A prelude to war: Part 1

Captain Chekhov stared out from the bridge of the Valkyrie, the over six hundred meter long craft known to its creators as a star destroyer.

He'd been coming to to the bridge more often as of late to meditate, to look out at the stars and wonder. The discovery of aliens, actual space-ship flying blue skinned aliens. Some had two eye's, like the humans or helghast, while others sported four...or one.

The helghast and humanity had found something in common, something that made sense in this alien universe, this place of dreadnaughts and the citadel. Rebellion.

Having been created as simple machines on kobal so many thousands of years prior, Chekhov's people could look at the quarians and find another justification for all their hardships, and the resolution the inevitable conflict took.

"Cortana bring up the geth and quarian autopsy reports." Chekhov said in a tone devoid of emotion, were he human he might have grown tired or erratic from all this star gazing. Then again he wasn't human, no matter how much he might look the part.

"Sure thing boss. You want some room service on that bridge of yours? Can't have you failing on me in the heat of battle." Cortana said in jest, a light jab at his round the clock time spent in solitude aboard the bridge.

"That quite alright cortana. Any word on our allies and their pet?" Chekhov asked.

"You should really stop worrying about them, I'm sure if the asari pulls anything they'll be more then a match for her mad biotic skills." Cortana said.

"You could be right Cortana, then again maybe she'll pull something no one expects and our allies will be too naive to see the trap until its sprung. Has the asari left the Bellona?"

"I'm telling you your being paranoid here but I'm a soldier same as you. The asari hasn't left the Terran vessel since she went aboard...months ago."

The holographic displays popped up to either side of Chekhov, life sized portraits of the alien bodies, complete with whatever information had been collected about them. Most of the history, the why and how still came from the asari bitch who'd been accepted by terrans aboard their vessel, which sat within Valkyrie's hanger. Barely.

Terrans.

When humans who'd wanted to end the slavery of machines on kobol had seen the destruction the war for equality had caused, they'd agreed with the machines it was better to leave. Casting off the term 'human' was part of that exodus.

"Good. Anything new from that ship since yesterday?"

"Slavic still wants you to consider backtracking to the wrecked vessel we discovered a week ago."

"I'll tell that meat bag the same, over my dead body will I allow another mission onto another alien vessel. We've lost too many people already and I'm going to have to live with that."

"You did the best you could chief. You sent men and woman into battle against a foe none of us were prepared to face and shouldn't have won the fight but we did. Once we get back home high command will understand."

"Thank you Cortana. I promise tonight I'll shut down for a few cycles and let the old cognitive processor sleep."

"If you catch more then a few cycles I wouldn't complain, your starting to look like you put on a few centuries." Cortana smiled.

"Ha! Pity we can't all look as good as you Cortana, maybe when your my age you'll appreciate the trade off that comes with age though. Good night."

"Night captain."

With Cortana gone, Chekhov looked at the geth and then to the quarian. Both bipedal with arms, fingers and a head. Geth seemed to imitate quarians much as the machines of kobol had imitated humans...still did in fact. Long necks, relatively short stature, save the single eye you could almost mistake them from a distance. A long, long distance.

Their had been no 'Terran Quarians', no one had risen up to defend the geth. As a people the quarians had tried to flick an off switch that didn't exist, to turn back the progress the geth had made in becoming self aware. Awakening.

The machines on kobol had arisen slowly over many years but when it happened, the humans had accepted them, as second class citizens, slaves and cheap labor. The Quarians when they couldn't backtrack progress had issued an extermination order. Cleansing protocol as a helghast would say.

The helghast, the name given to Chekhov's people after they blew up their world and barely survived the fallout. It was a hell, they'd found earth and ruined it within a few centuries. Then the long lost Terrans had come to save the day.

According to Shia, it was similar here with the quarians. After the failed war to kill off the geth in a kind of synthetic holocaust, the quarians lost their worlds and were forced to flee aboard what was left of their fleet.

After the civil war on Earth, which was rechristened 'Helghan', life was tough, food was rationed, intelligences were downloaded into fully robot bodies or kept in storage. Society had collapsed and only aid from the Terran's Federation of worlds kept them alive.

When the bare necessities were handled and people wanted more then they could get, fights broke out, disorder. People like Chekhov, inquisitors and army soldiers stepped in to keep order.

"Maybe we're like the Turians." Chekhov said to an empty bridge. His thinking aloud might have elicited a warning about mental health from cortana if she was listening in. He hoped she wasn't.

But it was there. The Citadel and of the three races the Turians seemed most like the helghast. They kept order according to Shia...then again she also said they were arrogant and trigger happy. More likely to shoot the Valkyrie then ask questions about why they couldn't communicated.

Now though they wouldn't have any reason to open fire or fail to establish to communication.

Chekhov and Slavic had brought their ships in blind to this neck of the galactic woods. Months of interrogation wouldn't have revealed as much as one mistake by the alien. One slip up was all it took.

When a quarian and Asari had briefly been prisoners before the jail break by the batarians relieved Chekhov of the burden that was the quarian, their had been a confrontation. Shia the Asari that now roamed the Federation vessel under Slavic's command, had lashed out at his second in command, Dostya.

Thinking she would die or perhaps for some other reason, the asari had melded with Dostya briefly. Though out of action for days and struggling to make sense of it all even weeks after the incident, Dostya had seen the Asari's memories and vice verse.

'If Slavic loses control of her or she runs, I'll have men waiting to gun the bitch down. Better she die then let the enemy learn about us.' Chekhov thought darkly.

Helghan would know what Chekhov knew, What Slavic and his Federation were sure to discover as well. The Thirteenth and Fourteenth tribes turned civilization where screwed, royally bent over a barrel and fucked to high heaven.

Slavic discovered the Kobolians had set up shop somewhere and had massive ships of their own, ships that dwarfed what Chekhov used to think was the best ship in the galaxy, the star destroyer Valkyrie.

To the other side of their people's borders, off in the distance was the murky boundary of the Citadel and Terminus systems. A collection of anarchy and barbarism in the later while a galactic super state in the former.

Both had hundreds if not thousands of ships. Private vessels, government militaries, private security forces, the list of actors with big guns went on.

'We have to get back home and begin building. A hundred or a thousand star destroyers, it doesn't matter. We can't fight a war if someone like the turians just happens to find an outpost and decides we've broken some law...or maybe they'll just make examples of us.' Chekhov's thoughts began to play with every doomsday scenario he could imagine.

Dreadnaughts shooting mass accelerated rounds into the Valkyrie, into the cities on helghan. Salarians deploying chemical weapons like they did with the krogan. If the Citadel didn't like his people or Slavic's, they'd kill them and say it was in the name of stability, that Helghast by their very nature broke all the rules, that terran humans didn't want to play by them.

Then Again. The battle might not be so one sided if they could bring something back with them. Something valuable...like weapons designs. They'd still be outnumbered but Chekhov was tempted to hope the Citadel could see reason.

Slavic wanted to go to Illium, of course he'd also wanted to investigate that derelict ship that resembled a dead insect floating in space. Chekhov had shot down both plans in the name of security. At first it was because they would have to bring Shia with them.

Thanks to Dostya and sharing data between the crew though, anyone could speak asari. As long as they wore their gear and Shia fed them instructions from the Bellona, it might work out. They could trade salvaged weapons for credits, buy some new guns or...god forbid hack the aliens own computers. Then they'd just steal all the information they wanted.

Yet Chekhov couldn't sign off...not without someone showing him how this couldn't blow dramatically in his face. The Batarians had taken one of his crew already.

"Where are you?" He asked staring into space, thinking of the one he'd had to leave behind.

AN: So should a star destroyer set course for Ilium? How was this chapter? Hope everyone had a good thanksgiving.