Mass Effect is owned by THEM. You know who THEM are. BioEAWare...
SSV Canberra, Therum LaGrange Point 3, Knossos System, Artemis Tau Cluster, May 22 2175
Captain Rhys Llewellyn looked upon the map of Knossos Space with the most current updates, frowning at what he saw.
The Command and Intelligence Center of the flagship of Battle Group Moctezuma was a hotbed of activity as the Executive Officer, Commander Margaret Weiss, was talking to the patrolling frigates that were running a Combat Action Patrol around the Battle Group while the fighters themselves were running screen lines to detect any incoming vessels that might spot out the Battle Group as they held the apotheosis point opposite of Therum, the star Knossos in between themselves and the planet. After their initial brush with the Batarian Fleet the previous day, a quick and dirty flyby had revealed the damage they had caused with the SSV Charger; the Dreadnaught had been severely damaged in the suicidal charge, with half of its bow decimated by the strike, and most of the systems obviously damaged. One of the braver pilots had shut off all systems after aiming his AS-17 Trident Fighter Vessel towards the Fleet and drifted towards them to gauge the damaged with the old and reliable eyeball, and had seen the effect for himself. While some of the other ships in the Batarian Fleet had received minor or cosmetic damage from the mass core detonation from the SSV Charger's final flight, the Dreadnaught had been all but catastrophically killed by the impact. While it wouldn't win them the next battle, it would give the blinks pause before engaging in any hostilities against a Navy, especially if they were resorting to kamikaze tactics.
Not that the Battle Group stood a chance in hell, but they still had the element of surprise.
"Tactical? Give me current positioning of the last designation of the Batarian Fleet." The Captain told one of his Ensigns, working at a terminal by where he stood in the CIC, looking at the tactical monitors and feeds that read the status of the various ship systems, as well as that of the various other ships of his small fleet. The SSV Explorer was still having issues with one of its shield emitters, meaning that it would likely be destroyed easily in any engagement. The rest of his vessels were in the green, ready to go.
"Current tactical data suggests that the Batarian Fleet is holding a Lagrange Point Two for Therum, keeping to the interior to prevent being snuck up on sunward side." The Ensign replied, making Captain Llewellyn grunt. It would be exactly how he would have done it, keeping to the 'like' side of the planet, where the LaGrange Point forever facing Knossos, the point in between the star and Therum, being about a hundred or so thousand kilometers from the surface of the planet, where a gravity well exists due to gravitational pull that made a sort of 'parking spot' in space where less energy and fuel was required to keep in geosynchronous orbit. To 'sneak' up on the Fleet, one would have to come from the dark side of the system, completely in the opposite direction from where the Battle Group was currently at, using Knossos to shield their presence. He would have to traverse around the entire damn system and use Therum itself as a sort of lens to prevent the Bats from viewing them until it was too late. Such a maneuver would more than likely have them discovered and destroyed in good order…
…Well, that wasn't necessarily true, was it?
Like all sensors and thermal imaging equipment, there were flaws and weak points, exploits that could be used if one were daring enough. The most common was that of distance, where solar radiation would weaken any reception after a hundred and fifty million kilometers, around the distance of an Astronomical Unit. Even at Luminal Speeds, such a distance would take eight minutes to traverse, eight minutes to be detected and prepared for, as well as fired up. Weapons didn't fire without a systems lock-on upon a target, and even the most foolhardy didn't fire mass-accelerated weaponry without a designated and determined target to fire upon for a plethora of reasons. But one had to know where the target might be in order to find it and fire upon it.
And the Batarians held the high ground, so to speak.
But that didn't mean that they were necessarily unapproachable.
"Navigation?" Lieutenant Commander Leonard Kyle looked up from his station, studying the current relation of planets in the system, as well as that of asteroids, comets, space debris, and known anomalies. "Distance from Knossos?"
"We are currently approximately six AU's from Knossos, LaGrange Point Three for Therum." Rhys hmm'ed at that, knowing that it meant that they were at least twelve AU's from Therum itself. That was an hour and a half at Luminal Speed, probably closer to two and a half if one didn't wish to fry in the high energetic output of the star Knossos, allowing for the narrowest berth possible. He thought it over, the possibilities for reaching the Batarians without them seeing him coming. If he went with the narrowest curve possible, it would make the fastest trip, but would probably have him detected in the soonest amount of time too, unless that Fleet's Admiral was a complete idiot. Trying to go around the system entirely and approaching the dark side, using Therum as a shield, was a safe, if longer route, but any Navy man worth his salt would see that coming, too, and would have countermeasures for that kind of thing. LaGrange Points Four and Five, the Trojan Points, were respectively in front of and behind the planet, but would probably also be monitored as well.
That required him doing something unconventional. Radical, even.
"Mister Kyle? Ready an FTL plot with these coordinates." The Commanding Officer told his Navigator, punching in a set of coordinates after looking them up for verification and accuracy. Rhys sent them to the Navigator, who reviewed them, and then plotted them to see where they went. Commander Kyle's face went pale.
"Sir, this is…" The Navigator began, but his voice failed him. Commander Weiss, who was only a meter or so away from the Navigator's duty station, leaned over to look at what the Captain had in mind, and her eyebrow went up with consideration as the Battle Group's Executive Officer looked back up at him, and then at the coordinates.
"Doable. Crazy, but doable." Margaret said simply as she went back to her detail of coordinating with the Frigates running CAP. "Pull in the fighter squadron? Those Tridents can't run an FTL jump."
"No." Rhys looked at his battle board, his plan in mind. "Send them towards Therum to see if they can get eyes-on the Batarian Fleet and to confirm action when we launch the attack. They're small enough to miss out in open space, and no one would expect a few fighters to be out on their own without a Fleet to protect." Tridents weren't exactly low-emission vessels, but their small size, small engines, and lack of most things that a Naval vessel needed meant they generated a good deal less heat than what anyone would normal look for and identify. He was going to use that oversight to his advantage. Pity they couldn't arm a Trident with anything bigger than a few torpedoes armed with flecks of antimatter in their warheads. Rhys wondered how much of a wallop the sensors had taken for the Fleet when the Charger had gone supercritical ramming the Dreadnaught. Most likely, the Dreadnaught itself was dead in the water, so to speak, with only a few functional systems and a hull, more there as a threat than an asset. When the Corvette's core detonated, it had sent megaSevarts of radiation in the form of Alpha and Beta wave radiation throughout that portion of space, unrestricted by gravity, solid matter, and a more fluid environment like atmosphere. He didn't doubt that the scanners, sensors, and sweepers of the Batarian Fleet had been saturated with the ultrahigh-gain interference of radiation, knowing what it looked like himself having seen ships destroyed on patrols and what they could do to nearby vessels. For an Alliance Navy ship, it was part of the Coxswains'' job to make sure that the sensors were 'cleaned' and calibrated, his Boatswains and Bosum's Mates having to go out on the hull to decontaminate the sensors and recalibrate them. It was neither a simple or fast process, even at dock. In the middle of space, it would take three days to do during peacetime in friendly territories.
So did the Batarian Admiral choose to scrub some of them? Any of them? Were they partially blind, or mostly blind? With his largest ship and biggest gun effectively out-of-commission and the local refueling station having been robbed blind in a matter that would have made a Terminus pirate proud and sunk to crush depth in the gas giant Archanes, that Admiral (or whoever survived the sucker punch he delivered) had to know that their operations were limited. While Captain Llewellyn hadn't completely immobilized them, he had essentially turned the pride of that Fleet into scrap. Despite all that, no one in their right mind would abandon a still existing Dreadnaught for exploitation; generally, vessels such as that had the best technology to make it the most effective weapon, and likewise the best gain for opposing forces to want. No, they hovered at LaGrange Point Two because it was the smart choice, but also the easy one.
Someone was about to discover that war did not reward easy choices.
"Fighter squadron received and acknowledges new orders, sir." Commander Weiss replied after a few minutes, and Rhys saw on the battle board the update of the Battle Groups' fifty Tridents burning away from their envelope, effectively heading out of their sphere of influence. "All ships are on standby and ready to prepare jump."
"Call it, Navigation."
"ALL HEAR THIS, ALL HEAR THIS." Lieutenant Commander Leonard Kyle announced over the 1MC microphone, his voice projected not only over the SSV Canberra's speakers to all those who worked upon the Heavy Cruiser, but also for its Light Cruisers, Light and Heavy Destroyers, Patrol and Missile Frigates, and Fast Attack and Hunter-Class Corvettes. "PREPARE FOR IN-SYSTEMS JUMP. I SAY AGAIN, PREPARE FOR IN-SYSTEMS JUMP. SECURE ALL EXTERNAL ACCESSES AND INITIATE INTERNAL LOCKDOWN SYSTEMS. JUMP IN T-ONE MINUTE, JUMP IN T-ONE MINUTE."
"Think it will work, Rhys?" Margaret asked, his Executive Officer studying the battle board alongside him as she moved over next to his station, her eyes on what he was seeing. He hadn't told her what he was planning on doing, but it wouldn't take an Annapolis Graduate long to recognize what he intended. It was crazy, stupid, and generally came with reams of warnings and screaming against the intent of such follies. But Rhys wasn't a by-the-books Naval Officer. Never had been, never would be.
"It'll work." The Captain replied as Mister Kyle began to count off the ten-second countdown. "At the least, it will scare the hell out of the Blinks."
"It scares the hell out of me, so at the very least, it should scare the hell out of them, too."
And with the build up of electrical power and the output of the Mass Effect Core Engines spinning up to 150% capacity, Battle Group Moctezuma rocketed towards Knossos in a streaks of blue-shift emissions as they went superluminal, heading towards the largest object in the system.
They were going to slingshot a sun.
Office of Civil Complaints, The Citadel, Widow System, Serpent Nebula, May 22 2175
"Sir?"
Citadel Security Services Supervisory Officer Kanus Hesperian looked over to see one of his subordinates calling out to him, a Salarian tech by the name of Lullo Fanrin raising his hand up in identification. Kanus was the supervisor for the Office of Civil Complaints, an office that, on paper, was to register and file all complaints aboard the Citadel about maintenance issues, irregularities, and issues with C-SEC. That was, of course, on paper. To sweeten the deal and to make it look proper, there was in fact a lobby and about a dozen OCC Agents (usually the dregs of C-SEC who had pissed someone off) that did just that; registered and filed complaints. Nothing ever happened with them, and it was even a running joke that the Office of Civil Complaints was the worst drain on C-SEC's budget, an agency that existed only to say that someone would take notice of the bleatings of the public.
The best lies had to have an element of truth, after all.
OCC was actually a subsidiary arm of the Office of Special Tactics and Reconnaissance, a field office on the Citadel that operated clandestinely under the guise of a worthless bureaucratic cog, one that existed so that Citadel politicians could say such things existed, promising reform for issues not solved without any changes being made. The whole thing was a joke just so that the real work of the OCC could be done without scrutiny; sentients were too busy looking at the pile of varren shit to notice the trap that laid just underneath it. The network of OCC was ran by highly sophisticated VI systems integrated on several networks tapped into the various bands of the separate species that called the Citadel home. To include the military and civilian bands of the Big Three (Asari, Salarian, and of course, Turians), they also monitored those of the minor races, as well as private lines, ExtraNet usages, and the bandwidth itself. It was a part of the Office of Special Tactics' Intelligence Arm, gathering data electronically. More often than not, it was the Office of Civil Complaints that got the first heads up that something was wrong, and every single one of its employees (background checked and vetted for loyalty and secrecy) knew and understood that in terms of galactic peace, they were the eyes and ears.
"Go ahead, Officer Fanrin." The Turian Supervisor got out of his seat and moved over to the terminal in question, seeing the Salarian staring at his monitored feeds.
"I am… detecting an unusual signal. From the Relay itself." The Salarian male informed him, his tone curious.
"Like last time?" Apparently, some Human off in the pyjak's clochea-end-of-nowhere had been tapping into a Mass Relay to gain shipping information to monitor some boat that he/she/it thought was interesting. That had caused a stir a few weeks back when, evidently, the Human in question had figured out how to track a ship through a Relay Jump itself, and pinpointing it when it came back through. No one else had been able to figure out how the Human had done it, and when C-SEC Officer Kanus Hesperian had brought it up to the Office of Civil Complaints Executor, one Lieutenant Ashira T'mora, it had garnered the interest of the Powers-that-Be of the Office of Special Tactics itself. SPECTREs had been sent to collect the Human… and it had lead into the fracas that was now known as the Revan House of Horrors and the Trail of Tears. That had garnered some attention to be sure, and most of the SPECTREs had been out and about collecting everyone involved with the Trail of Tears for nearly a week now, landing on a mass majority of the sick main dreshyrs just a couple days before in a Council Space-wide sweep utilizing several law enforcement agencies and military special operations units. They had struck something like fourteen sites simultaneously in Council Space abroad to keep one from warning the others or the news media doing the job for them. The Human had not only discovered one of their ships and one of their locations, but had supposedly arrested a law enforcement agent that had been in cahoots with it as well.
"Same cluster, Artemis Tau. Signal is coming in fast pulses." Officer Fanrin told Kanus, pointing out what he was reading. "Too fast to be searching for information or intelligence. Certainly not an attempt to open or close a Relay."
"Too fast?" That was Spirits-be-damned unusual. He looked at the amount of access that was being signaled through the Relay and… Spirits! There were hundreds! In less than a minute! "Peace! Why would someone do that? Are they trying to get our attention?"
"That could be possible. The Human knows." Lullo offered, looking to Kanus. "There have been no other accesses ever since that Human law enforcement agent used it over three weeks ago. Now there are hundreds. Must be trying to contact us?"
"They could just use the ExtraNet." Kanus growled, though he was wondering something. The amount of accesses was disturbing, and they were coming at odd times. There were sets coming at times that were really just too fast for a sapient to use, some faster than others. There couldn't be any other explanation, save… "Lullo, could you… play those signal accesses in time? Like… a beep for every access?"
"Strange request." The Salarian huffed as his three-fingered hands went to his Haptic keyboard, typing in the commands as requested. "Reduced to a music jockey, now. Playing."
What Kanus heard next had his fringe standing up on end, the tap tap tap, tap-tap-tap, tap tap tap, coming in fast yet apparent, a few other Turians in the Office of Civil Complaints raising their head and looking at the terminal in question in recognition of that sound. The sounds repeated over and over again in pattern, a simple set of sounds that Turians of the Relay 314 Incident had come to recognize.
"Save Our Spirits." Officer Kanus Hesperian whispered, his mandibles drawing in as he recognized the code he had first heard on the grassy fields of Shanxi, knowing what it meant. "The Humans' ancient distress call." Several of the Turians were now looking at one another, having equally recognized the code for what it was. "Lullo? Pull up the Human matrix for… Morrison's Code?"
"Morse Code." Another one of his kind spoke up.
"Morse Code." Yes, that was it. "Input the signal's timing with the timing of the Morse Code and have the VI translate it for us." Officer Lullo Fanrin typed away, his hyper-accelerated senses making short work of the ad hoc program that he was making just for the occasion. He was done in moments as he translated the signal into text onto the monitor. Kanus began to read, and he felt his spirit shrivel at the sight of the words being displayed. "Lieutenant? Lieutenant!" The Turian called for the Executor, Ashira T'mora sitting in her own personal office as he shouted her name. The Asari poked her head out a moment later, the Matron looking slightly vexed for being addressed in such a fashion. "We've got FLASH Traffic, Lieutenant. Fifty Batarian vessels in Human space above the skies of Therum."
"Where is this intel coming from?" The Lieutenant asked as she moved towards the station in question so she wouldn't have to shout through the office. Not that it would have been a problem now, now that the word 'FLASH' was used, an acronym signifying Fleet Logistical Acquisition, Send in Haste.
"Therum, Matron." Kanus replied, looking to the screen. "That one Human that knows how to use Relays is using it now to send a distress call. They're being hit with an unscheduled Batarian Fleet, and a big one at that. At least one Dreadnaught-Class vessel and four Battleship-Class vessels." That often meant war, invasion, or a first strike. Only authorized Citadel Defensive Patrols were authorized to have Dreadnaughts in their fleets, each one chosen from each race and scheduled in advanced. For a species-related Defensive Fleet patrolling their own space? That was fine. Outside of it? Not so much. It was common to see a Turian Dreadnaught patrolling the vectors of Council Space in a multi-species Fleet flying CDP, their route sent to each Embassy for acknowledgement of time, if not route. But for another species to send one of their Dreadnaughts into a separate government's territorial space was often an act of war.
A fifty ship Fleet was larger than most standard Citadel Defensive Patrols. By a good deal.
"Goddess." The Lieutenant swore, her tattooed face scowling, her centurymarks crinkling in anger. "Is there a CDP near the area?"
"Negative, Matron." Officer Lullo Fanrin replied, typing away at his terminal. "Nearest Human one is… Battle Group Moctezuma, Alliance Navy, stationed in the Knossos System."
"That won't be enough by half. The biggest ship in a Human Battle Group is… a heavy cruiser, I think." Hesperian replied, shaking his head. "Humans can be tenacious, but that's folly." Even a Turian Action/Defense Patrol, the equivalent of a Battle Group, wouldn't go against such odds. "The Batarians must have destroyed the comms buoy if that Human used the Mass Relay as an emergency beacon. I believe their Fourth Fleet is within a few Jumps from the system, but that will take them at least two days to reach the planet, and I'm not sure that the Alliance Fourth Fleet would be enough. The Everest-Class Dreadnaught is the smallest Dreadnaught of all the Council species, and the Alliance Fleets are about twenty percent smaller than a standard Turian Fleet." While he didn't necessarily hate Humans like many of his own species, Kanus realized that Humanity was well behind the power curve due to time and the simple fact that they were the newest species in Citadel Space. They hadn't had the time to truly build up their Navy to something respectable yet, though Humanity was known for pulling out surprises. "We'll need to alert the Alliance Navy at the very least. If we let this slide…" The actions of Mindoir and several other slave raids conducted by the Batarians had relations between the Systems Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony at a very hostile state. If anyone knew that they had been informed and had done nothing about it…
…Not that the Alliance would win in a war against the Citadel, but the minor races might wonder why a species who pulled Council Patrols was left in the dark and begin connecting their own dots.
"Officer Y'ala, send FLASH Traffic to Alliance Command, Arcturus Station of the message we have just received." The Executor ordered an Asari Officer who was at her terminal, the Maiden in question immediately complying. "Officer Lynadius, inform Citadel Military Command as well. And then the Office of Special Tactics." The Turian nodded in compliance. "And Hesperian? Get the contact information for Centurion Kryik and let him know his pet Human is in danger." Her eyes went over the text, seeing the personalized address at the end of it, a plea for help from comrades.
"Tell him to get his plates to Therum soonest with whatever is immediately available to him."
SSV Tahoma, 15 AU from Relay, Zeta Reticuli System, Helios (Local) Cluster, May 22 2175
Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Peluna Shule stood at her duty station aboard her flagship SSV Tahoma, her eyes upon the crew of the Command and Intelligence Center aboard the Everest-Class Dreadnaught, seeing the Ops Alley operators working their separate terminals that provided connectivity throughout the whole Fleet, able to monitor the status and scanners of each vessel, providing a sphere of influence for the Dreadnaught that encompassed a circumference of several dozen AU's. They were currently performing a Fleet discharge in the local gas giant, Reticuli-ȥ (d); a planet boring enough to not even bothered being named. The Zeta Reticuli System was a mostly dead system with five planets with almost no resources to be had, and terraforming or creating domed colonies was more expensive than it was worth to bother trying. One of the Energy Corporations had set up an automated Heavy Helium scrubber at Reticuli-ȥ (d) for any Fleet operations that were passing by, providing both Heavy Helium fuel and a discharge point. Considering that Zeta Reticuli was connected to the Charon Relay by terminated at the system, it was a local backyard that was easily defended and gave the ability for the Systems Alliance to perform Fleet maneuvers and troop training deployments without having others spying on them.
Plus, they could nuke the whole system and not even lose anything of worth, so the SA Military had practically turned the system into a playground for MilTech.
"Ma'am? We're receiving FLASH Traffic from Arcturus Station."
Admiral Shule looked over to her Navigator, Captain Marcus Holt looking at the incoming message with some surprise. FLASH Traffic was of the highest priority, and was to be immediately response to, receipted and returned ASAP. It wasn't an ADDORD (Addendum to Orders), a FRAGO (Fragment Order), or a new OPORD (Operation Order). FLASH Traffic literally meant stop whatever the fuck you are doing RIGHT NOW and respond. Only seventeen people in the entirety of the Systems Alliance were authorized to create FLASH Traffic; The President of the Systems Alliance, the Fleet Master, every Fleet Admiral, the Joints Chief Commander, the Minister of Defense, the Assistant Minister of Defense, the Human Ambassador to the Citadel, her Deputy Ambassador, and five Captains who did deep space reconnaissance patrols. FLASH from Arcturus meant that it came from one of five people; the President, Admiral Grissom, the JCCom, the MoD, or the AMoD. It was most certainly to be something terrible.
"I'll be in my Ready Room." Peluna replied crisply, looking to her Executive Officer, Captain Francis McCormick, giving him a nod to indicate that he had the conn. He quickly saluted, needing no further orders, knowing the importance of FLASH Traffic. The Admiral unconsciously straightened her Alliance Blues Battle Duty Uniform Blouse as she left the CIC, heading towards the small room set to the back of it where a Marine Sergeant-At-Arms guarded the Admiral's Ready Room, the MP Sergeant saluting her with his Hadne-Keder M500 Storm Shotgun by holding his weapon at attention, holding it vertically in front of him for a moment as she passed by before returning it to port arms, diagonal to his body, ready to use. She entered her Ready Room, toggling the door to close and lock behind her as she went to her small desk with her personal terminal on it, the computer having a SecureNet connection through the li-fi network for any classified or secret traffic. FLASH certainly constituted that. Peluna took to her seat before picking up her Defense Secure Network Phone and dialed the number indicated through the FLASH Message she pulled up on her monitor, knowing that number and who it would connect to.
"Admiral Grissom."
"Fleet Master. It's Admiral Shule." The Fourth Fleet Commander replied crisply, wasting no time. She didn't know what went wrong, but she didn't doubt Fourth Fleet would be involved. Likely, it would involve the region near the Skyllian Verge, her normal area of operations.
"Pel." The old, assured voice of Fleet Admiral Jon Grissom sounded worse than usual, undoubtedly dealing with whatever conflagration had arisen. She didn't envy his position. "Pel, how soon can you jump back into Knossos System?"
"Full burn? Forty hours, depending on Relay traffic." Shule replied, trying to hide the surprise in her voice. She had just been in the Knossos System three days prior on a high-priority pick-up that was a farce. Fourth Fleet had been flying slow and steady throughout most of the Systems Alliance holdings, hitting every major colony and making obvious scheduled stops to perform the bait-and-switch that Grissom had detailed her Fleet to do in order to throw off the scent of Garm Jor'raddah, a criminal of the most evil kind. The Jackal was still languishing in a Therum jail cell while the galaxy was under the impression she had collected him from the Marshal of Therum, some ridiculously young woman who had somehow managed to collar one of the worst pieces of shit the galaxy had to offer. Peluna hadn't had an opportunity to meet the Marshal, but she had heard some interesting stories about the youthful Marshal. "What's going on, Jon?"
"Pel, Bats are hitting Therum as we speak with a Fleet at least a third again bigger than your own." Grissom replied, his voice haggard. Shule felt her throat dry up, remembering well when the news of Mindoir had come across… a week after it had happened. Yet the Fleet Master had said 'as we speak', meaning that they were still there, that they hadn't left. It wouldn't be like Mindoir, not if she had anything to say about it. "Moctezuma is still in system, trying to make life difficult for the Bats, and it sounds like Rhys had one of his Corvettes do a kamikaze run at full FTL into their Dreadnaught. Crazy fucking stupid, but it might have crippled that Capital-Class. If that's the case, then Fourth Fleet stands a chance."
"With BG Moctezuma and Fourth Fleet in-system, we can certainly circle the wagons and hit them from multiple directions." Shule nodded, already seeing the possibilities. "I'm surprise we got a message out."
"Our girl on Therum used a Relay to send a distress call to the Citadel, evidently." The Fleet Master replied, getting the Admiral to grunt in surprise. Well, with the comms buoy undoubtedly destroyed, the Marshal came up with an interesting contingency. Good for her. "I don't doubt she's got the Marines on her side swiping at whatever lands, but Therum is a Tier I Colony that Eldfell-Ashland dumps as little money as possible into. They won't be able to hold back the wolves."
"I'll spin up the ships and get my Marines ready for some slug-stomping." The Fleet Commander replied, her voice ice cold. Batarians were a thorn in the Systems Alliance side, and had been growing worse over the years. Sooner or later, the Blinks were going to do something stupid enough to let the dogs of war off the leash, and Peluna rather looked forward to see if the Hegemony was half as good as they claimed. She had a full Brigade of Marines to make someone's life as short and as miserable as possible, and no doubt the Jarheads were getting stir crazy being stuck on Naval boats with little opportunity to grunt and shoot at something. "Recommended actions, Fleet Master?"
"Full prejudice, no quarter given." Jon Grissom replied, making Peluna's eyes widen slightly. This wasn't some politician speaking out of both sides of the mouth, ready to stammer out apologies or going back on his or her word. This was Jon fucking Grissom letting her and her Fleet off the leash. If they found Batarians in Knossos Space, they had full authority to fire first and keep firing until their ships weren't enough to be two atoms colliding. "You might have… outside assistance. The message went through the Citadel, and they passed it to us immediately. I'd expect some Turian hothead ready to pounce on something on the sheer fact that there's something to do. I'm flexing the Tenth Scout Flotilla as well to action on. We can't afford those ships to leave, Peluna. We both know the Jackal is still down there, and I'm not letting another colony get reaved."
"Turians I can live with if they play nice." Turians wouldn't play nice with the Batarians, which was a plus. The addition of Captain Steven Hackett would be nice as well, the Tenth Flotilla made up of fast ships with quick-firing weapons meant to drain shields quickly. Between Fourth Fleet, a Scout Flotilla, and a Battle Group, they would have the numbers to take on the Bats, and saturate them on all sides. The Turians would probably want to mop up afterwards.
"Just remember that it's likely that there will be people captured and probably invested upon those ships, Pel." Grissom reminded her, making the Admiral's mouth twist sourly. "If that's the case, same orders apply. As much as I'd like to free them, a couple dozen or hundred hostages can't let us be deterred to preventing not only this attack, but also the next future one. The Bats need to feel the boot, Pel. I'm picking you to do it, and I'll suffer whatever repercussions become of it."
"Understood, sir." Shule replied, knowing exactly what Jon was referencing to. She might have to shoot at ships with human beings on it, chipped and collared. As bad as that was to do, it was necessary collateral damage to prevent another colony raid, to show that there was no profit in such actions. Something that politicians often forgot when it came to them staring at their polls for public opinion instead of remembering that those were the very reasons they were elected in the first place; to make these kinds of decisions. Thank the Lord that Grissom was born with a stiff spine and a pair of big hairy brass ones. "We're in the middle of Fleet static charge dump and refueling, and we should be able to bug out-of-system in about an hour and a half. That'll give me time to coordinate with my Captains and my Marine Commanders with expectations and likely actions upon arrival."
"Good. Make it happen." Grissom was never one to micromanage his Admirals, in which Shule was grateful for. "Be careful out there, Pel. I'm sending you into a war that we're probably already half lost."
"Then I guess I don't have to worry about the Blinks retreating then, do I?"
Port Hanshan, Noveria, Pax System, Horsehead Nebula, May 22 2175
Centurion Magnus Nihlus Kryik stood in the middle of the office as he watched the last culprit get taken down with a simple fling of the wrist by Strike Huntress Tela Vasir, the Batarian in question crashing into a plastisteel wall hard enough for all four of his eyes to roll into the back of his head. The sight of it was both gratifying and satisfying as the Special Forces Warrior looked over to the Illuminated Primacy Shadow Strike Operative Kya Drang as the Drell Sniper moved over to the sapient in question and began to restrain his arms and ankles with a full body manacle. Unfortunately for Gris Kabanor of the Malturnin Exports Conglomerate, he was found having been a part of the Trail of Tears, and had thought that being on a non-Council planet like Noveria would give him some sort of protection from the authority of the Citadel. On, sure, the Noverian Administration Board squawked when the Corvette-Class THV Unbridled Justice had landed without permission, and squeaked when no less than seven SPECTREs had come into their little domain and started doing what they did best; trampling about with absolutely no regard to the opinions of others. One Director had been zapped with a non-lethal charge from Jondum Bau's OmniTool for merely trying to argue back about the legality of it, the semi-electrocution the only objection the Special Tasks Group Operative needed to voice. Another, a Turian, had tried going for his self-defense pistol. That one had gotten a very painful strike from the blade of Kya Drang's hand, hitting an important nerve cluster just inside the Turian's cowl. He had gone down in a heap of twitching limbs.
Suddenly, the Board got very cooperative after that.
There had been three conspirators that had been a part of the Trail of Tears in Noveria, and they hadn't been small-time players in that ring of misery. There were still strikes and raids going on throughout the galaxy done by the finest to collect everyone that had been involved. Citadel News Network was following the raids closely, and there was no doubt that the reaction was positive as the filth was swept up and collected in due haste, the Office of Special Tactics, the C-SEC Rapid Response Unit, the Turian Blackwatch, the Asari Order of Retribution, and the Salarian Special Tasks Group getting most of the credit while minor agencies were mentioned as well. The accompanying trials that would be held by just about every government in Council Space would be a field day as the ringleaders, conspirators, co-conspirators, and operatives were charged with the fullness of the crimes, not just necessarily their parts in it. It was going to be a very busy set of months in the court systems around the galaxy, and as Sam would say, a day that the law stands tall.
Taking a look at the unconscious body of Gris Kabanor, it was certainly a day that made it all worthwhile.
A peculiar chime came from his left wrist, and Nihlus frowned as he saw the red-skin flash of his Council-issued OmniTool flickering at a low Wattage setting, indicating that he had a priority message coming over the SPECTRE SecureNet. That was Spirits-be-damned unusual; Nihlus usually had a sixth sense in figuring out when s'kak was about to go wrong. A priority message meant something had gone wrong somewhere, and he was being alerted. His eyes flickered to his six comrades, seeing that none of their red-skinned OmniTools were flickering, meant that it was for him and him alone, being the Talon Leader for this particular Strike Force. Nihlus looked over to Tela, who saw his OmniTool flickering, the Maiden frowning as well. They were in the middle of an Op, and he was getting a priority message. That did not bode well.
"We have this." Vasir commented softly, keeping both her eyes and her Elite Arms CS-18 Rapidstrike Submachine Gun on the target. "Go answer your FLASH Message." Kya nodded as she finished binding the Batarian up, getting a hand from Elias Korvan lifting Kabanor onto his feet for detainment. Nihlus nodded once as he turned away and moved away from the crime scene, raising up his OmniTool and touching it to his personal communicator to connect his communicator with the incoming call.
"Kryik here." Nihlus spoke up, holding his OmniTool by his head to keep connected to whomever the transmitter was, undoubtedly kiloParsecs away. It was a means of communication only available to Special Tactics Operatives, to personally communicate across the galaxy as long as there was li-fi connection without the use of a terminal.
"Officer Kanus Hesperian here." The sound of a Turians voice came through his communicator, and Nihlus vaguely remembered the Officer in question, working in the Office of Civil Complaints, the real OCC Office. Officer Hesperian was an Office of Special Tactics Support Officer, one who had been vetted and accepted for his skills regarding intelligence-gathering and tactical advisory. Even operatives such as he needed people backing him up with knowledge, intelligence, and equipment. "We've received FLASH Traffic from Therum. It was addressed to you."
"Sam." Nihlus realized quickly, feeling his gizzard sinking. She was literally the only person he knew in that part of space, and the only one who would know him and who he was. He had been messaging her ever since Revan, talking to her in between missions destroying the Trail of Tears, both keeping her abreast of their progress and… well, getting to know her as well. In Sam Collins he had found a sort of kindred spirit, a cop of righteousness and resolve. A part of him was intrigued by this young human female that, while young and inexperienced, had the audacity to continue on where others would falter or fail, working well with not one but three Council Agents. She was currently the Marshal of Therum, and had somehow captured not only the largest crime boss of her planet, but Garm Jor'raddah as well. If she sent something resembling FLASH Traffic, something terrible must be happening. His first thought was the Jackal, that he had either escaped, or someone had come for him to release him. Something like that was entirely plausible.
"Yes, your pet Human." Nihlus deigned not to reply to that particular connotation. "She used a Relay as an emergency distress signal and gave us an SOS and a message by using Morse Code." Huh, clever. But that meant the ExtraNet was down on Therum, probably due to a downed comms buoy. Or, more likely, a destroyed comms buoy. So Sam had used a means available to her, knowing from him that such things were monitored. She had also used an emergency code that Turians would have recognized; on the hopes they wouldn't ignore it. That meant their situation must be dire. "I'm sending the FLASH Traffic to your SecureNet Box now, but you might want to get to Therum as soon as possible. We've notified the Alliance and we're going to spin up Twenty-third Fleet and Twenty-Ninth Fleet, but that will take time. We're not even sure if an Alliance Fleet will be enough, and by what the message described, your Human is fully expecting a ground war.
"Batarians have invaded Therum." The Officer informed him, and Nihlus' mandibles flared open in shock and horror.
"Spirits." The Blackwatch Commando replied, feeling his heart thudding in his carapace harder at the thought. A Batarian Fleet was no laughing matter, and if it were intent on making slaving runs? The thought of Sam being captured by one of those disgusting sire-vracking barefaced sons of goats filled him with dread. Unfettering those captured and sold by the Hegemony's 'rebellious' elements was generally a dim prospect thanks to their collars and control chips. Most had Final Protocol explosives to kill the slave to prevent rescue. The thought of someone stapling a control chip into Sam's medulla oblongata had the Turian growling loud enough that even Tela noted it, looking at him in concern. "Send the message. I'll be thrusters-up in thirty." Nihlus killed the call, lowering his red-hued OmniTool as he looked to his team of SPECTREs, and then to their prey left restrained in the grasp of Kya Drang and Elias Korvan. "Tela, I'll need you to continue on here. I am needed in Therum.
"Sam's in trouble."
The Strike Huntress frowned at the admission, looking slowly over to Jondum Bau, who had been happily pillaging Gris Kabanor's hard drive and Cloud servers for any pertinent information, stopping when Kryik announced that he was leaving and why. The Asari Maiden and Salarian Operative exchanged a long look between the both of them, wordless but not without meaning. Bau nodded once.
"Then we are coming." Vasir replied, holstering her CS-18 Submachine Gun against her chest, the weapon retracting to its carrying configuration. "We are practically loaded to fight a war against a dug-in mercenary company, so whatever it is we might be facing, we shall have the arms and equipment to do so. We can be in Knossos Space inside of sixteen hours."
"We're going to need it. Batarians have a Fleet over Therum, evidently." Kryik informed the Strike Huntress, who went grey to the scales at the thought. No one in the room needed to be told what that meant, or what that might mean would be happening on the Alliance Colony. If the Batarians sent a Fleet, it was either a call for war, or a massive slaver raid. "I'd expect the worst; SIU Operatives, Heavy Krogan Infantry… Pillars-Priests."
"Goddess." Tela swore, shaking her head. "Three will not be enough, Nihlus."
"Four." Elias Korvan volunteered, surprising Kryik. "This Sam of your is the one that discovered the Revan House of Horrors, yes? The reason we've been running around for the past week snatching-and-grabbing barefaced like these?" He shook the Batarian in question to identify what he meant. Nihlus merely nodded. "There were hatchlings in that sire-vracking camp, and she found it. She needs our help? Count me in."
"I as well." Kya added in, the Drell Assassin nodding in acceptance. "It is our job to prevent such things, and failing that, punish those that try."
"Never thought we'd be flying in to save Humans." Abadexus Linaseus commented wryly, his talons picking at one of his fringe-prongs, the Turian equivalent of rubbing the back of his head as the Asari were wont to do. "Both Kya and Elias are correct, we have a job and a duty to stop such things, and honor to uphold." The former Cabalist then smiled, his mandibles going wide. "Besides, you'll need the help with the Pillars-Priests. Spirits know how much a pain in the clochea they can be."
"Hmm." Khel Burram grunted, scratching under his flat chin with a massive paw. "Seriously outnumbered. Odds of survival are low." The Krogan shrugged as his three-fingered hand dropped to the grip of his Krogish Eezo-powered Warhammer. "What are we waiting for?"
Author's Note: The Office of Civil Complaints was an idea that I had when thinking about the Office of Special Tactics. SPECTREs are supposed to be clandestine, but having a well-known organization with a clearly identified headquarters (like, say, 10 Downing Street or Langley) is more of a front than the actual 'brains'. I don't doubt that almost all Intelligence Branches have 'public' offices and then the not-so-public ones. The OCC will be one of those hidden facets that provides the meat and brains of the Office SpecTRe. Remember this, kiddies; you'll be seeing it in the sequel.
Tap tap tap, tap-tap-tap, tap tap tap (SOS) - Morse Code was invented during the time of the telegraph, and is still in use to this day as the backbone of emergency communications. The letter 'S' is three long, and the letter 'O' is three short. The phrase is actually 'Save Our Souls', but for a Turian, 'Save Our Spirits' works just as well. And yes, the American Navy still uses this, while the Army goes for the Tap Code (which is like ASCII).
FLASH - Actually, this is a code word in the American government for emergency protocols back in the '50's. I don't actually know what it stands for (it might not be an acronym), so I made one up. As far as coming up with one on the fly, it's not bad.
Tahoma - Real Life Mountain, Mount Rainier, in Washington State. I see that sucker every day (its really hard to miss since there's no mountains around it). 'Tahoma' is the Puyallup Nation name for the mountain (translates to Big Sky Rock, I think) and the nearby city gets its name from the mountain, Tacoma.
Sphere of Influence - How the American Navy works. An Aircraft Carrier (flagship) has a range that extends as far as its fighters and bombers, as well as its various vessels ranging from Destroyers and Submarines, Cruisers and Gunboats. An American Naval Fleet has the ability to control an extreme portion of an ocean (and in the case of the Indian Ocean, practically all of it) and can last as long as they have supplies (which more can be flown in, so theoretically until they run out of parts since the big boats are all nuclear powered). The Army 'somewhat' operates with these rules, though we call these 'zones', 'areas', and 'lanes'. Think of it this way; if you are in a tank that has a range of 2 kilometers of effective range (which our Abrams can do better than that), then the Sphere of Influence is 2 kilometers. If you send out dismounts for better eyes on, taking away dead zones, creating choke points, and denying routes of availability, then you get an idea what the Navy does on the water. But with much bigger, much better weapons. The Army, as awesome as we can be, cannot obliterate a country (we can wreck one or two if needed). The Navy? They can knock your ass out from over the horizon. They are the threat that protects America (and as I understand it, the British operate under the same rules and operations).
RICO Act - The Racketeering Influenced and Corrupt Organizations Act is a Federal Mandate in America in which the Feds use against Mafias and other criminal organizations to charge everyone with everything pertaining to the acts of criminality. If you're a numbers runner and someone else in the organization committed a murder because he was ordered to? Guess what, you'll get murder charges, too. This was to close the loophole known as by proxy, in which someone ordering to commit a murder would get murder charges as oppose to conspiracy, but now pertains to just about anything in the organization if enough evidence is collected.
Red OmniTool - back in my Mass Effect vs. Aliens Series, I had made it to where SPRECTREs were 'issued' red Omnitools instead of that burnt sunburst orange one as a means of identification that they were who they were, and that no one else could have it. It was both badge and threat, and I liked the idea. I do mention in the Revan Arc that Nihlus does possess a red-skinned Omnitool, though Sam doesn't understand the significance of it.
Kya Drang, Elias Korvan - Two old school OC's of mine going back to the Battle Series (though Kya didn't make the cut as due to lack of readers, I never got past the Battle of Tuchanka, though she was to appear in the third story, Battle of the Citadel), and also in Mass Effect vs. Aliens 2: Valkyrie Rising, in which they were in Janey Shepard's SPECTRE Training School, both SPECTRE Recruits. Elias is a Special Operations Warrior of the Final Line (the Turian equivalent of the Roman Legionnaire's First phylum of the First cohort, the best and most experienced veterans in the lead of the Army, known as the Vanguard, but instead covering retreats), while Kya Drang is a Shadow Strike Assassin of the Kahje Illuminated Primacy.
Abadexus Linaseus - A Special Operations Warrior, a Turian Cabalist. Probably will make him an Adapt. Will probably borrow heavily from ME3's Multiplayer as well as LogicalPremise's Encyclopedia Biotica, plus some Jedi Mind Tricks. Because the only two canon Turian biotics (Saren Arterius and Nyreen Kandros) were rather… unflattering.
Khel Burram - Pinnacle Station's resident Krogan. No idea why he was there. Warhammer? Krogan smash! And it's not even Forty Thousand A.D. yet!