Author's Note: I apologize this took so long to get out. This is the last time we cover Earth and the human/quarian worlds extensively, because the scale is going to keep getting bigger from here on out. I wanted to get it right.
Chapter 13 - Under My Thumb
Los Angeles, California
July 31, 1988
"Harlan, are you ever going to stop smoking that thing?"
"Nurn, every time you ask me that it makes me want to smoke even more."
Despite the chiding tone, Nurn'Xen smiled. 20 years had passed since their first chess match, and much had changed.
Where to begin? Netra, you brilliant bosh'tet...
Washington, D.C.
January 20, 1981
The President stared at the letter his predecessor had left him. It only took him a few minutes to read, but all of a sudden he felt at least five years older.
Mr. President,
I find myself compelled to skip the niceties that came with Nixon's letter to me. I will be blunt: you are not in charge of this country. The Admirals are.
Over the course of the 1970s, the governments of our world have been subtly transforming themselves and their societies in accordance with the desires of the Admiralty Board and the Prothean, Javik. It is why corporate CEOs have omnipresent quarian advisors. It is why our international narcotic treaty system collapsed. And it is why we are being prepared for the Reapers.
The last is also why I have not done more to change the situation. I am proud of my country and its people, as are you. But the Reapers are a threat greater than all of us, one which will destroy not just America but all of humanity if we do not face them as a unified people. Your duty now is not to determine the destiny of America, but to ensure its position is the strongest in the fate that has been preordained for it by forces beyond our comprehension.
I wish you the best of luck.
Sacramento, California
August 14, 1977
The first meeting between Javik and Netra'Non vas Usela was, in retrospect, perhaps a bit more confrontational than Javik should have made it. But several years was still not enough time to fully adjust to the culture shock that had come with his awakening. His lifetime before stasis had been one where indoctrination had made treachery and sabotage omnipresent threats. To be sure, in the time before the Reapers, his people were not above subtly manipulating foes when necessary. But seeing it used against them so many times had left him with a permanent aversion to those sorts of tricks.
So to discover that these species were being subtly guided by a trickster, one who began his experiments by unleashing narcotics upon an unsuspecting populace...well, most could understand his distaste. He could have overlooked the deception if the cause was noble, not what he thought was the main purpose. Still, holding him by the throat and pressing him up against the wall may have been too far.
"What have you done?" The anger in the question was controlled, directed. Netra's gaze remained steady.
"I have begun correcting a fault with the uplifting process." The reply was also controlled. Javik was impressed, not that he would show it.
"You have subjected two species to dependence on narcotic drugs through extended deception. In my cycle, you would be sentenced to a prolonged and painful execution!" He loosened his grip so the threat of death was less immediate for Netra, but kept the latter pinned onto the wall. Without further explanation, this was a reckless and idiotic act.
"It is necessary."
Now that was an interesting response. "In what way, quarian?"
"Selfishly, my people need acid, but there is more. Drugs make the humans easier to control. They have a term for it. 'Bread and circuses.'"
Javik let the quarian down onto the ground; despite his resolve, the latter could not help but immediately rub his throat. All four eyes of the ancient being remained fixed on him seriously. "What is your plan?"
At that, the quarian smiled. "Domination, of course. The same sort of control you desire over them."
"I do not use drugs to control my enemies!" Javik objected.
"Our methods are different, but that's only because I understand humans better," Netra returned. "What you're not getting is that you can't force them to obey. That may have worked in your cycle, but it won't for humans. They're..."
"Perpetual juveniles," Javik finished contemptuously. "Command them and they will always desire to do the opposite."
"In a way, perhaps." Now Netra returned Javik's gaze with equal conviction. "But I could have use of your more direct approach. Give me time to establish my plan for the human race. Three human years, roughly. Then I will be ready for you."
Javik wasn't quite sure what to make of that. If there was more to this scheme than sheer chaos, and this Admiral did indeed have a plan...
"I will not be idle," he said at length. "Use your time wisely while I continue to prepare both your people for the Reapers."
Saigon Accord
A 1984 treaty that both ended the Vietnam War and laid the foundation for the Interstellar Defence Force. The brainchild of Javik and Admiral Netra, the Accord established the de facto frontlines between North and South Vietnam as official borders, with the begrudging acceptance of both. Although significant in ending a decades-long conflict that had only grown worse with the adoption of mass effect technology, the true purpose of the Accord was far less magnanimous. To prevent future wars from occurring due to the "irresponsible application of galactic weaponry," a clause of the Accord required Flotilla Security to reform itself into the Interstellar Defence Force by no later than 1990 and, most controversially, begin accepting humans into the Force by no later than 2000.
Both the Prothean and the Admiral desired a more direct way to incorporate the uplifted species into the quarian military - slowly, the broken and battered Migrant Fleet had been reforming itself into a formidable army. In keeping with their theme of indirect control, the Accord did not announce that the IDF would be drafting humans. Indeed, for those on Earth, it remained a volunteer-only job that nonetheless always had a surplus of qualified applicants. Although its purpose was initially rather nebulous, both humans and quarians would come to see it as the peacekeeping army for their civilization. Quarians who never felt comfortable on a planet often took up postings in the Force, taking comfort in the nomadic nature of patrol work.
Despite its important role in preventing conflict between countries on Earth, its earlier actions are better known today for their impact on the "wildcat" colonies and New Rannoch. Unauthorized human colonists had been in an unusual situation since the first of them had made it to the Charon Relay mere months after First Contact, and quarian settlers on New Rannoch seemed to prefer pretending humans did not exist. The IDF would be required to defend these worlds, lest they be seen as neglectful and ineffective. But how should the settlers pay their fair share to their collective civilization?
Hotheaven, Paradise
May 24, 1991
Adam Johnson wasn't sure what to feel in this very moment. Briefly glancing back at the several dozen townspeople gathered behind him, he saw on their faces the odd mixture of curiosity and dread that seemed to be slowly winning out over his other emotions.
"So, this...letter..." he made no effort to hide his distaste as he stared down at it. "Is accurate?"
"Correct," Javik replied matter-of-factly. "Your people are required to supply five percent of all eligible adults in the colony over the age of twenty-five for military service within the next Solar month."
Before the mayor could reply, one of the townspeople made her way to the front of the crowd, angrily shouting along the way. "Fuck you, you prothean fascist! This is our town! You can't draft us when we came here to get away from all you assholes in the first place!"
Javik held his temper. If nothing else, decades of dealing with these primitives had greatly improved his ability to be patient. "A question, citizen. How safe are you?"
The woman paused briefly before her conviction returned. "We're safe enough! Nobody cares about us here!"
"Perhaps not at the moment," he conceded. "But if the Reapers do not destroy you first, Paradise will fall prey to piracy soon."
The crowd seemed confused at that. They had been expecting the Reapers bit, but what was he playing at with the rest?
"What are you talking about?" Adam Johnson asked. "Isn't that security force of yours keeping most people in Sol?"
"You made it here, did you not?" He countered. "And you are not isolated here. You know that the wealth of moons and asteroids continues to increase the personal fortunes of individual humans. Privately owned spaceships have become more common, and with them, lawbreakers seeking to steal everything you have built."
Protheans didn't smile naturally and the gesture still seemed strange to Javik, but he made sure to do so now, teeth bared. "Refuse this request, and we will leave Paradise. But so too will we ignore those who will inevitably harm you."
A few moments later, and the murmurs of agreement told Javik he had won them over. Even after all this time, he found these tactics strange compared to the brute force the Protheans applied to other races in his cycle. Still, they were effective, and he was confident Paradise would soon send humans to be trained under him.
Nezu'Gerrel Memorial Refining Station, Asteroid Nezu'Gerrel
January 1, 2000
Yessi'Sheyn vas Rayya resented the title "Grandmother of the Quarian People." It was a human invention, one that misunderstood the role of family in quarian society, but more importantly it overstated her importance. True, she was the last serving Admiral from First Contact. She had seen much, perhaps more than she could bear. But she was not the architect of the incredible turnaround humanity and the quarians had made. Begrudgingly, she was forced to admit that Netra was.
It was a clever move, suggesting she become the head of the main mining facility (where she had just finished celebrating the new millennium with her employees). With Javik taking on the role of commander of the military, the exact purpose of the Admiralty Board was somewhat ill-defined after the formation of the IDF. Now, despite their titles, they had gradually evolved into the administrative caretakers of human-quarian society.
And as the Admiral in charge of the asteroid harvesting program, she had received the vast majority of credit for the incredible wealth pouring into their worlds. Quarians were no longer born into poverty with no hope for the future. Humans had skipped generations of technological development. It was almost enough to make everyone forget how chaotic First Contact had been. All of this while Netra worked in the shadows, using her as the public face of the Admiralty Board in the process. She got the credit, but in truth this job was easy for any quarian. The principles of asteroid mining were actually fairly simple, and the humans had so many of them that it had proven very cost-effective.
But this manipulation, this control, had a price. Human society still bore scars of the uplifting process. Some of them liked to claim the decade of the 1960s never ended for them. There were dozens of fragmented subcultures, each using advanced technology to create self-sustaining communities for themselves. What disturbed her after three decades were not the changes humanity had undergone, but rather the myriad number of ways they remained culturally stagnant.
She shook her head and closed the terminal in front of her. What was done was done. Perhaps it was time to retire and try to make peace with world the Admirals had created.
The Wandering Energy, Dark Space
June 6, 2006
Harbinger, the First One, awoke from his slumber.
It was not a scheduled hibernation interruption and the Vanguard had not contacted him. A millisecond later, his sensors had determined the source of the interruption.
There was a signal. One that did not come from the sleeping fleet. One that was monitoring the sleeping fleet.
"What are you?" It was a thunderous demand, one that reached out across the stars. He projected rage into the call, but internally he began to do something he had not done in billions of years: panic.
Organics had discovered the dark space hibernation point. Because Nazara had not woken him up before this signal had done so involuntarily, there was a 90% probability he had perished. Yet his failsafes should have sent a message to Harbinger, one that let the latter know to begin the Harvest. Looking through his cache, he found were no messages from Nazara or anyone else.
His thoughts were interrupted by a change in the signal. It ceased being passive and began to actively radiate...feeling?
Harbinger focused closely on it and became incredibly confused. The impression from this signal was one he would have expected from his kind. It was too strong, too unified to be organic. But everyone else in the fleet was still asleep.
"You will obey me." He was growing impatient, and so sent an indoctrination command through the frequency this signal was using. Whatever this interruption to the Cycle was, it would be dealt with because the Cycle could not be broken.
"You really think that, Harlan?"
"Absolutely. Javik is right. And that means we missed out on being passed over by the Reapers and getting to lead the next Cycle."
She got the idea now. "So if the Reapers come, you're going down with us."
"Yep. Fuck you, by the way."
"...so that's why you won't stop smoking that thing in front of me?"
"Hell yes. You took over, so you get passive aggressiveness from us." His eyes narrowed as he set down his pipe. "We have to fight the Reapers, but we don't have to be happy about it."