"Ahem, right. Citizens of Banna and Texas, this is Director Manswell speaking. Your regular broadcast is being interrupted for, um, I apologise for my lack of composure. The news I have today is…I-"

"Ah, sorry.. There's no easy way to say this. A few days ago another Relay was discovered at the edge of this star system, unlike the rest we've found so far this one was already active. The civic council dispatched the Blue Valentine to investigate, and… they found… they met an alien starship."

"I am dead serious. Yesterday three extraterrestrial ships left the Relay, and after a short while the Valentine managed to establish contact with them. As far as… I-I apologize, this is a lot to take in. But as far as we can determine these aliens aren't the Mars builders. Their technology is similar yet far less advanced, although they are still leagues ahead of us. We can communicate with them, so far there hasn't been any hostility on their part."

"This is… Intellectually speaking, I knew that this was coming eventually. To actually face it now, it's… it's shocking. I'm frightened of what will happen next. But I'm also excited. Real extraterrestrials? Who knows what they can tell us? It's for this reason that I convinced the civic council to dispatch as many linguistic specialists, cultural experts, and engineers that we can spare on the Marie Dietrich, so we can speak to them. If you wish to volunteer for this mission, please see your local mayor representative, and bring any credentials you may have. As for awakening friends or family from cryosleep, please follow standard procedures. We'll begin a phased awakening cycle over the next several weeks to spread the word."

"As per my policy, whatever I learn from our first contact will be shared with all citizens at the earliest opportunity. Thank you."

Seven days later…

Five starships closed in on Texas and Banna. They moved at a brisk pace, leaving behind the Relay to approach the twin colonies orbiting the gas giant. Two vessels were at a full burn, while three others were evidently going slower than their profiles suggested.

Retro thrusters fired several hundred kilometers away, slowing their velocity. Save one: the Blue Valentine kept going, joining a loose cluster of ships nearby, composed of three other Salamis-classes, the Georgia, the Eagle's Claw, and the Nile, as well as two Musais, the Oración and the Wild Snake, the last packing launchers full of nuclear tipped missiles. Floating between the tiny fleet were mobile suit teams, primarily GMs led by a Gelgoog pair.

Most had weapons trained on the winged ship, which dwarfed their entire force. Twice the size of a Salamis, it kept an escort close a polite distance from them, firing tiny thrusters to keep its nose pointed away. No one felt comfortable with those twin barrels aimed in their direction, or having that thing so close at all. But if things escalated to a fight, then the entire colony was at risk; they simply didn't have the forces to tangle with an unknown enemy.

But two ships didn't remain in the void. The Zanzibar vectored towards an open hangar, with the smaller alien vessel following them.

Once docked the Marie Dietrich began powering down, with a tube extending to a side hatch for disembarkment. Numbering several dozen, most of the excess personnel were experts busy with the most exciting event of their lives, although one man didn't belong. He tried sneaking away, only to be caught by a security team. Subsequently he was shuffled away, hobbling to the second dock by the rifle armed guards.

Wincing through the entire walk, they passed through an airlock to a ready room subjected to a thorough scrubbing, making it moderately presentable. There his grimace transformed into a blanch, quickly saluting.

"Sir, Director." Shiro Amada stood ramrod straight, not relaxing when his superior errantly waved.

"Relax Ensign. Thanks for coming." Manswell strode up to shake his hand, flashing irritation through his smile when he let go. Years in cryosleep hadn't visibly affected him as far as anyone could tell.

The other civic council members were present too, pausing their uneasy milling to check the newcomer; especially Minister Sayla Mass, who ceased chewing her fingernails to shoot him an unidentifiable glance. She liked no part of this, but Manswell convinced the others to overrule all her objections.

"Thank you sir. Um…" Amada gulped, appearing dingy in his sweaty fatigues.

"While I'm sure you'd love to excuse yourself, the rapport you established with the aliens is invaluable. Therefore I'll ask you to join the delegation." Manswell phrased that as a request when it was anything but.

Sayla busied herself by darting to the second door, where a woman in camouflage quickly arrived. "Grissom, are we ready?"

"Yes ma'am." Captain Jane Grissom saluted, restraining a grimace on her scarred expression. The leader of their antiterrorism force, what she stubbornly called her Marines, hadn't let age dull her sharpness. "Snipers are in position, all entrances and exits are under watch."

Despite its Zeon origins, her platoon strength unit was open to anybody no matter where they came from, they only needed to meet her standards. Sayla was happy to help Grissom, seeing as her efforts foiled more than one incident.

"Thank you. Dismissed." Sayla waved. Not before Grissom spotted Amada, then double-timed her way out.

"Alright, is everyone set?" Manswell clapped, regaining the room's attention. "Good. Signal them to the dock."

Massive bays opened to the void, giving the extraterrestrial vessel the go ahead to carefully float inside. Behind them the doors creaked shut, so air could flood the entire hangar. A huge waste for a special occasion.

When the pressure was near standard the delegation entered. Flanked by a handful of guards, they gathered near the ship's descending ramp, which showed a tiny dent on the corner. As their atmospheres blended, two aides rolled out a long red carpet; Sayla thought it was tacky, and Amada's rolled eyes told her she wasn't the only one. But for now she examined the ship floating above her, giving off a disorienting hum in lieu of the tingling buzz of a Minovsky craft system.

The ramp clanked against the hull, giving everyone present a great view inside. Sayla tensed at how crowded the place was, reluctantly focusing on three aliens who stepped forward, all clad in the same type of normal suit as that first unprofessional meeting. She assumed the one in front was the leader, it was hard to tell without recognizable identifying markers; the dark armor looked like frontline infantry gear, but for all she knew that was their dress uniform. She didn't know. That rankled her more than anything; the lack of information was the biggest issue she saw, but Manswell ignored her concerns. He convinced the other civic leaders to invite the aliens aboard, overriding her objections in his zeal for knowledge.

Manswell himself had put on his best suit for this meeting, adopting a friendly smile. The alien paused a body's length away, its inhuman expression visible past its faceplate. They had a few centimeters of height over their party, although Salya estimated they weren't disproportionately tall, perhaps they just had a greater average. Exchanging a glance with its aide, who tapped something on a small PDA then nodded, the lead one reached up to hit something. That created a momentary hiss that allowed the helmet's removal.

Idly Sayla thought it was being dangerously irresponsible; over communications they determined these creatures breathed an almost identical blend of oxygen and nitrogen, but no one knew what potential diseases could infect them, and vice versa. The alien was either extremely confident or extremely foolish.

Until she found out which she gawked at its avian face, the segmented plates resembling feathers to her eyes, with mandibles slowly twitching on the sides. Her intuition claimed it was a predator, relying on her medical knowledge to examine its teeth and eye placement. The plates seemed metallic however, some kind of natural armor? While its neck was colored a light brown, the blue markings on its face drew her gaze; they looked different from the first report, consisting of several vertical bands instead of a starry pattern. What could they mean? She wondered as its headpiece beeped.

The thing's maw twitched, its words completely intelligible. Then the device chirped.

"Greetings."

Mechanical yet understandable were the english words, although it was distorted by a weird flanging effect. Manswell blinked, then his smile became slightly more genuine.

"Hello, and welcome to Texas colony. I am Director Victor Manswell." he said warmly.

As its aides removed their helmets as well, the alien nodded. "Thank you for allowing us onboard. I am Captain Cincannato of the cruiser Aberrian. These are my aides Commander Rhamoutis of the frigate Hephatarus, and Lieutenant Motalis. We represent the Turian Hierarchy."

Turian, she committed the name to memory.

It waved to its counterparts in turn, with the latter looking distinctly uncomfortable, so Salya guessed; she didn't want to assume she could read alien facial expressions a minute after seeing one for the first time. Helping her case however was the way Amada cleared his throat, flashing recognition to that one.

Manswell's face momentarily darkened. "These are warships, yes?"

"Correct Director." Cincannato nodded, the mechanical speaker droning over his(?) actual voice. "I command the fifth squadron of the seventy ninth scout flotilla, my group was conducting reconnaissance when we discovered your station."

Sayla coughed into a fist when she stepped forward, finding herself under its gaze. "Welcome, I am Interior Minister Mass. Forgive me for my intrusiveness Captain, but why is your ship crowded with personnel?"

Cincannato glanced back, drawing their gazes to the several dozen milling turians inside. All stayed in a cluster away from the ramp.

"They are the fectum- '' The device beeped a moment, making him tap the side. "Engineers of my squadron, as many as could be spared. With your permission I wish to have them repair your reactors."

"Repair?" Manswell raised a brow.

"Your fusion reactors are emitting Praefoco Radiation, it's how my ship detected your presence. It's caused by improper shielding." He explained; Until she had new information she decided it was male.

Then…

"Praefoco?" Sayla repeated in confusion, pronouncing the word as best as she could.

"Yes. Harmless to living things, it disrupts radio, microwaves, and causes electrical damnum-" beep, tap. "Damage to unshielded machines. Surely you noticed the effect." Cincannato explained.

Amada did a double take. "Wait, you mean Minovsky particles?"

"Min…ovsky." One aide, Rhamoutis, repeated slowly.

"Erm, yes. That's a natural byproduct of nuclear fusion. It's the price we pay for energy." Manswell explained.

"You can block Praefoco particles at the reactor, you only need a modulated…" Cincannato spoke, but the device needed a couple seconds to churn out a translation. "Energy field. It's simple to make and prevents the disruption. My men can help you construct one, as well as help you with your FTL drives. I noticed the distortions from a poorly tuned Mass Effect field."

Sayla exchanged a glance with the delegation, meeting their hollow looks. "...you know how to block M-particles?"

"A-anyway. We have a meeting room set up nearby, if you'll follow me please Captain?" Manswell clapped his hands with a shaky smile.

"Of course." Cincannato nodded, waving off a pair of guards from following. Manswell led the party towards the nearby meeting room, shadowed by Grissom's men a respectful distance away.

"At some point I'd invite you on a tour of Texas, if you'd like." Manswell made small talk when they arrived, sending a sharp look at the boardroom table set up in the meantime, one with benches for the turians; Sayla likewise glanced, gauging their response.

"That would be a task for an official-" beep. "Diplomatic team. Until they arrive I'm here to open a dialogue." Cincannato replied calmly, taking a spot before his comrades.

Sayla remained standing, keeping a small gap as Manswell discreetly waved for Amada to seat himself. She had no idea if the turians (she abruptly wondered if that was the name of a country instead of their species) would be offended; they seemed reasonable enough, looking neither comfortable nor upset at the accommodations. As far as she could determine anyway. She had to fix that.

"Pardon me Captain, but may I ask about your translator device there?" Sayla risked pointing at the incongruous headpiece.

Cincannato swiveled to the commander, Rhamoutis, who made a sound akin to a clearing throat while his mandibles twitched. "These were developed by our scientists to help with communication. Although the machines were made by us, the software was created by another race. There may be some errors, I ask that you be patient."

"So far it's rendering our language remarkably well, and you seem to be understanding us. I see the linguistic efforts have worked wonders." Manswell took over, bringing his hands together with a fresh smile. "I am pleased that we can communicate so easily. Now we can share information without issue."

"Within reason." Sayla added, swiveling her eyes to make sure he got the message.

Cincannato nodded slowly, leaning back to lay his talons on the table. "To begin with, may I ask what became of your home world? The leading hypothesis among my crew is that you suffered a catastrophe that rendered your planet uninhabitable. I presume it is far away, this sector has few systems which have conditions for life-bearing worlds."

"Of course, that's a reasonable assumption." Manswell flashed another look, so did most of them. "Our home world was embroiled in a series of bloody conflicts, which opened with a war which killed half of humanity in one of our years. At the rate we were going mankind would go extinct soon. Using ancient ruins from a precursor race, these colonies were modified into interstellar arks."

"You had Prothean Ruins in your home system?" Rhamoutis asked.

"Prothean?" Another minister repeated; she was a blonde politician from Earth, who was enveloped in a collaboration scandal during the OYW. Now she headed the agricultural department, quite well in Sayla's opinion.

"Yes, they were a vast civilization who ruled most of the galaxy eons ago. We too found their remains in our home system, using their knowledge we discovered how to-" beep, tap. "-travel faster than light, and from there we were led to their Mass Relays." He made a couple gestures that mimed a presentation.

"Are they still around?" Manswell deflated when the alien shook his head.

"They died out millennia ago. Technological-" beep "-scraps are all that remain." Rhamoutis likewise sounded disappointed, so she assumed. Their body language was eerily similar to humans thus far, as puzzling as that was. Unless she was wrong; she hoped she wasn't.

"Ah. That's unfortunate." Manswell pulled himself together.

Sayla examined him from the corner of her eye, but the way Cincannato shared a peek with his counterparts mattered more. "So, these two stations aren't the remainder of your species?"

"As far as we know, correct. Four years ago we left our home system and the wars that engulfed mankind, and we are out to begin again." Manswell brought his hands together.

"Have you had contact with them since?" Cincannato asked the question she wished he didn't.

He shook his head. "No. The last communication we had was our departure. What you see before you is a private initiative I spearheaded, done for the intent of leaving the Earth Sphere behind. We are a sample of mankind, not its representatives."

Sayla chastised herself for assuming she could read alien facial expressions ten minutes after seeing one for the first time; she considered it nothing short of miraculous that deciphering each other's languages took just seven days, let alone enough to hold an intelligent conversation. She didn't know anything about these creatures, least of all if they were trustworthy.

But the way Cincannato's mandibles froze, that set off mental alarms by the dozen.

"I am sorry to say that you chose a poor time to explore the galaxy." He spoke after a long minute. "At this moment, the Hierarchy is at war."

The room seemed to cool off significantly, with Amada being the first to respond: he slumped. "Should've guessed."

Cincannato brought out a small disc, tensing Sayla after he set it down. She flinched when a hologram sprung to life, showing a bizarre creature: vaguely resembling an extinct saurian, it possessed a huge sloped crest on its head, and a maw curled back in a snarl. Several members of the delegation mumbled among themselves.

"These creatures are called the Krogan." Cincannato introduced. "An aggressive and hardy race, they have conquered much of the known galaxy. Fifty years ago the Hierarchy declared war upon the krogan on behalf of their former allies, a council of races called the Asari and the Salarians. The conflict has only grown in scale since we joined." His mandibles clicked several times, the same as his counterparts. "That is why my squadron is out here, my flotilla is scouting for enemy ships in this sector. We suspect they are searching for resources."

"Did you attempt to negotiate with them?" Sayla questioned before any of them could stop her, only realizing how harsh she sounded after she spoke.

Rhamoutis again shook his head. "At first we attempted to mediate between the Council races and the Krogan Confederacy, all of our delegates were killed. We did not go to war lightly."

"As such, the turian people will see this war through to its conclusion. Whatever it takes." Cincannato clicked his talons, casting his gaze to the table for a moment. "It is for this reason that I inquired about your home world. I do not know when the war will end, only that things will get worse long before they improve."

"The circumstances of our departure preclude any return plans I'm afraid. Even if the colonists were so inclined, our home system may very well be a battleground too." Manswell narrowed his eyes ever so slightly.

"A civil war?" Rhamoutis questioned.

"Not exactly. There is, or was anyway, two or three nations going at it. They were independent from each other." Amada interrupted regardless of the looks he received.

"That sounds like our history. Only centuries ago the turian people were divided as well. Different colonies used markings to denote their homes." Motalis tapped his face markings after a glance from the captain allowed him, drawing attention to the white bands on his 'cheeks.'

"That aside, this does complicate matters." Cincannato spoke again, leveling what Sayla assumed was a grave stare upon them. "Even as we speak your people are in danger. I am willing to extend aid to you, insofar as you are willing to stay away from any warzone. I'm certain my superior will do the same once he arrives."

"We agree." Sayla and Manswell said in unison, making eye contact. He didn't appear happy, but she didn't care. If he wasn't going to concern himself about their people's safety then she would.

Cincannato made an empathetic cough, recapturing their attention. "Now that we are informed, there are some issues High Command would like to know. For starters, I wish to ask you about your biological needs…"

000

Two days later...

"Spirits, this is your FTL drive?"

Before the mixed party was a strange construct; two enormous tubes connected to a sphere that pulsed with blue light, with humming generators and pipes feeding into the machine. An ocean of coolant kept the temperatures low, the walls around them thrumming from vast amounts of energy cycling into their so-called Alcubierre drive.

Deep within Texas, the chief engineer shot his alien counterpart a dirty look. "What's wrong with it?"

His turian counterpart's mandibles dropped, his translator barely able to keep up with his rant. "What's wrong? The emitters here are one overload from exploding. This feed system is completely inadequate for what you're trying to do. It's proportionally undersized for a station of this size, and you transported two? It's only held together by welds and prayer."

"It's worked so far." The human shrugged, his eyes on the aliens combing over their makeshift FTL drive.

"Titans preserve me, I'll be here all week." He groaned.

Nearby Salya and Cincanatto overlooked the affair, with a handful of Grissom's Marines for crowd control. The former swived to her guest, observing his plates furrowing at their means of travel.

"I am honestly amazed. Four years and it still functions?" He shook his head.

Sayla reeled in her amazement at his body language to nod. "It's been a challenge."

"So I can tell." Cincannato crossed his arms, watching the engineers squabble and go to work. She assumed there was some displeasure in his plated face about his man's attitude, who was fumbling through an explanation filtered by the translator. Lots of convincing arguments Manswell made to the civic council and to the aliens alike, leading to this productive farce.

The best Sayla could say was it wasn't a new bite incident.

The previous day…

As usual, the freight elevator brought its passengers up from the colony's depths. As usual, the population of Austin town went about their affairs as they typically did, albeit with much more unease than normal. A trio of shopkeepers chatted amongst each other nervously, one's wife peeking at her knitted quilt's newest mistake to groan. Others were more animated, such as a farmer and a baker going over equations yet again, finding holes in theories that had to explain how they came to this corner of creation. As usual, the well lit sky above was gloomy and closed in, as it had been ever since a wealthy executive decided to make this place his chariot.

Unlike usual, the elevator building's doors spilled out several Marines in full combat gear. A mix and match of Federation and Zeon equipment were their loadouts, painted green yet still patiently threatening. They met with the few local constables, who faced plenty of confused shouts at cordoning off the immediate area, so a mixed party could exit in peace. Once in the open Manswell turned to show his guests.

"Captain, welcome to the beating heart of Texas." He introduced to the turians leaving the elevator, their armor quite unlike the patched up or handmade clothes on the growing crowd, their inhuman forms certainly gathering a lot of attention.

Behind them Sayla followed, sighing at the obvious display. She felt minor relief at seeing the old hydrogen powered bus parked at the street corner, then glanced at the hobbling man wincing after her.

"If you want to leave Amada, now would be the time." She said softly. He nodded, mouthing his gratitude as he departed.

Manswell hadn't noticed, he held out his hand at the town as if he personally built the place. "Now, Austin here may not look like much. But this place is just a taste of what mankind once was."

"It's quaint." Cincannato nodded, roaming his eyes over the crowd; the nearest people were discovering he wasn't like them, starting to grow shocked in spite of the Marines forcing them back. "Your thoughts, Commander Rhamoutis?"

"It's large, but the sky looks bizarre." The younger turian noted with his head peered towards the curving terrain.

As Sayla rejoined them, Manswell spared a search for the local mayor: he was a man from Rosita village, elected by the promise of staying out of people's business, something popular among the majority of the citizens here. Sayla held a dim view of the big brute, but he did a decent enough job.

"Right. As you may have noticed from your initial survey, normally an O'Neill Cylinder like this has multiple enormous mirrors to reflect sunlight into the colony. To maximize living space and minimize damage during travel, we had to sacrifice the open sky." He explained with regret.

"Regardless, this is still an impressive construct you have. You… Commander?" Cincannato, Sayla and Manswell noticed that Rhamoutis was staring away, with her discovering Amada's nearby presence with irritation.

Rhamoutis raised a claw, his plates furrowing with his mandibles lowered. "Is that a living animal?"

Marines shifted the perimeter so the party could walk to the indicated spot, catching Amada as he whirled around. The cart he previously approached had a small head pop up from behind the seat, a toothy child turning to peer blankly at the growing crowd around him. While Amada flinched, the horse whipped its tail at flies, indifferently returning their stares.

Rhamoutis swiveled to Manswell. "That's a pack animal. Why is one here?"

"You recognize it, Commander?" Sayla inserted herself between them before anything happened.

"This? No, but there are similar creatures at my home colony. I can tell it is a beast of burden." He explained, examining the brown furred animal.

"It is. We call them horses, they're herbivores native to grasslands of Earth. Many of them were brought with us, they are easier to maintain than machines and have many applications. Including food, should our agriculture be insufficient." Manswell explained, glossing over a host of factors that went into the expense of shooting herd animals into space.

"Now I'm impressed. The life support of this colony is sufficient to support a creature used in such a way. Does it belong to you, Ensign Amada?" Cincannato asked, making Amada flinch and rub the back of his neck.

"Ah, no. It belongs to a friend. I was hoping…" he stifled a grimace.

The child on the cart, no more than eight or nine, stared at the turians blankly. "Talking birds."

"May I?" Rhamoutis stepped forward with a claw raised. The horse watched him with its ears flicking back and letting out a quick snort.

"Uh, it's not mine, so-" he froze, a fresh voice drifting from a window.

Not for the first time Sayla internally groaned, hearing a woman approaching from a direction the Marines overlooked: a pharmacy where the cart was parked. Several of them winced at the mistake before two men jogged to the door.

"...think it's all a bunch of nonsense. There's no way they'd actually wanna come and visit-" clad in overalls and a rice hat, a woman in her early twenties strolled through the door with a basket of herbs in hand, turning forward with a dismissive laugh.

There she froze, going white at the sight of armed troops, the Director himself, and two aliens all standing around her cart.

She squeaked out a plain, "Wah?"

Amada hobbled to her side as quickly as possible, stifling a wince to take her basket before it fell from her limp fingers, putting a hand on her shoulder to smile. Though Sayla wasn't entirely sure that cringing rictus he had counted as one.

"Erm, Miss Rosita. Great timing." He all but hissed, coughing into a fist. "Um, this is Captain Cincannato of the Turian Hierarchy, he's the commander of that big ship that's parked outside the colony. Captain, this is Kiki Rosita, she is a friend of mine. The horse is hers."

A pat had her cough as well, mustering a weak wave. "Hiya?"

Cincannato himself stepped forward, tall and unfazed by the twitchy gawking she laid on him. "Greetings, ah, miss Rosita. My subordinate wished to examine the beast here."

Sayla checked that Rhamoutis was keeping an arms length away from said horse, observing his captain without moving a muscle. Satisfied that he wasn't budging, she was prepared to intervene the moment trouble reared its head.

"Um, yes. This, uh, her name is Apsara. Shiro, um, Amada's wife named her when she was born. It's kinda a funny name, huh?" Rosita's teeth bared while she rubbed her neck.

"Apsara, interesting. Seeing pack animals here is…" Cincannato paused at the sudden shift in Amada's expression, who quickly schooled it back into something friendly. He didn't turn his head however, missing the couple dozen glares aimed at the boy, and the lump of bread he lowered out of sight; Sayla was sure the turians wouldn't be too upset if he had stuff thrown at them, but there was no way they would take chances. "…Commander Rhamoutis comes from a farming community. He wishes to examine your horse."

"Uh, sure, go ahead. Just, um, watch her. She's a sneaky biter." Rosita nodded, darting to the wagon faster than strictly necessary.

A nod allowed Rhamoutis to carefully approach, his hand raised in a nonthreatening manner. Sayla held her breath when the horse tracked him, unnervingly watching the alien go to its side; it flinched when he laid his claws on its hide, but didn't jump or thrash against its harness. All the horse did was incline its head over him, eyes wide and ears laid back.

"Commander?" Manswell gently asked.

"I can tell it's strong. This is a hardworking animal." Mercifully for everyone Rhamoutis pulled his hand away, swiveling to Cincannato. "Sir. I thank you for allowing me the opportunity."

"Thank its owner." He gestured at Rosita, who gulped at the nod he gave her.

"Um, sure no problem." She replied after a glance at Amada, who made sure the boy didn't get ideas.

"If you don't mind me asking, is it possible to-ah!"

Several things happened at once. Sayla rushed forward, a step ahead of Rosita and slightly less so for Cincannato. The Marines who had an eye on them took aim at the animal. Rhamoutis flinched in surprise. And the horse nipped him on the frills.

He lurched back by the time Sayla and Cincannato reached him, shuffling a foot as he gingerly felt at his head; she felt a stab of fear at a sheen on his scales, turning to relief upon seeing no discoloration. No red or green or whatever else they had for blood.

Apsara!" Rosita shrilly called, stomping up to swat at its chest. The horse reared back as much as it was able, flinching and grunting with every angry slap. "No biting aliens! You know better!"

Sayla quickly waved down the Marines, backing away as Rhamoutis clicked his mandibles repeatedly. "It bit me. I thought you said it was a herbivore."

"Are you alright?" Cincannato checked, swinging his head at the Marines slowly lowering their weapons.

Manswell coughed nervously. "Commander, let me offer my sincerest apologies-"

"I'm not wounded. It just, I was just startled." Rhamoutis quickly assured, not just to him.

"I don't see any injuries." Cincannato backed away, sending the horse another drawn out look. "I suppose not every part of a first contact would go smoothly."

Rosita finished and turned to them, going pale with her gulp. "I-I'm so sorry-"

"I'm alright, it's nothing." Rhamoutis stood up, checking his frills with evident concern.

"That's good. Yes." Cincannato collected himself, not releasing anything so maudlin as a sigh.

"Director, may I request we move on then?" Sayla interrupted with a near pleading look, sending off a constable for the bus.

"Yes, that sounds like a good idea. And Commander? From here on you are to keep your distance from the fauna here." Cincannato ordered.

000

Even now Sayla kicked herself over that screwup, though academically she acknowledged it could have been worse (always met with it could have gone way better). Better security, a closer watch, something. Not for nothing, all further tours from then on were under heavy guard. Even for the predictable yet outlandish request that came up.

A technician darted to her side to whisper something, Sayla nodded and dismissed him. "Captain, your man is on his way back. We should go."

"Of course." Cincannato followed her to the nearby elevator, taking them away from the drive core. Unlike earlier they bypassed the power banks, where more engineers helped 'repair' their reactors. She didn't know how to feel about the system they put up; all it took to keep M-particles contained in the fusion chamber was a positively tuned I-field overlaid by a magnetic shield, it was power intensive but remarkably simple. Applying that to a reactor hadn't occurred to her before.

From there it was a brisk walk to the tram station, watched by more guards until they pulled away. It was a short ride from there to the hangar, set aside for themselves.

"May I ask how long did your people need to build this station?" Cincannato made small talk while lights flashed around them. She supposed it was expected, as she was effectively his designated guide after that incident.

"Texas specifically was completed in twenty years, although it was abandoned after the economic bubble collapsed. Quite fortunate, it was spared destruction during the War." Sayla explained, looking away to another line going the other way.

"Abandoned? Your race's industrial power must be immense if you could afford to throw away something of this size. The only station in Hierarchy space that exceeds Texas would be the Nanus shipyards, in our home system. In size, if not necessarily in self sufficiency. There isn't enough population there to allow for a spaceborne nation like your Zeon." He paused at her only now facing him. "Truthfully, I am fascinated by the similarities between your people and mine. The overview of your One Year War sounds similar to our Unification war."

"It's a superficial resemblance. Your colonies fought each other, ours invaded Earth." Sayla tactfully kept her thoughts regarding the Hierarchy to herself; the home world turians essentially did what Zeon attempted, but with more success and fewer exterminations. The resulting culture certainly gave her uncomfortable reminders of the Principality.

"Perhaps. But nevertheless, I am intrigued by the parallels. Rebellious colonies fighting against your government's authority, and were subsequently subdued. Although based on what the citizens I've spoken to have said, your Federation did not assimilate Zeon as the Hierarchy would have. A consequence of the war I assume." He went on.

Salya felt a dry chuckle. "Truthfully Captain, had we discovered the Mars Ruins a century ago there wouldn't have been any war."

Internally she dwelled on that part; would things be better if humanity had found the Ruins earlier? Spread to other planets instead of emigrating to space colonies? The easy answer was yes, seeing as the factors that led to spacenoid discontent, and the Zabis preying on that unrest for their own imperialistic aims, would all go poof. If people wanted away from the Federation they could do so with ease. There would be no Zeon, no Anaheim, all of it would be different. Contolonism might not even exist, Deikun wouldn't-

She abruptly realized her fists were clenched. Sayla uncurled her fingers; disquieting that even after all these years she still had such a reaction. Her old life was long gone, but its grip remained on her all the same.

"Minister?"

Sayla took a breath and refocused on her guest. "I apologize. Just… bad memories."

"Did you fight in the war too?" Cincannato's mandibles were drawn in, eyes shining with a curious look. Privately she was glad he mistook the source of her problem.

"Yes, though not by choice. I was just a civilian caught up in matters, most of my crew were. I mustered out of the military after the War ended." Silently she urged the tram to get them to the docks sooner, so she didn't have to make up an excuse to change the subject.

"I understand, sort of. I've spoken to asari and salarian civilians whose colonies were conquered. They were weary, they were not as accustomed to loss like we are." He explained with reluctance, perhaps trying to empathize.

"What about your own people? Have your colonies been attacked?" Sayla turned around, hoping he would cease his questioning.

"Several have been, yes. Fortunately for us, for centuries now my people have had universal conscription, so all citizens have some degree of military training." While it may have been a quirk of the translator, he spoke of that level of militarization so naturally, as if it were the most normal thing in the cosmos. "We do not surrender, we always resist. Hence the krogan have found it difficult to conquer our worlds."

Rather than pride, the last part had him facing away from her. Internally she raised a brow.

"But not impossible."

After a moment Cincannato nodded. "Krogan are quick to anger. When we did not yield, they… escalated."

The tram slowed to a stop, the doors opening without a problem this time. Cincannato brushed past her to wait outside, for a moment unwilling to face her. Although she had her questions, Sayla led him towards the bays; alien or not she recognized a sensitive topic.

Additional Marines saluted her approach, guarding the airlock against any stray personnel who wanted to visit the turians. Without a word they admitted her and Cincannato through the doors, cycling into the hangar adjacent to where the Hephatarus was docked. They weren't heading towards the frigate for another tour, nor were they going to visit his heavy cruiser again.

This hangar had a plexiglass window spanning a hallway, allowing them to see the well lit room beyond. Sayla halted a half second after Cincannato when a shadow blocked the light, ominously ghosting over the wall. Seconds later the floor shook slightly, then again, and again. She turned to see the red eye swiveling towards them, burying an old spark of fear at the beige Zaku peering down on her.

Wordlessly tracking it walking to a bay, she internally huffed at the old mobile suit moving smoothly, considering its age and the patchwork repairs over the years. Somehow it was doing better than some of its GM counterparts in the adjacent stations, the retrofitted units instead of the newer ones; considering how swiftly the GM-II was declared obsolete it was amazing how sturdy they were.

"Is there a problem Captain?" Sayla asked, breaking Cincannato's concentration.

"I'm alright Minister." He followed her again, though his eyes inevitably drifted back to the view. Sayla too watched the goings on, slowing her pace to track two more arrivals coming through the massive airlock, cycling air from the starry void outside. Unlike him, her observation was born of worry instead of curiosity.

First came a pockmarked GM-II in faded red paint, showing weld patches and discolored armor replacements all over its blocky form. Nevertheless it walked steadily, lacking the jitters from bad servos. It cleared the way for a much bulkier mobile suit following its path, this one a thickly proportioned monster with huge thrusters on its legs and a cross shaped monoeye head, a few spots of dark purple visible under its abraded beige colors. Unlike the first its armor was practically studded by filled in holes. Neither had a weapon beyond a beam saber for the GM.

The Rick Dom took a closer bay than its GM-II escort, shuddering the floor from its hefty steps. But due to its size the machine had to take longer to get into place, so by the time the clamps locked the GM was already powering down. Passing through another airlock, the droning whines of the two mobile suits reached them in full, now quieter than the chatter of personnel. Currently the loudest came from a cluster of humans and turians closing in on the Dom. They were almost there when the hatch opened, allowing a turian out in an uneven stagger.

Sayla's orders to the crew were clear: their alien guest was to come back unharmed. She ensured either the Dom or the Guncannon were available, forbidding everything else thanks to their thicker armor, made sure the escorts would let no harm come to them, and for good measure she commanded the pilot to keep fancy maneuvers off the table. Mostly for the passenger, partly for operational security; academically she knew that was pointless, but she wasn't taking chances.

A once over assuaged her worries, though he didn't return unaffected. Something Cincannato's clicking jaw indicated he noticed too.

Popping his helmet off, Lieutenant Motalis gripped the railing to steady himself, errantly waving off the couple turians hovering nearby. His demeanor was completely unlike the pilot, clad in a patched up Zeon uniform that left his limbs exposed. Clanks followed his steps off the hatch and onto the catwalk, with more clinking noises coming from his metal hands as he popped off his helmet. Frazzled hair matted by sweat met the air, along with a relieved breath.

"Ensign Lorenz." Sayla greeted, making him stiffen up. "I trust the ride along went well?"

"Um, yes ma'am." Lorenz stood straight, showing unease as he stuffed his helmet under his arm. That lessened a small degree when the GM pilot approached; taking off her own helmet, Ensign Joshua shook her hair a moment then saluted Sayla, unnecessarily actually but she wasn't about to correct her. When her arm lowered a discreet yet hostile glance flew at Lorenz.

Cincannato's approach caused Motalis to stand at attention, saluting remarkably smoothly considering how woozy he was a moment ago. A nod lowered his arm.

"Lieutenant, welcome back. How did the ride-along go?"

"Captain, sir. It went well. The lack of inertial dampers was… disorienting." Motalis decided; Sayla had the impression his translator had a different meaning, judging by his mandibles hugging his face. "But I am pleased to report that flying in a 'mobile suit' exceeded my expectations."

"Glad to be a service lieutenant." Lorenz curtsied with a clank.

"Excellent. I want a full report in an hour, until then find someplace to seat yourself. Dismissed." Cincannato nodded, sending him off in the frigate's direction. Salya noted that he only relaxed when the captain looked away, nearly staggering onto a surprised comrade.

Joshua cleared her throat. "Anyway Maam, I have postflight maintenance to take care of, so I should get on that."

"Same Ma'am." Lorenz nodded, starting to edge away with little subtlety.

"Can I trouble you for a moment longer?" Cincannato asked, the duo reluctantly halting. "Thank you. I merely wish to ask about your limbs." He gestured at Lorenz.

"Oh, these. They're part of the reason I ended up out here." He raised his prosthesis with a low chuckle, flashing something on his expression that vanished quickly.

"Because of the One Year War?" Cincannato shifted his weight.

"Yeah. I was an infantryman at the beginning, my legs met a fed-erm, a Federation grenade in Southeast Asia. On Earth. Believe it or not Joshua and I were only about a hundred klicks away." He gestured beside him.

Joshua snorted. "You shipped out a couple days after I was deployed there, doesn't count. Hell, I didn't get a Mobile Suit until a month later."

"Intriguing. Your government let you take your mobile suits with you after the war?" Cincannato waved his claws at the giant machines.

Both huffed, Joshua closing her eyes for a moment. "Nah. During the War I used a Gundam ground type, it was a special model. I was told there were only like twenty Gundams in the entire EFF."

"Gun-dam?" Cincannato tilted his head.

"Prototype federation mobile suits, they were testbeds for GMs." Lorenz answered, turning oddly quiet. "They were more devastating than anything we had. Everyone thought there was only one, I didn't find out there were more until after the War ended."

"…I see. And what about these two?" He waved at the two machines, sparing Salya the trouble of changing the subject.

It seemed to work, with Joshua huffing. "That hunk of junk over there? Claimed from a supply depot in Side 1 about five years ago. Figured if the Titans weren't gonna use 'em the AUEG would."

"Right, mm." Lorenz cleared his throat. "Mine was a rebuilt wreck in Australia, there were parts from a dozen others in it even before we left. The Rick Dom here saved my butt when the Titans cracked down, I took it with me when Karaba recruited my cell's survivors."

"Explaining the full story would take a while, so I suggest we wrap things up. I'll write up a history report later." Sayla stepped in.

"Yeah, good idea." Lorenz clanked off under the alien's cooling gaze, heading towards a few incoming mechanics, one of which carried a water jug.

"Hate to agree with him, but I could use some chow." Unlike him Joshua waited for a nod before departing.

Salya internally sighed, catching Cincannato's mandibles moving in a way she assumed was thoughtful. Sighing to brace herself, she leaned against the railing to relax, after a test confirmed it wouldn't give out on her.

"For former enemies, they seem to get along well." He said quietly, turning his gaze back to the Rick Dom.

Sayla crossed her arms, glancing at the mechanics hassling Lorenz, no doubt wanting to hear the tale of having an alien in his mobile suit. "Yes, I suppose it's obvious. Admittedly Joshua is fairly biased. She lost her husband during the One Week War, right before Zeon invaded Earth."

"Her and many others by the sound of things." Finally Cincannato turned to rest his hands on the railing, overlooking the moderately crowded hangar. More technicians were approaching the GM, while others were doing their rounds on the other machines. Sayla spotted Joshua stride inside the break room; she made a mental note to ensure she and Lorenz got time off.

The view was so familiar. For a moment she could close her eyes and almost imagine she was on the White Base again, evading Zeon patrols, hitting targets of opportunity, searching for friendly forces in a dangerous world. A shaky breath was contained, barely.

"I assume you're tired of me asking questions." Cincannato had Sayla open her eyes, quietly sighing. The old memories were pushed back where they belonged.

"It's what I'm here for. Though you should know, I'd like to find out more about your people someday. Like what kind of place you came from."

"I can tell you a great deal. I'm not from the turian homeworld of Palaven for starters, but a colony called Carthaan." He didn't face her, his claws tightening on the railing. "For now, I'd just like to know something. I've heard mention of a so-called 'colony drop.' What was that?"

Salya turned around to rest her back on the metal, glancing over the Dom. "You already know the answer, don't you?"

After a moment Cincannato slowly nodded. "Colonies are what you call these stations. My current assumption is that Zeon de-orbited one of these colonies, possibly one of their own, though I doubt it, and crashed it on your planet. For whatever reason the target was spared, and afterwards they refrained from attempting it again."

He stood up straight, crossing his arms.

"I did some mental math on the damage estimates. It would've been… catastrophic." He swiveled towards her. "How close was that?"

"Lacking the details, but you have the broad strokes." Sayla sighed. "The Federation headquarters is, was, an enormous base called Jaburo. It was built to survive anything, up to and including mass nuclear bombardment. Destroying it would've crippled the entire Zeon military. So, they found another option."

"I presume the colony's residents didn't volunteer for the mission." Cincannato studied her idle rest.

"Special operations forces used nerve gas on numerous colonies, including Ensign Amada's home. So no." She tilted her head back. "Had it succeeded, the Federation would've been decapitated, and the War would've ended in days. Obviously it didn't. Depending on who you ask, either the Federal fleet's interference doomed the operation, or the planners screwed up so it never would've worked. Either way, hundreds of millions died for nothing."

"I won't fault Zeon for trying."

Sayla nodded. Then she slowly twisted to face Cincannato, jaw falling open in shock; he didn't face her gaze.

"In war, all options must be considered and used if necessary. When you battle your enemy, overwhelming force must be used to destroy his ability to ever fight again. I lack the details, but were I at that operation's staff meeting, I would've approved." He exhaled. "Don't misunderstand me. I don't think it's right. Its failure alone speaks to an unacceptable decision by their high command, whether by incompetence or malicious intent. But in principle, a colony drop is in line with turian thinking."

"That's monstrous." Sayla's composure fractured.

"If it had ended the War then, how many lives would've been saved? But without knowing the details, it may have been moot." Cincannato closed his eyes.

Still reeling from the admission, at first Sayla missed a turian running up the catwalk in a dead sprint. She recovered in time to avoid being bowled over, catching the captain turning to face him, or her, she was still learning how to tell them apart. All of a sudden she wasn't sure she wanted to find out. Lacking a translator, the newcomer spoke quickly and incomprehensibly to him.

"What?!" Cincannato's sudden shout took Sayla aback. His mandibles fell open, eyes widening.

"What's wrong?" She asked warily.

"The Gavirus just reported ships exiting the Relay. Its too soon to be my commander." He told her, just as an alarm overhead started to wail. "Damn that Praefoco disruption, we should've detected them ear-"

Sayla stopped listening. She took off towards the exit, bellowing orders at the crew.

"Scramble all forces, we're about to be attacked!"