The people who can't stand on their own, where do they stand out here!?"

"They... don't?" I asked with a slight frown, the sandstorm in my mind whirling as I tried to make sense of his rapidly flipping moods. "They end up kneeling. Or dead."

"Exactly!" He stabbed a finger in my direction. "That's what's fucking wrong with this galaxy. I'm not here to try and make myself stronger. I'm not here to gain power. I'm here to get the little guys back on their feet. Everybody has only concerned themselves with what they could get from the Quarians: labor, slaves, soldiers. I want to give them their own fucking place in the galaxy. I wish nothing from them, other than for them to wake up and find that they are strong."

My eyes were blinking rapidly by that point, and what few Quarians were around were leaning out of windows or glancing out of doorways to stare in confusion, and even his escorts seemed stunned at the sudden explosion.

I mean, of course Quarians were strong, hadn't the giant walls decorated with corpses proved that? Or was he doing the 'true strength is moral strength' routine?

I opened my mouth to try and get him to shut up with the self-righteous ranting long enough to answer a few questions, only to be shouted down as he continued. Worse, his tone changed yet again, becoming cold and hard. "Do not pretend to give a shit about these people, Kean. You care nothing for the suffering going on around you. I have lived through wars that make your little skirmish of Redcliffe look like a fucking walk in the park! War is coming, boy, and not between petty Terminus warlords who are content to squabble like varren over bones!"

The guy was practically foaming at the mouth, and odd green light was flickering around him. His biotics, probably, I'd read a report somewhere that Prothean biotics were green for some unknown reason. If I didn't get him to calm down he'd blast something, or someone. And since I was the closest someone, and the one who'd set him off...

Shouting at him probably would only bring more ranting, so my best bet would probably be to try and flip his personality again. And maybe, just maybe, direct his anger at himself instead of at me and the people around us.

Drawing myself up to my full height, I affected an amused little grin and started to clap. Not quickly, mind you, I did it nice and slow to the point where it was abundantly obvious that I was mocking him.

"Bravo. Bravo." I drawled quietly, "Do you tell that speech to yourself every night, or just when your crippling hypocrisy gets the better of you?"

Something like fury flowed into his features, and for a second I thought I saw the whites of his eyes darken as his fists clenched as the light shifted around his arms. "What?"

"Your hy-poc-ris-y." I repeated, sounding out each syllable to make it extra insulting. "Let's go through these 'little people' you're so fond of defending. The hanar. Jellyfish who worship you as a living god, who aren't terribly skilled in a fight, but have some of the best tech around after the Asari. The volus. Even worse at fighting, but are more than capable of funding an army for you. Then the elcor, an ignored species desperate for recognition who just happen to make excellent shock troops."

His breathing had increased slightly, and I was pretty sure his fingers had started to twitch.

"Seems to me like you picked them all for very specific reasons." My head shook slightly as I shifted my posture to show my disdain. "To fill roles that you needed in place. A trend you continued when you added in the Migrant Quarians, owners of the largest fleet in the galaxy. Toss in Cerberus to give you an elite special forces group, the Rachni to give you all the cannon fodder you could ever need, and you get an instant, well-rounded empire. Every species and group cemented in their niche, all directed by a single will."

The Imperator went slightly still, the anger shifting to something else... something almost like shock.

"You're as much of a dictator as T'Ravt is." I continued, my voice flat. "You use and abuse everyone around you to accomplish your goals, your missions, just as she does. The difference is that you lie to yourself about it, and lie to them by letting them think that they have a say in their own fate when you've already marked the trail in the sands."

His throat worked as the cave-man swallowed, then he shook his head and murmured. "I am nothing like her, Kean. Nothing like any of you."

"In that, we agree." I stated, turning my back on him and resuming my walk towards the Old District's outer wall. "We, at least, are capable of admitting that we are monsters."

Shockingly, nothing more was said for the rest of the trip.


Review Responses:

Toothless is best – You should go catch up on the Arrival series: Katkiller-V weaves quite the compelling tale.

griezz – Some of that may be true, but there's also a degree of naivity with Ko'le/Kevin as well. Kevin is used to dealing with people from the Citadel region, and his knowledge of culture comes from the games. That knowledge is useless here in the Terminus Systems. It's an adjustment, for both parties.

Legendary Junk Mail – Glad you've enjoyed it, my friend. Let me know what you think of the future chapters.

Lord Mortem – I think everyone's in for surprises… on both sides.