Chapter Twenty-Eight: Before the Storm


Part 1:

Brigadier Williams and Major Averil
Amenthes Control Station, Mars
April 22, 2147 05:00:00 UTC

Thirty-One Years Ago…

"Beautiful, no?"

"Magnificent! Prothean tech?"

"Partly. But this… This is all on us."

Outside the view, three officers stood at the forward railing of the control room in a shipyard control station at the heart of the Martian Naval Fleet Yard. Outside that station, named Amenthes Control, were the hundred shipyard skeleton structures under its service. Nearly all of them were filled with ships, from the completion of those for the Third Fleet to dozens of civilian ships contracting the yards from the government. They ranged from cargo mail ships for UTPS to gas scoopers for EAE and BP.

Directly in front of them was a far larger construct. It was no ship, far larger, using multiple flagship size shipyards to house it. But it was for war, all the same.

The third man grunted and turned to them.

"Terrifying would be the word I would use," replied Brigadier Williams.

His superior, General Bletchley, nodded, "True. This weapon, though simple, is powerful. Especially in its symbol."

"The Rapture Defense Satellite," said Major Averil, "A rated one giga-ton TNT. Merde… The Touch of God."

Williams despairingly remarked, "More like the Punch of God. This thing can tear through a fleet of ships with a single salvo."

Bletchley added on, "Once the last one is finished, we'll have a complete network of defense over Earth. One day, this would defend every planet in the Federation. Might even render the Navy obsolete. No threat will stand a chance against them."

"These satellites go both ways," remarked Williams.

Averil replied, "Some threats of man are from within…"

"Or down below."

An alert appeared on his watch. The Army general, and Head of Military Intelligence, checked.

"How interesting. President Vetrol wants me to attend an intelligence meeting."

"You are the Head of Military Intelligence," remarked Averil.

Bletchley chuckled, "How unfortunate, no?" He signaled to his personal assistant standing near the entrance of the control room. "Major, Brigadier."

They both nodded to him, "General."

They watched as their leader walked away, departing back to Earth. Williams and Averil left also and headed to Averil's office down the hall. Inside, they sat down and turned back to the orbital satellite nearing completion. The room was sealed and secure, so they could speak more freely.

"You think these things can one shot those things?" asked Averil as he reached for a cup of coffee.

"We have no real intel on those damn… what'd Bletchley call them?"

"The 'Reapers', Ed."

"All our intel is from the ruins planet side, Ren. We have checked every planet with Prothean relics, and nothing supports what we found on Mars." Williams sighed and gestured his hand at the satellite, "This damn monstrosity could overkill those things, or have no effect on them. It could be built for an phantom enemy."

Averil sat back in his seat, checking his computer, "Then why do you worry?"

"I worry because we hold this weapon, this power. But we have no direct target for it." An alert appeared on his watch, prompting him to stand up, "But damn it! If history has taught us anything, it is that we will find a target."

"Where are you off to?"

"Bletchley just messaged me to head to the outer system. Wants me to check on some stolen military gear from the mothball yards near the Chiron Relay, or something…" He moved his hand in a twirling motion, not exactly caring about what he was supposed to do now.

"I'll see you on Earth for Worker's Day, then?" asked Averil.

He stopped at the door and turned to look back, "Wouldn't miss it for the galaxy. No matter what they say of Admiral Darya, she and those Russos sure can throw a party."

"Best of all, in Russia, the party finds you!" He held his mug up to him, "Happy Earth Day."

"Oh, don't be a hippie. We got rid of climate change… wait, did we?"

They had a quick laugh and Williams departed, heading for the shuttle bay. Averil sat at his desk. His friend Williams had a point. Since joining Section 14, he and many others were growing worried about the means their leader was going through to fight this enemy they had only heard about in some old alien computer. It became clear that if even Williams, Bletchley's second, was very uncomfortable with this it was a problem only set to escalate.

A message came over the comm.

"Major Averil. Please head to the control room."

Averil stood up, "On my way."

He quickly walked over to the room, just up the hallway. The commander of the station, Lieutenant Taylor, pointed at the main screen for his Marine security guards to see.

"Sir, we have an unidentified shuttle in the outskirts of the yard, five hundred kilometers."

"Have we hailed it?"

"We've hailed it twice already. No reply. We have no shuttle scheduled to head to us from that direction. It's coming at a low speed."

Averil groaned, worried, "Send shuttles out to investigate."

Taylor nodded, "I've already deployed two shuttles to intercept."

From their control, they watched as two Naval shuttles rushed to the outskirts to stop the intruder. Averil observed closely, running through a database on his watch.

"That shuttle…"

"Still attempting to identify. Jefferson?"

The station AI replied, "No image or electronic marker can be found, sir. Scans indicate a fragile hull structure, but heavier than expected mass."

"Life signs?" asked Taylor.

"Scans are inconclusive. I'll attempt to patch into the ship nearby, the Homestead. Her scanners should be installed."

"They look…" Averil ordered a zoom in on the image, "Old."

The two Naval shuttles began a final approach on the rogue shuttle. The rogue shuttle then signaled out enough for the station to notice it was transmitting, if for a brief moment, before it went silent. A few seconds later, several new shuttles appeared from space, warping near the first shuttle. Before the Naval ones could react, the rebel shuttles opened fire on the approaching Naval ones, destroying one immediately and forcing another to veer off and take shelter among the hull of an incomplete ship. The original one then turned its engines on to full power and made a quick beeline for the shipyards as more appeared around the outskirts of the yards.

"That shuttle is on a collision course! Projected target… Defense Satellite Z-089."

Taylor yelled out, "Open fire and take that shuttle out! Hail all friendly ships and order them to our position!"

"Defense fleet is converging on our position. All point defense cannons are opening fire."

"We can't lose that satellite! Stop them!" ordered Averil.

The shuttles rushed past the incoming plasma fire of the small station, still approaching its main target. The escort shuttles drew fire from it, firing at the defense cannons as it launched makeshift torpedoes at the station. They were slow though, and were quickly destroyed by the point defense cannons. Their minuscule explosion indicated no real mention of them, but they served their real job well and bought the main suicide shuttle time to approach.

As it got closer, only kilometers away from the massive satellite, two fighters flew by, strafing the path of shuttles. Two were destroyed as the rest veered off target. The shuttle's path diverged from its original target and made for the next best thing.

Averil turned to the AI's holoavatar, sitting ahead of them at his station.

"Can you hack it?"

"I have no point entry to work with! But whoever is controlling it, can't be human. Too quick, too nimble for even the Sky Rebel herself…"

Averil gasped at the thought, "But that means… they have an AI working with them!"

Jefferson interrupted, "Target changed. The shuttle is now on course for the station! Section: shuttle bay!"

Taylor yelled out the order, "Evacuate the shuttle bay! Concentrate fire on that thing!"

Averil rushed to open comms at the shuttle bay. No other shuttle had yet to leave the station.


"An attack?"

Williams' pilot replied, pointing at the closed bay doors, "Yes, sir. All flights are canceled."

He leaned on the shuttle, located closest to the hatch into the station. "Damn it… who is attacking us? We're at the heart of the Sol Fleet!"

"No word yet–"

The bright red alert lights were suddenly accompanied by a loud open alert, "All personnel! Evacuate the shuttle bay immediately!"

Williams looked up at a nearby speaker, "Wait, Averil–"

The shuttle outside collided with the bay doors, a massive explosion bashed through into the bay and vaporized everything and everyone near it in a fraction of a second. Before Williams could even look back, the massive hole where the door and part of the station was allowed a massive and sudden decompression of the atmosphere inside. In that full second since the shuttle hit, the air was removed in one quick exhale, the survivors were pulled along just a bit before the air and all of the fires and explosions from the impact, were gone.

The gravity quickly failed. Williams and a few others found themselves floating a bit in the void exposed bay. He himself was suffering a concussion from the blast, his blood was quickly losing oxygen, and his lungs burned with intense pain. With only a few seconds to act, he pushed off his shuttle and made a painfully slow flight to a nearby console that was still working. On it was an override to seal the bay by contracting the shields to where the hull was. He quickly activated his watch and hoped it would do the rest to execute the command. He reached his hand out and pointed at the shuttle, hoping momentum would finish the job.

A few seconds went by, a slow float towards the console as others were dying in the exposed void. Williams' momentum made him spin, and he ended up getting a glimpse of the outside. There, in the dead silent, dozens of shuttles were flying about, either rebel shuttles firing at the station or Naval shuttles firing at the rebel shuttles. As he got closer, the pain from his lungs and his head wound quickly took its toll, and he drifted into unconsciousness. Right before he did, he watched as a Naval frigate came from above, its large saucer section blocked the view of the rest of the yard and Mars as it opened fire and immediately destroyed the remaining rebel shuttles. Naval fighters entered as well to clean out and secure the space.

His blue finger made contact with the console, his watch interfacing with the console for the correct instructions being sent through. Outside, the shields contracted and formed up to where the hull and bay doors where. Gravity and life support were soon restored, everyone dropped to the ground. But too much time had gone by and everyone lay there on the ground. Medical crews rushed inside, still equipped with breathers. Averil and Taylor rushed in as well, looking for the General.

His lifeless body lay on the ground, his arm stretched out and pointing at the console. Averil rushed to him as medical personnel hurried to aid him.

A doctor took out a scanner.

"His lungs have collapsed. He must not have had time to exhale before the attack."

"We can't lose the General!"

"Nurse, oxy-implanter!"

He got the hypospray and jammed it into Williams' neck. The oxygen rich serum would ensure brain activity. But instead, it also revived Williams, whose first instinct was to try to breathe with his damage lungs. The immense pain made him go into shock; he began to have wild spasms. The med crew rushed to restrain him as a free stretcher came over.

They all lifted him up and restrained him as they rushed for the med bay. Averil stood by his side as Williams looked up at the Major. He took off his cap and placed it on his chest as he looked down at his friend.

"Ed? Ed! Stay with us, Ed. We'll patch you right up!"

"I need another oxy-implanter, stat!"

"We're gonna get you a new set lungs, Ed. Real nice ones. Just stay with us!"


Part 2:

General Williams and Head Scout Williams
Amaterasu
April 22, 2168 07:00:00 UTC

Present day –
Nine Months into the Interbellum

"Grandpa?"

Williams woke from his daze, lifting his head from his hands as he leaned against the table. He opened his eyes and saw his granddaughter sitting on the other side of the small table. He was in the guest room of his son's house on Amaterasu. In front of both of them was a chessboard, the game in its infancy.

"Oh, uh… What?"

The young, newly ten-year-old sighed, "Did you fall asleep in the middle of our game again?"

Williams closed his eyes and smiled, chuckling.

"Sorry, Ash. My mind wandered off. Age does that to you."

She sat up in her seat, "Well, now that you're back among the living," she pointed at the board, "It's your turn."

"But of course, dear. Now then…"

He took one of his pawns and advanced it forward. Ashley took her queen through the gap in her pawn line and straight into the middle of the board, her strongest piece unleashed quickly into the battle. For the next few minutes, each of them took turns advancing their wooden troops, trading attacks against each other as the attrition-based game wore on. Ashley moved fast, quickly attacking with each of her turns with a blitz. Williams took his time. It wasn't timed after all, giving him the luxury to think his plan through. It didn't take long though for Ashley's offensive to seemingly overwhelm her grandfather's army. Her pieces were focused around her king. His were scattered about.

She 'castled' her king and left rook. Her king was now behind a few pawns, protected from the front, and a rook to its right. She had at least one of each main chess piece out on the board. Williams' own line was diminished. But he could see a few moves ahead.

She smiled, "Victory is assured."

Williams advanced one of his remaining pawns on the other end of the board, "Don't be quick to claim the day as won, less you snatch victory from the jaws of defeat."

She sat back and slouched a bit in her seat, wrinkling her scout's uniform as she thought, "Grandpa, I have a question."

"Yes, Ashley?"

"Does a game like this prepare a general like you for battle?"

Williams sat back in his seat and thought over the question his granddaughter had asked him. He crossed his arms and rubbed his chin, then advanced a pawn on his far left forward.

"In a way... Chess is a game of endurance."

She advanced her bishop diagonally upwards to her far left, in sight of his queen.

"How? Besides the waiting, I mean."

"Well, besides that, this is an attrition-based game. Ideally, you don't want a war to be like a game of chess." He gestured to all the pieces. "But chess teaches you something. Each piece is unique in its own way. A master of chess can see a whole game play through in a single moment, how each pawn will win him the game. How each one can be used to counter his, or her, enemy's own."

"How?"

Williams looked at the board, looking for a piece to start his lesson. He grabbed a knight and advanced it from its starting point. It also blocked a path for her queen.

"Knights are a unique piece. They are flexible, far reaching, and can skip by enemies to get to the heart of things."

Ashley asked, "But they can't attack directly like a queen or a rook. And if you move them all wrong, they just get eaten up by another chess piece."

Williams looked at it, using his experience to come up with a comparison he was far more familiar with, "You've got to think about it, Ash. These 'knights in shining armor' are like your covert agents. Move one too often and your opponent can see what you're doing. But position them correctly, with time and thought, and they can strike when your enemy least expects it."

"But I can see you move them now!"

She sat up and reached over, and advanced her bishop forward along the black diagonal tiles, taking his knight. Ashley sat back down, smiling with certainty. Williams chuckled quietly to himself over his granddaughter's confidence.

"You saw me there."

"Thought you could slip a secret agent through while you lecture me. Smart. But you know me better. Besides, you aren't the spymaster sort of person."

He shook his head, "I expect nothing less from you." He advanced one bishop on the opposite color to the edge of the board. Ashley looked at it for a moment, but that changed when he moved his hand to his other, with sights on her queen now, "And me, a spymaster? No, I'm just some Army grunt. Ah! Here, Bishop, er… bishops. An interesting pawn."

"It feels random when they become useful. Almost like a trap that you should see ten steps ahead than a frontline pawn. Diagonal movement is just weird. I got lucky there to be honest."

"Well. Bishops, I would say are not regular frontline troops. They are like… the Special Forces. Our Berets and N7s. Some bishops can be moved to quickly be in attack formation, like we did in the Revival. Others need to be moved into position. I know that, though it may seem they can't go head to head, they can attack from angles neither you nor your opponent can see. Battles are fought outside of battlefields. Either by elite soldiers or civilians with unique capabilities."

"I see…" Ashley moved her queen out of the way, positioning it a few blocks closer to her. She looked at another piece, "And rooks? I like to think of them as tanks! Straight into the action, bashing enemy troops. Back and forth, side to side!"

Williams chuckled, moving a pawn from earlier forward, "You sound like my officer staff! But rooks? I like to think they reflect the mentality of people, rather than a unit on the field."

"I don't follow, Grandpa."

"Think about it. You see forward, you see backwards. Left and right. You can attack straight on. But the difference between a soldier on the front and elite troops is that these rooks can see the opportunity from the unspoken corners of the battlefield."

She advanced her last knight, "How?"

"Like this." Though his only rook was in position to take one of her knights, he moved his first bishop and moved it across the board, taking her other knight. Quickly noticing, she made a quick and rash move, advancing her other one away from Williams' rook. Williams, focused, moved his other bishop and attacked, now in its line of capture. Ashley panicked at the suddenly loss of both her knights in seconds, and reacted as such, moving her queen forward and taking a pawn, just one tile short of a diagonal checking his king. Williams countered, quick and with thought, and moved his queen. In a shocking move, he moved it right behind Ashley's own queen.

"What did you do?" she whispered, looking at the board. She could see the trap; take his queen, and a simple pawn would take hers.

"I was hard pressed on my right. My center was yielding. Board layout made it impossible to maneuver. Situation excellent! I attacked."

"Wow… Foch. General Foch!" She realized she was in no position to simply take his queen with hers. That same bishop he used was covering it. She moved her queen away, retreating diagonally back to her side. Safe, but no longer in any meaningful position. "So, what else does the chess master have in store?"

"Oh, now I'm a chess master?" Williams asked.

She giggled, "Just not over Dad."

He rolled his eyes, but smiled, "You have a point."

"So, the king and queen. What about them?"

Williams sat back. He looked at his watch, the morning growing old, and his time here as well. But for Ashley, he'd finish the lesson.

"The king, naturally, is the goal. Achieve the goal, and you win."

"That seems obvious," she remarked.

"But just remember, whether a small skirmish, an all-out battle, or an entire war, there is always a goal. Just be mindful…" He moved his queen forward, appearing to be readying some breakthrough of sorts for her king. "That unlike chess, what you think is the king, is but a pawn."

"And the queen?" She moved another pawn forward. Her king and rook at the back line still hiding behind a few pawns.

"A powerful piece. But wars can be won without one, and can be lost with one. It all comes down to who controls it well."

He grabbed his other bishop all the way on her side and moved back, leaving it open. It landed right in sight of her queen, no piece by her grandfather in position to cover that spot. She moved her queen and took his bishop. Williams moved to take her most forward pawn; Ashley countered and retreated her queen back in striking position of his. Williams moved his other bishop, taking position near her queen, while also being deep into her side. Quick to judge the situation, she took his queen, while moving back into a safe position.

"And I know how to control mine!"

He smiled, "You do. But you forgot the first thing I told you."

"What?"

"That every piece is key to victory. And when you realize that…"

He took his bishop and advanced, striking at the castled rook. It startled her, even though she wasn't in check. She moved her king and took his last bishop. He advanced his forward pawn, all the way on the other side, and reached the last row; it was free of the knight that his fallen bishop had taken out earlier.

"Your finest soldiers, your experts on and off the field. This is where they all start as but simple pawns." He switched his pawn out, reached over to the side, and brought his queen out. At that very moment, her king was trapped behind its very own defensive line. "Check… and mate."

"Wow… you beat me, Grandpa."

"Looks like I still got it," He chuckled.

"I can't believe I didn't notice you move that pawn."

Williams sat back in his seat to rest, "Always wise to pay attention to every piece. The elites may battle in front of the world, but the war is won by those forgotten, unsung heroes."

"And a chess master who can set everyone up. Who can see the victory before the game even starts."

"Maybe… one more lesson."

She turned to him, "What's that, Grandpa?"

"A chess master starts off as a pawn. And sometimes…" he sat up and leaned over the table, whispering to her, "They still are."

"I never knew this game was so philosophical."

He stood up and walked back to his bed to get his luggage and formal coat, "Oh, you can make anything some deep and meaningful, Ashley. It's all about the words."

She rolled her eyes, "Wow, there goes the lesson…"

Williams laughed, "Better me teaching it than life, huh?"


Ashley walked out of his room, to the first floor of their house, a decent sized ranch across the wide farmlands of Amaterasu. She stood in position, by the side of the door, straightening out her uniform as the head scout of her unit and fluffing her green beret. She pulled out her whistle and blew on it, calling out across the household. With that loud high pitch sound resonating across the house, a flurry of commotion spread.

From the kitchen, her sisters Abby and Lynn rushed from their breakfast and stood by their eldest sister's side. They were also dressed in their scout uniforms, a different number and emblem on their patches than the troop scout Ashley was in. They all lined up in front of Williams' door to properly see their grandfather out. The youngest, Sarah, too young and still dressed in her pajamas, then walked out from the kitchen to follow her sisters and join them, the young three-year-old stumbling. Their mother walked out and picked her up, walking towards the bottom of the staircase. She looked up the stairs, wondering where her husband was.

From the kitchen's television, the news was playing.

"As we can see here, President Bowman is now placing the wreath at the Tomb of the Unknown Soldier here in New Jerusalem as we commemorate the 21st Anniversary of the Amenthes Bombing, 18th Anniversary of Uplifting Day and of the end of the Great Revival."

General Williams opened the door of his room, in full formal blue and green Army uniform. It was the newest version being issued; an older Earth style coat with a green tie and a grey belt around his waist, a B7 buckle in the center of it. He had a simple suitcase in his hand, his cap in the other. As he took a step out, Ashley smiled.

"Attention!"

The three of them stood straight and saluted their grandfather. Humored by his granddaughters, he took a step forward, turned to face them, then placed his luggage down and saluted the scouts back.

"General Williams," said Ashley with all the seriousness the ten-year-old could muster.

"Head Scout Williams."

He turned back forward and reached down for his luggage. He looked up, noticing his son in his Naval uniform in line with his daughters, his duffle bag next to him. He gave a big grin as he saluted his father with his daughters.

"General Williams!"

Williams rolled eyes and smirked, but turned to salute him back.

"Chief Williams."

He gestured for him to follow as he walked towards his wife and Sarah. Holding young Sarah in her arms, she gently rocked her. The older girls walked over as well, surrounding them.

"Say 'bye' to the General, Sarah."

She turned and waved to Williams, "Bye Genewal Grampa."

"Goodbye, Sarah," He turned to their mother, "My, my, Kimberly. How do you do it? Raising all of them?"

She giggled, "It reminds me of my old squad," she turned to her daughters and husband, "But I wouldn't give up this position up for the world."

Williams turned to his son, "You're a lucky man, Robert. To have the Lieutenant here as your CO and wife."

He chuckled, "I sure am. But the Marine officer here could never resist my charm."

"Naval charm? Ha, I've got to tell that to Admiral Paris. He'll get a laugh for sure."

They continued to the door and onto the newly finished porch. Outside was the green grassland of the distant colony world. The sky had a blue glow, with a tint of purple from the gases inside the otherwise garden world atmosphere. As they walked out, a shuttle descended from the sky towards their front lawn.

"You got us a shuttle, Robert?"

"Perks of being a chief."

As they waited for it to land, Williams turned around and looked to Ashley.

"I hope you had a great birthday, Ash."

She nodded, "I did! Thanks for staying an extra week with us."

"Ten years old. How quickly you have grown. Robert, when is she having her First Communion?"

"Sometime during my next leave, after Resiliency Day," he replied.

"You're all growing up. My, how the time has gone." The shuttle blasted off its landing thrusters and settled on the empty road in front of their house, "It's great being with you, with all of you." He took a deep breath and sighed, "But the nation calls us back."

Robert looked back at the shuttle as its doors opened, then he looked up at the sky. Compelled, he said a line from one of his favorite poems. "The arching sky is calling…"

"Spacemen back to their trade," finished Williams. He was the one who taught him the poem.

Ashley thought for a moment about the line. In a flash, she remembered what poem it came from. "Out ride the sons of Terra, far drives the thundering jet. Up leaps a race of Earthmen, out, far, and onward yet."

They both turned back to the girl, surprised she knew the poem. She crossed her arms and smiled at them. But someone else finished it up.

"We pray for one last landing, on the globe that gave us birth. Let us rest out eyes on the fleecy skies, and the cool, green hills of Earth."

"Kim, I didn't know you read Heinlein," said Robert.

She gave a playful groan, "You recite that poem all the time."

Sarah looked to at her mother, "Mommy, what's a 'Earth'?"

She chuckled, "That's our home world, Sarah."

"Okey… what a home world?"

Robert chuckled, "We'll leave you to it, then."

They climbed onto the shuttle, Williams signaling them to start the engines. Holding onto the railing, they waved goodbye.

"You girls be safe!"

The three older girls yelled up at them as they took off, "Bye, Dad! Bye, Grandpa!"

The hatch closed and the shuttle took off, quickly accelerating up into the sky.

As the small ranch disappeared into the landscape, he closed his eyes, trying to ingrain their final moment into his mind as he whispered to himself. "I pray for one last landing. For them all, I pray for one last landing…"


Part 3:

Spectre Arterius and Spectre Kryik
Turian Embassy
A few hours before…
April 21, 2168 17:00:00 UTC

Saren dodged a biotic wave, hitting the ground and rolling back up as he rushed from cover to cover. In front of him, three Asari commandoes were gunning for the Spectre, armed with powerful Disciple shotguns and their galaxy renowned biotics. Around them were the burnt-out ruins of a tall building, a large hole through the ceiling all the way to the roof. Saren quickly rested up and reloaded heat syncs into his Carnifex pistol. With his own choice of weaponry, he reluctantly chose a 'Terran' invocation, disposable quick exchange heat syncs; he was simply able to put down more rounds using it. His excuse when people asked, it was a Quarian innovation, not a human one.

He broke from cover and kept moving, firing at one commando as they tried to target him. One made a biotic charge at him, but Saren was able to see it and turned to face her. He took out his knife and held it out, the split-second reaction allowed him to counter the commando. She ended up phasing back in and was impaled by the knife. Saren quickly grabbed hold of the suddenly appearing Asari and shoved her to the ground, pinning her.

The two others opened fire, biotically charged rounds going through the room. Saren stayed low. Moving to a fallen concrete pillar, he fired his pistol, the rounds bouncing off of the biotic's shields. As one reloaded, the other covered her and threw out several shockwaves. Back and forth, he kept moving and looking for a means to stop them. The Turian Spectre moved with the speed and agility of a Salarian, avoiding shotgun and biotic blasts. He stayed focused and returned fire with the age-old discipline of a Turian.

The first one reloaded and charged forward, stopping in front of him. She raised her shotgun and fired. His shields held off the blast, but knocked him back and onto the floor. As he fell on his back and slid, the Asari rushed at him, readying a nova blast. Seeing her approach, he quickly scrambled for his omni-tool.

As she jumped up for the blow, Saren raised his hand and unleashed a powerful overload at close range. The high voltage quickly struck her combined biotic/kinetic barrier; the feedback destroyed her shields and electrocuted her. For a brief moment, she stayed there in the air; a mass effect field surrounding her and Saren unleashed all he had. She fell back on her feet, stumbling about in a daze. Saren raised his pistol and fired, a quick clean shot through her temple.

He got back up, looking to where the last commando was. She was gone; the ruins of the building were all there was. He quickly looked around, noticing only the eerie silence. He walked out, weapon in hand, to the middle of the room, looking up at the sky above. A cold breeze came through the ruins, the sound of a soft howl bouncing off the ruble and towards him at the bottom.

Saren then heard a swish, a quick parting of the air behind him. He turned, the final commando charged at him from the floor above and right at him. She quickly kicked him to the ground; she landed in fighting stance, an Asari biotic sword in hand, while Saren slid across the room.

He got up and fired, but the Asari's shields brushed it off. As she got close, he raised his arm to unleash another overload, but the Asari swung her sword and slashed his prosthetic arm. The overload feedback of the nerve stimulus in his arm sent out a sharp pain. His momentary distraction gave the commando time to give a powerful biotic kick. He was back on the ground again, arm broken and body aching.

He looked up and saw her walk over him. She raised her sword ready for the final killing blow.

"Damn it, Saren!"

She was suddenly blasted a few meters away from Saren, the pellets of a shotgun blast following behind as it left a heated ionized air trail. Saren quickly sat up, making sure she was down for the count. He turned back, a hand extended out to him.

"Well, your timing couldn't be better."

Nihlus pulled him up and yelled at him, "No shit, Saren. Look at you!"

Saren looked at his broken arm.

"This?" He gave a short chuckle, "It's a machine. I can always swap it for another in the med bay."

"This isn't funny, Saren." Nihlus looked up, "Computer, end program!"

The ruins immediately disappeared, showing an empty bay with electronic mass effect emitters all along the wall. The training room's main door hatch opened up, Nihlus gestured for him to leave. They walked out and into the Spectre branch of the Turian Embassy.

Saren sighed at his friend's concern, "What are you complaining about now, Nihlus?"

"This! Look at you, all bruised up."

"It's called training, Nihlus."

He looked at him, bewildered, "Training? Since when did battling three commandoes with the safety off count as training? Damn it, I'm almost tempted to file the forms to have this room replaced with Terran holo-emitters."

"Our technology is perfectly fine!" exclaimed Saren. In that moment, his arm glitched out again, another shock of pain pounded through his body. His real arm wasn't even there anymore, but it felt as though it was, deep slash and all. He simply ripped the mechanical arm out from its socket. "Not as though we have the funding for it anyway."

"You still haven't even completed the training for that thing."

"I don't need to." After a moment, he sighed. He waved his arm at him, bringing his point home.

Nihlus shook his head, "Spirits damn it, Saren..."

They arrived at Saren's office, sitting down as he messaged the medical ward in the Embassy for a replacement arm to be flash forged. Saren looked to Nihlus, who seemed awfully more serious than usual.

"You know, this normally isn't you."

"Because this is important. Look at this."

Nihlus took out an OCD and placed it on his desk. He slid it over to him. Saren took it and inserted it into the base of his console, checking what was in it. It only took a quick skim to see what it was.

"What in the spirits is this?!"

Nihlus sat back in his seat, "There has been worry about the growing division within the Hierarchy when it comes to its new militarization policies."

Saren turned to him, "What division? This is being led by Admiral Fedorian with backing from the Primarch!"

"But intel suggests that Fedorian's real benefactor, Primarch Arterius, is committing other actions behind the scenes. Its okay when two sides are building up and everyone knows how, but if he's getting an edge not even the Council is aware of, it raises concerns."

"My brother is doing no such thing! This is some damn witch hunt by Councilor Goyle to undermine our national defense!"

Nihlus pointed at the screen, "Read that carefully, Saren. Sparatus would never vote in favor of such an action. And Ani… Councilor Goyle would not be so careless and request such a mission, one that could easily leak out and bite them."

Saren turned to the authorization section. It read that the mission was launched by Councilor Nerval, with a second vote by Councilor Tevos. With Spectre missions, a full majority vote of the Council was not needed to authorize one, just a definitive majority vote to stop one. If two councilors, one Turian leaning and one Terran leaning, were willing to approve this, it didn't look good at all.

"Why are you showing me this?"

Nihlus sat up and leaned towards his desk, "Because I felt you deserved to know. I've been assigned to begin operations. And I wanted to see how you would react–"

"Test my loyalty, you mean."

"Well?"

Saren sat there, a bit shaken. But he made up his mind quickly, knowing what the ultimate cause was for.

"I fight for the ideals of the Council. As long as its values are upheld, it doesn't matter who on the Council I serve."

Nihlus nodded, reassured, though not by much, by Saren's response, "Good." He stood up, "I had to know. I'll leave you then…"

"Wait, Nihlus!"

"Saren?"

"Let me take this assignment."

"What!"

Saren slammed his right, and only, fist on the desk, "Damn it, he's my brother! If he's doing something, planning something… I have to be the one who knows first."

Nihlus walked back, "Your loyalty, I trust. Don't think I don't. But I've seen conflicts of interest go badly. Spectres aren't immune." He sighed, then gave a short chuckle, "Spirits, it seems to be the downfall of one too many."

"Damn what happens to me! But if he really is doing something… if I have to make the choice…"

Nihlus looked at him, "Well?"

An alert rang from the medical dispenser at the side of his office. Saren paused and walked over. His new robotic arm has been completed and programmed, and was delivered via a built-in tube system to a sterile chamber. Saren took it out, and turned back to Nihlus. He reattached his arm and walked up to Nihlus, face to face.

"I'll make the right choice. You know me better that anyone else. You know I would…"

Nihlus looked back at him, and then responded.

"Okay then. It's yours."

"Thank you, Nihlus."

Nihlus shrugged, "Don't mention it… really. The OCD shall have all the information I gathered to take my next step. Use it wisely."

He left, leaving Saren alone as he walked back and sat at his desk. He started from the beginning, reading his next, self-imposed assignment.

As Nihlus himself walked out into the lobby of the main Embassy, Ambassador Victus quickly took his side and swept him up for herself.


Part 4:

Ambassador Victus and Ambassador Ghirn
Terran Embassy
April 21, 2168 18:00:00 UTC

Riding in the elevator shuttle, the Spectre and the Ambassador waited as they made their way around the Presidium ring towards the Terran Embassy.

"Ambassador Victus, explain to me why you wanted me to escort you to the Terrans?"

She kept staring out of the window, the view of the magnificent Presidium in all its luxury, "I have… business to discuss with Ambassador Ghirn, Agent Kryik. And you were there just as I left."

"How lucky for me. Though the Terran Embassy is perfectly safe. By the humans' standard anyway."

"Exactly, so it's overtly or not at all."

"Still, you are the ambassador to the Asari. If I may ask, you could have also asked Ambassador–"

Victus quickly replied, her tone clear he should stop, "I may not be a soldier or a spy. But I know when I should let someone else deal with a matter, or when I should do it myself."

"Of course, Ambassador, apologies."

"Just assure me you know that lesson just as well."

Nihlus thought about what he just did, "I hope so."

They arrived at the Terran Embassy. Their elevator had special clearance, allowing them to enter directly at the main lobby. The whole facility was quite large, taking up every millimeter of the Presidium it was allocated from the grounds overlooking the lake, to the very top, touching the sky. Being the Embassy for three separate races, it was much larger than any of the others. It also housed the Terran Military Attaché and a small platoon of soldiers for protection.

The small base itself was written off as compensation for the Terrans not having a Spectre. It worked only for the Terrans, since the government had no intention on handing over valuable agents to an organization they couldn't control. It didn't help that despite technically agreeing to it when joining the Council, the unofficial policy for both Terran law enforcement and intelligence agencies was to ignore the Spectre's above-the-law status.

They were given a quick clearance, and they proceeded into the hallway. Walking through, many people, including those of races not human, Batarian, or Quarian, but still Terran, were moving about with work and assignments. Full Marine security was present, but they had a surprisingly small effect on the atmosphere. The Turians may be used to the sight, but the Terrans had trained their soldiers to have only a positive impact on civilian areas.

Outside, an N7 Marine in casual wear and an off-duty C-Sec officer were outside the doors of the Quarian ambassador's office.

"Really now? That's an interesting theory you have."

"I appreciate the simple acknowledgement. Even at home, it isn't the most popular idea. We're not as open to the idea of artificial intelligence as we think we are."

"You seem well versed in the subject for a soldier."

"Marine, Detective."

"Ah, you are one of them, I see. I was a sailor in my younger days…"

He chuckled, "I'm so sorry."

Approaching them, the officer recognized the two Turians and turned to greet them.

"Ambassador Victus. Spectre Kryik. Here to see Ambassador Ghirn?"

Victus nodded, "I am."

"I'm just here as her escort, Detective Vakarian," answered Nihlus.

The Marine replied, finding the need for a Spectre guard to the Terran embassy a bit amusing. "You can never be too safe. But rest assured, I make sure the Embassy is the safest place on the Citadel."

The officer turned back to him, "Oh yes. Ambassador, Spectre, this is Major Ryder. Terran Military Attaché to the Citadel."

Victus nodded to him, "A pleasure to meet you, Major. Is the ambassador free?"

"She is in a meeting with Councilor Goyle. They should be already alerted," He turned to the Spectre, "Spectre… Kryik, correct? I've heard rumors of your exploits in the Terminus. Something to be impressed about."

He chuckled and brushed it off, "The stories in the news are always exaggerated."

Vakarian commented, "So is their power." He made clear his immediate disdain for the organization. "In matters of galactic security, there should be rules."

Ryder chuckled and nudged him, "Come now, Castis. My race wouldn't be here if we went strictly by the rules."

Nihlus smiled a bit, "Now that's what a Spectre would say."

Vakarian responded, "Don't let him sway you, Alec."

"Me? A Spectre? No… I have too many other obligations. Besides, the title, 'Spectre Ryder'. It just doesn't roll off the tongue well."


"Doctors?"

"Yes. I was told you might know someone. From your Pilgrimage days."

Miri thought about it. She didn't make many friends, but she knew of someone who had, "Me, no. But Faunz had a way of making friends. I could use that to contact some Asari doctors. Skilled, but not traditional."

"We need skilled and non-traditional!" said Goyle as she sat on Miri's desk, looking at her, "Traditional has failed, ours and theirs. We need new ideas."

Miri turned her eyes to her screen and the medical file Goyle gave her, "Her condition doesn't seem to be advanced."

"It's a slow killer. But we know for sure it will kill. We haven't found a cure in all this time, in spite of the massive progress we have made in the medical field. We thought we could reverse engineer the nanites we used to help your people, but massatanium… eezo… is a tricky thing."

"I'll check with every contact I have. For what friends we do have in the galaxy, those are friends we can count on the most."

"Thank you, Ghirn." She got off Miri's desk and walked around, "Doctor Harlow is an important figure in Human Kinetics. When we poisoned Earth following the Revival and the destruction of the Rapture Defense Satellite grid, her research into kinetic implants and the reaction of human anatomy to refined eezo was a godsend. She saved billions of lives; a fact rarely mentioned in the history books. And she ushered in the second, and true, generation of human kinetics. Now her very work is killing her."

"Doctor Harlow…" Miri looked at her screen again, "You mean Ryder?"

"Pardon me. I was familiar with her before she was married. It's been a while… Still, try your best on this. Put the weight of my name, and Terra's, on this if need be. She's not the only person I'm doing this for."

She walked over to the door. It opened and she was greeted by Ambassador Victus, waiting to enter.

"Ambassador Victus. Apologies for the wait."

"It is of no inconvenience, Councilor Goyle."

She turned to Nihlus, a bit more relaxed. She even had a smile, "Agent Kryik. I hope you're doing well."

He nodded, but secretly shivered with nervousness. Most of his interactions with her had been in private. "I am. I wish the same to you, Anita, I mean… Councilor."

She giggled, "Of course, Nihlus…"

She left, Ryder following close behind. Vakarian left as well towards the entrance lobby, his own reason for being there finished. Nihlus stood outside, watched by several Marines from several corners of the hallway. Victus walked inside. Miri stood up and walked around her desk, leaning back and looking to her as she approached. She was still in her suit, of Terran colors. The Turian stared at her helmetless head, her hood repurposed as a scarf of sorts. Her hair, like the humans but white, stopped down at her shoulders, just enough to cover it. But her face, in spite of being worn by age and experience, still had that striking image of when she saw it all those years ago.

"Ambassador Ghirn."

Miri crossed her hands and replied, stoically, "Ambassador Victus."

The doors finally closed. The two looked at each other for a moment, seemingly staring each other down.

Then Victus opened her arms wide open. Miri walked over and embraced her, a warm hug followed by a good long look at a long-lost friend.

"Claudie!" she said, calling her by her nickname from so long ago.

"Miri! It's been too long."

Miri gestured for her to sit down as she walked back to her desk.

"Keelah, how long has it been?" Miri sat down, leaning over her desk.

Victus chuckled, "Spirits… sixty years? It really has been too long."

"You know, it wouldn't have been if you had visited sooner."

"The year has been turbulent," she said, groaning as she thought about it, "But here we are, now." The Turian smiled to her, "And either way, so much has changed, no?"

Miri nodded, "Yes it has. When I heard a few years ago, I couldn't believe it."

"An ambassador on the Citadel…" she sighed, "I didn't think a person like me would ever come back. Just being back here, I admit it wasn't easy at first… Too many memories."

Miri sat back, "I hear you, Claudie. When I took my first step back on the Citadel. It seemed… surreal."

Victus nodded and leaned forward in her seat, laughing now at the thought to distract herself, "Still, look at you." She smiled and pointed at her, "The Head Ambassador for the Quarian Race. You're making history!" She chuckled at the thought, "Oh, and the irony, the decedent of the last ambassador brought her people back to the galactic spotlight."

"Well, I can thank the humans for that. It's good to have friends… and it's good to be able to see what few old ones we have."

"Hell, come on now, Miri." She stood up and leaned over her desk, her right hand out and up, her elbow bent and down. Miri stood up from her seat and grabbed her hand as well in solidarity, "It's as you said, when we left the Citadel all those years ago."

"What was that?"

"Us rats have to stick together."

They shook hands and let go. Miri giggled, "I must say, it must be great to no longer be in a duct."

"And you, outside of your suit. Spirits, no wonder the humans love your kind. Hair like that, and a face as beautiful as an Asari."

She blushed, "Oh come now Claudie. How about you? You must have found a good man–" Miri stopped midsentence, remembering what happened, "I mean…"

"Wait, don't go backtracking on my behalf, Miri." They both sat back down. Victus sighed, looking down as she tapped her talons together, "I wanted to talk to you about that."

"About what?"

"Miri…" She looked up at her. Her expression was far more serious, her mandibles closed, "Marcus Junius."

"Junius?"

"Damn it, Miri!" She stood up, rushed her desk, and slammed both her talons on the table, "I know! This isn't some secret. Back home, no one would believe the rumors. They dismiss it, or they are in fear of it. But I want to know for sure. I want to hear it from you!"

"Claudia… Ambassador…"

"No, please… Miri. I have to know!" She dropped to her knees, holding on to the table with her fist. Miri was startled at what she was seeing, and more so by what she saw next, a truly rare sight if there ever was one. She saw her, her friend and a Turian, cry.

"Junius…"

"Yes?"

"Damn it, Claudia," She leaned over her desk and picked her back up, "You are no longer a little girl. You are one of the highest-ranking officials in the Hierarchy! You don't need Junius."

She leaned on her desk and looked up at Miri, her mandibles open as she smiled, "I know. I got this far without him… Just tell me, please."

Miri nodded, "Junius… Admiral Junius has been positioned in the First Fleet."

Victus sat back down, "An admiral… Of course, he's a damn, barefaced admiral! All he ever cared about was his career." She leaned on her knees, thinking about the larger implications. "Your First Fleet… That's in the dead center of Council Space."

"Like his old job. If I remember correctly…" Miri couldn't help but show discontent for the man. Victus understood that. "He's Wood's executive officer."

"Those humans threw him that big a bone?" She became angry. "He was always like a damn varren. Does that man know what he is doing!?"

"He does," Miri leaned forward, "He's planning on going home."

"And he'll burn the galaxy to do so. That bastard! That's all he cared about. With Cassiud and revenge… Why I ever…"

While Miri didn't blame her for being angry with him, she was confused as to why she was asking her of all people for information. Victus could get all the intel she wanted on him; Miri was limited in her sources, even with the Terrans' help, "Claudie, why are you asking?"

"That's… That's a state secret," she made up on the spot," Miri, I already asked more that I should have from you. I need to head back."

Miri stood up, "So be it than. I hope you found out what you wanted."

"Yes… Thank you."

She walked to the exit. Victus waited there, staring at the door. She was upset, hearing the news, and about everything else. But she also felt bad for visiting one of the oldest friends she had just to find that out. She owed many of the good things in her life to Miri and her friends getting her and her brother off of the Citadel all those years ago.

"Uh, Miri?"

"Yes, Claudie?"

She turned around, "I heard what happened on Triginta Petra."

"Have you?" Miri became a bit tense at hearing the name. It was a standing rule in the Terran Embassy to never mention that, even when the Turians file official grievance over it.

From a Turian, Miri expected a different answer. Victus, however, had something else to say, "I'm sorry about what happened."

"Really?"

"To you, about what happened to you and Zaren… About what happened to your son."

Miri was lost for a moment, surprised even, by one of the few people she was close to.

"Thank you Claudie."

"Your son. You must have loved him. Cared so much for him."

"I miss him. I tried to do so much for him. But I failed." Miri sat down, "Neither Zaren or I have recovered from it. I will never forget. As for Zaren, Dorin's last moment still haunts him. I hope for the day I can… I can understand that."

Victus simply nodded, intrigued by her words, "I see. Thank you for telling me, Miri. Thank you for everything."

"Of course, Claudie."

"Give my regards to Zaren."

"I will."

Victus looked up at and at her, "You, you cared so much for your son, Dorin, huh?"

"We still do." Miri took a deep breath, "Keelah, it seems to define us now."

"I care for my own. Adrien is my whole world, and to think he looks up to Junius as a hero…"

"Our heroes are never what we believe them to be. We all learn that the hard way."

"I know…" Victus sighed, suddenly losing her breath as she thought about what could happen next. "I hope so much for this peace to stay, to be real."

"I can't image what it would be like if it wasn't. If we lost it all."

"I can, Miri. Spirits, the pain… I hope Junius has extended his own sympathies. That bastard is partly to blame…"

"He… has."

She grunted, still amazed by the man, "I see. Well, if we do find ourselves, our nations, as enemies to one another. If Junius gets what he wants… Please give your sympathies, as much to him as to me."

Miri was confused, "What do you mean?"

"I mean, if it comes down to it, we both will have lost a son…"

She opened the doors and left, Nihlus following closely behind. Miri sat in her seat, contemplating what she had said. She turned her head, looking at the image of Dorin in his bubble. She worried for her. No one should ever feel as she did, all those years ago; and as she did today.

Before she left, Miri called for her. Someone else needed help, and Victus could help as well.


Part 5:

Primarch Desolas Arterius
Citadel Wards
April 22, 2168 06:00:00 UTC

Down below in the depths of the wards of the Citadel, the dark shadows of the civilized galaxy still lurked about. The arrival of the Terrans had only filled in the gap of the lawlessness that had existed behind the scenes. Where the discrete police state of the Federation only allowed the best and most efficient of crime organizations to exist under its ever-watchful gaze, the heart of Council space had a void to fill, and new upstarts were quick to take advantage of the vacuum of power.

A skycar slowly drove through the alleys of the very bottom ward, hovering only meters above the ground as it approached its destination. It was a dark, dreading place, with minimal lighting. At the base of the glorious skyscrapers of the wards, there were abandoned, broken down buildings, once full of

homeless and shady characters until the recent Terran led urban cleanups. The air vents that lined the ground and walls of the alleys were clogged and unmaintained; the air was stale and just filtered enough for breathable air. The car finally landed at an empty, poorly lit port.

"Sir, we've arrived," said the driver, who was also one of the guards.

Desolas sat up in his seat, "Good. Let's finish our business here."

"Yes, sir. Everyone, form up!"

The hatch opened and the four guards, driver included, got out and took position around the perimeter. They were of the elite Blackguard Special Forces of the Turian Hierarchy. Normally, they were elite soldiers who were assigned to missions involving a direct threat to Palaven. But Desolas had been able to wrench nearly full control of the unit from out of Command's hands and did with them as he saw fit. The Terrans were a direct threat to Palaven, as far as he was concerned. And unusual for how the average Turian would operate, the Blackguard was more inclined to follow Desolas than Command.

Desolas stepped out and onto the ground, wearing a common Turian business suit. Fog was all about, the lower level dehumidifiers not working at full capacity. His guards, dressed in regular mercenary armor, stood by him and kept their rifles up and aimed at the unknown beyond them. Desolas continued onward and stepped onto the sidewalk. He was waiting for his contact.

It was eerily silent otherwise. But something broke it, in the most silent of ways. The Blackguards were quick to react, one pulling Desolas aside as the others took point and aimed at a holodrone rolling towards them. It stopped in front of them, guards cautiously staring at it as they hid behind cover, fearing it might be an explosive device.

Desolas moved forward anyway, pushing his guards away as he approached it.

"It's a damn holodrone, not a grenade."

"Sir, wait…"

Desolas walked over to it and picked it up. It turned on and he let it hover out of his talons and into the air. In front of him, an image of a human appeared, dressed as some regular dockworker in a generic human template. As he casually stared at it, the hologram crossed his arms and looked at Desolas, smirking.

"So, you're the guy?"

Desolas replied, staring at the man as he maintained a neutral, disinterested look. "And if I were?"

The hologram calmly looked around, noting his mercenary guards and if anyone else was there.

"If you weren't, then it's just some Turian and a hologram having a… pleasant conversation. Now, if you were, you'd stop wasting my time and show me you've got the what I want."

Desolas gave an ever-discontented chuckle, "That goes both way." He took a step forward, showing a clearly agitated mood, "Now, make good on your end first."

"Now, now," the hologram waved and laughed the whole thing off, Desolas rolled his eyes, "I know whom I'm dealing with. And I've got what you want."

The hologram pulled something out from his pocket. It was an OCD. He held it up at Desolas, a smug smile on his face.

"Is this what you wanted?"

Desolas looked at it, hiding his thoughts as he looked at the data he had been desperately looking for. But in a rare move, he let his true thoughts slip out from behind his mask. The man in the hologram saw it. Now he waited for the final piece. At the same time, his guards noticed something through the fog, keeping still in order to avoid breaking the illusion they didn't know any better.

Desolas regained his stoic appearance and asked, "Can you verify?"

"But of course." He grabbed the OCD, and from his end, he inserted the disc into the computer he was using. From Desolas' end, he saw a screen appear between them, showing several files, images, and list of Terran military secrets. It even included the one top-secret Terran document that the Hierarchy had been able to get a hold of: Operation Hannibal. But from the short glimpse, there appeared to be more that even he didn't know about. One of his guards reported in to Desolas' earpiece. They were not alone.

"Good stuff right there. I was told they have a bunch of Terran documents and intelligence reports. Useful stuff too, not that random garbage that gets leaked on occasion."

"This is… adequate."

"Adequate? This is top-quality information! The Shadow Broker makes sure what he sells is the real deal. Imagine if the Hierarchy got ahold of this." He gave Desolas another long and examining look. "Maybe you can, actually."

Desolas followed up and asked, "Unusual that a human would be selling this to the perceived enemy."

The information dealer laughed at him, "Who said I was a human? Even then, the only real patriotism any of those Terrans have is to the almighty dollar." He coughed, "Speaking of which."

Desolas rolled his eyes and snapped his talons. A guard walked over to him, a Turian style metal briefcase in hand. Desolas took hold of it and held it up to the hologram dealer and opened it.

"A hundred million dollars in silver-infused Bearer bonds. Well laundered and untraceable."

The hologram took a slip and gave it a good look, amazement in his eyes. The Terran Bearer Bond was an untraceable certificate of monetary value, this one backed by none other than the Federal Reserve itself. Each one had the marking of the highest value for bonds, ten thousand dollars. They were silver in appearance, and the surface was a thick plastic coating with actual silver and gold woven into the paper fabric beneath it. With metal weaving and physical existence, it was deemed as still being more secure than even Quantum Encrypted Credit Certificates. Along with the name, value, and authorization number and stamp, there were the portrait images of three prominent human-Terrans in three oval frames. The first on top was of Adam Smith, the credited founder of Terran Capitalism. The second below was of the First Terran Secretary of the Treasury, Althea Alexandria Bishop. The third one in the middle, partly overlapping the first two, was of President Thomas Anderson.

"Oh…" The dealer couldn't hide his craving for them. Desolas knew that for sure. "Here we go!"

The guard at the rear of the group radioed in, appearing to calmly be staring up at the skyline above.

"Reading activity on our perimeter."

Desolas made a slight groan against his closed lips; one the dealer wouldn't pay any mind to and would signal the rest of them to be ready.

"I would think as much." He closed the briefcase, getting him to look back at him, "So then, are we in agreement?"

The dealer nodded, the target confirmed. "Let's do business then–"

"And by business, you mean you give me the disc and I give you this briefcase? Or are you doing something stupid and…" He sighed, annoyed because he knew what the information dealer's answer was going to be, "wasting my valuable time?"

He looked at him, pretending to be shocked at the allegation. It wasn't hard, since the dealer really was, but for an entirely different reason.

"What in the galaxy do you even mean…? Attack! Now, now!"

A whole squad of mercenaries emerged from the windows; some came out from the empty buildings and alleys surrounding Desolas and his men. Before they were fully deployed, his guards quickly jumped into action, their HUDs going into full combat mode. Having time to note both their surroundings and the movement of the information dealer's troops, the Blackguards were quick to take cover and opened fire at the dealer's men through the fog. Three of them took aim at the windows and fired, taking out the dealer's sharpshooters while the last two rushed to secure the Primarch.

But Desolas was even quicker, more than able to hold his own in combat. As a squad rushed out in front of him to attack, he took out his side arm and fired into the thick fog. With ease and discipline in his motions, he got off three quick and clean headshots before they charged at him. In the confusion of the Turian's first strike, they emerged out of the fog into plain view and charged at Desolas and his guards in a reckless fashion. The two guards stood by him, opening fire and gunning down the dealer's troops with lighting speed and accuracy.

A few got up close, armed with bayonetted rifles and shotguns, but the battle hardened Primarch and his elite guards countered. As two locked arms with his guards, one rushed at Desolas. Briefcase in one hand and sidearm in the other, the merc thrust and Desolas simply sidestepped him. He then bashed him in the back of the neck with his pistol, and swung the briefcase up at his face, throwing him back. Desolas stared back at the dealer as he shot the merc on the ground, his guards quickly taking out their opponents with either a bullet in the head or a stab in the neck with a curved Turian blade.

"Sir, all hostiles are taken out."

Desolas nodded and spoke to the dealer, who saw everything.

"The terms of this business transaction have… changed."

The dealer took a step back worried for a moment before remembering he wasn't actually there.

"What the hell! You… shit. You're fucking Hierarchy! Fuck, fuck…"

He turned to his omni-tool, rushing to end the call. Desolas quickly signaled one of his guards to trace the signal. One of the guards turned his own omni-tool on and locked onto the carrier frequency. Panicking and bashing his omni-tool, the dealer reached off screen and took out a pistol. He raised it up at Desolas and fired, simply ending the broadcast.

"Major, did you trace the signal?"

The guard continued typing on his omni-tool. He then turned it off and turned to Desolas.

"Sir, he ended the call before I could find the location. But I was able to locate the different carrier points on the Citadel. We'll have to go to each one and locate the next carrier repeater to trace him."

He crossed his arms and rubbed his eyes, now just a bit annoyed at the turn of events. But his desire for that disc was far greater than he would show. It could be the key they needed to put his plan into action.

"Get back to the car. We will get that disc, today!"

As they walked back to the skycar, one more person sat on top of a low-rise building overlooking them and the skirmish. He looked at his omni-tool, having had the original location traced and marked. He stood up and prepared to leave, but turned back to watch as the Turian Primarch departed.

"What in spirits are you doing, Brother?"


Part 6:

Saren and Fist
Citadel Wards
April 22, 2168 07:00:00 UTC

"Shit… that's good stuff."

Separated from the loud beats and bright lights of the bar out front, Fist sat in the comfort of his office, surrounded by his personal posse. Beyond his desk was an assortment of VIP guests, including a Salarian passed out on the floor, a Batarian enjoying a dance from one of Fist's Asari dancers, and a drugged out Turian sitting deep in his seat, mesmerized by how his biotic powers looked from what he was on.

Fist took another long snort of the line of fine red powder on his table, and then sat back in his seat as an Asari on each side of him took turns with the rest. He laid back and stared up at the ceiling in a daze. He lifted his hand up, moving it above his face as he attempted to concentrate his mind and make his hand glow for a short moment.

"A-fucking-mazing! I'm going to be fucking rich."

The Turian slowly turned his head over to him, chuckling in random amusement. He finally spoke, "What the hell is this shit?"

"Dust from refined massatanium, mixed with my own formula to create this. Fucks up your mind and turns you into a damn kinetic."

An Asari next to him took another snort, "Shit, this is good."

Fist laughed at her, "Imagine actually being one and taking this? Must be like an athlete taking steroids."

The two Asari embraced him in his seat, caressing his head and chest. "We feel like goddesses!"

"And it must make them as horny as the goddess of sex herself, ha!"

The Turian rested his head back against the seat, lifting his talon to look at the glow of his hand. His actual biotics were trained enough to look like the glow of the fake drug enhanced biotics.

"So… what are you going to call it, boss?"

Fist pushed the girls off and reached over his desk for another snort.

"God damn!" He shook his head to think straight, "I want a name… one that that gives class to this thing."

"Class?"

"Yah, I said class! This is made from the most valued material in the galaxy! I don't intend to sell this as cheap crack to lowlifes on Omega. This is an elite drug, for the elite, and those who can pay to be in that level."

"Damn. The rich of the galaxy hooked on this red sand. You could control them!"

Fist chuckled, "The spice must flow… Wait, spice…"

The Turian looked over to see the Batarian, his face and four eyes buried deep in his Asari's bosom. Still waiting to see how Fist's previous engagement would turn out, the Turian decided to enjoy his time there. "You got a Quarian?"

Fist smiled at the request, "Into rat tail, I see?"

He took another snort of Fist's new drug, "Have you ever tried to get into a Quarian's suit? I'll pay you to get one out for me."

"Ha ha, fair enough, I'll just call…"

His desk comm went off, a message from outside his office coming through. He grumbled at the annoyance and grabbed the small communication device before slamming it back on his desk in front of him.

"Boss, we got us a visitor here. Wants to talk to you."


At the front of Chora's Den, the Krogan bouncer awaited a response from Fist as Saren waited. Behind him was a line of men of multiple races, and some Asari, waiting to get in and waiting for the Turian who cut in front of them and demanding for Fist to get thrown out by the bouncer. A moment passed, just grumbling and some swearing before Fist responded.

"Who the fuck is it?"

"Some big shot Turian. Claims he needs to talk to you. In private."

"A big shot Turian? Shit, shit…" After some more grumbling, he responded, "Tell him I'm busy."

Saren sighed, "He's not coming out, is he?"

The Krogan laughed in his face and shoved him away, "And you're not getting in. Now get lost!"

"I'll be more straight forward," Saren raised his omni-tool and projected his official badge of a Council Spectre agent. "Let me into his office, now!"

The bouncer stared at it for a moment, a few more guards coming outside to check on what was happening. The line of clientele waiting to enter quickly dispersed, knowing exactly what was going to happen when a target was not going to comply with a Spectre's demands.

"Spectre?" The Krogan laughed at him, the guards moving into position around him and Saren, "The boss is a Terran! And if I remember correctly, they don't give a damn what a Spectre says. Hell, those pyjacks reneged on the treaty to recognize them."

Saren stared at him with a stoic face, the Krogan matching with the signature grin of his race, hoping to scare him off. It didn't work. After a moment, Saren smiled as well.

"That may be true. But if I'm correct, all of you aren't Terran…"

His omni-tool suddenly discharged, letting out a charged wave that shocked them all. In that moment of react, Saren kicked the Krogan from him and targeted one of Fist's men. Quickly, as he took out his knife, he stabbed the guard and charged forward with the knife in hand, slamming him into the wall. Saren grabbed his pistol and turned around, gunning down two more guards before they could recover from the shock.

As the Krogan bouncer recovered, the last one took aim with his rifle. Saren turned to face him and raised his arm to raise an omni-shield in order to deflect the point-blank fire. The lighting fast pellets hit his shield, melting away when they touched the molten silicon. Saren held his ground for nearly five whole seconds of continuous fire, the kinetic energy still transferring and pushing him back.

But as soon as the guard's rifle overheated, Saren replied with quick and devastating force. He leveled his arm and fired his shield at him, quickly turning it into an incinerating ball of plasma that instantaneously engulfed the poor guard and lit him on fire. Saren ended his suffering with a quick shot to his flaming head.

The Krogan bouncer then recovered and charged at Saren. No match for a head-on fight, Saren dodged charge after charge, hit after hit as the Krogan chased after the agile Turian, wrecking up the outside of the den all the while. With a combination of his elite training and a proprietary jump-jet he kept from his days as a Havoc Marine, Saren evaded the Krogan. Dodging the fight, guests, employees, and dancers ran out as Saren evaded and went inside. More of Fist's guards rushed in from the back, but the enraged Krogan became Saren's new weapon.

He quickly evaded and landed behind the bar. He grabbed some bottles and bashed their caps open. The guards searched around the den looking for him when he used his jump-jet to come out and into the air above them all. As they turned to him, he tossed the bottles of hard liquor at the Krogan and fired another incinerate round. Splashed by alcohol, the Krogan lit up into a magnificent and bright fireball; the guards around him dodged and kept their distance.

But as they backed away, gathering at the other side, Saren came falling down, omni-blade at the ready. He targeted one and slammed down, stabbing the guard and impaling him as a shockwave of residual silicon plasma splashed out and coated the others, burning them. As they panicked, the Krogan went into a blood rage and regained some control, locking onto Saren.

He roared and charged at him, breaking through counters, tables and chairs to reach him. Saren watched and took a few steps forward, staring the flaming Krogan down. Right at the moment of contact, Saren used his jump-jet to move straight up, dodging him as he charged into the remaining guards behind Saren. Hovering in midair, he turned back as an explosion of fire and men scattered out across the den. Saren blocked his eyes as the entire room below became engulfed in flames.

His jump-jet gave out and he landed back to the ground. The room was in flames, and the bar was on fire as light fixtures sparked with electricity, some even falling from the ceiling. He turned his attention to the back hallway, ready for his next confrontation.

As he walked away, the Korgan emerged from the ruins and charged one more time. Slower than before, Saren turned to him and grabbed hold of the bouncer, his robotic arm channeling power as his regular arm directed the Krogan in a quick shove to the ground. Saren took out his knife and jabbed it straight between the skin and upper plate of the Krogan; he twisted and popped part of the plate open. The Krogan yelled out in pain.

"And even if he's Terran, it's all the more a reason to blow his pyjack brains out... Like yours!"

He quickly stuck his pistol into the opening and fired multiple times into his unprotected head. In a second, he was dead.


"Shit, shit, shit!"

"What was all that noise?"

"Shut up!"

Fist rushed to his safe, throwing his belongings inside. He grabbed a pistol and closed the safe, before hanging a portrait of a naked Asari over it. Looking around, he rushed to his armor and attempted to put it on.

His girls looked to him, "What's going on, Boss?"

The Turian turned to them with a smile, "Someone's here to kill him."

"Damn it, who's side are you on?" asked Fist.

"Yours, sir!" he said, saluting him before his head fell back onto the couch.

"Ah hell, another idiot over his head. Let's go, girls."

"Wait, wait!"

The four Asari quickly dressed and made to leave. Just as they approached the door, it opened, revealing Saren. Seeing the dancers leave, he courteously stepped aside for them and let them leave. They all walked out, thanking him. As soon as they were out, he walked in, the door sealing behind him.

Fin rushed to aim, but Saren fired an overload and electrocuted the half armored human. The Batarian quickly jumped behind cover of the couch and cowered. The Salarian was still passed out. As Saren walked over, the Turian stood up, stumbling about as he tried to gain balance. Saren watched as he raised his fists and stumbled towards him. Saren simply pushed him and he landed face first on the floor, passed out.

Saren walked over and picked up Fist. He slammed him on his desk, removed his armor, and grabbed him by the neck.

"Where is the disc?"

"Fuck you!"

He punched him in the face and shoved his pistol into his mouth.

"Where is the damn disc?"

Fist gave up and eyed towards the portrait as he struggled to say so with the gun in his mouth. Saren pulled it out and rolled him over the desk as he walked to the safe. He removed the image and quickly hacked the safe open. Along with some other sensitive documents, he found the OCD and took it out.

He walked back and took a seat at Fist's desk. Fist got back up, at gunpoint by Saren as he examined the disc with his omni-tool.

"This… this can't be it!"

"What do you mean?"

Saren quickly stood up and grabbed Fist, slamming his head on to the desk.

"This disc is corrupted! The only information I found was what I saw at the meeting!"

Fist struggled to talk, "I swear, the Shadow Broker's agents gave it to me like that. But I checked, it's not corrupted, its encrypted!"

Saren pressed his pistol against Fist's head, "What the hell do you mean? What could Desolas possibly want with an encrypted data disc?"

"Why, to decrypt it, of course."

They both turned to the door, Desolas and his Blackguard escort walking in. Saren let go of Fist and turned to him.

"Primarch Arterius!" he said, saluting his brother.

"Now, now, Brother, we're not at some meeting. We are…" he thought about it, "In private, having a private meeting." He smiled and walked up to them. "Though I am surprised you are here."

Saren quickly formulated his cover, "I was interested in what you were doing on the Citadel."

Deoslas chuckled, "My, my, Mother was right. Such a spy. All the more reason to be a Ghost rather than a Spectre. Now then, the disc?"

Fist looked on, confused, "Wait, he's the buyer?"

Saren held his pistol at him, "Shut up!"

"So he is a Terran. Just as stupid as you are loyal to money, I see."

He gave the disc to him. Desolas looked on, utterly fascinated by the true and devastating secrets the disc held on the Terrans. The real work was only beginning, but he was a patient man.

"This could be the rebirth of our Turian nation." He turned to Fist, "Now then, what to do with you."

"I do have the legal authority as judge, jury, and executioner." Saren pressed the barrel at his forehead; Fist was too scared to move.

Desolas turned to his guards and snapped his talons. One walked over to him with the same briefcase. Desolas opened it and showed its contents, millions of dollars in silver bonds, before dropping it at Fist's feet.

"Your payment."

Saren and Fist looked at him, shocked, "What?!"

"I got what I wanted. That's all that mattered."

"But Desolas…"

"Saren!" Desolas finally raised his voice, "We are done here."

His guards walked back out as Desolas signaled Saren to leave with him. Fist looked at the silver notes, hardly caring how close he had been to dying now that he had this.

He grinned, laughing in joy, "I'm fucking rich!"

Desolas commented, "I recommend you spend that soon. When I'm done using this disc, well… That'll all be worthless."

Fist waved him off, "Shit, sure!"

Saren added on, "Also, you may need to talk to your boss. The Shadow Broker doesn't like his dealers trying to cheat and kill his clientele."

He stopped, a new dread coming across him, "Ah fuck!"

As they left, the Turian on the ground kept his head still, but reached for his omni-tool. He made a quick tap, sending out a message.


"I see…" Williams sighed, "The tradeoff has been made… as planned."

"What was that Dad?"

"Oh nothing. Work and all." He smiled to his son as their shuttle ascended up through the atmosphere to the transport ship. "So, Robert. Have you considered an officer's position?"

"I'm determined to work for that. Rise through the ranks, like Admiral Hackett."

He smiled, "My, my. My son. If you only came to the Army."

Robert chuckled, "And match what you did? By that standard, I'd be stuck as a private forever. Here, I can do my own work."

"But of course. When I am gone. He works his work, I mine."

"And I can only presume you're busy."

Williams sighed, "Till the day I die… and maybe after that. And Ashley? I see a leader in her. I look forward to the day see trades that green beret for a blue one."

"Oh, she takes more from her mother than she does you or I."

Williams looked at him, clearly faking confusion, "Marine? Damn, we Williams truly are a military family."

Robert chuckled, "Yes, we are."

The shuttle broke the clouds and the stars appeared. In low orbit was the Flagship Telemachus' Great Search; ready to take them across the galaxy as the Terran nation willed of them.

"Robert."

"Yes, Dad?"

Williams turned to him, locking eyes with his son making sure he knew how serious he was, "Be safe out there. And keep Ashley safe as well."

Robert nodded, "I will. And you stay safe, too. We'll be expecting you home for Resiliency Day."

He looked out towards the stars, "I'll do my best to keep you all safe from all threats…"


I… I could have stopped it. That whole war… I had my gun out, aimed at his head. Just a small pull, and millions would still be alive.

They… those who knew, they tell me it was the right decision, that I didn't shoot. They tell me, 'we are stronger, we are more advance, we have the Accord'. They tell me I created a golden age. I lived, so does our race. But it cost millions in turn, and I can't shake that off.

The terrans tell me… Harper tells me, that it was the right thing also. We all bled, and it made us stronger. A part of me thinks he doesn't mean it, for himself. But for everyone, mines and theirs, he does. To fight that real enemy. Those things from the void. The Terrans would do anything to ready the galaxy. Millions die and all they see was a price tag to make us stronger. But I guess… after seeing billions dies years earlier, this was easier to swallow for them.

Maybe, I guess. It had to be done, it had to play out that way. We have peace, and we have strength. When I met Bishop after the bombings last year, he said some things were inevitable. That a price not paid today is paid in interest tomorrow. Maybe, if not Desolas, it was me... not his, but my vendetta…

We're getting ready to fight an enemy of legend. But to stand on the ashes of millions lost, I find it hard to say it was worth the sacrifice. If we are so accepting of that price, then is it not us that are the Reapers?

From Primarch Tiberius Fedorian's Journal; – Date: Terran Year 2178, recorded before the Ceremony of the Ten Year Anniversary of the Forrest Accord


Section 14 Internal Monitoring: Video Call: Dialog Transcript – Target: Section Agent Katia'Dorbin Vas New Haestrom, Naval Synthetic Lieutenant Matthew Nowzari, Naval Synthetic Commander Peter Stapleton – Subject: Cover Job – Date: October 12, 2167

KD: Hi, Matt!

MN: Katia, how are you?

KD: I'm good. How's Peter?

MN: He's busy with something. But he got promoted back to commander.

KD: That's good for him. It still seems weird an AI would be so focused on climbing the ranks.

MN: I think he's wired that way. He always dreads being a career officer, though. But the Thirdies always did hate their own existence. How're the others?

KD: I heard Jan got some hook up in 'Hollywood'. He's going to be an actor for this new TV show!

MN: That's great! And Mila?

KD: She's still searching. She specialized as a bureaucrat of sorts, but everyone back home only wants to hire a Quarian as an engineer or a scientist. I heard one of our Fleet Head Psychologists couldn't even get a license to practice because the idea of a non-STEM Quarian baffled the employment office.

MN: Good to know we eliminated Council discriminative employment… and replaced it with Terran discriminative employment. But what about you? You trained in security.

KD: That's why I haven't contacted you lately. I was undergoing background checks and additional surveillance for this new job… and I got it!

MN: That's great! What is it?

KD: I'm going to be an agent for the Central Bureau of Investigation!

MN: A-an... a CBI agent?

KD: Yah! They needed more field agents to operate in Terran controlled Council space, like Illium. They got ahold of what we did on the Citadel, and they offered me a chance to interview for a position.

MN: That's, uh, amazing!

KD: You don't seem excited.

MN: I'm sorry. I'm just worried.

KD: Aw, Matthew. You have such a caring routine matrix!

MN: The latest version! 1.00.02! Still in beta though.

KD: But I'll be all right, Matt. I start my training in a few days. Then in a month, I'll most likely be deployed to Illium to recover pilgrims and exiles to bring back home. Maybe catch a bad guy or two.

MN: Ok then. Just be safe now, my orange pear.

KD: I will, my synthetic dear.

MN: Our love, though, ever real!

KD: Aw!

PS: All engineering crew to your stations! The hyperdrive core is about to go critical! We need to begin emergency procedures, now!

KD: What's going on?

MN: Same old, same old; weekly hyperdrive core meltdown.

PS: Oh God, we're all gonna die... Oh wait, I backed myself up during shore leave. Ha ha, so long, meat bags!

MN: I, uh, I should get going, though. Good luck!

KD: Bye, Matt!


Terran Wikipedia:

(By the Authority of the Federal Communications Committee, this document has been doctored in accordance to the 'Orwellian Freedom Act' to ensure non-biased and informative information for the Terran People.)

Mirage Contingency

Author:

Henry M. Ghali, UTF Founder Representative from Arab-Israeli Alliance;
Garret Madison, UTF Founder Representative from Russo-American Star Alliance.

Formulation Date: August 13, 2111

Date of Initial Effectiveness: September 1, 2111

Date of Repeal: September 12, 2150 (39 Years in Effect)

Purpose: The protection of the location of Earth and Sol in the event of extraterrestrial invasion, or massive colonial rebellion; Part of Continuity of Government (COG).

The Mirage contingency was a massive, nationwide encompassing contingency plan. Its main purpose upon conception was to hide the location of Earth and the Sol System through the purposeful, systematic, and total destruction of all information that can be used to formulate a location navigation point. UE and later Terran Founder Henry Ghali and Garret Madison conceived it by request of the United Earth government to protect Earth and ensure the continuation of governments through the protection of the location of the home world and capital. It was officially declassified and removed from use by the 26th Congress, following the Great Revival and the lift of the Blockade of Sol.

The Mirage Contingency was created as part of a way to protect the galactic location of Earth. With the knowledge that life can truly be out in the cosmos, it was important that Earth, the capital of the UE and later, UTF, was safe. This was also to protect Earth by denying location data to the colonies, in the event hostile colonial humans wish to try and return to Earth by force. The contingency would work by giving the federal, state, and local governments all authority to destroy digital and physical copies of star charts and navigation maps leading to Earth. This includes systematic wiping of the galactic expanding Internet, confiscation of private servers and data nodes, and even the complete destruction of public and private monuments that display the location of Earth in a manner any intelligent life form can understand.

From the start, based on revealed records detailing practicing its enforcement, this was highly difficult to practice. While destroying digital copies that were Internet accessible was easy, the problem laid in finding every copy made offline. Physical copies held in private hands were an even greater challenge since they could be copied with no evidence of that fact, besides the copy.

This also was compacted by how the continuing use of the mass relays made hiding Earth's location nearly impossible. It became almost common knowledge how to use the relays to get to Earth, and the plan still required congressional approval to allow agencies to deal with even a few people with Earth's location, let alone millions who knew. Those in the government and military aware of the plan soon moved focus away from it; it was deemed better to plan to try and defend the routes to Sol and Earth than hide it.

Both measures came into play at the start of the Great Revival. When the Sol Blockade was created, the Mirage Contingency went into effect for the first and only time. Across the Internet, all public and private sources of Earth's galactic location point was wiped, while all sources found were destroyed on the colonies. This sparked massive protest, one of many during the time, as colonists felt the government was denying them access to the home world. The plan's weaknesses grew greater when private individuals took it upon themselves to preserve the knowledge of where Earth was, creating ways for people to access and copy it, all while the Federation government lacked the ability to stop them or limit distribution. All the while, it was simply common knowledge by 2147, which relays led straight to Earth. Unable to turn off the relays, military forces placed greater effort in stopping blockade runners than denying the navigation knowledge to get there. It was estimated that there were over two hundred daily attempts to run the blockade at the relay to Chiron. There were an estimated one thousand attempts to get to Sol through conventional FTL. Approximately two hundred people died attempting either, through either natural travel hazards or military intervention.

After the Great Revival, all of Congress was briefed on the nature of the blockade of Sol and the Mirage Contingency. The capital itself was moved to Eden Prime during the war. When records were first released, massive riots quickly broke out in the colonies for the government's active attempt to destroy knowledge of where the home world was. In a rare unanimous vote by the house and senate, one that purposefully avoided President Vetrol and his threat of veto, the contingency was repealed.

In the aftermath, and to avoid and foil any attempt to enact it or any similar plan in the future, Pegasus Uplifted President and CEO Minoru Garson worked with Founder Althea Bishop to increase general education and access to materials of Earth and its location. The hope of this being that it would go from difficult to virtually impossible to hide away Earth from anyone outside of Sol. This accumulated with the 'New Voyager Initiative', the massive private launch of deep space satellites, inspired by the old Voyager satellites from the 20th century. Nearly a hundred thousand 'New Voyager' satellites were launched in all directions from the borders of the Federation. Equipped for long term broadcast, they would continuously broadcast information about the Federation. Each were also equipped with an updated Golden Record with not only relics of Humanity, but also an updated map of Earth, using three bright stars to triangulate its position from anywhere in Orion's Arm.

In early July of 2168, a Salarian scout vessel has reported to have found one such satellite while surveying the stars along the border. It is currently being held on Sur'Kesh for research by a Council-Terran science team. There are plans in place to donate the satellite to the Citadel Archives.

Last updated August 19, 2168 01:28:00 UTC


Galactic Codex: Terran Edition, Galactic Standard Year 2908.

Marcell Toma:

Born: 2798 GS, 19rd day of the Turian Month of Caesim; Carthvale, Palavan

Service: Turian Navy, Council Fleet (reinstated)

Years of service: 2816-2867; 2907-Present

Rank: Fleet Admiral, Head Commander for the Turian Navy; Head Dean of the Academy;

Battles/Wars:

The Terminus Incursions

The Valhalla Campaign

The Blockade of Garvok

Operation: Talkdown

The Massacre of Garvok

The Pilgrim Uprising

Citadel Bombings

Cyone Incident

Tuchunka Insurgence

Awards:

Nova Cluster Medals (10)

The Medal of the Sky Titans (2)

Banner of the Grand Legion, First Class

The Primarch's Medal of Service (2)

The Order of Duty and Honor (2)

Salarian Silver Dagger

Salarian Stealth Medallion

Asari Atheme's Shield (2)

Admiral Marcell Toma is the admiral of the Fifth Fleet of the Turian Navy. In his over fifty years of service in the Hierarchy Military, Marcell Toma is regarded as one of the most prolific figurers to lead the Hierarchy in the past two centuries. Serving as Head Fleet Admiral for the Navy, he led the way in the initial reformation of the military under the rule of Primarch Tabitha Victorio, once his sister-in-law. He is often viewed as the head mentor for late war hero Marcus Junius and current Primarch Gaius Cassiud.

Born to a regular family in the desert oasis of Carthvale on Palaven, he is the second of four children, his older sister being Marina Toma. Joining the military at conscript age, he had a slow initial rise in the ranks, due to his Carthvale heritage. In ancient Palaven, the Carthavalian Empire was the major enemy of the alliance between the Greko Confederation, the Ronim Empire, and Kingdom of Gematica; the alliance gave birth to later civilizations that would form the Hierarchy. His initial stand out came during the failed Terminus Incursion led by Turian Councilor Pombius, where he coordinated and in two occasions, led several Naval squadrons against raiders in the terminus systems.

As a commander, he began forming political connections, using the influence from his sister, who was in close confidence with then General Victorio. It is believed there were strains in this, especially when his sister Marina and Victorio married, creating a conflict between the Traditionalist Toma and the Reformist Victorio, at a time when political interest easily trumped family ties.

Originally a Traditionalist, he switched sides sometime during the disaster of the blockade of Garvok, when Separatist forces attempted to secede from the Hierarchy. His sister served as a negotiator during Council led talks. The poor execution of forces by now Primarch Pombius saw the death of several tens of thousands of colonists, a loss of face on the Council, and the death of Toma's sister and General Victorio's wife. With Pombius forced out of office by a rare move by the Senatoria, Victorio ascended as the new Head Primarch. Now Admiral Toma, joined by her Reformist bloc, restructured the Hierarchy Political and Military system to prevent such an event and loss of life. Up to her death during the Turian-Batarian war, he served as a close confidant.

In his later years, he would serve as Head Fleet Admiral, where he served as the direct commanding officer to then Lieutenant Commander Junius and Lieutenant Cassiud during the early half of the Quarian Pilgrim Uprising. After several failures by his subordinates in capturing the terrorists Miri Ghirn and Zaren Vali, he opted for reassignment as the new Dean Admiral to the Academy, though he kept his position as Head Fleet Admiral by name. In his academia years, he mentored many more officers, including Admiral Tiberius Fedorian, Admiral Herald Parrus, and General Desolas Arterius. Years later, he would officially step down as Fleet Admiral and grant this position to Admiral Marcus Junius. He would retire a year later.

Having a family of three children and numerous grandchildren, he survived the raid on Illium in 2907 (2167 United Terran Coordinate Time) by Terminus raiders. Six of his grandchildren and his son, the commander of the Nanus's Stand, were killed defending the planet. As part of Fedorian's subsequent reforms initiative, he reenlisted and proved to be an early and staunch supporter, bringing much of the Navy with him. Like Fedorian, he supported opening and strengthening relationships with the United Terran Federation.


\/\/\/\/\/\/ A/N \/\/\/\/\/\/

Hey Everyone!

Thank you all for reading!
As mention by a guest called 'blackmailer26'
I originally divided my chapters up by parts, each divided only by a time and date.

To better allow you all to follow whats going on in a clear manner,
Chapter after Chapter, Part after Part,
I edited all my chapters to clearly indicate when in the plot it is happening.
I hope they help you all understand and enjoy reading.

So thank you once again.
Please feel free to review and comment.
I'm welcome all constructive comments, for I always aim to improve my writing!
If you got any questions, always feel free to add it to review, or PM me.
I be glad to answer!

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