13th Police precinct, Omega station February 6th, 2335.
"Subject jack, no last name given, date February 6th, 2335. Imperial police lieutenant Gun Vruask attending."
He was in his element once more, to be here, torturing another suspect who would in time aid his cause, it was just so exhilarating. He had watched this one from afar for quite some time, seeing her transform from a lowly drug runner to the seasoned killer she was today, it was glorious. Oh, the powers did look upon this one in all their glory, how the shroud beckoned around her, he felt drunk in her presence but he couldn't show it here, not now.
For years he had been on this station, watching in the shadows as he played the long game in taking out any real opposition. Loyalist Imperials, Harcore soldiers, all of them would somehow be shunted off toward the most dangerous districts where they would usually end up dead and no longer his problem in the long run. This one, this jack, she had only made his life easier as she killed off his competition faster and faster. A leak here, a misuse of information there, and the opponents of his future regime would be no more. This station, some eight million people would make a fine sacrifice to the shroud, a beacon for which the powers would channel their energy and bring themselves into this galaxy anew.
Yes, and all of it started with this simple creature before him. A broken girl, raised to be a killer and fulfilling that role quite nicely He would have to teach her the ways of the shroud, why it was holy, and the other word like beings who called it home in the great beyond. It all had to start somewhere though, and right now, looking upon the slobbering, biting, and all-around unpleasant mess before him, he knew he was going to have to work with this one.
"Fuck you fascist pig, ill cut out your fucking throat and shit in it!"
Yes, she would take some work.
Omega station, February 7th, 2335
Mop up operations had gone on for two days now, weeding out those rebels who had escaped or dug in too deep even for the chem's to kill. Garrus's platoon had been hard-charging as they took down those who spoke ill towards the Empire, those who would dare resist. He'd lost count of how many people he had killed after the second day, two dozen at least, all former citizens turned traitor and all with little to no training. Like shooting fish in a barrel, he thought as he pulled his bayonet free from an Asari's scalp.
It was times like this when the battle was so close that it resorted to hand to hand that he felt the exhilaration from war. A "battle high" had been what the clones had called, a need for war, a need to kill, all of it due to just how long they had served the Empire. Where others would burn out they would strive, hoping for the next war, giddy for the next sound of men screaming and dying. They spoke of it overtaking them sometimes, casting aside their usual cool and collected selves. They devolved into monsters in hand to hand combat as they brutally killed anything before them. He'd heard stories of clones using knives to carve things to pieces, others bashing their weapon over the head of others till it broke, and others just stomping, punching, and thrashing an enemy until they were nothing but blood. Battle high, how good it felt pulling his blade out and firing off a burst toward a group of fleeing Batarians.
"All three thirty-four elements hold, navies deploying another wave of gas ahead of us, prepare for a gas attack."
The gas, it had been used a dozen times already and now another as a stagnant line of defense would be made by these would-be rebels. Idiots all of them, standing in the open behind burned-out air cars and trash they piled in the street. They would all die to the gas, their flesh boiling away as the Auxilia marched proudly through their "defenses". He'd seen better defenses in the other galaxy, from races that knew how to put up a fight, in retrospect this was nothing. Putting on his mask he clicked the turian shaped object into place as two LAAT's flew overhead. Green fumes spewed out the back, like aerosolized death it drifted toward the ground as the screams of the defenders began.
They knew what it was, they had watched their friends in the alien habs die to it and they knew what was coming. None would survive, men, women, children, they would all die as they cried to the heavens in despair. Sometimes, when he looked to the screaming horizon, he would say a prayer to the spirits, a prayer to those who stood in the way of his Empire. But only sometimes, when the time was right and his men were not dying. But not now, not on Omega, here they would all die, feeling the pocket on the front of his vest he heard the clink of three dog tags as they struck together again. They would all die, for his men.
One day later.
The three thirty-fourth had been put back on their ships and rocketed away from the still-smoldering station. Another battle already calling them, another war to fight. Ashleys Regiment, the nine seventy-fifth was right beside them and under the same orders. A planet in the former Asari territories had gone rebel, their alien population rising up against their Imperial masters and wishing to be free of the Empires rightful rule. They would be shown the error of their ways, as the skies blackened with orbital bombardment and the heavens themselves rained the drop pods and gunships of the army. Another world to add to his already long roster, another place to never think about again, great.
"Lieutenant Vakarian, report to Legion headquarters, Say again Lieutenant Vakarian report to legion headquarters."
Getting up off the ammo crate he'd been lounging on, he gave a quick word to his Sergeants before making his way to HQ. Getting called directly from the ships comms was something that hyped up his senses, just for how rare it was. On a ship carrying tens of thousands, to be signaled out personally was almost unheard of. So it was now, moving through the decks of the acclamator class assault ship, that Garrus began to get more and more nervous with every step. As he made his way toward the HQ element he began to see less and less aliens and more and more humans. Clones, sailors, and the occasional soldier all gave him looks as he entered halls whose usual occupants were entirely human.
The door to legion headquarters keyed as he entered, outside two clones stood at ease as he entered, snapping to attention as they noticed his officer bars. Inside was nothing but holo tables, maps of who knows what, and a hell of a lot of clones and other Imperial officers currently shouting about something. His company commander was the first to
notice him, waving a hand for him to come over. Garrus followed him into a back office where two other clones were standing outside at rigid attention ready to go at a moment notice. Garrus was able to see the nameplate on the outside of the room just as he entered.
CT-77777T 334TH LEGION COMMANDER.
Fuck. He snapped to attention as soon as he saw the rank on the man's chest as the door closed behind them. Four other officers, all battalion commander and above stood behind the legion commander. Each of them had their helmets off, showing their face to Garrus, a sign of respect from the clones meaning they saw him as a brother, as an equal. The clone pauldrons he currently wore probably helped in that regard.
"At ease Lieutenant Vakarian."
He relaxed but only slightly, still unaware of just what type of clone he was. CT-77777T began going over documents on his desk, an odd form here or there catching his eye as he looked Garrus over from time to time. For what felt like hours but was only, in reality, a couple of minutes, the legion commander looked up from the stack and appraised garrus personally.
"Vakarian, for three years you have served the legion faithfully on several worlds. You have fought from the rank of corporal to an Imperial officer, which is commendable, your battlefield reports state brave and courageous actions on several occasions. To put it frankly, you are a superior example of what an Imperial officer should look like."
Something big was coming, he could feel it in his plates, something earth-shattering, news most like it was about to hit him. Was he being released? Kicked out? Please no!
"So you may not know this, but recently the Empire has made a deal with the Krogan. A deal for shock troops, an entire company of Krogan ready and able to act as the breaching forces for every Auxilia legion. One hundred of the angry toads are currently being transferred to the ship and they will be attached to the first battalion as a new company, Fox company. This new company requires leadership due to the fact HIGH COM will not trust Krogan to lead themselves. Now here comes the issue, I do not have enough clone officers to command a company, not even a platoon. So I am tasked with taking leadership from the alien population to fill these gaps.
This is where you come in Vakarian, I need a leader, a mover of men, who can whip these Krogan into shape and ensure they are not a liability to the legion. I need someone who can lead an entire company into battle and win, and that is why I requested you."
Him for company command? What had the galaxy come too! An entire company of Krogan, all under his command, he could only guess the possibilities this would entail.
"So, you are hereby promoted to the rank of captain and given all the responsibilities that come with that rank. You may call upon other auxilia you know in the legion and requisition lieutenant's for your platoons. It is a mighty weight to bear, the weight of one hundred people now rests on your shoulders, do you feel yourself up to the task?"
As he asked the question the legion commander handed over the new rank plaque, Garrus stared at it, slack-jawed as he pulled it off the desk and held it up to his armor. Company commander, Captain Vakarian, had a ring to it.
"Yes Sir, I will command Fox company to the best of my ability, we will not fail you, sir."
"Good, Your company is awaiting you in hanger three. Go have a chat."
"Yes sir."
Hanger three.
Garrus entered the hanger to absolute silence, passing by three parked LAATs, he wouldn't have known there were a hundred Krogfan in parade formation until he laid his eyes upon them. As he turned the corner, a single Krogan in green armor with sergeant stripes bellowed out an order.
"Company, attention!"
One hundred bodies snapped together, sending a thunderclap across the mostly empty hanger. Garrus put on his best game face as he walked to the front of his platoons, already he could see the eyes, the stares of those sizing him up. One of them being the green armored sergeant, he looked a lot like Wrex from the old days but then again, most Krogan looked the same to him. The Krogan looked him up and down, sizing him up until those lizard-like pupils fell on the clone pauldrons on either side of Garrus's frame. White armor, blackened with soot, with an orange and blue line going down the center, the sign of an Auxilia officer.
Garrus stepped in front of the Sergeant whose eyes moved to stare straight ahead as he now looked over the Krogan's armor and equipment. Green armor, covered in scrapes and cracks, equipment consisting of various heat sink pouches, grenade pouches, and a large blade which stood out in a scabbard. This would not do, they would need new equipment to be effective, new gear to make them better warriors, they would need to adapt to the new ways of war and do away with the past.
Garrus left the Krogan and began pacing in front of them all, taking careful looks at those who wore stripes and those who did not. He saw all manner of armor among them, blood pack mercs, clan markings, all of it nonstandard and all of it not up to Imperial standards, this would be changing. Returning to the green armored Krogan in the center he kept his voice low as he gave his order, careful to make sure only this one could hear.
"Your name Sergeant."
"Sergeant Urdnot Wreav sir."
"Of Clan Urdnot? Do you know Wrex then?"
"Yes Sir, he is my half brother."
"Really? Shit, return to your platoon."
The Krogan saluted before moving off. Now it was only Garrus, a single turian standing before a hundred Krogan.
"Fox Company of the first battalion, I am to understand you are all shinies, pups compared to the rest of the real warriors here."
That made a few snorts in contempt, others glared with yellow eyes, good, they were angry.
"In the coming days, I will train all of you to become the soldiers that the empire needs, what the empire wants. You will become true Imperial servants as we cross the void toward our newest war. The Empire calls, and they will not be found wanting from a single one of you, am I understood!"
"YES SIR!"
It would have shaken the walls if they weren't steel. Now he had to pick leaders for these platoons, good officers which would allow him the maneuverability he needed for this unit. Yes, he had work to do.
Shepard, February 9th, 2185 3rd AOF Fleet.
Before his untimely death at the hands of a friend, he had seen plenty of alliance and citadel fleets as they crossed the void. The sleek vessels of the alliance, the octopod shaped ships of the Asari, the bird-like wings of the Turian navy, all of them the most powerful ships in the entirety of the universe. They had guarded the citadel for over a thousand years, won wars hundreds of years in the making, and ensured peace and security for a galaxy full of strife. But that had been in their hay day, when spare parts, spare men, and spare supplies were abundant and they had nations that supported any war they were sent too.
What he looked on now, out here in the deepest parts of a forgotten relay, was a far cry from those once earth-shattering fleets. A former alliance cruiser went by the observation window, its blue paint peeling, he could barely make out its name as its blue engines thundered on by.
SSV LONDON.
The letters themselves were eroding just like the ship they were painted upon. He could see cracks in the engine housing even from here. The main guns, the broadside guns, and even the laser defense array all showed signs of heavy use with black soot marking all of them. Even the dropship bay looked like it hadn't seen drydock in years, the blue mass effect fields kept in the atmosphere shuddering once in a while, making the void suit equipped personnel inside look up once in a while.
Oh, how the mighty had fallen, but this was every ship in the supposed third fleet, all ramshackle relics taken from the last war and kept up to speed. It reminded him of the Quarian flotilla in a lot of ways, from the picture he had seen that Tali had shown him, it could have been mistaken for the once migrant people. Fitting in a way, for the council to be the migrant species now while the Quarians finally had a real home. It was Imperial in nature but they had a home. He wondered where Tali was now, did she die in the war? Was she a traitor like Garrus to the Empire? Her father had been an important Admiral, and the Quarians were now fully under the thumb of the Empire so, who knew.
He was here to be a part of the council's ambassador team, individuals who had shown great diplomatic skill in the past when dealing with tense situations. Situations that could devolve into violence, so they had called for spectres, all the spectres that were left. And to guard them as they met with the shyest species in the galaxy was a fleet of warships capable of leveling an entire planet. Three dreadnoughts, forty-eight cruisers, one hundred frigates of varying type, and even two carriers, both former alliances. A fleet indeed, if anyone wanted a fight, even the Empire, then they would have one.
It was then that the door behind him opened and the click of boots on metal sounded through the small observation room.
"It's been a long time Shepard."
That voice, he hadn't heard it in over three years, not since he had defeated Saren. Turning towards the doorway, Shepard eyes looked onto a man who had once commanded an entire alliance fleet, a man who had retaken the Citadel, a man who had defeated Sovereign. Admiral Steven Hackett, he looked a lot older now with his hair entirely gray, he had new scars too, burns that went down his face and into his shirt but there he was in the flesh.
"Admiral Hackett, sir!"
Shepard saluted to which the admiralty returned the gesture.
"At ease son, we brought you back from the brink, and from what I've heard you've been able to give the enemy a bloody nose."
"Yes sir, Omega was a bloodbath."
Hackett took up beside him in the window, watching as another cruiser went on by.
"Shepard, I won't lie to you, these three years have been hell. Defeat after defeat, the fall of the Citadel, hell the fall of Earth, all of it something i wouldn't have thought in a million years. It took every move I had to convince the council to bring you back, untold resources went into remaking you into what we needed in times like this, we needed a hero, are you going to deliver?"
He could feel the weight the aging admiral had just put on his shoulders, was he really worth this much?
"I will sure as hell try sir."
"In the last days of the war I commanded what was left of the fifth as the earth fell, you should have seen it."
Hackett's mind went back three years, back to those dark days, of a time where everything hung in the balance and they all failed.
Earth, May 1st, 2183 5th Fleet command ship SSV Everest
Hackett was reading over the latest reports from the ground and none of it was looking good. Cities in unrest, massive mobs of people taking out their anger on anything which bore the symbol of the alliance, people getting hacked to death in the streets. And all the meanwhile, those soldiers still sat in defensive positions, awaiting the coming of the Empire. Tens of millions of them occupied the surface of the Earth, from Antarctica to the north pole, they would defend the birthplace of humanity with their lives if that's what it took.
Next to them were the orbital defense guns, rings of mass effect powered cannons that ringed the planet itself in the hundreds. What had once been a proposal after the first contact war was now a reality, and all it took was an enemy so massive that it puzzled the mind. He would have thought it would have been the Reapers who would be invading earth, shattering the world and enslaving the population. But here he was, facing off against human adversaries from an Empire no one would have thought possible. So far his fleet had tallied up five kills as they conducted a retreating fight from the outer colonies, to the inner colonies, and to the very homeworld itself. Five star destroyers of the smaller Venator class, caught by themselves it hadn't been all that hard to take down the dreadnought sized ships, save for a dozen frigates, four cruisers, and one of the last human dreadnoughts. Thousands upon thousands of sailors died in the void, for five fucking ships.
Looking over the fleet roster for what was left of humanity's navy he sighed, to see the mighty fall. Pre-war the human navy had been the up and coming galaxy power with how many cruisers, dreadnoughts, frigates, and carriers it could field across a variety of systems. The proud ships could be seen from the terminus to citadel space, their white and blue camo scheme marking them as proud vessels of humanities space-faring navy.
Now, looking over what was left his heart ached. Two dreadnoughts, forty cruisers, one hundred and three frigates, two of those being of Normandy class, and a hundred corvettes. That was all that was left, all that could stand in front of the Empire and proudly defy the juggernaut which had already destroyed half the known galaxy. They were the last, the last species to not submit, the last species to not fall. The Asari had been first, then the Salarians, and finally the Turians, the most powerful navy in the entire galaxy stamped out of existence. The Batarians for all their supposed military might had fallen in less than a week by themselves, Khar'Shan having been cracked by the so-called Colossus.
"Sir magnetic readings from bearing two seven three, vectoring pickets now!"
So this was it, the last to fall, the last to defy the so-called Empire.
"Alert the fleets, I want all hands on deck and weapons condition red. As soon as we see the first signs of any Imperial ships I want corvettes and frigates running attack runs, cruisers readying up in wolf pack formations, and dreadnought and carriers prepping mass drivers."
Sweat began to trickle down his back as fleets prepared themselves throughout the solar system. His strategy was simple but effective for anything star destroyer class and below. Using frigates and corvettes he would run attacks at lightning speeds, harassing the ships CIWS and medium-sized guns while cruisers would begin firing in packs, shearing off pieces of any ship in range. If it was anything larger than the two dreadnoughts, his proverbial fist, would then fire from long range and take out the engines, allowing the cruisers to finish off whatever was left. It had worked before, and it would work now, he hoped.
Screens began showing incoming magnetic readings, and a lot of them.
"Count is fifty so far and rising, all reading show Star destroyer class and above with cruisers and below sprinkled in, identifying targets as Imperial fleet one."
Fifty-star destroyers, fuck. They'd taken down five by themselves, fifty, well.
"Magnetic readings coming in from bearing one three three, fifty plus, wait, seventy, one hundred plus identified all-star destroyer class and above."
In front, behind, they were trapped due to the limits of their FTL and they had no choice, they were here to fight and die, nothing more.
"Sir incoming call from, sir its General baker."
General Baker was the commanding officer of all ground-based Alliance units in the system. Marines, army, naval special warfare to include all Ns, he had it all, so him calling now was not a good sign. Hackett keyed the call, mindful to keep it on low to make sure only he could hear.
"General Baker, Admiral Hackett."
"Steven, there here."
His voice sounded gruff, like he was in pain, under duress.
"What do you mean there here? We see there ships coming in-"
"Admiral Hackett."
That was not Baker's voice, only one person, or should he say one engineered type of person had that voice and they were no friend of him.
"Clone."
"Admiral this is CC-99368-"
"I don't give a fuck about your designation clone, what do you want."
"Admiral, we're requesting your surrender. Earth will not burn, the cradle of humanity will not feel the fires of war if you surrender, sir."
Hackett knew Baker's exact position, he knew exactly where to place a shot to end this engineered monstrosity here and now.
"Admiral, this war can end today, and right now it depends on you and your fleet. We will be waiting."
The line ended and Hackett was left with his thoughts. With the orbital guns and the fleet, he could hold out for maybe, an hour. After that it would all be over, the planet would be invaded and the bloodshed would begin. An hour, in exchange for thousands of lives, was it worth it?
"Sir, third group designating Imperial fleet three closing in from bearing two two seven, on hundred plus-"
"Open a comm line to all ships."
"Yes sir!"
They would not be winning this war, not in an open battle against a far superior enemy. He had heard the council had gone to round with whatever they had left, if they could do the same then he would conduct a guerilla war and bleed them that way.
"All ships of the proud alliance navy, hear this."
His voice would be sent to every ship in the fleet, every sailor stopping whatever they were doing to listen to their proud commanding officer.
"Sailors and marines, you have fought and bled the good fight. For these past months, you have all fought bravely in the face of an unending fight and in days past, I would have put all of you in for medals."
He let it sink in, letting them know just how proud he was of them all.
"But those days are gone, now we must fight on our terms, on the battlefields that we deem necessary. That is why now I call upon all of you to decide for yourselves rather than order, my ship will be heading for the mass relay to escape. To escape and regroup with those who have survived this war, so that we may continue the dream, a dream of a galaxy not ruled by an extragalactic empire but rather ourselves. I beg all of you now, from the highest-ranking officers to the lowest enlisted among all of you, decide your own fate, for the alliance, for the Citadel."
He keyed off the mic and slumped into his chair, how many years had he devoted himself to defending the great blue and green rock in front of him, only to retreat when the time came. Here he was, a decorated officer, falling back in the face of his adversary.
"Sir?"
The shaky voice of his comms operator interrupted his own thoughts as the engines began propelling the dreadnought toward the relay.
"I'm getting the roster in now, sixty percent of the fleet is following, the rest, the rest is confirming they will die for the earth."
Sixty percent, tens of thousands of people running toward the relay, it was the first battle all over again.
Present.
Shepard couldn't believe it, too see his mentor so at lost for words as he described what it was like to lose his people's homeworld, it was unspeakable.
"We lost, ran, and found our way to what was left. As you can see, spare parts and men have been hard to come by but we do what we can."
"Sir you did everything you could and that's what matters, your decision had now given us the ability to continue the fight."
"I know, trust me, three years we've been fighting the Imperial navy and we've learned, become accustomed to their tactics. If I had the ships, hell the numbers from back then, we would have beaten the bastards back to that portal in space and been done with them."
Another cruiser began flying by, a Salarian model this time, it showed the same signs of overuse as the former alliance ship.
"We'll get them back, maybe not today or even tomorrow, but one day I swear to god I'll see the proud alliance blue flying over Earth."
"One day sir, one day."
Their reverie was broken as both of their omni tools lit up with an incoming message from Miranda.
"Sirs, the Collectors ship has just entered the system, we request yourself and Shepard to the shuttle bay."
Hackett gave a look to Shepard who gave a nod back before he spoke.
"Alright, we'll be there in a minute."
Shuttle 33E, en route to designated meeting ship MSV Eduror
It was Shepard, Miranda, the team of Ns and two Asari who would be meeting face to face with the collectors, the most mysterious race in his galaxy. Four-eyed bugs all of them, they had arrived in a literal flying rock shaped like a cigar. He hadn't gotten to hear them over the radio just yet so his first impression was going to be just that, his first glimpse into the eyes of a new alien race. Well, "new" in the sense they were not part of the Citadel, and hadn't been seen since the Empire had shown up.
Three shuttles were being sent alongside them housing their actual security detail, an entire platoon of Marines beside the two fighter squadrons currently running escort in case of any attack. The three shuttles would be landing in an old decommissioned freighters shuttle bay where the meeting would be taking place in the vacuum of the hanger. The collectors had agreed to all of this, stating that they would be just fine in a vacuum. This had puzzled AOF leaders, but they had just gone along with it just fine.
"Shepard, just so you're aware I followed through on some leads after our tour of Omega. I've sent Lieutenant Vakarian and Captain Williams Imperial files to your Omni tool."
That made his emotions run, just the thought of Omega in general would send him into spirals of anger now. Seeing those two, wearing those damned symbols like they were proud, it sickened him. But, he might as well know his former friends now enemies once again and find out just what they had done. He picked Garrus first, considering he was his former best friend.
Lieutenant Vakarian, Garrus (Turian)
334th Adri Prime Auxilia Legion
1st Platoon CO, Alpha Company, 1st Bn, 334th
Record, February 4th, 2335.
Years of service: 3
Years of active combat: 3
Combat tour to worlds: 17
Worlds to include:
Ul (Uish world)
Bin (Uish world)
T'kan (Uish world)
Qk'tark (Uish world)
PRESS HERE FOR ADDITIONAL
Record of award:
Alien service medal
Imperial star with bronze oak leaves
Soldiers medal with crossed rifles
Service to the Emperor medal
End reward log.
Vakarian, Garrus has been forwarded by his commanding officers for promotion to Captain due to gallant service to the Empire.
REQUEST FOR SECTION EIGHT.
What did that mean?
Request for section eight?
And what the fuck was an Uish?
"Miranda?"
"Yes, Commander?"
"Bottom of Garrus's record it says request for section eight? What does that mean?"
"Section eight is part of the Imperial advanced research and weapon development division, responsible for building all of the cruel and disgusting weapons we see on the battlefield. One example is the gas used on Omega."
'Why the hell would they want Garrus then…"
"Boarding team this is your pilot speaking."
Another Batarian pilot, the last one didn't turn out too well.
"We will be landing in the hangar in two minutes, T minus two minutes, prepare for the void."
Slapping on his helmet, Shepard checked the seal to make sure it was airtight before standing up and making for the door. First impressions, they were everything, right? Two minutes went by like they were nothing, slowly the shuttle lost speed before stopping and thumping onto the deck.
"We have arrived, all passengers please be aware of possible-"
Shepard didn't listen to any more of the pilot's ramblings, slamming the door release he was greeted with the blackness of the shuttle bay before the ship's lights came online and highlighted his newest acquaintance.
"SHEPARD."
There were five of them, all brown hide and glowing eyes, the collectors. He was breathless as he noted their features, the way they held their bug-like wings at their back, how four of the cradled weapons that looked like they were alive. They had come in a ship that looked to be made of the same rock and living material blend, also cigar shape. Miranda, the Ns, and the two asari followed behind as he moved before the five collectors and took a closer inspection. Up and down, up and down, his eyes went before they landed on the four eyes of the collector. Here goes nothing.
"Commander John Shepard, Army of Freedom special forces."
He thrust out his hand for a shake, the collector taking its time as its head coked sideways before it looked back to Shepard.
"We do not need semantics, we called you here for one purpose. We require your support against the Empire."
Straight to the point then, pulling his hand away he took a power stance with his hands on his hips as he stared right back at the alien.
"The AOF can't just throw ships and men willy nilly, if you want support in fighting the Empire we're going to need a real target and a real alliance before anything happens."
As he had been told before, give nothing without getting anything in return. They needed materials, supplies, dockyards, and judging by those ships they had one.
"We have the location of an Imperial Dyson sphere."
What the shit, a Dyson sphere, that was a thing? Shepard turned to look at Miranda's eye lenses to see her eyes wide as saucers as she brought up her omnitool.
"They have a Dyson sphere? Where, and how did they bring it to our galaxy?"
The collector pulled out an omni tool like the device of his own and projected a holographic version of the structure in question. It was massive in scale, covering an entire red giant in metal, the structure must have taken decades to build, but that begged the question, how was it here?
"The Empire, with the usage of dark energy, was able to move a dozen of these structures within this galaxy. These platforms now power dozens of planets and shipyards with the energy needed to continue their war effort, crippling just one of these stations would spell doom for those worlds, allowing the AOF an in."
"And you're telling us this why? Why have you just now left the Omega four relay, why are you really here?"
The bug did not respond, its wings moved slightly at its back as it heads cocked from side to side before it answered.
"It has become apparent the former rulers of this galaxy are no longer in control, the masters of this domain must once more administer a balance to the status quo. The Empire must be defeated in the grand scheme of galactic events, nothing can transpire before then."
"So you are just willing to share the location of one of these star-sized power plants then?"
"Yes."
Shepard knew there was something else at play here, the small tickle at the back of his mind confirming this but he, for now, would play along.
"Say we help you, what would you bring to the table during the attack on one of these installations?"
"We have four dreadnought sized vessels capable of reaching the site, along with forty thousand troops. We are more than capable of staging an attack alongside the forces of the AOF."
Goddam, that was quite a bit, and enough to seal an alliance between the two powers.
"Alright I'll bite, what is the location of the Dyson sphere?"
The collector's projection changed to a galactic view, narrowing down until a system on the northwestern edge of form Asari space was highlighted.
"The Yuk nebula houses the station, there you will find four-star destroyers guarding it at all times alongside three legions of Imperial clones. Twenty thousand workers currently occupy the station at all times, with ships coming in and out to either charge or convoy the power away. We must bring an end to this station to further our goals."
Thirty thousand clones, four-star destroyers, twenty thousand civies, a lot of people were going to die but they were Imperials, so not really people.
"Anything that brings harm to the Empire is a-okay in my book, Miranda exchange details with our collector friend here, we have a date with destiny."
And with that Shepard turned back to the shuttle, yes he would bring the war home to the Empire, he would make sure they would never forget this.