A/N: So, I have heard you people like first contacts, so here's another one. Review please; they are appreciated.
Also, my thanks to Xabiar, this story's beta-reader. He's been essential in this entire process, and this wouldn't be what it is without him.
Imperial Palace, Terra.
The early morning light came through the wide windows as Marcel stood in his white sparring clothes, barefoot, facing his father on the other edge of the tatami. His shoulder length chestnut hair was tied behind his head and he had bandages tightly tied around his ankles and wrists to impede any serious injury to the joints.
He took a step forward, together with Constantine, bowing slightly and shaking hands. Marcel stepped back to his own side, staring intently ahead.
He lunged forward at his father, jumping while sending a kick against the older man's chest. The man in a split-second made an X with his arms, blocking his son's attack.
Marcel retreated as fast as he could, but not fast enough. His father swept his leg through his son's feet; the boy fell hard on the mat.
Facing the ground, he knew his father would soon immobilize him, and win the fight. He reacted quickly.
Doing as expected, Constantine went for a grappling move. He did not expect, however, Marcel's own move.
The boy planted his palms on the tatami, and then lifted himself while spinning. His left foot connected hard against his father's forearm; had the man not been quick, it would have connected instead with his face.
The man was stunned, not from pain, but from genuine surprise at his son's ingenuity.
The boy stabilized himself, utilizing his father's shock to his advantage; he back flipped and landed on the other edge of the mat, back on his feet and turning to face his opponent.
The man recovered from his shock, appraising his son with a large grin. "That was great, Marcel! Where did you learn that?"
The boy returned the grin. "Videogames, I thought I could try it! Got quite lucky, to be honest, dad."
Suddenly, they resumed the spar, father and son engaged in hard attacks and quick defenses.
The fight and exercises went on and on until mid-day arrived.
Now, both were on the roof of the building, despite Andromeda's protests. The father had obviously a much stronger build than the son did, albeit the boy seemed poised to be a faithful copy of his elder.
Jack's, and by consequence Andromeda's, shrewdness was clear in his eyes, twin icy pools of blue.
The sun was high and bright on the sky; spring finally had arrived in the Northern Hemisphere. The Royal Gardens were full of lush species of trees and plants; even fruitful ones.
"Say, kid, why are we strong?"
Marcel understood that his father wanted to teach him something, and promptly answered. "Our genes, Grandpa Jack told me."
Constantine chuckled. "That too. But there's more than just physical strength; we're complex beings after all."
The boy made a puzzled face and questioned. "What else?"
"Knowledge," the elder Valeri explained. "Knowledge frees and empowers."
"And what does that have to do with our strength, dad?"
"Because with sufficient knowledge you can react accordingly to every situation," was the clarification. "Knowing yourself and your enemy, those are the two most important things in a confrontation."
"You mean as in knowing how he fights?"
"That is only one aspect of it, and very specific. I speak broadly; with knowledge, 'A World Without Boundaries' could take over the planet." A servant android arrived, bringing two glasses of water to them as he spoke. "They knew which nations that should harbor the uprising first, which ones needed to stay out of it, which ones to be the last; which individuals to eliminate on the first night, which to send into private bunkers for security, which ones to turn the public hatred towards."
"So, if I know my enemy completely, I have already won?" The boy asked, sipping on his water.
"That's only half of it; you need also to know yourself," the man explained. "Your strengths, your weaknesses, and those of your allies and tools. With that, you will be able to apply your force precisely. In addition, remember; strike first, strike fast, strike hard." He paused briefly. "Say, what else is needed to defend your species and nation?"
The boy adopted his puzzled face once again, trying to find the answer to his father's last question. He then remembered what Jack had told him earlier and recited it to his father. "'We must be selfless, acting in our best interests even if the Galaxy, or even our own, hate us for it; we must become whatever is necessary to ensure we survive and ensure that our sovereignty is maintained. We must never let the morality of others prevent us from doing what is objectively beneficial for us.'"
"You're learning fast," the man said, earning a bright grin from the boy. "Now, go take a shower. If we go around the palace like this, your mom will eat my liver…"
Zeta-Omicron system, Relay 314.
The fifteen-kilometer long construct stood immobile drifting in the void.
A flotilla of ships slowly approached it, clustered far closer than usual; the largest distance between the vessels neared ten kilometers.
They soon positioned themselves parallel to the relay, awaiting the signal.
One of them began to interact with the relay, sending information in a format that was previously completely unfamiliar to human computers.
Many minutes passed, with the fleet in standby for a response.
The relay powered up, reactivating itself, with single full rotation of its ellipses, lights coming to life along the structure.
A single vessel advanced ahead of the formation; 120m in length, outfitted with drones, probes, and satellites for planetary exploration. It was plain white, two golden stripes running along its frame. It bore the name 'Peregrine' in black letters, near its bow.
Its systems exchanged a few words with the relay; the ellipses, which had become static once the relay fully activated, began to spin and accumulate blue electric discharges between themselves.
The Peregrine flew along the length of the relay, being struck by one of the blue bolts. A mass effect corridor opened between the relay and its pair.
The ship shot forward thousands of light years in less than a second. Lights and stars faded from vision, giving place to radiation.
Aralakh system, Operation Lit Fuse.
The Peregrine reappeared on a newly awakened relay, twin to the one on Zeta-Omicron.
The crew of the science ship was entirely composed of MID agents who were traveling under the pretense of a scientific mission, but in reality making official what had already been done behind the backs of the other Council members.
A young analyst's voice broke the silence. "Lieutenant Hill, we have a whopping zero mobile contacts, and there is one remaining station on Tuchanka's orbit. And, we're apparently more than eight thousand light years away from where we were a second ago."
"Insane," the senior officer, going by the code-name "Edgar Hill", commented. "Okay, our mission is to make first contact with someone and have some chit chat with them. Whoever they are, they'll most likely forward a message to an emergency system and then someone of some importance will come here to talk to us." He paused, looking into the eyes of the crew, and warning them. "We botch this, and we can kiss goodbye to our careers."
"Have we warned the Asari about today?" Someone asked from the back of the bridge.
"No," another operative answered. "They most likely would want to be the ones to meet us if they knew it. So we'll go in through the shade, we're not their lackeys." He abruptly changed topics. "Does the station know we're here though?"
"No, they do not have FTL sensors," one officer explained. "It will take some two hours until our lagged image reaches them, and even then they need to know where to look in the sky; I doubt they even know there's another relay here."
"Fine, jump near this facility. Let's see if they give us a warm greeting." Hill ordered.
"Yes, sir." Came the reply.
The ship ripped a rift on time-space, entering a new dimension. Then, once the vessel immersed itself in tachyonic matter, it began its acceleration, cruising through the waves of the Dirac Sea at minimal speed; the Keller Field held the super-heated plasma at bay, impeding it from obliterating the ship.
Five minutes later, it reappeared on the vicinity of Tuchanka, the former inhabitable planet that for millennia was home to the Krogan species.
"Status."
"The nearest station seems empty, no signals. No ships docked either."
"Well, it's a dead system." Hill commented, before scratching his beard and asking. "Can we dock on it?"
One crewmember turned from his screen and answered the officer. "I don't know, it has docking ports that are apparently compatible, but I sent some simple radio signals and nothing came back; if there is no one home, the ports won't open. So if you want to go in, you'll have to breach the hull."
"Damn," the man cursed. "Okay, fine, order the ISF detachment to go and look around for any aliens inside or if they can reactivate any system; if they find anyone, order them to head back here immediately. Extend TADAR sweeps up to thirty light years from this system and order the fleet back home to stand by."
"Yes, sir!" Came the collective response.
A single MHA-44 closed in on the seemingly abandoned station. The gray, ten kilometer long, construct that had served as a spaceport to the CDEM Space Fleets, now lay silent. No signal or ship left the station.
"Fireteam Coral, we're going to rendezvous with the station in two minutes, the last hundred meters you'll do in EVA." The pilot, call-sign 'Sapphire', said through the comm channel. "You will have to breach a small sized docking port, and then proceed inside. Lieutenant Hill already explained what you have to do there, but if you can't breach the door with torches, evacuate the area and we'll blast it open."
"Acknowledged, Sapphire," Coral 1 answered, before ordering the rest of the team. "Pressurize your armor."
Hisses, akin to snakes, sounded on the passenger compartment, as the soldiers' suits isolated themselves, preserving a natural 1atm air pressure.
Instead of the atmospheric version of their armor, Fireteam Coral wore the exo-atmospheric one.
It differed from its other version by mounting an oxygen tank on their backs, and being fully sealed against the exterior. To enable movement on the micro-gravity environment, small gas thrusters were installed on their forearms and lower legs.
They had magnetic boots and gloves for operations on environments without gravity, natural or artificial.
The face-covering helmet had a tube connecting from the air tank to where would be the atmospheric filter on the ground version of the armor. On the parts that would be their normal fatigues, synthetic compounds made up for the spacesuit protection.
"We've arrived. We'll begin gradual depressurization of the passenger compartment now."
"Roger, Sapphire."
The air of the compartment where Coral team stood was directed into a highly pressurized tank on the craft, in order to not waste the gas. Soon enough, a near perfect vacuum was made inside the passenger compartment.
The red light above the door bathed the internal space, tinting the black armor of the Special Forces soldiers. The anti-grav generator slowly turned off the artificial gravity, and the soldiers began to float.
The light turned green.
"Good luck, Coral."
"Appreciated."
Once the door lowered, the soldiers used their thrusters to navigate outside the black craft. The red planet with fiery clouds and the gray monolith before them occupied greatly their visions. They began their flight towards a rectangular structure protruding from the station.
If they looked up, they could see many more of them, some larger, some smaller.
"Approaching docking port," Coral 1 said.
The made it to the docking port shortly; then slowing themselves down with their thrusters, expelling thin streams of white gas.
They gently touched down on the structure.
"Appears to be some kind of tunnel, Sergeant. It seems weird for the station to be on the vertical…" One of the soldiers commented.
"Maybe it is not, and we're the ones facing it wrong."
"Walker, Statnik; proceed to the door at the end and torch a hole for us." Sergeant Alan Falkner, Coral 1, ordered.
"Yes, sir." Came the quick response.
The two Engineers carried on their hands a simple handheld plasma torch while their M45s were firmly attached to their bodies.
They soon set to work, with the rest of their team behind them. The torches came to life, white hot and nearly blinding. Their tinted helmets, of course, impeded that hazard, much like welding helmets. They left trails of melting metal as they cut a smaller rectangle, wide enough for two people to pass shoulder to shoulder.
"This is thinner than I expected." Walker commented.
A yellow-orange rectangle of molten metal soon glowed in the docking structure.
"Wlostowic and Radvila, breach the door."
The two soldiers stepped forward, while the two engineers moved aside, turning off and strapping the torches in their leg pouches, bringing their M45s to their hands. Both of them motioned to kick the newly made entrance, being prepared either to breach the metal, or to be propelled backwards from the kick.
Their feet connected with the metal, pushing the loose slat of metal forward. It hit the opposite wall without sound.
A gush of air began to stream from the gaping hole on the thin bulkhead as the internal pressure attempted to equalize itself with the vast void.
"Breaching successful." Falkner declared. "We have no schematics of the station, so that will be the first priority; find a working terminal. Turn on your heartbeat sensors; Radvila, Wlostowic, and I will take point, we move left."
"Roger." The squad said in unison.
They moved inside the corridors past the inner docking chamber, being large enough for three to walk through.
The many signs in Citadel Common, the written-only script that populated Citadel signs, that could indicate an easier way to navigate the station were lost on them, not possessing the latest and extremely expensive Asari linguistic implants.
Slowly and deliberately moving with weapons in hand, they made their way further into the place, some lights flickered in and out; their heartbeat sensors indicated no life-signs on the vicinity.
However, of course, the heartbeat sensors could only detect life-pulses within a 50m range in closed or urban environments, such as cities themselves or jungles; that range extended to 300m on open terrain or lightwoods.
After some minutes, Falkner commented. "There are no bodies here. Apparently all the Krogan in this system died on that final nuclear exchange; else they'd have occupied this."
"They'd eventually die out of starvation, there's no way this thing is self-sustainable." Engineer Walker commented.
"I'd prefer to be vaporized in the blasts below." Radvila added.
"As if they had any choice."
Turns and long corridors followed, with the engineers writing indications to their entry point on the gray walls with permanent markers, indiscernible alien script to any other onlooker.
"Bingo!" Wlostowic exclaimed, as he spotted at the end of a corridor a large circular room full of terminals.
They quickly rushed to the area, with Statnik and Walker quickly switching from their weapons to their engineer interfaces. The room was depopulated, bare of anything resembling personal belongings of their past operators.
Differing from the Human-Asari Fireteam on the AES Intruder, which Fireteam Coral knew nothing about, the standard ISF squad or Fireteam, as they are called, was a basic 10-man unit.
Six operatives with the Soldier specialization, two Engineers, and two Infiltrators, either operating as a single unit, or two independent cells, whatever fit best the situation, but never operating without any of the three specializations.
The N7 training course marked a new beginning for any personnel from an armed or intelligence service or agency, enrollment came from all institutions; Federal Security Bureau, Main Intelligence Directorate, Imperial Navy and its Marine Corps, Imperial Army, Merchant Marine, or even aspiring civilians.
Some Fireteams had the presence of operatives with medical backgrounds, but with the advent of medi-gel, the casualty rates had dropped abysmally for battle wounds, thus their presence was diminishing at a large pace.
Every direct combat service member carried enough gel for two large applications.
Their weaponry was customized at will, with discretion being given to the commanding Sergeant to assign the weapons used by the team depending on the mission.
From the M25 Pistols to the M212 Sniper Rifle, even the famed M120 'Spear' Compact Length Missile; bringing vehicle-killing firepower to the squad.
Cpl. Wlostowic and Pvt. Radvila, along with Pvt. Trembley Pvt. Marino, having the Soldier specialization, carried M74s. Sgt. Falkner and Cpl. Martín, the last two Soldiers, carried both M80 Light Machine Guns.
The two Engineers, Walker and Statnik, had the basic kit of common tools, which included the compact torch, their datapad interfaces, and C8 demolition charges, along with the M45s.
With solid ammunition not being a concern anymore, and the reduced size of batteries for the DEW weapons, the soldiers could afford to carry more into battle, if they preferred.
Pvt. Grisdale and Pvt. Brandt, the Infiltrators, carried M99 shotguns, along with their own set of Grinder anti-personnel mines.
Graffiti populated the walls around the terminals, many of them resembling what appeared to be a caricature of a white skull and a fist over a red background.
"Sir, I've uploaded the schematics to our heartbeat sensors, but there are recent changes on the system; authorizations, security, and there's unidentified cargo about thirty levels below." Statnik said, without taking his eyes off the datapad.
"Cargo?"
"As I said, no identification of what it is." This time the Engineer looked up.
The Fireteam spread through the circular terminals, watching their own entrance along with the other three corridors that led out of the terminal room.
Trembley exclaimed on the radio, without warning. "Multiple life signs approaching! 45 meters and closing!"
"Brace for contact!" The Sergeant commanded.
With trained motion, the operatives crouched behind the terminals, training their weapons on the four entrances to the room. The two Engineers quickly disconnected from the system, pouching their datapads and bringing up their weapons.
The green circles on their sensors grew ever closer to the ten blue diamonds, turning on corners and speeding on corridors.
Varren upon varren leap from the corners into the corridors following the scent of the soldiers.
As soon as the first animal jumped and ran, a laser fired from Sgt. Falkner's M80 blew up its face. A loud crack of expanding air filled the location, followed by many others, resembling automatic ballistic fire.
The operatives unleashed an incessant hail of fire into the corridors, cutting down the beasts with ease, inflicting gaping bleeding wounds as unprotected flesh was vaporized.
Soon enough, the animals jumped atop the body of their dead fellows to reach the live prize taking cover and firing from the terminal stations.
Not operating on the dark, like Operation Debut or Operation Safeguard, the lasers were invisible to the naked eye. Sunlight and even the much weaker artificial light dwarfed the infinitesimal part of the beam's energy that decayed into visible light.
Focused microwave blasts from the M99s on the hands of the two Infiltrators turned the alien life forms to liquefied mush. The corridors' walls were painted with splashes of red and beige from the amount of blood spilled and flesh melted.
Soon, the one sided firefight was over.
"Status!" Their leader demanded over the radio, while the squad checked their batteries for the remaining power.
"All contacts eliminated, sir. They were rather sluggish for alien dogs…" Radvila answered.
"Looks like this station isn't abandoned at all. These for sure don't sprout from thin air." The commander said, rolling a dead varren with his foot; the head was intact, but it had a gaping hole on the chest, probably caused by one of the M80s by the size of it.
Glancing around the carnage that became the corridors leading to their chamber, the man said finally. "Let's check that cargo, we're going through the maintenance shafts instead. If there's any sentient here, they'll be guarding the elevators."
The downward shafts were long staircases running along the entire station allowing for workers to fix cabling and to access specific interfaces to several internal systems and machineries.
Contrary to the ones that ran horizontally through the station, akin to inner rings, being large enough for a two cars to pass through, allowing the quick transfer of cargo and supplies between the internal hangars, and to resupply the station with consumables and other items.
Both of them now provided the operatives an alternative infiltration entrance to the level where the unspecified cargo was located.
The lighting was dim; red lights on the ceiling replaced the white ones of the common rooms and corridors.
The infiltrating humans quickly ran through the inner circular passages ignoring the maglev carts that ran through two sets of rails in directions opposite to each other. They were not sure if anyone with access to the system could detect if those carts were turned on and moving, or if they could not.
Therefore, for the sake of stealth, they refrained from using them.
Not that the human squad took too long in moving across the station on foot, in no time they were ready to bypass the normal elevators and enter the principal corridors again. They stopped before a door, which opened after Walker typed a command on his datapad and entered the outer room quickly.
It was a simple storage room, an interior warehouse of sorts. Machinery, tools, and crates were scattered along the walls and the floor.
"Alright," Sergeant Falkner said, once he was inside the warehouse, as the black armored men gathered around him in a circle. "This room has several corridors and hallways leading to other storage areas and one central warehouse in which apparently this cargo is contained. Now, this cargo is recent, as indicated by the logs."
"That means someone used this place recently, and probably brought the hounds with them."
"Exactly," The man agreed. "It also signifies that this 'someone' might still be here. We're here to make contact with them. We'll approach through two vectors; Radvila, Martín, Trembley, Grisdale, and Walker, you take the upper levels and assume firing positions on the catwalks. The rest of you will come with me through the main entrance on the floor."
"Roger, sir." Came the responses.
After weaving their way through the corridors leading to the main warehouse, both teams were at their respective doors. "We're detecting multiple life signs inside, Sergeant."
"We too; do not enter yet, I've got an idea." The Sergeant turned to Statnik and asked the Engineer. "Any live cameras inside?"
"Yes, I'm accessing them right now." The Private replied, before turning his datapad to his superior. "Twenty Vorcha armed with rifles and shotguns, multiple Salarians, Asari, and Turians utilizing some instruments and materials and interacting with these terminals. Their feet are bound to these chains on the ground."
"Looks like a makeshift lab, and kidnapped scientists. Perfect." The man commented to himself, before ordering. "Walker, you turn off the lights inside. Corporal Radvila's, once the lights are off, you and your team will slowly take position above them; once you are ready, drop flash bangs on the area. Once the Vorcha are stunned, open fire and eliminate them quickly. Then, once things calm down, we are going to turn the lights on again and go in through the ground. Everyone understood?"
"Roger, sir."
It happened swiftly: the lights inside went out without warning, eliciting growls and shouts from the Vorcha, who angrily inquired what happened. Their reactions confirmed what Falkner suspected; the lack of night vision, either by equipment or through natural means.
The scientists were equally confused, but none uttered a word, in fear of angering even more their captors.
An upper door opened, leading to catwalks, which in turn led to a suspended office. Five ISF operatives silently infiltrated the warehouse using the darkness as cover, positioning themselves along the catwalks in different locations.
During the ruckus that the confused aliens were causing, none heard the small metallic objects pinging across the floor.
Several bright flashes of light appeared together with deafening thunder, as if lightning went off inside the closed area. Mercenary and scientist alike fell to the floor disorientated, with eyes watering from sudden light, their hands clutching their auditory organs that heard nothing but sharp ringing.
None of them saw the red beams that methodically killed the armed Blood Pack henchmen five at a time. Not ten seconds after the stun grenades went off, all Vorcha lay dead, with large bleeding holes on their chests; product of repeated laser beams to unprotected skin. The two Infiltrators switched from their microwave shotguns to their pistols to avoid bathing the scientists in gore.
"Area clear, Sergeant."
"Good work, everybody. Now let's make an entrance."
The lights turned on at the same time the door opened, and the ground team swiftly moved inside the makeshift laboratory.
The scientists, slowly regaining their bearings, noticed that their captors were dead, and there were armed beings on the floor and on the catwalks above them.
They panicked. Ushering themselves together as close as the chains allowed and taking whatever instruments or objects they perceived that could be used for self-defense, not realizing the futility of their actions.
The ISF operatives stood spread through the benches, staring with humor and curiosity at the aliens through their black helmets.
"Kill any remaining Vorcha; take their weapons and any valuable items: kinetic barrier emitters, omni-tools, and anything you identify as being technological."
"There's ten or so scientists, Sarge." Corporal Martín, up in the catwalks, said through the squad's comm channel, the one not broadcasted through the speakers in their helmets.
"Scared shitless too, look at that Salarian, he's with a syringe!" Wlostowic said while laughing together with his squad members as they rummaged through the bodies of the dead Vorcha.
"Keep your cool everyone, this is an important moment. Do not fire on them." The commanding officer said, while setting his weapon on the ground and raising his hands in what he assumed to be a non-threatening manner.
He pressed a button on his helmet, behind his ear, setting his helmet to broadcast his voice aloud.
"We come in peace," He began.
"They only wish…" One of the operatives snorted in their internal channel.
"Please lower your weapons." His voice had the distinctive sound spoken through speakers, different from the natural one.
"I don't think a 1.9m tall being, armed to the teeth and clad in all-black armor, speaking through a helmet will sound reassuring, not that they can understand you by the way…just saying." Grisdale commented.
"Cheeky, but he's right, Sarge. We look as menacing as possible." Walker agreed.
With a gruff murmured response, the man depressurized his armor with a hissing sound, and then removed his helmet.
His hair was short and deep black, his eyes were green and emotionless as he stared at the panicked aliens ahead of him.
The aliens gasped and analyzed with interest and curiosity his face, looking to their Asari companions and making whispered comments in their varied languages, probably reaching to the same conclusions the Star Crescent's crew reached, upon meeting the Imperial Navy on Relay 314.
Falkner repeated his greeting. "We're soldiers of the Interstellar Aryan Empire, we come in peace. Please lower your weapons and we'll free you."
His clear and firm voice sparked the academic interest in the scientists even more, who now openly stared and commented aloud.
"Walker, Statnik, free these people." The commander ordered, eyeing both of the soldiers. "They are clearly more interested in gossiping about us than actually communicating with us."
"Right away, Sarge." Walker replied, before leaping from the catwalk.
He fell suddenly and loudly atop the metal floor, startling the scientists, one of the Asari even squealed.
They holstered their M45s and produced their plasma torches from one of their pouches, approaching the chains with intent.
"This is what I call good PR, Sergeant."
As they turned on their torches, the group of chained aliens tensed, but soon realized their intents and relaxed. Quickly, all the metal chains that bound the scientists were molten, and the aliens themselves were freed.
The two Engineers retreated to their squad mates, and both groups returned to stare at each other.
The Sergeant slowly approached the scientists and extended his right hand. The aliens hesitated for a second, whispering more among themselves.
They quickly reached a consensus; three beings belonging to the three Council races stepped forward.
Slowly and warily, but firmly, each one of them took the man's hands with their own. Some with scared faces, others with resolution, or even a friendly smile.
The officer pointed a finger at his chest and said. "Human."
"Asari," One of the scientist said, repeating the gesture, and then pointing at her colleagues. "Salarian, Turian."
Falkner smiled before putting his helmet back on. "Peregrine, we have encountered civilians from the three Council races on the station along with Vorcha hostile elements. We have neutralized all threats, but the civilians appear to be captives. Awaiting instructions, over."
"…Acknowledged Coral, stand by." Not long after, they received a response. "Fireteam Coral, Lieutenant Hill orders you to bring the civilians aboard. If they do not comply, you have authorization to use non-lethal force. He also orders you to seize control of one of the docking ports, to allow for easy transport of the civilians, over."
"Roger, Peregrine, expect word within the next thirty minutes, out." The Sergeant then turned to his subordinates and asked. "So, you heard the man, any ideas on how to convince them to come with us?"
"Set guns to stun and carry them unconscious to the ship." The response gained snickers and laughter to the squad.
"Any serious idea?"
"I've got one," Statnik answered. "I show an image of the Peregrine on my datapad to them and then do some motions between us, them, and the ship to send the message across. By the way these folks are grim and battered, I guess they won't resist."
"Great, do it."
The Engineer did as ordered, moving close to the group of scientists while typing on the datapad. He then turned it to the aliens while saying, all the while using his index finger to point between the image and the group. "This is our ship, come with us to receive medical treatment and proper food."
After another series of motions between the scientists, the soldiers, and the ship, the faces of senior researchers who had shaken Falkner's hand lit up in understanding. They proceeded to talk to the rest of their colleagues, then turning and nodding in what the soldiers assumed to be a positive way.
"Awesome; Radvila, you take five of them with you and your team to elevator 11-C, we and the rest of them go through the 11-E. Take them to the level we breached the hull, once there," He paused to point at the Engineers. "You two get those docks working, and then we get the hell out of this place. Move out!"
"Yes, sir!"
AES Peregrine, Medical Bay.
Aria D'ysera could not believe her, and her colleagues', luck.
For long months following the destruction of whatever civilization remained in the Krogan homeworld, Blood Pack mercenaries had kidnapped her and a group of skilled researchers; at first, she thought they only wanted ransom from the Council or their national governments, or even their families.
However, the truth turned out to be much more complex than her assumptions.
Instead of being held captive for money, she and her fellow prisoners were put in a makeshift lab with a single order from the Krogan Battlemasters: 'Cure the Genophage, or die.'
They were utterly dismayed by their condition; they had no capacity to cure the Genophage at all, but of course, no one had the courage to tell their captors that, they all prolonged the inevitable.
Then, in the best 'out of context' way possible, they were freed.
She sat in her bed on the med bay, with a cup of herbal tea on her hands and a blanket around her shoulders, many hours after their liberation by the aliens.
"So, Ulan, what do you think about them?" She asked, looking to one of her Salarian colleagues.
"They present many new variables. They appear to be of strong builds, healthy, and with what we may assume capable armed forces," he commented. "I'm more interested in their biology than their society, however."
"We all are, Ulan. But I'm just glad they freed us from the Blood Pack." A Turian said from his own bed.
"Not of altruism, of course. I imagine they desire to have First Contact; given their reaction to our presence there. To be there, they probably found the spaceport and decided to investigate the station; rescuing us was collateral." Ulan continued.
"It is peaceful, in any way, thank the Goddess. They may have reached here through an unknown relay, however." Aria commented.
"If they have activated a pair of relays is of no matter." Septivus interjected. "They are truly ignorant of Citadel law, as such they cannot be prosecuted by them; no sane person would suggest otherwise."
As he finished speaking, the door to the medical bay opened in a swish.
Lieutenant Hill entered the room, hair pristinely combed with gel and beard trimmed to perfection. Besides, and slightly behind him, an android stepped along the floor.
"Two genders apparently, interesting." Ulan commented to his colleagues.
"Greetings" The man said in Imperial Standard, with the android translating to High Thessian.
"We have managed to construct a translation from one of your languages through the systems found on the spaceport." The man lied, for they already had the language translated. "I trust you have been cared for?"
The aliens stared in surprise, while Aria, like a good Asari she was, took the initiative. "We have, thanks to your hospitality and generosity. We owe you our lives."
The man opened a thin smile. "Good, we have much to discuss."
A/N: And now the galactic cat is out of the galactic bag, rat hunting time. And, I guess this is the end of Act I. See you all soon, I hope!
