MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. THERE ARE MANY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS, AND THESE ARE MINE. THEY ALSO HAPPEN TO BE HEAVILY ARMED, AND I PAY THEM WELL.

Time to see how things have progressed, yes?

Mass Effect: Legacy

I

2287 CE

Wrex yawned as he walked through the halls of Fortress Shiagur. Some thought it had been named after the famed warlord from the Krogan Rebellions, but that was just a coincidence; it was actually named after the daughter of the architect who had designed the Krogan center of government. That Shiagur had died during the Reapers' attack on Tuchanka, and it had become commonplace to name anything built post-war after a fallen child.

Calling it a fortress was a bit of a misnomer. True, it was defensible—like all Krogan buildings—but art lined its halls, and an entire wing had been given over to various exhibitions that showed how Wrex's people had grown.

"Overlord," a Krogan with a blue crest called out. "A moment of your time?"

Wrex nodded. Itreck Gorr was young, born only a few years after the Reaper War, but had quickly risen in prominence. Clan Itreck was only a year older than Gorr himself, formed from the remnants of smaller clans that hadn't been able to rebuild after the war. Gorr was determined to show the conservatives of his people that the new generation was equal to the old blood.

"What is it, Gorr?" Wrex asked. "I've got a meeting with the other Alliance heads in a few minutes."

"It will only take one." Gorr handed him a datapad. "The thresher maws are disrupting trade in the south. Two clans are practically out of food already."

Wrex frowned as he read through the details. "Clan Urdnot can spare a few patrols. We should be able to drive the worms off without much issue. You don't need my approval for this, kid, so why are you here?"

Gorr looked around conspicuously, and Wrex sighed; the young Krogan didn't quite know how to be subtle.

"There were some reports that the thresher maws were goaded into the area. Clan Gatatog isn't exactly claiming responsibility, but their clan heir was thrown out of both settlements being affected."

Now Wrex was annoyed; Clan Gatatog had been a thorn in the rest of Tuchanka's side for decades. Mostly politically, but occasionally physically as well. Wrex had thought they'd fallen in line after Shepard had killed Uvenk, but that had changed. They now represented a small but vocal faction in Krogan politics; no one was quite sure what they stood for, but it was obvious they stood against Wrex.

"Talk to the Shamans, see if they can't mediate with Gatatog." Wrex grumbled. "Even if they can't, I'm still sending those patrols to take care of the maws."

Gorr nodded. "As you wish, Overlord."

Wrex continued on his way; he noticed, not for the first time, that many of the Krogan were young, and hardly any had scars like his. With the genophage cured, the population was booming, and had reached a level that Tuchanka was now considered a populated world. Birth rates were still highly controlled, though; it had been less than a century since the genophage became a memory, and even with a dozen colony worlds, the Krogan couldn't afford to outpace their supplies.

At least the rest of the Alliance was more than willing to help with that, something Wrex was eternally grateful for.

Speaking of the Alliance, Wrex made it to the quantum entanglement network hub. It was effectively a supercharged version of what the Normandy—the second one, Wrex had to remember—once had. The QEN was still relatively new, and was reserved for governments and the military, but it was hoped that every house would have one in a decade or two.

Wrex tapped on a holographic keyboard, signaling that he was present. A moment later, three holograms of the other Alliance leaders shimmered over their projectors.

Prime Minister Natalie Waybrook looked every inch the weathered politician. She was tall, for a human, with brown hair pulled into a tight bun, and wore a modest coat over a blouse and long skirt; she was in her forties, and had been elected a year ago for her hardline stance in the very issue that this meeting would address.

Alpha-Prime North wasn't really the leader of the Geth Consensus; rather, its platform was used to voice the collective opinion of all Geth. Even though each Geth program was a fully-realized AI, they could—and often did—utilize their old networked connection. North—Wrex never understood why it gave itself that name—was a small-framed Geth, likely to not intimidate whoever it spoke to. Its chosen form was almost skeletally thin, and its glowing optic could swivel in almost any direction.

The last of the quartet was Governor-Admiral Jial'Koris vas Rannoch. She was the granddaughter of the same Admiral Koris from the Reaper War. Even almost a century later, Wrex still found it odd to see a Quarian's face; since Jial'Koris was transmitting from Rannoch, she wasn't wearing her airtight suit, but instead flowing robes of browns and purples. Despite her calm ornamental attire, she looked the most upset; it reminded Wrex of the time he'd seen some extranet vids of humans eating lemons.

Wrex wondered what had Jial'Koris so upset this time; the reason seemed to change with every meeting.

"Hello, everyone," Waybrook said smartly. "I hope you're all doing well."

"I am operating optimally," North said.

"I'm fine," Jial'Koris huffed.

"I feel old," Wrex complained.

"You always say that," Waybrook said with a smile. "And yet, you never talk about stepping down."

"I'll step down when someone proves they can do the job better than me," Wrex growled, but there was no heat in it. "Besides, I don't trust the ultraconservatives not to try to undo all my reforms as soon as I retire."

"Still an issue?" Waybrook asked.

"A pain in my hump, more like it." Wrex shrugged. "Still, the second they try more than poking at the rest of the clans, they'll get crushed. They know it, so they won't do something too stupid."

"If we are quite finished," Jial'Koris interrupted, "we scheduled this meeting to discuss our response to Batarian military exercises near Alliance space."

Wrex grunted. "My opinion remains the same—keep an eye on them, and if they actually cross the border, we shoot them down. Problem solved."

"It is more complicated than that, and you know it," Jial'Koris snarled.

Wrex was almost impressed by her ferocity, but it was outweighed by her borderline cowardice. The Batarians had been getting uppity for the last three years; apparently, they had recovered enough to build a sizeable fleet, and seemed intent on showing everyone with eyes that they were strong.

Personally, Wrex thought it was more about how generous the rest of the Council races were, helping their newest member come back from the brink of extinction. With the Turians objecting to every other motion proposed by the Asari, and their own proposals getting shot down every time, it seemed that the Asari and Salarians were looking for another race to use as muscle. Unfortunately, no one could be sure if that new muscle was acting on its own, or with the Council's blessing. It seemed to change from moment to moment.

"Have there been any developments on the intelligence front?" Waybrook asked, getting them on topic.

North bobbed its optic. "Affirmative. We have intercepted transmissions between Special Tasks Group and Batarian Hegemony. They contain warnings not to push into Alliance borders, but have not threatened reprisals."

"They're waiting to see how it pans out," Wrex growled. "If the Batarians back down, the rest of the Council will use it to prove they 'won' by diplomacy. If the Batarians attack, and get trashed, the Council says they didn't have anything to do with it, and even tried to stop it. And if the Batarians have any kind of victory, the Council will make it look like it was their idea. Typical."

"Which is why we must approach this issue with caution," Jial'Koris insisted. "If this is not handled correctly, it could start an armed conflict with the Council."

"Just call it a war, it's easier to say." Wrex smirked at the Quarian's outrage, but continued before she could speak. "Still, you're not wrong. We can afford to be patient, as long as the Geth can keep eyes and ears on every move the Batarians make."

"We are already doing that," North reported. "We are also maintaining observations of the Asari, Salarians, Turians, Volus—"

"We get it," Wrex interrupted with some humor. "You watch everyone."

It was a strange feeling for Wrex, he mused, that he was the most level-headed of the organics present. There had been a time when he would have called for war with the Batarians on principle, but the Reaper War and a century of leadership had tempered him. That, and raising an enormous brood of children had taught him the value of patience.

"If there are no other urgent matters," Waybrook said, "shall we go over the usual reports?"

Here, Wrex grumbled; patient or not, he would have preferred fighting something than listen to hours of politicians talking.

At least I've got the reunion to look forward to in a few weeks.

…

Tali was the last to arrive in the Sol system. She blamed it on her old bones not being able to handle fast trips anymore, but she felt a little more life in her as her shuttle landed in Sydney. The city had become Earth's new capital after the Reaper War, purely because it was the first major city to be fully repaired, and no one had wanted to rebuild Arcturus Station.

Personally, Tali liked Australia; the terrain reminded her of Rannoch, though she could have done without every single creature trying to kill her. That was what James had warned her about, anyway.

"Auntie Tali! You made it!"

Tali smiled behind her helmet as Alanna Shepard ran over to her. She looked so much like her mother now that she was an adult, it was almost uncanny. Still, there were differences; where Liara had been shy and awkward on the first Normandy, Alanna was social, energetic, and always willing to meet new people. She'd even learned the standard languages for almost every species in both Alliance and Council Space, just so she could make someone more comfortable.

It was strange seeing an Asari wearing human outfits; clothing from the early twenty-first century was back in style on Earth, and Alanna was partial to jeans and t-shirts. At least for this day, she'd adopted a more formal set of suit pants, dress shirt, and jacket.

Tali accepted the gentle hug her 'niece' offered. "You look well, Alanna."

The young Asari frowned. "You saw me a week ago. Nothing's changed."

"Just accept the compliment," Tali chided. "Now, be a good niece and help an old admiral to her friends."

Alanna stepped back to offer a crisp salute. "Yes, ma'am!"

Tali rolled her eyes; she knew today was a day Alanna had been looking forward to for a long time.

Alanna held out an arm for Tali to lean on, and the aging Quarian noticed how strong the young woman was. It seemed that she had kept up her training. Thoughts of her niece were temporarily put aside when she saw the crew of the Normandy waiting for her.

The ship itself had become a memorial and a museum fifty years ago. It was usually flooded with tourists every day, but on this day, the exhibit was closed. It was reserved for those who had actually served on that ship, a number that was tragically shrinking.

The first of Tali's friends to die had been Zaeed. The old man had only made it to the first five reunions before a disgruntled Blue Suns operative had ambushed him. Zaeed died smiling, since he'd still managed to kill his attacker before bleeding out.

Kaidan had been next. His injuries on Mars had shortened his lifespan, and he had died thirty years ago, followed by Jacob. No one was quite sure when Kasumi had died, but they had received a prerecorded message from her ten years ago, which was supposed to be sent in the event of her death. Chakwas had died two years after the message was delivered, surrounded by friends and family. Jack had been the same four years later, happy to spend her last moments with her students, who had become like her own children.

Joker had actually lasted until three years ago, though he'd spent the last six months of his life in a coma. Tali had been there when he died, and she still couldn't think about him without shedding a tear.

Everyone else who had survived the Reaper War was still present, but Tali wondered how much longer some of them would last. She and Garrus were old, and so was James—though of the three of them, only Tali had elected to retire.

"Hey, Tali," Garrus greeted with a wave, and limped over to her. "You look good. That a new suit?"

Tali chuckled. "It's the same suit I've worn for the last ten years, Garrus; the robe is new, though."

Over the last few decades, Quarian culture had developed an affinity for long, flowing robes, even over their suits, if they weren't military. After centuries spent forced to wear enclosed suits, it was a revelation to wear something open to the environment. Tali's was a rich purple, with swirling lines of white that reminded her of the suit she'd worn during the Reaper War.

"It's still a good look," Garrus insisted.

Tali rolled her eyes. Even as an old man, Garrus occasionally tried to flirt with her, despite them breaking up less than a year into their relationship. It was an old, well-healed wound, and they were still friends.

"How's the family?" she asked.

"My sister was feeling better this morning, but it's still touch and go," Garrus admitted sadly. "The doctors think she has another year, maybe two."

"I think people are saying that about all of us, Scars," James commented as he walked up—still strong, Tali noted with some envy. "Corporal, you don't have to salute; neither of us are on duty right now."

Alanna swallowed nervously, and dropped her salute. "Sorry, sir. I'm just a little nervous."

James smirked. "I'll make the announcement after the party, okay? For now, just relax and have fun."

Alanna nodded, then gave Tali another hug before darting off.

"Do you remember when we used to have that kind of energy?" Garrus asked.

"I think that was back when Shepard was nearly getting us killed every other day," Tali half-joked.

"I don't know what you guys are talking about," James said. "I can still wrestle a Krogan."

"Whatever you say, Vega." Garrus held out an arm to Tali. "Come on, Liara is expecting you. She wants to give the speech, and then go back to enjoying herself."

"She never enjoys herself during these," Tali commented.

"At least she's not crying anymore," James pointed out. "That's a step up."

Tali conceded the point, and allowed Garrus to assist her in reaching Liara. Again, Tali envied the Asari lifespan and seemingly-eternal youth, because Liara hadn't aged a day in a hundred years.

"Hello, Tali," Liara said, and hugged her old friend. "How have you been?"

"I'm old, I can't walk up the stairs without a Geth platform assisting me, and every Quarian and their mother treats me like some kind of messiah," Tali complained, but smiled. "Still, I've been working on new drive systems for a line of frigates the Alliance is designing. They were having problems with the power distribution, and I offered to help."

Garrus coughed into his hand. "Do you really think you should be discussing that in front of the Primarch?"

Tali gave him a dry look. "I don't see the Primarch of the Hierarchy here today, Vakarian."

Garrus shrugged. "Just as well. My hearing is going bad anyway."

"That's because of the rocket you tried to block with your face, not your age," Tali countered.

Liara chuckled, but then sobered when she looked over at Alanna, chatting enthusiastically with Grunt.

"He should be here to see all this."

Liara was so focused on her daughter, she didn't see Garrus wince. Tali held in a sigh; Liara said this every year, and it never stopped hurting.

"We know," she said, and gently nudged her. "Go on; say what you need to say, and then come back to us."

Liara nodded, and headed for the podium; usually, it was used by the Prime Minister during their yearly update of the Alliance, but the Normandy crew had their own speeches to give. This year, it was Liara's turn.

"Hello, everyone," Liara said, her soft voice coming in clear through the speakers. "I'm glad you all could make it. I know our paths have split, but it warms my heart to see that we all still take the time to be here, today of all days.

"It's especially significant today; one hundred years ago, the Reaper War ended, and we achieved peace. Together, we did what no other cycle had managed to do, and this is our reward." Liara wiped away a tear, but managed to smile. "Of course, none of this would be possible without one man, who managed to unite all of us together to do the impossible, and who made all those sacrifices that came before him worthwhile.

"To John Shepard." Liara raised her glass of champagne, and was mirrored by everyone else. "And to the future he gave us."

There were muted agreements, as everyone drank and were lost in their own thoughts. Tali sipped from her dextro-friendly champagne—inserted through a straw and filtered by her suit to eliminate any chance of infection—and reflected on the last century.

It had been hard work to rebuild Rannoch, and her homeworld had barely been touched by the Reaper War. The Quarian Fleet—no longer the Migrant Fleet—had been instrumental in delivering supplies to the most war-ravaged parts of the galaxy. The Quarians had gone from unwanted vagrants to heroes almost overnight; even now, Quarian-led relief organizations were considered the best in the galaxy. To think, that might never have happened if a single nosy human hadn't come to the rescue of a scared Quarian girl.

Liara was right, Tali mused; Shepard had given them all a future.

Later, once the party was winding down, James had an announcement to give. He stepped up to the podium and cleared his throat.

"Hey, everyone," he said, unable to completely hide his smile. "I just wanted to let you all know something—totally informally, of course, but you would have found out tomorrow anyway. Little Alanna joined the Alliance military five years ago, and has done well across the board. As such, her application to the N7 program has been accepted."

Alanna pumped her fist. "Yes!"

"Don't think your instructors will go easy on you, kid," James warned. "They won't care who your parents are."

"Hey, as far as ninety-nine percent of the Alliance brass knows, I'm just Alanna R'Maas, Earth-born Asari," Alanna joked. "I'd be disappointed if they went easy on me!"

"That's the spirit," James said. "Just try to graduate at a human pace, okay? If it takes you fifty years, you'll probably get kicked out."

Alanna made a face, but everyone else laughed. With so many bittersweet memories, it was good to have a source of light and happiness. Other than Wrex and Grunt, none of the living Normandy crew had children to speak of—though there was also Samara, but no one was going to open that can of worms—so many of them invested the future of the galaxy into Alanna. Seeing her succeed gave them hope that there would always be someone to carry Shepard's legacy.

Tali mingled for a while, but her old bones didn't let her stand for too long, and she eventually sat down. She was pleased and surprised when Alanna joined her.

"Are you okay, Auntie?"

Tali smiled. "I'm fine, Alanna. Being old isn't much fun, except that you can make people listen to you. I'm more surprised that you're sitting down."

Alanna pouted. "Hey, I get tired sometimes!" Her expression grew serious. "Okay, enough fun—are you okay?"

"I am, I promise." Tali patted the young Asari's hand. "You won't get rid of me for at least a few more years."

"Good, because I'm pretty sure you have more to teach me."

"Anything in particular?"

Alanna held out her left forearm; orange plates of light folded around it, and if Tali hadn't known better, she would have said the new omni-tool was actually solid.

"My drone fabricator is acting sluggish," Alanna said. "I keep clearing the data caches, and even reset the entire program, but it's not improving."

"If it's not a software issue, then it's hardware," Tali immediately replied. "Check the nano-assembler, those can have issues if they're not replaced every eighteen months. It's a finicky piece of tech, unless—"

"Unless you sheathe the assembler in platinum, of course!" Alanna beamed. "I totally forgot about that trick! I've just been cleaning it out with a biotic wipe."

Tali narrowed her eyes. "You've been using a biotic field on parts that small and delicate?"

"Never in field training," Alanna promised. "Just during on-base maintenance. It's faster, and a good exercise in biotic control."

After a moment to mull it over, and eventually nodded. "That should work, but don't try to cheat your way through with biotics. In the right hands, even a basic tech package can be just as effective as the most advanced biotic technique."

"Right, I remember." Alanna grinned. "Though Mom always says that the most basic biotic technique, in the right hands, is just as effective as the most advanced tech package."

"And you wonder why your mother and I never collaborate on any projects," Tali grumbled, though both knew she was kidding.

Alanna reached over and hugged her. "Thanks for the help, Auntie; and thanks for being here."

Tali hugged her back. "Of course."

…

Two days later, Tali walked into her home on Rannoch. The estate was large, and had been expanded twice over the years, but only because Tali sometimes taught lessons for large groups. She had once taught at several universities, but traveling even that far was hard on her now, and she felt that virtual lessons were too impersonal for engineers.

With a sigh, she stepped into her bedroom and removed her mask. She closed her eyes and relished the feeling of an unfiltered atmosphere on her skin.

Tali enjoyed the sensation for another two seconds, and then felt a puff of something on her face. Her eyes snapped open, but all she could see was a thin figure, more shadow than flesh. Before she even had a chance to raise her omni-tool, the poison had entered her system, and she fell to her knees.

"Who—" she managed to gasp out, before succumbing to a fit of coughing.

The assassin leaned in close, but even if Tali's sight hadn't already been destroyed by the poison, she wouldn't have seen anything but darkness.

"The old light will die. The new light will not emerge from the ashes. The stars will fall unto shadow, and we will reclaim them all."

Before the words finished echoing through the house, Tali was dead. The assassin waited for a moment longer, just in case, but it was clear that the mission was complete. In an instant, there was no one living inside that house.

…

Miranda Lawson leaned back in her chair and pressed her fingertips together. The last few days had been awful, and it seemed this one was going to be worse. Tali's death had come as a shock to everyone; she had been old, yes, but she was in good health. The idea that her death was 'of natural causes', as the coroners had declared, just didn't sit right with her.

Maybe it was because she'd spent over forty years as the Alliance's Secretary of Intelligence, maybe it was her old instincts from her Cerberus days acting up, or maybe it was her enhanced mind connecting dots faster than she could consciously be aware of them, but something didn't add up.

Miranda called up the circumstances of every death of every one of Shepard's crew after the war. Zaeed's death had always been suspicious, but considering how many enemies that man had left in his wake, no one had dug deeper. Kaidan's death as a result of slow degeneration from his wounds on Mars just didn't seem to hold water like it used to. Jacob's rare biotic-related cancer felt more like foul play than a tragic disease. Kasumi's death had always been the most suspect, but no one had even found her body.

Jack… all right, Miranda had to admit that, after all the abuse Jack had gone through—self-inflicted or otherwise—it was a miracle she'd lived as long as she had.

"EDI," she said quietly.

EDI's holographic avatar appeared on her desk. After being removed from the Normandy, the AI had spent her time caring for Joker until his death. Once he was gone, she asked to be placed under Miranda's authority. Usually, she only used her hologram; she only brought out her mech body for special occasions, since it brought up too many memories of her late husband.

"Yes, Miranda?"

"Send a message to the family," Miranda said, choosing her words carefully. "Let them know that I've been looking at the weather, and it feels like a storm is coming in."

"Message sent."

"Thank you." Eager for something less depressing to think about, Miranda brought up a list of active projects. "How's the progress on the Normandy III-class?"

"Proceeding as expected. However, the controls are extremely sensitive, and it is unlikely that the ship can be operated by any organic pilot. Modifying to accommodate a non-synthetic would reduce operational efficiency by up to fourteen percent."

"I'll forward that to the design committee. I'm sure they'll be happy to take on Geth pilots."

"Agreed." EDI was silent for two-point-three seconds; for an AI, that was an eternity. "Miranda, are you afraid of what the future might bring?"

Miranda almost smiled; EDI hadn't asked questions like that since Shepard had been alive. "I suppose I am, a little. That's part of the human condition. We cope with that kind of existential dread however we can. For me, that involves planning for as many situations as possible, so that if something bad does happen, I'm at least a little prepared."

"That seems like an impossible task. You cannot be prepared for everything."

"Maybe not, but it helps me sleep at night." Miranda rose to her feet. "Speaking of which, I think I should get some sleep. Keep me apprised of any developments, EDI."

"Of course, Miranda. Sleep well."

…

Haley Cole stepped smartly through the door to her new barracks. The N7 academy on Titan was spotless, as befitted the most prestigious military station in the Alliance. Haley knew, in all modesty, that the N7 program produced some of the finest soldiers in the galaxy, and she was proud that she had been selected to join.

As she'd walked through the halls, she had nodded at the other N7 trainees—though some of them held higher ranks than her, they were all equal under this roof, so no trainee saluted another. Once, the N7 program had been for humanity alone, but after the Alliance had been reformed, the other member species had been permitted to submit their best and brightest. There were Krogan soldiers, Quarian marines, and even a handful of Geth that had decided to devote all their considerable capabilities to being soldiers. Still, the vast majority of trainees were human, and though Haley was no human-supremacist, there was a certain level of pride in knowing her people still had the majority.

After entering the barracks, she searched for her bunk, which had already been assigned to her. What made her stop was a bent-over figure making her bed; Alliance fatigues were meant to be modest, but even that didn't stop Haley from staring at the most perfect ass she'd ever seen. When the other woman stood up, Haley stared again, but for a completely different reason.

Asari were rare in Alliance space; some had immigrated if their partner had been in the Alliance, but most stayed in Asari territory. There were probably a handful that had joined the Alliance military, but Haley had never heard of one in the N7 program.

The Asari stood up straight and turned around; again, Haley wanted to stare at her beautiful face, but now that she'd been noticed, she kept her features professionally neutral. Part of her was jealous of the natural beauty all Asari possessed. Haley didn't consider herself ugly—her well-tanned skin, dark hair and bright blue eyes had earned more than a few admirers—but what the Asari had seemed to transcend anything humans could do.

"Hi," the Asari said with a cheerful smile. "You must be Sergeant Cole."

Haley frowned. "How'd you figure that?"

The Asari grinned and tapped the nameplate on the bunk above hers. "You're the only human woman assigned to this barracks, and I've already met the female instructors."

"I'm impressed."

"It's just basic information-gathering skills," the Asari said modestly. "Oh, sorry, I haven't introduced myself. Corporal Alanna R'Maas, N7 Engineering program."

Haley smiled; Alanna was too cheerful to not reciprocate. "Sergeant Haley Cole, N7 Soldier program. Mind if I ask a few questions?"

"Only if I get to ask some of my own."

"Fair enough." Haley shoved her footlocker over to the bed. "Why the engineering course? I bet an Asari would breeze through any of the biotics courses."

Alanna shrugged. "My mom already taught me plenty of biotic-related stuff, including combat. I thought I'd focus on engineering, practice biotics on my own time, and then take that graduating test."

"Can you do that?"

"Technically, we can attempt the graduating tests at any time," Alanna revealed. "It's just that you can only ask to take them once. After that, you either have to get recommended by an instructor to take it again, or you get drummed out."

"Huh, I didn't know that." Haley hopped onto the top bunk. "By the way, I think I've asked two questions now."

"I guess you did." Alanna smoothed out the blanket on her bunk, and then sat down. "So, where were you stationed before coming here?"

"On the SSV Hackett," Haley said. "We were patrolling the Terminus systems for two months. Before that, I was on security-detail for the human embassy to Palaven."

Alanna hummed thoughtfully. "Isn't the Hackett that new carrier? I thought she was still in shakedown."

"Nah, carrier groups do those in the systems they're built in," Haley explained. "No one wants to risk something going wrong for ships like that on a shakedown run."

"Cool. Also, it's your turn for questions."

"Thanks. Where were you stationed?"

"Training missions on Tuchanka, and my squad was part of a taskforce that broke up a smuggling operation about a month ago. Those Salarians had way too many mechs for their own good; luckily, I'm a better hacker than they were mech-operators. We didn't need to fire a single shot."

"Well, I can see how you got selected for the engineering course." Haley pictured a bunch of Salarians, desperately trying to turn off their mechs before they were overrun, and it made her laugh. "So, what brought you to Alliance space?"

"Huh? Oh, I didn't immigrate. I was born on Earth, actually."

"Really?"

"Yeah, my birth certificate says I was born in Florence, but Mom always gets it confused with Venice."

"So, your mom's—"

"An Asari. My dad was human."

Haley heard the depressed edge to Alanna's voice, and peeked over the edge of her bunk; the Asari was staring at an image on her omni-tool.

"Did something happen to your dad?"

"He died during the Reaper War."

Haley flinched; like most humans her age, the legendary Reaper War was something that happened to her grandparents, but there were still billions of people across the galaxy who had lived through it, and had lost friends and family to those monsters.

"I'm sorry. Were you close?"

Alanna laughed bitterly. "I never met him. He died during Operation Return; Mom hadn't even gotten to tell him she was pregnant." She looked up at Haley, and seemed to figure out what she was thinking. "I'm not sad about my dad; I mean, I am, but that's not why I'm sad now. My aunt died a few days ago, and I couldn't go to the funeral."

"Oh, damn, I'm sorry. You need anything?"

Alanna sighed. "No. This isn't the first member of my extended family I've lost over the last few decades. I'll manage. I just… I saw her a few days before she died, and we had a great time. She's the one who taught me practically everything I know about engineering."

Ouch, Haley thought. She didn't just lose a family member, she lost a teacher and a friend.

"Well, if you ever need to talk, I'm willing to listen."

Alanna smiled again. "Thanks, but just because I'm only a hundred years old doesn't mean I can't deal with stuff."

"Only a hundred years old, huh?" Haley rolled her eyes. "Thanks for reminding me that you're gonna look that good centuries after I'm dead."

Alanna grinned. "You think I look good?"

Haley didn't bother to respond, and rolled over. It didn't help that she'd gotten a good look at the young Asari, laying back on her bed with her hands behind her head. She was the perfect mix of beautiful and athletic, and her tight black t-shirt did little to hide a chest most human women would kill for.

Before Haley could embarrass herself further, she heard a ping from down below, and the bottom bunk creaked as Alanna got up.

"Looks like my first class is starting soon," she said, and gave Haley a two-fingered salute. "See you later, roomie."

Haley tried not to look at Alanna's back as she left—specifically, at that inhumanly-perfect ass.

"I know you're staring!"

Dammit!

…

Matriarch Tevos tried not to smile as she read a series of reports from the STG. If they were accurate—and she had no reason to doubt they were—then this was the opportunity the Council races had been waiting for.

"There is a gap in Alliance patrols," she said. "It only occurs every eight days, and only for seventeen minutes, but it would be enough for a strike force to punch through. That section of the Mass Relay network would take our forces straight to Rannoch."

Two of the other Councilors seemed intrigued; the last, however, was angry. Tevos didn't care much for the Turian member of the Council; Atremus was almost impossible to manipulate, especially since his mission in life seemed to be to undermine Asari superiority at every opportunity.

Lirno and Borak were far more amenable to her suggestions; the former was almost comically scared of the resurgent Krogan, and the latter was desperate for the Batarians to reclaim their 'cultural rights'. All Tevos had to do was assure them that the Salarians would be protected, and the Batarians would return to their former glory, and they were eating out of the palm of her hand.

But the Turians… they had become more and more resistant to the Council's rulings over the last few decades. Their stubborn refusal to see the Alliance as the existential threat it was had allowed the humans and their allies to grow into a true galactic superpower. The Asari had decided to punish the Turians by implementing staggering import taxes; the Turians had retaliated by withdrawing the financial support of the Volus banks to the Council on almost every level. Tevos had implied that if the Turians took this too far, the Council might replace them with the Batarians as their strong arm.

Tevos had never been laughed out of an office before, but Atremus was good at surprising her.

"You seem to be forgetting one very important detail," Atremus said, the only sign of his anger the way he stiffly held himself.

Borak might have been arrogant, even for a Batarian, but he knew better than to assume he knew more about military operations than a Turian. "Oh? What would that be?"

Atremus scowled. "That would be that you actually need a reason to go to war! Am I the only one who even read our own laws? It clearly states that the Council cannot declare a war on a sovereign nation unless attacked first, or there is a clear and present threat to galactic security!"

Tevos raised an eyebrow. "You don't consider a resurgent Krogan civilization a threat? Or the Geth? You may not have been alive when an army of artificial intelligences almost wiped out all life in the galaxy, but I do, and I have no intention of seeing it happen again."

"You're being ridiculous," Atremus said. "The Krogan have spent the last century rebuilding their civilization, and the Geth fought against the Reapers. If you're referring to the Geth that attacked the Citadel, we all know that was a small breakaway faction. Your reasoning is flawed and, quite frankly, ridiculous."

"That's assuming everything we know about the Geth and Krogan is accurate," Lirno countered. "For all we know, the Krogan have bullied their way into the Alliance leadership, and the Geth have enslaved the Quarians."

"Exactly," Tevos said. "This isn't a war, Atremus, but a… a 'special operation' to liberate the Quarians from their AI oppressors."

Atremus stared at them, and then buried his face in his talons. "I wish to the spirits that you were joking, but you actually want to do this."

Borak frowned. "Judging by your reaction, I take it the Turian Hierarchy will not be joining us?"

"No, we will not." Atremus rose. "We will continue to maintain our defensive alliance with the Council, but we won't assist in an unjust war."

With that, Atremus stormed out of the chamber. Tevos didn't mind; she'd been slowly pushing the Turians out of affairs anyway, and now, there was no dissenting voice.

"Very well, my friends." Tevos smoothed out her dress. "I believe we have a special operation to plan."

…

The Salarian STG was good; among organics, it was undoubtedly the best intelligence organization in the galaxy. However, the Alliance didn't just have an organic intelligence agency; no matter what the STG came up with, it paled in comparison to the Geth, and with Alliance Intelligence headed by one of the most brilliant—and ruthless—human minds in history, the Alliance was aware of the Council's intentions mere minutes after their plans had begun.

"This is accurate?"

Wrex had seen Jial'Koris angry before, but that had been bluster; 'blowing smoke out her ass', he would have said in less polite company. This, however, was different; he'd seen fury in Quarians before, and while it was no blood rage, it was impressive in its intensity. With a pang in his hearts, he thought that Tali would have been the same if she'd been there today.

"This is accurate, Creator Koris," North said. "You may watch the Council meeting at your discretion."

"I'm going to ignore that the Geth were able to get surveillance of the Council chambers, and focus on the fact that they're planning an invasion of Alliance space," Waybrook said, her expression thunderous. "How do they expect that flimsy excuse of 'liberation' to fly with their people?"

"You've seen the reports," Wrex said quietly. That got the other leaders' attention; when a Krogan became so angry that he got quiet, it meant he was at his most dangerous. "The Council has been spewing anti-Alliance propaganda for over thirty years. The Batarians want to rebuild their slave empire, the Salarians are scared shitless of my people, and the Asari want to keep control."

"Especially after they lost so much face when we found out about that secret Prothean data cache," Waybrook added. "All right, so we know that they're planning to attack Rannoch, or at least the Quarian and Geth territories. If they do that, the Alliance will be cut in half."

"If they want to head to Rannoch, the closest Mass relay in Alliance space is… Elysium, isn't it?" Wrex grinned. "That planet's been a stronghold since Shepard's day. They have to know it'll be a tough nut to crack."

"Actually, I have an idea about that," Jial'Koris said. "Consider it an apology for my misgivings these last few months."

"No apologies necessary, Jial," Waybrook said genially. "Between your caution and North's logic, we've managed to avoid making terrible mistakes in the past."

Wrex rubbed his hands together in what might have been glee; to anyone watching him, it was frankly a disturbing sight. "Speaking of mistakes, let's make sure the Council knows just how big theirs is gonna be."

Justify it however you want, a war is a war, and the Council is back to deluding itself into starting one it shouldn't have. Well, except for the Turians; I like to think that, with Garrus as their Primarch, they started thinking with their brains, not their guns.

Also, I've introduced the true Big Bad of this story. We don't know anything about them, other than that they may have killed some of Shepard's crew. And definitely killed Tali.

I feel terrible for killing off Tali. She was my preferred romance in ME2 and ME3, and assassinating her makes me feel bad feelings.

I hope you enjoyed some of the politicking of this story so far. With the Council trying to bring back the pre-Reaper status quo, and the Alliance just trying to do its own thing, it was inevitable that one would see the other as an existential threat. Seeing as how scared Salarians are of Krogan, and how scared non-Alliance people would be of AI, it was only a matter of time before fear turned to anger, anger led to hate, and hate… led to a really, really bad idea.

I'm looking forward to the next few chapters, where I explore how the technology of the games has changed over a century of development. Also, I want to show you all just what happens when an Asari becomes the student of some of the most dangerous people in the galaxy, and then goes to war.

Anyway, please consider buying my book, Alpha Sanction, by Josh Gottlieb. If you like big space battles, humanity standing up for itself in a galaxy that wants to kill us, and ancient aliens with an axe to grind, you might enjoy this! You can find it on my website (link in my profile), or on Amazon as an eBook and physical copy.

If buying a book isn't your thing, but you still want to support me, I also have a P-atreon page (link in my profile). Donations help me get one step closer to quitting one of my three jobs, and being able to write more often. I miss those days.

Also, I'd like to thank the following patrons for being awesome:

Serious Muffins: Nimrod009, Anders Lyngbye, Matthias Matanovic, John Collins, Red Bard, Aaron Meek, killroy225, Lokthar, Hakuryuken

Incredible Muffins: RaptorusMaximus, michaelb958, Crazyman844, Ben Stueckle

Ultra Muffins: RangersRoll, Adam Costello

Next Chapter: The Council makes its move, and though the Alliance is prepared, it's all hands on deck.

I'm Commander Shepard, and this is my favorite Muffin on the Citadel.