There is no instance of a nation benefitting from prolonged warfare.
-Sun Tzu
The Hollows, Tuchanka - Jak of Urdnot
January 6th 2164
Jak did her best to stand up tall and straight next to ma. She smoothed her white jerkin, watching it sparkle. It was imprinted with dyes made from the nefic plant in patters of flowers, and Jak thought it was very pretty. Her head was freshly shaved and oiled, and it gleamed in the sunlight that shone down upon the assembly gathered before the Hollows. Never before had so many krogan, from every clan, from the mighty Urdnot to the lowly Nakmor gathered in one place. The best part was, there was no fighting taking place at all. In fact, according to da, over a dozen blood feuds had been ended since the various clan chiefs and dignitaries had arrived.
That was something else that had never happened before. From what Jak had heard ma and da discussing, there was going to be an awful lot of firsts today.
"MAKE WAY!" Wreav bellowed as he bullied his way through the crowd leading up to the steps to the hollows "MAKE WAY FOR THE OVERLORD!"
Normally krogan didn't take kindly to being told to make way for anyone, but when they saw Wrex coming, they made way. He was already being hailed as the savior of the krogan people. Over the last few years he had solidified his power base. Jak new that, everyone did. No one messed with Wrex because he was the biggest, baddest krogan in existence. And no one was bigger or badder than a krogan. But now, Overlord Urdnot Wrex was more than just a unifier or battlemaster. He had been the leader that had found the salvation for the entire krogan race.
At that thought, Jak felt a slight pang. The Doctor was dead. So was the cherladra, and her little sister. Jak had cried when she heard about that, heard that they had been destroyed by pirates before their reward could ever be properly bestowed upon them. Well, da was going to fix that today.
Her da made his way up the stairs slowly and purposefully as the crowd bellowed and stomped wildly. Jak bowed deferentially, as was proper for a daughter. To her shock, da bowed right back. That was the first time he had done that... well, ever.
The krogan noticed the same thing, and the cheers died as murmurs of shock and surprised rippled out at the Overlord of Tuchanka's gesture. He bowed to no one, just as the krogan bowed to no people. What was the meaning of this?
Jak's face took on a concerned and frightened cast until she felt a comforting claw on her shoulder. She looked up to see ma smiling down, her veil lifted on this, the day of her peoples' salvation. "Peace, child. Your father knows what he is doing."
Nodding, Jak turned her attention back to da, who strode to the center stage. He spread his claws for silence, and a hush fell over the assembly.
"KROGAN OF TUCHANKA!" Wrex bellowed, his voice unamplified by anything save the acoustics of the Hollows. "Today, we celebrate our triumph over the Geneophage!"
A roar of approval shook the very earth as the people voiced their elation. Da let it continue for several seconds, then gestured again for silence. It was a bit longer in coming this time, but eventually everyone quieted down.
"We did not, however, attain this on our own. As you know, it was the League who gave us this, the greatest of gifts. Without their aid we would never have achieved freedom from our curse. I ask you, shall the krogan be ungrateful for this boon? Will we be like the Citadel, quick to forget when we are saved from the brink of extinction?"
"NO!" If the earth had shook at the krogan's approval, the skies themselves trembled at their rage. Jak herself yelled until she was blue in the face, furious at the thought that the krogan would be so dishonorable as to turn their backs on the League.
"When the krogan saved the Citadel, our reward was to be castrated. Treated like mere animals! I ask you again, shall we repay the League in the same manner?"
"NO!" this time the ancient foundations of the Hollows themselves were moved, and the structure swayed slightly from the ardor of the krogan's rejection.
Wrex nodded gravely. "Twice I have asked, and twice you have spoken. I ask the Council of Elders and the Shaman of Tuchanka now, how can we repay our debt? What oath may we swear that all the galaxy may know the depth of our conviction?"
The Council stepped forward, ma flanked by the most powerful and wise of all the krogan people. The Council of Elders.
"I know of but one way," ma intoned, "and it is not a path to be taken lightly. All the people must be in agreement. None may dissent, for it would dishonor our entire people if even one voice should be raised against it."
Jak frowned, glancing around at the guards and other dignitaries. They looked grave, though none of them seemed to know quite what ma was talking about. Jak wondered if this had been a part of her schooling she had skipped to go blast pyjaks or write about rainbows.
"Tell me, Shaman, what is this path you speak of?" da demanded.
"It is the most sacred of Blood Oaths. The Oath of Protection," ma replied.
A murmur arose from the crowd, one of confusion that mirrored Jak's own. No one seemed to have heard of the Oath of Protection. Everyone knew about Blood Oaths. The Oath of Vengeance, which Jak herself had spoken against Garm and the Batarians. The Oath of Loyalty, which a warrior spoke when he agreed to serve under a battlemaster. But the Oath of Protection? Jak had never heard of such an oath.
"I am ancient, Shaman," da stated before the crowd grew too restless. "But I have never heard of the Oath of Protection. Tell me, from whence have you learned of it?"
"Though you may be ancient indeed, Overlord, you do not have all the memories of our people. As the Shaman of Tuchanka, I do. I remember when first the krogan looked up the to skies and dreamed of conquest. I remember when the Dark Times came, when the eternal winter fell upon the land and we wrought ruin upon ourselves. I remember when the liars and thieves came in the night, to seduce our people into servitude. I remember. And I remember the Oath of Protection."
Wrex nodded thoughtfully. "And will you share your memories with your people, O Shaman?"
"I will. But if I do, the people must bind themselves to that memory. Memory is powerful, primal. It is what connects the past to the present, and the present to the future. Generation to generation, memory passes on. Will the people so swear themselves, to honor this memory and to bind themselves to it?"
"We so swear," the Eldars intoned, as was their right. They spoke for the krogan, and the krogan would abide by their strength and wisdom.
"We so swear," the people echoed, Jak among them. There was sense of connection, of power in this moment, as if the clans were no longer fractious children arguing over table scraps, but a single people that had been reformed as one.
Ma closed her eyes for a moment, and when she opened them, it was not ma who looked out from her soul. It was Tuchanka. The spirit of a people ancient and proud, one that had endured things that would have broken any other people a thousand times over. "Before the people grew proud, before they forsook all oaths, before brother killed brother and the land was poisoned with arrogance and rage, the people had honor. We kept that honor, and it grew within us, keeping us strong. When we forgot that honor and grasped for raw power, instead of strength in that power, we found only weakness. That power betrayed us into the hands of our enemies; we fell. If we do not find that honor again, this boon we have been given will sour and become a pox upon the galaxy and the people will destroy themselves and all other races. The galaxy will be ruined. It is we who shall be its ruin."
Silence hung over the air like a funeral shroud, and Jak could hear the rocks speak of a time when the people had had honor, when they had first been laid. A time long ago. A time that could come again.
Ma's eyes swept over the crowd, then over Jak, and all flinched underneath that timeless gaze, the gaze that had beheld an entire planet's history. The gaze of the Shaman of Tuchanka.
"PEOPLE! If you wish to reclaim that honor, you must bind yourselves with the Oath of Protection. You must swear to no longer be a danger to the galaxy, but its bulwark! It must be you who stands against the darkness that pervades. No longer shall you be a scourge upon the weak! You shall be their guardian, their protector. This burden will not rest solely upon you. It shall rest upon your children; those born thanks to the aid of the weak, those we must protect. Upon the shoulders of your children, and your children's children, and their children's children, until the stars are extinguished and the Last Battle is fought among their dying embers. But even then, this oath shall hold you! People, will you take up this oath for all time?"
Silence. No one stepped forth. Jak could barely conceive of next year most times, but to swear an oath for all time? An oath that would bind her and her children that she would bear with pride in the name of Clan Urdnot one day? She didn't know. Couldn't know. How could she even imagine something like that?
Out of the shadows, an ancient krogan stepped forth. The entire assembly held its breath. This was Jorgal Shaman, the most ancient of krogan from the most ancient of krogan breeding lines. If the Shaman of Tuchanka remembered the planet, Jorgal Shaman remembered the krogan.
"I too remember the oath of which you speak, Shaman of Tuchanka," Jorgal Shaman wheezed, leaning upon his apprentice and squinting eyes milky with age to see. "And I will swear it. So shall all those of my line, and all those that come after my line, and all those that will come from the line of my line. Unending, unbroken, till the last blow of the last battle, when all oaths are held fulfilled."
At the words of Jorgal shaman, Jorgal Brek, Clan Chief of Jorgal and son of Jorgal Shaman, stepped forward. "Upon the words of my father, I shall swear this Oath. All those of Clan Jorgal will bind themselves, and so they shall bind all that come after them."
A ripple ran through the assembly as every member of Clan Jorgal jumped in place, slamming their fists together in agreement. Clan Jorgal was not a large clan, but it was prestigious, with breeding lines that went back to the time before the Long Winter.
The acceptance of the Oath by Clan Jorgal was like a pebble that started an avalanche. Every clan leader and shaman, from the mightiest to the lowest, affirmed that they too would swear the oath. As the procession of leaders continued, Jak felt her heart swell with pride to be a krogan. She had seen the pain of her adoptive people, seen how lost and lonely they were. They had been without purpose, and now, that purpose was returning to them. The sun was nearly set by the time the last clan leader affirmed that her people too would swear the Oath of Protection. Jak was weak in the knees from standing for so long, but she did not tremble nor show weakness. Now was a time to be strong.
Finally, The Shaman of Tuchanka nodded once and raised her arms. "Then O people, swear this Oath and Hold to it." She turned to Jak and smiled. "Child, come forth. Though you are of the krogan, you will stand for those we swear this Oath to, for you are of their Blood."
Swallowing hard, Jak stepped forward and turned to face the assembly. A million eyes bored into her, and Jak forced herself to be calm and strong, as a daughter of Urdnot should be.
Ma's gentle claws laid themselves upon Jak's head, and in a loud, firm voice, she declared "'My blood before your blood, my children as a bondservant to yours, until claws dull and strength fades, to stand as a bulwark before you against your enemies.'"
Jak repeated the oath with the rest of the people, tears coming to her eyes at the power of the emotions washing over her. Not one krogan present abstained. For the first time in their entire history, the krogan were united in a single purpose. They would be the defenders of the League, of the humans and quarians, for all time. When they were in the right, when they were in the wrong, when they were weak, and when they were strong. From now until the breaking of the galaxy, the krogan would stand. And they would not fall back.
Arcturus - Urdnot Wrex
January 12th, 2164
"Well, I suppose I should have expected this much," Wrex growled, shifting through the various extranet articles and diplomatic notes before him. None of them were what he would call positive.
"The elcor, the volus, the hanar, even Illium. They've all shifted stances rather rapidly," Admiral Kasteen Dresher agreed. "In fact, I think it's safe to say that this is going to be the first time the volus actually build a dreadnaught."
Wrex snorted. "Gee, wonder why they're doing that."
"It could be worse you know," Kasteen observed leaning back in her chair. "They could have unilaterally declared war."
Vexxu shrugged. "They're pretty damn close. That's why Steven's out conducting 'maneuvers' in the DMZ.'"
"Whatever friends we've made in Citadel Space, we seem to have lost them all," Dresher agreed.
Wrex scowled around the table, until Vexxu reached over and patted his arm. "We don't regret it Wrex, even if there are a few elements in the League that would have preferred a partial cure. The League stands by its friends."
"Easy to say that now that the Genophage is cured. What would you have said before that, I wonder?" Wrex demanded.
"I would have said the same thing, and you know it," Vexxu stated flatly. "So would my husband, Zaal, and, Kasteen," Wrex noticed she pointedly did not mention the Prime Minister, "we all believe in the Bill of Rights and in the krogan people. We've fought alongside you, we trust you."
After a moment, Wrex relented and nodded. "Alright, I believe you. That doesn't change the fact that we've just lost every ounce of galactic goodwill we had. For a while there, it even looked like we might drag a few of the neutral planets or minor races over to our side. Now though..."
"Now we know who our friends are," Kasteen growled. "The question is, now that we know who the friendlies are, what does that make everyone else?"
"Dangerous, at the very least," Wrex rumbled. "The batarians especially. They're still pretty pissed at the League in general. They haven't forgiven us for settling all that juicy territory or kicking their pirating asses right out of the Traverse and the Terminus."
Vexxu shook her head. "Maybe, but they were a cat's paw before. If they strike again, we both know it won't be of their own volition."
"But we can't afford to openly blame the Council if they do. Damn them!" Kasteen snarled, slamming a fist down on the table.
"Give us sixteen or seventeen years," Wrex rumbled. "That's when all the new krogan will reach maturity. Then we'll see what the projections say."
Vexxu's eyes bored into Wrex. "That may be, Overlord. But the Council knows that as well."
The Citadel - Councilor Valern
January 13th, 2164
Valern tried to keep from blinking constantly, but it was hard. His membranes were drying rapidly thanks to his nervousness, and they would turn red or itch if he didn't keep them moist. But he had to stand strong. To prove that the salarians were still a capable member of the Council, especially after the disaster that Ikki had turned out to be. And the humiliation that Solus had brought. Damn him.
"The Salarian Union believes that the League now represents nothing more than a ticking time bomb, Councilors," he stated evenly, not bothering to glance down at his data slate. "We have also determined that at this point, war would be disastrous. While the Citadel would surely triumph, it has come to our attention that the League has perfected its own mass relays. They are short range, and at this point, only two have completed construction. Those two however, are pointed at Palaven and Thessia. A third pointed directly at Sur'Kesh is nearing completion. While those relays have been confirmed not to have the capacity to be used directly as weapons of war, they would still allow a League fleet to bombard our homeworlds , causing untold casualties. This is an unacceptable situation."
Across from him, Sapias and Aethyta perked up. That was good. They appeared to be taking him seriously.
Sapias' mandibles spread in what could either be amusement or surprise. "You seem remarkably well informed, Councilor Valern. And articulate."
"Thank you," Valern interjected as soon as Sapias paused, "But I am not finished. The various military and intelligence organs of the STG have analyzed the situation and reached several conclusions. The first is that any attempt at creating some sort of shadow army, especially via the uplifting of other species, would create more problems than it solves. The second is that any shadow armies currently in existence should be held in reserve for the proper time," Valern pointedly did not look at Aethyta when he mentioned said shadow armies, "and that our own actions for the moment should be limited to a defensive role."
"A salarian, preaching defense?" Aethyta asked, raising one of her eyelines. "Are you sure you're Ikki's replacement?"
"Indeed I am," Valern answered evenly. "Unlike Ikki, my military experience is more direct. I was an Executive Member of the Czerka Corporation, as you well know." Which was as good as saying, 'I was a master spy who wasn't afraid to get my hands dirty.'
"Defenses are all well and good," Sapias agreed slowly, "but wars are not won with stationary defenses or fleets in orbit."
"Agreed," Valern stated, blinking furiously. "What we propose instead are a series of measures designed to cripple the League. First, the batarians. As misguided as their original pirate attacks were, they are physically closest to the League. They are also the most corrupt and easily guided of our races, not to mention the most violent. They can be trusted, to a degree. I do not propose a second pirate campaign at this time however. What I do propose is a slow buildup of the batarians forces, possibly with the allure of a Council seat if they are willing to do our bidding. They will be the bait."
"The bait?" Aethyta asked, leaning forward slightly.
"Indeed. When the time comes, I propose we create an incident that would lead to hostilities between the batarians and the League. When the League moves against them, we take the opportunity to cripple the League's offensive relays using the stealth ships still in development. Then we launch our own strike on the League, preferably on Arcturus, to cripple its chain of command. This is not a short term plan. The soonest it could be safely enacted according to the STG's calculations is seven years, eight or nine years would be preferable."
That really got Aethyta's attention. "You're seriously proposing a plan that could take up to a decade to reach fruition?"
Valern nodded. "Yes. As you have likely noted, I am the youngest salarian ever appointed to the Council seat. This is because this entire operation is my plan. The Union intends to pursue it, with or without our allies' aid. However, we believe that our chances of success alone are suboptimal. Now is not the time for division, but unity. Obviously, the specifics of Operation Encore will need to be worked out between us, and modifications made to the timetable and details as new events arise."
Leaning back, Valern studied the other two Councilor's, flicking his membranes one final time as he desperately tried to slow his pulse. He had laid all his cards on the table. And on their first meeting.
For a moment, he feared his plan was to be rejected, that he had failed in his task of restoring salarian dignity before he even truly began. But then Sapias and Aethyta both nodded.
"That's quite the plan, Valern," Aethyta said. "I think I have a few projects I can bring to your attention that might improve its chances of success. But it will work, in broad terms."
Sapias' mandibles spread in amusement. "Finally, we get a decent salarian councilor to work with. I think we just might get along, Valern."
Doing his best not to grin, Valern nodded. The Citadel would stand, and the barbarians would be crushed, as they always were. That was the natural order of things.
Baker Street, Watson - Berr'Reegar
January 21st, 2164
"You got everything you need for school today, Kal?" Berr asked, handing his son a hermetically sealed lunch box with his sterile meal.
"Yes sir, I have my homework in my folder, my pencils, and now I have my lunch box," Kal answered respectfully. "Do you think you'll be able to pick me up today?"
Smiling, Berr reached down and ruffled his son's hair. It was still amazing to be able to do that. They were both suitless, here at home. Kal's baby sister wouldn't even need a suit; she would be able to go without from the moment of her birth. One of the many benefits of being in the League. "I think I can manage that son."
"Awesome," Kal grinned. He was at a good age, at eight years old he was still excited that his dad was able to pick him up from school and go on campouts with the Cub Scout pack.
"Come on Kal, it's time to go," Berr's wife, Yllina called, coming around the corner.
"'Kay, coming!" Kal shouted, scooping up his mask and sealing it as he ran out to the car.
Berr took a moment to kiss his wife goodbye and take their younger son, Rael. "He needs to be changed," Yllina grimaced as she passed over the smelly bundle.
"Hey, I can take care of it, not like I'm getting deployed now is it?" Berr laughed, patting Yllina's swelling womb.
His wife frowned at the joke, she still wasn't happy that Berr had been discharged, even if he had found a new job. "Alright, you're picking Kal up from school today?"
"Yep, I'll have plenty of time after the vid conference this morning. I don't leave on business for another two days," Berr confirmed.
"Alright, see you this evening," Yllina called, slipping her own mask on and heading out the front door.
Once Berr had seen to the diaper, he put his son in the playpen by his workstation and brought up his latest reports. He wasn't surprised that there were a dozen urgent messages in his inbox. He clicked the first one and read through it quickly. It was just an interoffice memo reminding everyone not to share any of their information on an unsecured uplink. Berr snorted, you would have to be a bosh'tet to do something like that.
The next message he read was more important, a message from Cerberus command. That was what Black Whirlwind was, a front company for the League's blackest project. The message was marked HARVEST. Berr dutifully stood and moved the play pen into the next room. It was highly unlikely his ten month old son could overhear anything, but that wasn't what bothered Berr. He was more worried about the phenomena known as Indoctrination. It was why he was still working offsite; command wasn't sure what Berr's brief exposure to the Reaper corpse might have done to him. They were still running tests, and Berr wouldn't be allowed access to any delicate equipment until he'd been run through every test the doctors could come up with.
So far, he had passed them all. But sometimes, late at night, he awoke in a cold sweat, the last fading echoes of a whisper he couldn't hear at the edge of thought. He reported each and every incident dutifully, and as far as the doctors could tell it wasn't anything but nightmares and an overactive imagination. Still, from the intel Berr was reading, he supported the idea of caution.
Once his son was safely out of the way, Berr clicked on the message. To his surprise, a comm link connection came up, and in a few moments, the face of Falvus Vakarian appeared.
"Berr," Flavus said immediately, nodding to him. "Good to see you again."
Berr started to say something, and Flavus held up a talon. "No, I'm not supposed to be here. Don't say my name, or the recording equipment I'm sure they have hooked up to monitor you will pick it up. For now I'm scrambling the feed to make me look and sound like something else to the computers, but I can't be sure how long I have."
Berr folded his arms and scowled. "Give me one good reason I shouldn't just report this."
Flavus' mandibles twitched in irritation. "Because this is too important for us to work against each other on. All my channels into the League have been cut off thanks to the Genophage cure. Its ridiculous in my opinion, it's the Citadel's own fault that the krogan ran straight into your arms. We should have helped them out a long time ago. But that's no longer relevant. What is relevant are the Reapers. Tell me, according to your dating, when was the last visit from the Reapers?"
"About 50,000 years ago, when the Protheans vanished," Berr answered, frowning slightly. He still wasn't sure if he should be telling Flavus anything, but that was common enough knowledge.
Flavus nodded. "And before them, the Inusannon. That was 100,000 years ago. Know of any other races that vanished?"
"Well, 250,000 years ago that race on Bexxi Prime disappeared. And the Zeioph on Armeni about 400,000 years ago," Berr listed, ticking off two other races that were fairly common knowledge.
Leaning a big closer to the pickup, Flavus demanded, "And what if I told you that I know of a race that disappeared 150,000 years ago, and another that vanished 350,000 years ago. What would that tell you?"
"They're all multiples of 50,000," Berr answered reflexively, then sucked in his breath. "Oh shit."
"Indeed," Flavus agreed. "We're due for a bad case of Reapers any decade now."
"We don't know that for certain," Berr countered, trying to think.
"You're a soldier Berr, just like me. What does your gut tell you?" Flavus needled.
Shaking his head, Berr muttered, "That we're in some deep shit here. We don't know if it's gonna be in the next couple of years, or in the next couple of hundred years. But they're coming back."
"My conclusions exactly. Any if they did come back today, they'd find a galaxy ripe for the taking. We're so busy getting ready to kill each other we'd never stand up to the Reapers. You saw that ship Berr, felt it's power. What do you think we need to do?"
"I don't know," Berr admitted. "I have a hard time trusting you Council types. The Council did us wrong for a long time, you know that."
"Yes," Flavus's mandibles lifted in a grimace. "And frankly, it might be too late to rectify things. I won't lie to you Berr, if I had a chance to cripple the League, I would take it. I believe in the Council, even after all their mistakes."
"Your people, right or wrong," Berr agreed.
"Precisely. When it comes to the Reapers however, I'll pass on what data I can. Currently I don't have much, accept for this. Your people might want to start digging on Eden Prime. We both know it was a major Prothean world, but I keep finding references to it in the information I've come across. Something about the Avatar. It sounds like a weapon."
"You'd give us a weapon?" Berr asked, raising an eyebrow. "We could turn it on you."
"Maybe," Flavus admitted, "But every instance I've found points to the Avatar being a weapon solely aimed at the Reapers. It might be an anti-synthetic device, in fact, I'm nearly positive it is. You couldn't very well use that against the Citadel."
"No, probably not," Berr admitted. "And if we had something like that, we might even get drawn into a long, bloody, war with the geth."
"Perhaps," Flavus admitted. "But I think a weapon like that would be rather effective against the Reapers, don't you?"
"Maybe. Thanks for the heads up anyway." Berr hesitated, then added, "And if I hear anything about the Reapers I think you need to know, I'll pass it along."
"I'll be in touch," Flavus said, spreading his mandibles in a grin. "Vakarian out."
The connection vanished, and BERR sat there for a moment, drumming his fingers on the interface. He didn't think he was quite ready to read any more memos just yet. Instead, Berr walked into the room where he had dumped his son; he was happily playing with a ball in his play pen. Rael looked up when his father entered the room, his large luminescent eyes dancing with delight as he laughed and stretched out a tiny three fingered hand toward his father. Berr knelt and took the hand in his own, squeezing it and smiling down at his son.
"I won't let them get you," Berr whispered fiercely, gazing into his son's eyes. His children would have a future. He would make certain of that.
The Bahak System - Balak
February 10th, 2164
Grimacing, Balak bent down to examine the skull pile. They weren't really skulls, scans had determined that much, they were some sort of metallic compound made of organic substances, according to the scans. That didn't make much sense to Balak, but he was management. He didn't have to understand.
"Damn jumpy slaves," Balak growled, glancing around the well lit chamber. The slaves refused to do any work at all unless they had all kinds of lighting, and an armed overseer was present. It was damned unusual for a slave to want an armed overseer around, but all of them were much happier when an armed batarian was watching them. Watching their backs, as they put it. Those measures were raising Balak's costs immensely.
"This had better be worth it," he growled, reaching down to touch a skull. There didn't seem to be
YOU SHALL SERVE AS WELL
Balak jumped, spinning around to see who else was in the chamber with him. No one. This chamber had already been cleared and examined. He frowned, blinking both sets of eyes in consternation.
cannot get out cannot be free trapped for all eternity
All of Balak's pores opened, venting panic hormones as he edged towards the exit. What the hell was going on?
YOU CANNOT ESCAPE. WE ARE ETERNAL. WE ARE EVERYWHERE. IN EVERY DREAM.
Balak tripped over something, knocking his head against the floor panel and passed out.
T͝h̸̢e̸ ́Ba͝h͢͞a͞k̶ ̸S͞yst͏e̶͠m̴̧ ҉- ̕͜B̸͜a̶l̨͞a҉k
̢͜͞Fe͝br̴͏̵u̴a͟͡r̢̛y̨ ̵̶͜1͜0͢͜͢t̸̵h̸̴̵, ͜21̴̶6̷̧4́
S͞a̸re͢n͏ ̛͞y̛͞o͠u̕ ͠bas͢͞t̨͟àr̸d͘,̕͢ ̷́y͝ò̸u̢͢ ̛͡l͏e̷d͡͞ ̛͞t̡͝h͘e̕͢͡m̶̨̀ ͏ri̶̵͟ǵ͠h͞t̕͢҉ ̡͝t̕o̵̴ ͜us͞!͜͟ ̷͠T͏h̸i̛s̡ ̴i̷̡sn'͞t ̡͢͞wo̴̧r̷t̴h͟ ìt̴̀,̵ w̸h̀͜at͞ ̴h҉͠ą͏v͢e͘ ͠͞Į҉ ̢͜d͢҉o͘͢n̵e̢!̶ ̵̛Ì̀ ha͏͏̶ve̷͞ ͘͢͠to̸͢ ̀͟wa̵̵r̡͘n̸̨ ̷̶t̶͟h̀͢͏e͟͞m̢҉͜,͞ ̛҉h̡͞a̷͞͠v͠é͟ ͟t̵̛o̧ ̨̕t͝èl̕l ̛t͏̛͞h̶ę̧͠m͘,͜ Ì ̸̧͝c̷͜͟a̡̛n̵'́̀͠t҉̛.͠..͞ ̴͏O͠͞h̴͡ g̶͘҉o͜͞d̡͢s̡̛̀, ͡͠I̷͝ ̵̡ca̶ń̢'t̡͡.̸.̶̛͞.͘ ͏͡F͘͝o͢rg͜͡i͠v̢̀è҉̷ me͏,͜͞ ͝I͡ ͘h̨a҉v͟e ̧͠f̷ai̸̶҉led͜͝.͠ ̷̕
Balak stood and dusted himself off. How clumsy he had been! He laughed softly, grinning widely. He knew just how to handle the slaves now! They just had to spend the night on the ship, sleeping around the statues or piles! That would take care of everything. The overseers would have to do the same of course. Then he had to find Saren, and tell him the wonderful news. Balak had seen the truth as well.
He served the Cycle.
ILS Saint Thomas Aquinas - Steven Hackett
March 4th, 2164
Hackett couldn't help but grin fiercely at his command display. "The tables have turned, you metal headed bastards," he growled.
"Heh. Heh. Heh. Feels good, doesn't it Admiral?" Observer Weyrloc Guld chuckled as he stepped up beside Hackett.
"Indeed it does," Hackett agreed, keeping his eye on the turian patrol that was steering well clear of the No Man's Land the League had established around the krogan systems.
"Bet they'd love to come in and give us another dose of Genophage," Guld growled, showing his teeth in a grim facsimile of a smile.
"Let them try," Hackett snarled. "They've had their time in the sun. Now it's our turn. They dare not attack us, not with the existence of STARGATE an open secret."
"Bet they'd love to get their hands on that tech," Guld agreed. "'Course, from the briefings I've read, they're pretty damn close to perfecting their own mass relays. If you ask me, we should jump on them now before they have the chance to build their own Relays."
Hackett shook his head. "No, not yet. They've got the numerical advantage, and our tech is just about even aside from our relays. Any fleet we sent through would be stuck, even if we did raise Palavan, Thessia and Sur'Kesh, they've got too much strategic depth. We can't wipe out all their major fleet concentrations at once. But we can put a gun to their head and let them know if they come for us, we will hurt them so badly it will take them 10,000 years to recover."
"Hell, it only took the krogan 1200!" Guld laughed, then he sobered. "My people owe yours a debt, Admiral. One we can never repay. I swore the Oath of Protection along with every other warrior. 'My blood before your blood, my children as a bondservant to yours, until claws dull and strength fades, to stand as a bulwark before you against your enemies.'"
"The League isn't interested in slaves nor servants, Guld," Hackett answered. He was repeating himself, for about the seventh time now. "We want partners. Allies. Equals."
Guld snorted. "What you want doesn't matter. Did you know, I once longed for death? To lay dying atop a pile of my enemies' corpses and to spit my defiance in the face of the galaxy? Now I have purpose, Admiral. No longer must I watch cold hearted as the females bring yet another tiny corpse to lay atop the mountain of the neverborn. Soon, I will hold in my arms my own offspring and my battle cry will wake the mountains! It will be a cry of joy, Admiral. Not one of sorrow, like my father's and grandfathers'. Once again, my people will be strong."
"We'll be strong together Guld," Hackett stated. "Alone, we're weak, powerless. The Citadel kept you that way for a long time. Cut off from all others, friendless. Humanity's story would have been much like yours. If not for the Belari."
"The Belari," Guld rolled the word, thinking hard on it. "Yes, the Belari. Perhaps that is what I should name my firstborn. That way, even the krogan shall remember the Belari."
Hackett slapped Guld on the back, not bothering to hide the tears that came to his eyes. "I remember the Belari everyday Guld. And I thank God that my people found friends like you among the stars."
Guld just grunted, staring back at the plot. He shook his head. "Friends. A simple word. Yet it means so much."
Authors Note:
And so, the end of the beginning is here at last. Meek isn't over yet, and several major revelations and changes are still in store before Commander John Shepard, Tali'Zorah, and Specter Garrus Vakarian ever set out to end the Cycle. Next chapter, we'll check in with the trio of main characters. I hope you've enjoyed the journey to this point as much as I have, and I look forward to finishing it with those of you who have been with me the entire time, those of you how have joined since, and those of you that will join in the future. It's going to be a wild ride ;)