Hello, folks! Welcome to the 33rd chapter of the story! I have decided to help give some faces to my characters by using the good old casting method. Starting as of now, I will list the cast for every OC at the start of every chapter. Please let me know if this is not too much of a bugger for you. You can Google them up and see the faces that come closest to what I imagined for my non-canon characters. I'll even include some canon characters if you imagine the story play out more like a movie/series than animated cutscenes (like those we have in the actual game). The characters are also available on my profile with links to the images if you cannot find them.
Chapter 33: Madness and Stupidity I
Citadel, Zakera Ward
Lower Wards
Chellick proceeded with great care. The rifle he was equipped with was intended for what was now known as "Arx Siege" by C-SEC. He was one of the constables selected to reinforce the force of several hundred who are now literally laying siege to the Hierarchy's base, hoping to arrest all Hierarchy Intelligence agents at Pallin's orders following Chellick's investigation into the perpetrators of the firefights in the lower wards with the Salarian cartel. He was initially supposed to take in Fist – the Batarian owner of Chora's Den – when he was reassigned on the fly to Arx.
However, he had been redirected to Chora's Den to respond to a firefight. 'Spirits, what the Citadel has come down to…' he lamented on the current state of affairs in the galactic capital. Firefights that end in fatalities, plots and investigations against Citadel officials, underhanded politics between people who should be comrades…
He remembered what the mysterious Lucius Vextus gave him, his own follow-up investigation to confirm it, and the implications of it all. And, when offered, he agreed to help Lucius and the Hierarchy to bring it all to light. Lucius' team had made short work of Chora's Den. Chellick was actually surprised when two SPECTREs were at his back. If even SPECTREs were involved, then the rot runs deep to the marrow. Clandestine SPECTREs to that, if the reports he heard on radio were any indication. It was a shame to Lucius' plans that Executor Pallin surprised Chellick with the Arx Siege on the same day when they went after Fist.
He was first in column with the Special Response constables redirected to deal with Lucius' attack on Chora's Den and their pursuit. The previous head of the column triggered a concussive grenade trap. He's being carried to the hospital right now with severe injuries to the legs.
"We'll lose them, Detective!" one of his Special Response colleagues complained behind him.
"Watch out for traps, officer!" he instructed. "We are not losing a single other man to traps."
"We've been going slow and haven't seen any other trap," another one noted from further to the rear.
"And that's exactly the kind of thinking that will send another one of us to the hospital. Or worse," Chellick replied. "They are only driving themselves deeper in the hole."
If Chellick wanted to tell the truth he would admit that he's deliberately slowed down the pace to what he thinks is minimum acceptable to allow Lucius and his team time to get away. The concussive grenade trap was plenty of motivation. There was also the high risk of mortal injury if they got to exchange shots again. Lucius' team was very good at shooting accurately. Something told Chellick they were all some form of elite troops. The SPECTREs were, obviously. The rest – he could only guess. He was in no rush to be the first one to be shot at.
While busy thinking and on the lookout for booby traps, Chellick got an update on radio.
"Attention all units!" the coordinator in charge of the hunt called for their undivided attention. "We've picked up a transmission from the following location within the lower wards. High power, we have accurately located them. Detective Chellick, proceed to the following location. Every other team, move to cut them off."
Chellick stopped to check his omnitool. The whole column came to a halt behind him. "Chellick here. Location received. It's just from where we heard the gunshots."
"Keep going! This ends today."
The constables resumed their careful advance. Maybe a bit of extra energy to their step. Chellick was the first to round a smooth corner and came into an open area, with other large tunnels going in separate directions. 'A vehicle could fit here' he thought.
"I think I see a body from here, just by that open area. Can't confirm species."
Chellick slowed the pace and focused his eyes ahead. There was something dead there. He could identify the species as they got close. "Batarian. Two bodies," he announced. "Not Fist." He made the stop sign as they came close. Chellick looked around the scene and what looked like fingers were strewn about. And, surprisingly, something that couldn't be anything else but drips of Turian blood.
A quick glance behind. The men didn't see the blood and fingers yet. "I will stay and investigate the scene. This is murder." He stepped on the few blood drops to hide them. "I will secure the scene and the evidence. Donimus, you take point."
"Understood, Detective. One of us will remain with you here."
"Negative. I can secure the scene. You need all officers you can get. You have their position."
His colleague, Donimus, acknowledged and pushed on. "Let's go, they are not far ahead of us."
Chellick waited until the column of officers passed him. He had a good look around to confirm it is safe.
"Dispatch, this is Detective Chellick. We've found the bodies of two Batarians. I need an Investigation team here as soon as possible. Lock in on my tracker."
Chellick knelt down and took his foot off the blue blood drips. He'd need to hide this evidence. As far as he was aware, every single Turian on Lucius' team were friendlies. He was not going to hand Pallin irrefutable proof of one's identity.
But, much to his displeasure, the two bodies were not his only concern. And not the grisliest. No. What had him more concerned were the cauterized fingers on the metal floor.
"What in the Spirits' name did you do here?" he wondered.
Citadel, Presidium
Turian Hierarchy Embassy
"He is in the Terminus or Traverse last I knew!"
"Where exactly? What is his plan? Tell me! Or it's another finger!"
"I don't know, you barefaced bastard! I am not his secretary!"
"No, you are his bitch!" another voice said, definitely Human. Then another cry of pain from Fist.
"Stop fidgeting, you dumb fuck! Or we're cutting your whole hand and we'll start with your toes next!"
Quentius stood stiff as a plank in his chair. One hand rested on the desk, finger on the replay button. The other one tapping on his right jaw.
"You'll pay for thi-" the Batarian's voice turned to a shriek of pain.
"Where? What is he up to?" Archangel demanded.
Quentius could tell Fist was starting to recover from the pain. Archangel found the mercy to allow him that much. "I only know this from the Broker's network. The Nubian Expanse cluster. He was searching for something... contracted freelancer mercenaries and scientists – prospectors, geologists, archeologists, engineers... Used one of his throwaway identities..."
"What does he want with them?"
"Go there and ask them." Fist did not disappoint with a smartass reply.
"He's searching for something," he recognized Nihlus. "Old and buried."
"Try Benezia. Her name came up in the network's latest packets related to Saren."
"Write that as top priority for Intelligence," Quentius instructed his aide. "Benezia is a matriarch of high influence. Maybe she will be the link to Tevos."
They continued to listen.
"Why did you keep checking the Broker's information on Saren?" Quentius recognized Avitus Rix as the one who put the question.
"Betraying the Broker is not something anybody's done and lived. I wanted to make sure Saren is not doing anything that would make me look like I betrayed the Broker. He's employed my services."
"Your services..." Archangel took the lead again. "What is the job of the Salarians you smuggled on station?"
"I don't know."
Apparently, Archangel did not care if that was true or not. Fist's cries of pain meant he lost one more finger.
"Did you remember? Or do you need more incentive?"
"I ONLY GOT THEM HERE! I DON'T KNOW WHAT FOR! THAT'S WHY I KEPT CHECKING ON SAREN!"
It was Nihlus again. "You mean to tell us that you know absolutely nothing?"
"If he doesn't know anything else I say just shoot him. He's dead weight." Quentius felt frustration rise at that suggestion. As much as the recording was useful... it was also very damning of the interrogator. They must prosecute Saren, Sparatus and Pallin publicly. Otherwise, the political enemies will just paint the Hierarchy and Fedorian as tyrants trying to illegally suppress people.
"You can't do that! You have rules-"
"Does it look like we are C-SEC to care about rules? I am honest with you, Fist. We Turians... our word and determination actually have real basis. They are worth something. Unlike you Spirits forsaken slaving degenerates. If I don't think you've been sufficiently useful after the next two minutes I kill you. You are a parasite, a spineless coward. Don't play brave with me now. It is folly. What are the Salarians doing? What is their purpose?"
Quentius recognized Deathwatch material right then and there. Many would call them the lowest point of a Turian's existence, a national shame. The Hierarchy knew them as necessary to maneuver the galaxy's geopolitical landscape. Even before that, they'd been used as black ops teams and as the best spies Turians could produce. They are a stark contrast to the values the Hierarchy preaches. But they are necessary.
"All I know is he wanted them spread out and absolutely no attention looming over them. Leave them alone. He also paid for food. My men delivered it at agreed locations. I leave it, they pick it. Even assured me C-SEC would not interfere and got my men out of custody when one of your idealist idiots arrested them."
"Write down – check for security cameras in the locations."
"Give me the locations."
Quentius had to credit Archangel for his determination. He was a machinegun with questions. Straight for the objective. Unpleasant methods, but they do get results under pressure. Fist struggled to remember even a few of those.
"You've almost bought your way back to life, Fist." That was Archangel again. "Almost. Thirty seconds to pass that threshold. Where is Tristana? We know you brought her aboard. And I've half a mind to shoot you just for that."
They did not have evidence, Quentius thought. They knew she somehow arrived on station covertly. They knew Fist smuggled her and C-SEC turned a blind eye if they knew anything about it at all. But they need not tell Fist they know. Let him be his own undoing.
"She's supposed to stay with the Salarians I smuggled, on Zakera. I don't know for certain, but I think they have a place to rest and eat at somewhere in those maintenance tunnels. I'm not stupid enough to have her followed."
Just then, the "phone" Quentius had on his desk rang. It was a special phone he received from the Alliance to guarantee the privacy of their discussions. To Quentius, it was like a throwback to the early years of his species' spaceflight era. Every species developed at some point, usually with the advent of advanced wide-spread telecommunications, a similar gadget for widespread use. They got replaced with the much more advanced and versatile omnitools once this technology was unlocked.
He pressed on the green button to answer. This particular model was old even by Human standards. No touch screen, but big buttons.
"Ambassador Quentius speaking."
"Ambassador, I assume you are listening to the broadcast?" Alec Ryder asked him.
"I am. One moment." He lowered the phone with the microphone pressed into his clothes to hide as much as possible every other sound. He looked at the aide. "Keep going through the interrogation. Note down everything and forward everything to Palaven Command. Put the embassy guards on high alert and get me an update on the Blackwatch platoon from Coronati – they should have arrived by now. I want them at the embassy as soon as possible!"
"Understood, sir!"
Quentius returned his attention to the phone. He held it back up to his head, volume cranked up. The thing was meant for Human physiology, not Turian. It just did not fit his head. "Go ahead, General Ryder."
"Our two other Viper members cannot extract Archangel and his team. They are too deep and we don't know the station well enough to try something. My team is stuck. This Tristana person has not showed up and we don't know what she is up to. Viper One informed me that C-SEC became suspicious of their vehicle. I need to pull them back before they too are unable to exfiltrate. Unless you have an idea. We sure are dry on those."
Quentius remained silent, busy thinking of any solution. He could not come up with anything useful. So he asked. "The best thing they can do is retreat or go into hiding on Zakera Ward and wait for an opportunity to assist Archangel."
"If we can prevent C-SEC catch them, then that's what we will do," Ryder said. "That was a high power burst they sent out. C-SEC will be crawling all over them. Viper One and Three will go dark until an opportunity rises. I also wanted to ask you something else – what do you think of the chances somebody else other than us will be able to decrypt this transmission?"
"It can take the STG or Asari Military Intelligence anywhere from a day to... forever. You did use unique key encryption as you said, did you not?" Quentius asked.
"Yes," confirmed Ryder. "I suggest you purge that key if you feel like the current situation... might continue to escalate," he suggested.
Quentius understood perfectly his concerns. "I can assure you that the Hierarchy embassy is safe. I've finished transferring home Sparatus' loyalists days ago. If anything, the embassy is a safe location."
"I assume that C-SEC does not have the resources to simultaneously manage a siege at Arx and one at the Hierarchy embassy," Ryder noted. "Well, at least we have information on Saren. The end goal is to find out exactly what he is up to, his end game. How that ties him with the Reapers. I will forward all information up my chain of command and hope somebody gets on it."
"I will do the same. You might have seen it in the news, but we have a crisis to settle in our home territory. My recommendation is to continue coordinating our efforts, even if we might not have any resources to assign on a very short term," Quentius advised.
The prolonged silence told him that Ryder was not particularly fond of the suggestion. "Every moment counts, Ambassador. I assume that Archangel would be available? If we are somehow able to extract the team?"
"Yes... well..." Quentius thought about one option that was open to him. He, Fedorian, Archangel and Hierarchy Intelligence are not comfortable with the option he's considering. "There is a possibility, one we do not exactly trust."
"Please explain," Ryder requested.
"The STG approached us with an offer of assistance," Quentius started to explain. "They'd assign STG agents to our investigation on Saren. It was Councilor Valern that proposed it. He was very discreet about it. I do not know how far their assistance will extend. They might be willing to help with very sensitive direct action, like the one we find ourselves in. Or they will refuse anything above intelligence. They are aware of our operations against Saren, Sparatus and C-SEC. But we do not trust them enough to allow them access or involve them," Quentius said.
"Interesting..." Quentius was sure Ryder was thinking about something. "Hear me on this. I just came up with it on the spot. The Batarians did mention to Archangel that they have a freighter on Zakera Ward scheduled to depart today. Their getaway vehicle, correct?"
"Yes."
"Maybe these STG agents can provide enough of a distraction for Archangel to get away, make C-SEC lose their trail. And move right for this freighter. Its crew is Hegemony soldiers, maybe even SIU. It would be foolish not to considering this is a high profile and sensitive target extraction they had planned for. The Batarians won't refuse them aboard as long as our guys have Fist. It's Fist they are also after. We can tell them that their SIU team was shot or captured by C-SEC and Archangel will be able to get off station," Ryder proposed. "And Viper One and Three will assist with the getaway."
"General, this puts them in the arms of the Hegemony. How do you expect us to retrieve our operatives and Fist from the Hegemony subtly?" Quentius asked. "High Hegemon Dhothan will demand as much as he can obtain us. The fact alone that he will have proof of our polities' direct involvement in the recent madness on the Citadel will be potent blackmail material."
"But this is where the crucial part comes – one of the Hierarchy's warships on patrol will intercept the freighter once it is away and in transit to Hegemony space," Ryder was quick to provide the solution. "You use whatever laws there are in place to conduct a search of the ship under threat of arms, discover the clandestine passengers and arrest the whole crew. And Archangel is back in friendly hands with Avitus, Nihlus and my team."
Quentius thought it over. Certainly not one of the more exotic ideas he heard. It could just work. "General, allow me to make some calls. I will keep you updated if we go ahead with your idea."
Hierarchy space, Mactare System
Taetrus, Vallum
Tarquin looked from his position over the chaos that was now Vallum, the capital city of the colony Taetrus. He did not think this was possible to happen on such a well developed and old Turian colony. Taetrus was colonized in the first exploration wave. It bred many iconic characters of the Hierarchy, chiefly Primarch Santis Tyraeus. Tyraeus must be spinning in his grave right now.
'Madness! Utter madness!' he thought. Another column of smoke started to rise from a boulevard in the distance. He had a very good vantage point from one of the highest floors of the local colonial administration headquarters. It was in this building where it started, when a group of protesters broke the perimeter and forced their way inside only to be shot by the law enforcement and garrison troops right in front of the cameras.
Tarquin had analyzed the footage for himself. He watched both what the press recorded, and what individuals recorded with their omnitools and streamed to the extranet. To say that the timing of the entire event's timeline and positioning of certain groups was at least questionable would not cut it. He'd seen how the local law enforcement used unjustified force against the mob long before the violence escalated. And how Turians wearing white constantly incited the mass of protesters, occasionally throwing objects at the law enforcement, shouting profanities, and those at the front of the crowd mimicked being hit by the soldiers while pushing back into the crowd.
Tarquin knows a lie when he sees it. And the officials had seen it just as well. When Tarquin arrived with the vanguard of the 9th Palavani Legion to Taetrus his first order was to put the commanders of the Vallum garrison under arrest and ship them to Palaven on the first ship. Not only did they incite the violence at the beginning, they did not do anything to calm the tensions down. One could argue they respected standard doctrine when rebellion was met with immediate and resolute force in the streets of the city. But there were no crackdowns on the identified extremists once anger turned to riot, and riot to firefights.
Two of the city's armories had also been left undermanned days before the protest, with only a token guard detail that was not able to keep away an angry mob of armed Turian supremacists.
The whole thing reeked false flag to Tarquin. And that is only what he had found out by himself or was briefed about by Hierarchy Intelligence as relevant information for their deployment.
"Sir!" his second in command, one Sergeant Bartus, came up behind him. "No sign of Senior Commander Vyrnnus. His entire battalion's command staff is gone. Intelligence agents have not found anything in their offices. Everything's been cleaned."
Tarquin felt frustration rise up at the news. He turned around to go downstairs. They were too late. "Administrative staff?" Sergeant Bartus walked by his side while answering.
"Governor Varitius was holed up in the building's bunker with his own personal security. The few staff members who stayed were with him. They also have wounded down there. The rest of the administrative staff went home at the governor's order to stay safe."
Tarquin walked down the corridors of the colonial administration headquarters of Taetrus. To see it deserted to this scale spoke volumes of how bad the situation is. "Perimeter?"
"Secured. For now. Given the chaos outside I don't know for how long. We have drones and three soldiers on the lookout for mobs and armed individuals."
Considering the fact that local Intelligence was busy with tracking down the responsible officers and violent ringleaders... they had to reinforce the colonial administration's headquarters. Right now it was only Victus' platoon here.
"Thank you, Sergeant. See to the platoon. Bring our shuttles to the roof and prepare an extraction route if necessary. I will talk to the governor."
"Understood, sir!"
If his primary objective could not be completed, then Tarquin had to accomplish his secondary objective – hold the Vallum colonial administration headquarters under Hierarchy control.
The entrance to the bunker was typical of old Hierarchy architecture of the Unification Wars. Had it been manned, the bunker could hold against an entire legionary brigade with a company's worth of good soldiers. And Tarquin liked to believe that the Hierarchy bred soldiers of the best quality. They were, after all, the premiere military power of the galaxy. It is said that the only time you see the back of a Turian is when he is dead, for they never retreat disorderly or are prone to mass panic.
'Like the Illium Defense Force' Tarquin mused with a hint of smugness. Hierarchy Intelligence was able to get their hands on footage of how the IDF performed during the Human-Quarian operation to free the Quarians in indentured servitude. Small, elite forces caused mass panic when engaged. Their terrific success was due to how undisciplined the Asari of the Illium's so called "regiments" are. 'Part time strip dancers, part time playing soldiery' he remembered how his fellow compatriots called them.
At least three quarters of all military and security forces were gone with their commanding officers. 'They've run away.' Governor Varitius was the exemplar Turian that did not run away and leave everything go to hell. Through the corridors he found his way to the man's office. It was very utilitarian, with little regard to decorum and extravagancy. A desk with a computer, chairs, and a little space to stretch yourself.
"Governor, sir! Lieutenant Tarquin Victus, 9th Palavani!" he saluted the governor as he came to a stop three meters away from his desk in the bunker.
"Lieutenant, it is good to see Palaven is finally giving me a helping hand," the aging official said, granting the young officer a brief glance in acknowledgement. "Don't stand at attention. I am not in the military anymore. And no work gets done if everybody is busy standing at attention."
"Of course, sir. I would like to request a situation update, sir. My men and I were not able to get a thorough reading on the situation. Communication lines and services are a mess right now in the city."
Varitius took a bottle of water and drank from it, shutting the holographic display of the computer off for now. "Of course. A lot of talking is going on, but no communication. Just people throwing conspiracy theories, throwing extremist propaganda into the fire, or straight up spreading misinformation," he ranted, his voice keeping its volume. "And the little communication is with the few operating units. I was just reading a report from Vallum District 4 law enforcement that the local headquarters staff opened fire on a group of Turian soldiers that tried to firebomb a news agency's studio fifty meters down street. The situation update is as follows, Lieutenant. Madness! Madness and stupidity!"
'An apt summary, if unuseful.' Tarquin recognized signs of sleep depravation in his interlocutor. "Hierarchy soldiers setting a news studio ablaze? Governor, I highly doubt we are dealing with Hierarchy soldiers."
"Of course not. It is the local studio of one of the more vocal media outlets. Vocal for what they perceive as Primarch Fedorian dragging the Hierarchy away from the right path, and into economic disaster. One of their regular guests threw the theory that we are instigating a war with the Council in exchange for Human technologies." Tarquin involuntarily shook his head at the governor's news.
Varitius further explained. "It's The Moderator outlet. Partially owned by an Asari holding group, biggest portion of their revenues come from Asari media broadcasts. You can guess how this story will be sold to the population in an hour or so when they finish editing their footage. The law enforcement identified two of the perpetrators and they are not part of the military anymore. Both have had issues with the law. Do you know what we are dealing with here, Lieutenant Tarquin?
I have studied political sciences and geopolitical history – from Thessia's republics, to Salarian clan warfare, to Turian nation states, to Batarian power struggles. This is a textbook attempt at governmental destabilization. The perpetrators and collaborators are trying to inflict as much damage as they can during the initial chaos. This is when the greatest damage is done, the parts that people will remember best." He locked eyes with Tarquin. "That is the situation. The people responsible for preventing such a scenario have betrayed the Hierarchy."
Varitius placed the bottle of water down on his desk and opened up the holographic display of the computer. "If you want to know where Vyrnnus and his men went, I have no idea. He just gave the order and looked like he was ready to leave at a moment's notice. Whatever Intelligence assets we have in the field could not track him further once he left. Others units defected with their commanders."
"We've heard reports of terrorists attacking strategic facilities responsible for the city's water and electrical power. Can you clarify this so I can pass it to the general?" Tarquin requested.
"Of course. Quite simple. I do not know who put this out there, where it started. Basically different garrison units have been told that extremist and paramilitary groups are trying to take control of the objectives they're guarding. Then... other units, from other brigades, had been ordered to secure objectives that are in control of extremist militias, terrorists and separatists."
Tarquin looked like he was clubbed in the head. The implications are clear. "Spirits... they've set our soldiers to fight each other under false premises."
Varitius made a sound of agreement from his throat. "All on company level engagements. Companies from different brigades fought each other without even knowing. There were no actual terrorists involved. Just good men and women being lied to."
But the bad news don't end there. The 42nd Taetrian legion started infighting when Legion General Brucana Sevenis shot one of her brigade generals for treason. She found out two of the companies that were subordinate to him were involved in a terrorist scenario. Half of the 42nd is fighting the other half in the north of the city – one of our garrison legions is out of action."
Tarquin was taken aback by the news. The 42nd was one of the oldest legions Taetrus had to offer, as old as the Unification Wars.
"Civil service members and officers have also abandoned post. We have what is effectively worth two Legionary Corps somewhere out there, doing Spirits know what. And various militia groups are popping up to take their place. The few reports I got say that they range from good intentioned Turians defending their neighborhoods, to opportunistic criminals, to extremist freedom fighters."
"The 9th Palavani Legion is already establishing a foothold in the spaceport district," Tarquin reported. "A full legion will have disembarked by tonight. The 48th Taetrian will also be here tonight with all forces. My objective was to take in Vyrnnus. I am too late for that. I am here now to hold the colonial administration headquarters. How can my platoon assist?"
Varinius had a skeptic light in his eyes. "One platoon is not enough to hold this building against rogue companies or angry mobs in their hundreds. I find it a miracle some over impulsive ringleader didn't decide to burn this place down in anger. That is why I gave leave to all but minimal staff and moved to the bunker."
"Governor, I may be just a lieutenant." 'And on a lower citizenship tier than you', went unsaid. "However, I know the importance of a figure of authority. Right now, Vallum has none. You are the governor of this city and planet. If we do not make it look like the Hierarchy is still in control, even if that means presenting ourselves as targets to the destabilizing elements, the situation will deteriorate. If you will allow, I will radio right now the battalion for reinforcements."
It only takes a large enough mob to thrash the entire building. A platoon cannot hold this entire building on its own. He'd been content in issuing orders and attempting to coordinate a response to the crisis with the few resources he had available from the safety of the bunker. Those resources could be better put to use by responding to the situation at hand than guarding a building. Maybe he should have focused less on micromanaging the heart of the crisis and focused more on the entire theatre.
Varitius looked up at Tarquin. He was right. "A platoon is insufficient. We need at least a company of soldiers. Get me those reinforcements, Lieutenant. But I and the few I have left will be working from this bunker. Can't waste time moving out again."
Tarquin saluted the governor and left his office.
Arcturus Station, Administrative District
Alliance Intelligence local HQ
Irissa was tired. She had been forcefully taken from the restaurant against her will. She had been struck in the face with the stock of a submachine gun and it hurt like hell. She even had a nose bleed after the incident. The cell she was kept in had the bare necessities and no privacy was given. A recording camera can see her even on her privy. Otherwise, a passing guard can see through the reinforced glass panes that flanked her cell door. There was a bed comfortable enough, but who could sleep in these circumstances?
She did not even know for sure how many days had passed. The AIC was employing an old trick on her and the entire embassy staff that was arrested. The food the Asari detainees received was specially modified to make them sleepy soon after eating. Drugs were used to make the eater sleepy, to perceive the passing of time much slower, and make them use the toilet way more often. It wasn't rich in nutritious substances either. It was made to make them feel satiated for a brief time. With this old tactic, the AIC made them perceive one day as four days. Every 6 hours, Irissa and her subordinates would have three meals, take a shit, a shower, and sleep. Even the guards were changed more often to make it look like they had changed shifts.
It could go on for so long. It's only a matter of time until their bodies are affected negatively. Irissa was feeling the first effect of this treatment – fatigue. And, between each meal, twice a 'day', she was subjected to interrogation. She found herself again before a pair of interrogators – one male and one female. Irissa started to dislike the Human females with a passion. The way these women spooks acted around her…
The woman placed a hand on Irissa's right shoulder and squeezed gently. The white shirt she was forced to wear while in detention did not feel any warmer under the touch. They dare act with such nonchalance, like they are your friend after everything they've put you through, after daring do all they did… They were taking a sick enjoyment from this. They put her through the whole ordeal and act so friendly around her, as if talking to a child that was upset. As if she was at fault for the predicament, as if she forced herself into this hole.
"Come now, my dear," the woman piped beside her. Irissa's eyes were glued to the door. "Don't be such a downer. Be a little cooperative and you will leave sooner than later. You don't want to be here forever, do you?"
The Asari did not budge. The frown crossing her face was becoming a trademark of Irissa these days. "You are doing this at political orders, don't you?" she inquired from the two AIC interrogators. "Whatever your government is after, the Council will not allow this to pass. Even if you give an ambassador a better status than any other polity except the Republics… you break it for nothing good. Just to antagonize a galaxy."
The woman giggled. The man by the door grinned at her. She wanted to move her hands, but they were handcuffed to her back. A biotic inhibitor of Quarian design rested on her neck. At least she deduced that the Alliance did not have time to improve or adapt anything from the Quarians that they did not know of. They just put the design into production. Like this inhibitor. It was new, but of an older Quarian design.
"Lady, we have evidence to put three of your embassy staff behind bars," the male stated. "Your name specifically appeared multiple times in communications between Alliance terrorists and the Citadel. And it is clear to everyone that you were, at the very least aware of the plans. We can easily put you under the accusation of complicity. Or you can make this shorter, stop bitching about your rights, and get out of here."
Of course they did not have the names specifically. They had decoded the Blue Suns messages with the decryption keys provided by the Owl, the AIC's mole in the ranks of the Blue Suns for many years. The separatists and the Citadel were not that stupid to forgo secure communications. Unfortunately for them, they were not as sneaky. And they were too hopeful that they'd be met with success quickly.
"Your embassy was to support the rebellion and subsequent secession of the Blue Suns," the man resumed his talking, leaning forward on the table. "Your whole agenda was to sow sedition among Alliance constituent colonies and steal what technology you could."
She stood defiant under his gaze. She was not going to confess to anything. 'Deny, deny, deny!' was the solution here. "You are looking for a way to gain a political victory. Nothing more." She stood defiant. "Send me before one of your courts and you will see I am innocent."
"Lady, do you know what happens to a criminal in Human space?" the man continued, his eyebrows jerked upwards in a questioning glare.
"I think she needs time to… consider… her options," the woman said from his right. "Don't you? You need to think the situation you are in, my dear. It's not… good to make a mistake out of childish reasons. Like senseless pride."
She left the room and made a gesture for the guard at the door to take Irissa away. They were talking in a different language. One of the guards told the interrogator something that made her glance at Irissa, looking thoughtful for a mere moment and then nod. She caught sight of two guards in the same uniform she got all too used to – black helmets, only their eyes visible through the cloth, black protection gear. They stood Irissa up by the arms and prompted her to move, follow their lead.
She just noticed she was being taken on a different path than usual. "Where are you taking me to?" she demanded from her jailers. If she was expecting an answer, then she would be disappointed. "Fine!" she mumbled.
She was taken to a room very much similar to the one she was regularly interrogated in. A Human male in the typical Human formal suit was waiting inside. He had a datapad on him, reading its content.
"Ah, you must be Irissa Myrais," the man stood up when she was inside. Her guards stopped at the door, both flanking the door on left and right. Irissa took the image of a seat as an invitation to sit down. The man extended an arm in her direction. "Nicolas Alves da Silva, your lawyer."
Irissa would have extended her handcuffed hands and accept the customary handshake. da Silva looked awkwardly at his hand and lowered it a bit ashamed. She noticed a different accent from the man "I have not been told anything about a lawyer," she noted with a sideways glance at the guards.
"I… everything is happening so fast that I barely made it to talk to you in person before the trial," the man said. Irissa shifted uncomfortably in the chair. "Yes." The lawyer smiled knowingly. "The prosecutor believes he has sufficient evidence to send you before a federal court."
"A court? When?" she demanded immediately.
"I…" he looked for a second at the guards. One of them was looking pointedly at him. He even shook his head slightly. "I cannot tell you when. It is too soon for a case of this scale. Now… I am an objective person and believe in the rule of law, as it has happened for the longest part of my race's unification. The current scenario…" the attorney shifts his eyes to the guards again, "is too rushed. It is not the first time it happens. I've seen it with Insurrection leaders, politicians and crime world leaders. Case opened and the accused is sent before a court in no time. No time at all."
"What are you saying?" Irissa asked, feeling even more uneasy.
"There is pressure from high up, from top federal levels, to put the case down as soon as possible. Not sure if it's coming from the director of the AIC, from Dominic Osoba, or from Montgomery. And I also believe the court will be formed of judges that will sentence you. Again, it's happened before but those people really deserved it. But please," he reached over the table to calm her down, "do not panic. Your case is different. There is not sufficient evidence beyond a reasonable doubt. At least from what I've seen while reviewing the case."
"Not reassuring, mister," Irissa noted. "So what? Your government will throw me in jail? For some politics?"
"You'll be tried in a lower court. Whatever the outcome, an appeal can be made and a higher court will have the final response. Even if we have three judges stacked against us… there is hope," he assured her.
"Time's almost up, sir," the lead guard said. "You have thirty seconds left."
"Appreciate that," the attorney nodded. "Ambassador, I and my law firm will be helping you to our best of abilities."
Irissa stood up and, for the first time in days, showed a glint of hope and happiness in her eyes. "Thank you…" she whispered. "I hope the Republics are also involved?"
"They are," he confirmed. "But their help is not of much help. Their approach is centered around Citadel law. But you have been arrested in Alliance territory for offenses against Humanity. The procedures will follow our rules. You will be judged by a federal court, not a Citadel or Republics court."
"And? If I am found guilty even after the appeal?" she questioned. "What of my colleagues?"
He sighed and looked away. "Most will be set free. The rest… your guess is as good as mine. I am only allowed access to your case, not your colleagues'. And, if found guilty, you can face any number from 2 years of imprisonment and labor… up to 50 years of jail and hard labor."
"What? How are the times split between imprisonment and labor?" she inquired.
"Time's up," the guard said and moved to escort the lawyer away, along with Irissa back to her cell.
Before the guard put his hand on the lawyer's shoulder, the legal advisor got out an answer to Irissa. "Four days per week you're put to work. Anyway. We will talk again. You will soon be transferred to the police department's jurisdiction."
Irissa was taken away. She walked out, still defiant to her escorts. The cracks in her resolve were obvious. The head was not held as high as before. There was not as much energy in her every step. Whenever they prompted her forward, she would just pick her pace a bit to avoid their touch.
Just as the lawyer made a move to leave the small room where they had the talk, a hand on the chest stopped him and even pushed him back inside. "Mister da Silva," the AIC woman interrogator of Irissa closes the door behind her, "what are you doing?" she inquired rather calmly.
The lawyer had heard this tune before. He knew the dance. Or the variant of the dance that he preferred. "A line must be drawn, madam."
"What. Do you think. You're doing." She put as much weight behind the words. A withering glare was directed against the man. "Do you know how much you are undermining the Alliance with what you've just told her?"
"We may have shut up in the past because we have seen that you were doing this to people who truly deserved it. You may have cut corners and played the law to the furthest you could get it away with without breaching it, but we understood the necessity then. But now?" he waited for the AIC interrogator to answer. But no answer came. "We've watched and every time we've asked ourselves one question – when? When will they stop? Where will they stop?"
"You and others like you always talk poorly about us for doing what we must do to keep everybody safe," she noted. "Do you think we are after some benefits, mister?"
"I don't know what secondary aims you are following, but it is only a matter of time until this whole attitude turns against the regular citizen," da Silva presents his argument. "Maybe you will get so used to this method that when a citizens starts to become uncomfortable to the AIC and the judges who partake in this… what of him? Do you bury him? Like Putin did to every journalist outspoken against him? Like the Chinese government did to their people? Or Belarus? Or Mexico? Or any other third world country where human rights were spoken of in jest?"
da Silva took a moment to breathe before continuing. "Remember the chaos of the 2020s in Hong Kong? Or South America? Do you have any idea how much the people have suffered in my own country, in Brazil, for standing up to the corrupt officials? When the press was used to demonize the very people who advocated for the rule of law? And corrupt judges assembled in courts to convict innocent citizens and reformist opposition parties? Do you want to return to the days where abuse of power was something the average citizen expected? Because they way I see it we are on the course of autocracy."
"That happened because of corruption and greed, mister da Silva," she noted. "We are defending Humanity."
"The road to hell is paved with good intentions, madam," he spoke barely above a whisper.
She put herself between the door and da Silva just so slightly when he tried to go around her and leave. The AIC interrogator's eyes were glued at his white shirt, the look in them was contemplative. "We all believe the same way." Her gaze elevated to meet his. "But when you need to fight those who are using only dirty methods? Do you think that giving her a hotel room to stay in is helpful? While we wait for the Republics to get their shit in order? What if we applied the same for the convicts? Or when we were exterminating the mafia? The organized crime groups? The human traffickers? The drug cartels? Take our time until they get their shit in order, some witnesses go missing, a piece of critical evidence disappears from the prosecutor's dossier?" she questioned.
da Silva was silent. He in was agreement with her. But he also saw the danger of such behavior being unchecked. She continued. "Do you think we would be rid of most of them today if we waited days on end with the trials and give them time to persuade the judges with threats? Or the witnesses? Or the prosecuting team? Or about the Insurrection and the rebels? Give them long enough time to gather popular sympathy while on their trial just because we must do this the nice way? No. We could not afford to do this the nice way. We had to work on the smallest timetable the law afforded us, and involve judges who were not going to chicken out from doing what they knew had to be one. Without the pleasant smiles. Take some time to seriously consider what you are doing. And what we are doing."
And, as she finished her own argument, she withdrew herself from the doorframe and left the room. She took a left turn on the corridor. da Silva turned right.
Attican Traverse, 25LY corewards from Kogrom System
Sruent System, SSV Storm Hawk
The Caesar-class destroyer Storm Hawk, part of Averescu's Heavy Reconnaissance Fleet, was following its patrol schedule. After the Verge Treaty between the Alliance and the Hegemony was revised, it was the Turians who would observe peacekeeping efforts in the rather volatile area of space that is the Alliance-Hegemony border. They were there to keep an eye both on the Hegemony naval elements along the border and the Alliance not jumping the border into Batarian space again. But that was only on the border between the two polities, not in the galactic "wilderness".
The Heavy Recon Fleet was operating in the Attican Traverse in relative proximity to the Alliance colony of Mindoir. As the unit's name suggests, their role is to aggressively scout enemy territory during war, force the enemy naval assets to engage just long enough to assess their strength, and disengage and leave. Due to the unit's strength, which can amount to 1.5 or 2 battlegroups, long deployments behind enemy lines and standard combat operations are not off the list of possible missions.
Currently, the formation's capital ships – battleships Spirit of Fire and Minerva – are staying behind the Alliance border in the sector. Some of the smaller escort ships of the fleet –destroyers and escorts – had been assigned to check no man's land. The Hierarchy tries to focus on the mass relay nodes, while keeping an eye on the surroundings. There is sufficient trust between Humanity and the Hierarchy to leave the Turians do their job along the border with the Hegemony. But the Attican Traverse? The wild west where the galactic jackals are lurking by Humanity's fence? The Verge Treaty covers only the Kogrom System, which is where Mindoir's mass relay links to, and the official borders.
The Sruent System is a small star system just approximately 25 light years from Kogrom – the same Kogrom from where the pirates opened the relay to Mindoir and tried to attack. A drone was sent by the Navy months ago to survey multiple star systems, Sruent included. The drone jumped in at the far edge of the star system, collected the data, and jumped to the next location. It's a very rocky star system, with four rocky, barren planets, a single gas giant, and multiple very dense asteroid fields. It reminded the crew of the very dangerous experience of flying through Saturn's rings without active shielding. It is very likely that these dense asteroid fields are the remnants of ancient planetary collisions. Multiple planetoids have formed and will probably become new planets in millions of years.
"Initiating high power scans," the sensors officer reported to the CIC. "RADAR, charging to full power. LADAR, charging to full power. Raising the telescopes," he kept enumerating every sensor they were going to use for their sweep. "Electromagnetic field sensor arrays are active. Tachyon sensors are charging. Gravitic sensors are active. Ready to start pinging at your order, Commander."
The destroyer Storm Hawk is commanded by a commander. Usually, this is a promotion from a frigate lieutenant-commander. The CO simply gave the order. "Light us up like a Christmas tree."
With that, Storm Hawk started every active and passive scanning of the star system. They were broadcasting their presence through the active scanners to the whole system to know, if anyone was there with them. It was part of the strategy – let the people know that an Alliance warship is around the block, checking how the neighborhood fares.
The most basic sensor aboard a starship – the radar – gives them plenty of information until the distance becomes too great. LADAR helps detect ships and digitally build their designs with laser illumination. The electromagnetic field sensor array scans in both broadband to see if there's something out there, and frequency selective to monitor a narrow frequency range of interest. Gravitic sensors look for any gravitational changes in space, such as those produced by the presence of a starship. The tachyon sensors are the most advanced long range sensor Humanity has at its disposal. They are used to detect ship movements at long range, but the quality of readings degrades linearly with distance, and exponentially after a certain threshold. However, it produces much more consistent readings at long distance than RADAR and is not constrained by the speed of light. They are a technology still under development by the Systems Alliance. Unlike the old RADAR which is considered to have reached its peak development, tachyon sensors can be considered young.
"Anything?" the lieutenant-commander inquired. He was looking over the tactical holographic map. He was seeing the gas giant they just left behind as they are heading further into the system. The gas giant was slowly falling to their rear while the first asteroid cloud was approaching on their dorsal port side. The asteroids were trapped in that spot by the gravity wells of the gas giant, the 4th rocky planet and the star.
"Negative, sir. We are getting many reflections from the asteroid field," sensors reported. "Otherwise nothing else in the star system. At least nothing we can see for now. So far it's the same as the last patrol run."
"Launch the drones. Let them scout ahead."
The Storm Hawk's complement of reconnaissance drones slowly departed from the ship's hangar, five in total. Two accelerated ahead to the closest asteroid cloud. Each rock was hundreds of kilometers away, but the mass compact enough to hide small ships if somebody was on the premises. Especially if those ships stick close to a large asteroid.
Two other probes were sent further into the star system. One was trailing one light minute behind the Alliance destroyer. The drones activated their own sensors and started scanning very actively. The pair of drones entered the asteroid field and engaged forward burners to reduce speed. They needed as much time as they could get to scan through the many angles between asteroids.
"Sir," the sensors operator got the attention of the CO. "Probes three and four," said drones were highlighted on the tactical map – the probes innermost in the star system, "have detected a ship traversing the star system on a trajectory perpendicular to ours. Distance from us: 210 million kilometers. Running identification…"
The commander waited patiently for identification. The tactical map updated with data from probes three and four. The unknown contact was moving towards another asteroid field.
"Anything in the first asteroid field?" the commander asked.
"Negative."
"How long until the probes one and two finish scanning?"
"We're halfway through." Storm Hawk was intermittently losing the probes on its sensors as an asteroid would find itself between the ship and a probe. "They will clear the asteroid field in 20 minutes."
The CO thought about it. A ship should not be here. Not with the recent events. The border of the Verge was considered too volatile and dangerous. One would have to be brave or stupid to venture here.
"Contact identified: freighter ship, Veltana-class, a Terminus design," came the report from the sensors. "Telescopes are aiming for visual confirmation. Electromagnetic signature is a perfect match with a Veltana. LADAR on the drones has partial solution."
"Terminus? All the way down this corner of the galaxy?" the CO mused aloud. "Something smells funny. Increase speed. Put us on an intercept course. When we reach the one light minute mark ping them for identification."
It could just as easily be a civilian vessel on an errand typical of freighters. It would be an unusual thing, for other designs are prevalent here – Batarian designs, Salarian designs, or Turian/Volus designs. They also went out of the usual navigation routes if they ended up in the current star system.
The ship's primary engines worked harder to increase thrust and accelerate. Storm Hawk will pass one million kilometers from the asteroid field probes one and two were scouting.
"Ping from probe number two! We have a contact in the asteroid field ahead of us. It was not detected on previous patrols." If it wasn't detected on previous patrol runs, then it means it arrived there recently. Unless the previous Alliance ships that passed through here, the cruiser SSV Lacrimosa and her escort destroyer SSV Madrigal, did a half assed job.
"What contact is it?" the commander questioned.
Whatever it is, they just lost contact with probe number two. It literally ceased to transmit and Storm Hawk's sensors weren't picking it up anymore.
"Probe two – lost contact! Unknown contact also lost!"
"What the hell!?" the XO exclaimed. "What is going on here? Did the unknown contact just destroy our probe?"
"Until we can confirm what happened, yes," the CO refrained from thinking of the worse. "Sound general quarters!" he ordered. The ship's PA system broadcasted the siren specific to the order and the entire crew scrambled to their battle stations.
"Send an update via QEC to Spirit of Fire, we have a possible hostile contact in the system. We're pursuing and engaging if needed. Probe one continue course, and, when finished, redirect to where probe two's last known position is," the CO ordered. He looked at his tactical officer. "Did we get any readings from probe two? What are we dealing with?"
"Small radar profile, the size of a gunship. It was on the surface of the asteroid. A mass effect field originating from the contact was detected shortly before the probe ceased to transmit. It is consistent with a cannon utilizing mass effect technology. Displaying LADAR profile…"
Once probe two had the contact on its radar, it reoriented its LADAR sensors to get an image of the contact. What the CIC was looking at looked like nothing more than a small gunship that was hiding on the surface of an asteroid. It was detected only because it happened to be on the wrong part of the asteroid's face. The CO thought who would do this. The first possibility is that it could be the Batarians. A strong possibility that one. Every officer had been briefed on the modus operandi of the Hegemony – deniable assets.
"We are getting updates from probes three and four," sensors said. "Telemetry is consistent with missile launches. Missiles are 20 light seconds and closing in. Picking the ship on our own long range sensors."
"We've already lost the probes if that is the case," the XO noted. "Our sensors just don't know it yet." And he is right. The probes are so far away that Storm Hawk's sensors are still picking up old signals.
"This is an ambush," the CO concluded. "Helm, keep us in open space and away from any asteroid field or planet. Open anti-air and anti-ship missile tubes on the dorsal side of the ship. I want a pair of anti-air missiles ready to launch against the contact in the asteroid field and ten Chimeras against the freighter. And ready a Kodiak to intercept the remains of the gunship. I want samples to determine who is responsible."
"Aye, sir! Opening missile launch tubes and computing firing solutions," the weapons officer said.
If someone looked at the hull of the ship they could see ten silo caps retracting and exposing the warheads of the Chimera anti-ship missiles to the void. One of the Space Sparrow launchers was already aimed in the direction of the gunship.
"Range to the freighter?"
"20 light minutes, sir."
"And to the gunship?"
"30 light seconds."
A most acceptable range for anti-air missiles. "Fire two missiles against the contact that took out probe two. Stagger the launch to five seconds," came the order. "Launch the Kodiak too."
The launcher sent out the first Sea Sparrow from its tube. Five seconds later it was followed by its partner. The rockets ignited and accelerated the warheads to an ever greater speed. They burned until cruise velocity was achieved for long range interception. When they passed the half distance marker the missiles' own sensors became active and locked on the gunship. Small corrections have been made by the onboard command software. When the missiles approached the terminal stage at the 5 light-seconds distance they accelerated again.
The gunship had left the asteroid's surface and was heading for the wreck of probe two. Most likely to salvage wreck pieces. Judging by the gunship's behavior, they had not detected the Storm Hawk. After all, there was a large asteroid until recently between the two ships. It could be held to reason that the gunship was aware of the presence of Alliance vessels because of the presence of the probes. But the fact that the gunship went for the wreck of the probe also indicates that they are after it. Maybe they were even laying in wait to ambush one and take it.
The gunship did not have much time to react to the incoming missiles. Its only weapon – a small caliber (by mass effect standards) automatic cannon – traversed to shoot the incoming threat. Too little too late. The first Space Sparrow slammed into the hull and exploded near the cannon, bending the plating and causing structural buckling on the small gunship. The ship tried to veer off course so that the missile misses them due to its momentum. But they only presented the rear of the gunship. The second Space Sparrow penetrated a few centimeters inside the hull before exploding. The gunship lost its maneuvering engines and was venting atmosphere and radiation.
"Both Sparrows have connected with the target," the tactical officer reported. "Visual confirmation available. The contact is staying on the same course as before the second Sparrow struck them. Velocity is constant. They must have lost engines."
"Put another Kodiak out there with a Marine squad to board that ship. I want prisoners. Probe one scout ahead the area before our shuttles arrive there. Let's see who those bastards are."
"Copy, sir!"
The tactical map updated and four small contacts could be seen as they departed the hostile freighter in the direction of the wrecks of probes three and four.
"They are after our probes. What the hell could they want with them?" the XO asked. "Do we have any ID on those small contacts?"
"Not from this range, sir."
"Judging by their size they are just shuttles. Maybe salvage ships," the CO noted. "I want to neutralize that freighter's FTL capabilities. Stop them from leaving. I want Space Sparrows on each of those small contacts. If we see them now, then it means they might have already reached the probes. Fire in a dispersed pattern to cover the space between the freighter and probes three and four. Set the missiles to go active 30 light seconds before estimated contact with the shuttles. We'll catch them with this. Fire at will."
The weapons officer worked at his station for a few seconds. "Space Sparrows away!"
A dozen AA missiles flew out from their launch systems. They diverged from Storm Hawk in a cone formation. Behind them, the warship was hot in pursuit.
"Firing solution on the freighter for the Chimeras?" the CO inquired.
"Acquired! It's not the best solution, sir. They can still miss. But it's the best we can achieve from this distance," weapons officer answered.
"Set them to go for engine signatures. Set them to seek their own target when they reach the 30 light second mark. Cone dispersion pattern. Hold fire until I give the order."
The freighter was turning about to place itself between the Space Sparrows and the shuttles. But this also put them at greater risk for the Chimera missiles if they were to be launched.
The destroyer kept closing the distance. When they are close enough they can use the magnetic accelerator spinal cannon for the decisive kill shot.
"Sir!" the communication operator got the attention of the CIC. "We have QEC communiqué from Spirit of Fire. Short bursts. Message reads as follows.
Storm Hawk, pursue and take prisoners if possible. Proceed with caution. Multiple incidents reported along the border. SSV Prince of War heavily damaged after engagement with small fleet an hour ago. Leave window to disengage. Give them only one chance for surrender. Proposed Noisy Neighbor contingency to the Verge sector. RADM Averescu out.
Message ends."
The part that was on everyone's mind was the part where the ship named Prince of War, an Ares-class cruiser, had taken serious damage. That ship is a formidable enemy even for a dreadnought. For it to have suffered heavy damage… it means that the enemy had some firepower to pull that off. Especially when the Prince of War is on patrol with her escort destroyer, the Flying Dutchman.
As the engagement progressed, the officers in the CIC could only ask themselves one question: who was picking a fight with Humanity right on its border?
"The ship is turning about. Projected course will place it right between the Sparrows and the alien shuttles," sensors reported.
"They'll suck the AA missiles and they know it. They are covering for their salvage shuttles," the XO noted. He turned to the weapons officer. "Secondary weapons acquire firing solutions now!" And he looked to the CO. "What do we do? They cannot leave with those probes."
"It is not a tragedy if they do. There's no useful data in them. The Hackett-Anderson protocol will not be breached," he clarified. "But the sensors and communications suites aren't something I want to give away." He looked at the distance indicator on the tactical map. "Open communications. We can communicate with each other." The communications officer nodded her head and went ahead.
"Veltana-class freighter, this is Alliance destroyer SSV Storm Hawk. Kill all power to your engines, identify yourself, turn transponder on, and await inspection by Alliance Marines. Failure to comply will result in use of lethal force. I say again, Veltana-class freighter, this is-" she continued hailing the ship. The crew held no illusion that the freighter will answer.
"All but two of the Sparrow missiles have splashed on the freighter!" the tactical officer reported. "Two are continuing on course past the freighter." That translates that at best they neutralize 2/4 shuttles that are going for the salvage.
"LADAR shows hit points on the hull. The outer hull was pierced, but no other damage observed. Ship is maintaining course and speed," tactical reported. As expected, the Sparrows could do little against a freighter. They are designed to take out small craft.
Outside the hull, the turrets that can face to the bow of the ship traversed their barbettes and 4 turrets had their cannons facing forward. In total 8 magnetic accelerator cannons waiting to be loaded with 203mm shells were trained on the ship.
"Load pure armor piercing shells to the secondary armament," came the order from the CO. "I want overpenetrations only. Aim for the engines. Let's see if we can knock the wind out of their sails." He turned his attention to communications. "Any reply to our message?"
The communications officer shook her head while still trying to reach out to the freighter. She gave up. "Negative, sir. I've been broadcasting on everything we have. They are completely ignoring us. We're two light seconds away from each other. No way they cannot pick us up."
The commander looked at the tactical display. The two Space Sparrows that were not sucked by the freighter found their mark on the two salvage shuttles that were trying to salvage probe number three. Probe number four was being merrily towed to the freighter.
"Commander, look at this!" the XO drew his attention to a secondary screen. "The freighter is opening a lateral bay…" he said while his eyes lingered on the live feed from a telescope of the ship. Their eyes widened when what looked like heavy missile launchers were illuminated by the local star's light. "What the hell? Those look like something you'd see on a warship! How did they fit those launchers in the bay?"
"They are firing! 40 total contacts!" the tactical officer reported. "Sparrow missiles launching to intercept. CIWS acquiring firing solutions on individual warheads."
They had disruptor torpedoes headed their way. It was the most common missile in the galaxy for ship-to-ship combat. It caused extremely unstable, rapidly shifting mass effect fields that tears ship hull apart. The heavier the warhead, the more powerful and large tidal shifts it would cause at detonation, the larger the radius.
"Fire! Fire the 203s!" came the order from the commanding officer like a shout. "Fire primary MAC! Center of mass!"
"Firing!" the weapons officer exclaimed.
"Maneuver to evade missiles! Open up the distance! As much thrust we can afford without the inertial dampeners failing! Forward engines, full burn!" came the orders of the CO.
The 203mm armor piercing shells were expelled from their barrels at close to relativistic velocity. They held no explosive warhead, just the tungsten carbide alloy used as kinetic penetrator. The crew had a choice between the tungsten or depleted uranium penetrators, and chose the tungsten based penetrator. If uranium based penetrator was fired it could have ignited something inside the ship and be the root cause for the ship's destruction. DU may be the better armor penetrator in terms of internal damage, but it has a habit of igniting due to friction heat, even if the penetrator maintains its sharpness while going through armor. The tungsten based penetrator will deform more and more into something resembling a mushroom when penetrating.
The first pair of 203mm shells slammed against the hull near the primary engines section. However, this was no standard freighter. The crew had outfitted it with additional armor plates. The shells cut a hole through the armor and hull, and penetrated inside. They cut through decks and sent shrapnel in all directions with each penetrated compartment. A pipeline, a small handle, or whatever, is dislodged so violently that it becomes shrapnel at hundreds of kilometers per second. Whatever crew was caught in the shrapnel became minced meat. One shell struck heavy machinery and was deflected and deformed. The dislodged machinery ruptured connections and caused element zero and radiation to leak from the ship's core.
The second pair of 203mm shells pierced the freighter nanoseconds after the first pair. All shells eventually connected and put tiny holes in hull where they penetrated. Inside the engines section was a mess. Walls with precision holes in them large enough to push a child through. Circuitry and machinery built from heavy, durable alloys were severed or rendered inoperable. The eezo core was not hit, but the auxiliary systems responsible for its well functioning had been incapacitated and it was leaking radiation.
"Direct hits!"
"Ionizing radiation detected in the ship's engines! Their core was damaged!"
"Screw that!" the ship's XO cursed. "What's the status on the incoming missiles?"
Storm Hawk performed a 180 degrees turn. Almost 180. She is now traveling away at an oblique angle to the incoming torpedoes to allow its CIWS a good firing angle and fire as many as possible from its broadside. There was no way they could outrun those missiles. Only if they jumped FTL. No, this was merely standard tactics to increase the chance of shooting down as many torpedoes as possible.
"First salvo intercepting in 10 seconds..." the tactical officer was reading the data. "Splash... 14. Sparrows that missed are coming about to attempt interception. Delta V is too big, they won't intercept before we're hit."
"14..." the XO thought aloud. "Almost 75% accuracy."
"ECM is... active!" the tactical officer reported. The tactical display showed the disruptor torpedoes maneuvered and their trajectories became divergent for a brief time, before maneuvering again on an intercept course with Storm Hawk. "ECM not effective. 20 seconds to impact."
"CIWS to fire on the missiles," came the order from the commander. "Saturate their projected trajectory with rounds. Launch salvo of Sparrow missiles to intercept."
The commander thought about the missiles he is facing. They do not know what model of torpedo they are. His ship used standard ECM to saturate the missile's guidance systems based on radar and infrared.
The divergence must be an automated response to try and minimize the number of affected rounds at long range. The closer they get, the fewer the defender can effectively counter, in comparison to their initial blob grouping which made them easy target for ECM.
"Enemy ship is illuminating us with a laser!" sensors operator reported.
"CIWS destroyed 3, one more was damaged. It has an unpredictable trajectory. No longer on intercept with us."
So, they must also rely on guidance from the enemy ship, as well as probably built in cameras for an onboard autopilot. And Storm Hawk does not have the possibility to lay a smoke screen like a tank to make itself invisible to homing via line of sight. They are using beam riding guidance. No time for fancy maneuvers with decoy drones. There is one solution.
"Last Sparrow salvo made contact. Splash 12 missiles. 9 incoming, impact in 10 seconds."
The commander looked at the tactical projection and took note of the distance between the remaining torpedoes. It could work. "I want two Sunburst warheads out there! Now!"
"Sunburt loading to missile tubes!" the weapons officer reported.
"Aim right here! Take firing solution from my input on the tactical projection. Fire as soon as possible!"
While the order was being carried, the ship's PA broadcasted a warning. "All hands! Brace for contact!"
Two missiles spew forward from the missile pod and raced to intercept. They were aimed at the two remaining clusters of torpedoes. The Sparrows and CIWS punched holes in the cluster, leaving two smaller, rarefied groups.
"Three seconds to impact!"
"Maneuver! Turn hard starboard and upwards off the star system's plane!"
Designed to take out missile and small craft swarms, the Sunburst was the perfect choice. When they got close enough to the disruptor torpedoes, they detonated. Two nuclear fireballs surged forward and expanded in a cone shape. Had it been only a nuclear warhead, the explosion would not be sufficient to be used in its current role. The warhead is enhanced with additional elements that are scattered forward in a cloud just before detonation. The shape of the warhead favors a forward, cone-shape expanding fireball.
"Two made it through! Their trajectory is no longer on intercept. They are just racing ahead on stable trajectory!"
The EMP must have fried the homing system's sensors.
"One's still going to hit-"
One of the two torpedoes missed the ship, but not by much. The second torpedo, while its sensors had been rendered inoperable by the nuclear blasts, still made contact with the rear of the ship, near the engines.
The rapidly shifting tidal waves mangled the hull plating and the interior. Aside from structural buckling, the only other significant damage was to one of the engines.
"Damage report!" cried out the commander.
"We've lost engine 2. We have a hull breach close to the engine room. No fires. Minor radiation leak detected, not lethal. Engine is shutting down. We've lost atmosphere in the engine room. Crew is evacuating and DC teams are sealing off the area. We're still combat ready!" came the summary from the officer responsible with damage control.
The commander could breathe with relief. No major damage. He issued new orders. "Helm, turn the ship around. XO, prepare a Marine force to board that ship. I want to know who the hell just shot at us."
As the XO was scrambling a boarding party, the tactical projection updated with an additional contact. It showed up right over the freighter.
"Commander, we have what look like an escape craft departing from the freighter," the sensors officer said. "Visual confirms! Escape craft! We won't be able to intercept."
They watched their only source of information get away in FTL.
"Track their trajectory!" the commander ordered. "I want to know where they are going. They can't be going too far away in that small ship. We need to know who the hell just fired on an Alliance warship right on our border."
AUTHOR's NOTES
Active plot lines in the story as of this moment (i will include these from now on):
Alliance internal political power struggles (the Federalists vs Terra Firma)
Hierarchy internal political power struggles (Fedorian vs Sparatus) and what looks like a civil war brewing
Turian-Alliance joint operations against Saren and what they perceive is the beginning of a Reaper incursion of some sort
Alliance-Asari proxy operations
Alliance moving into the Traverse and encountering resistance
Alliance-Asari political and public image war
Salarian power struggle (military meritocracy vs dalatrasses); this one is now on a back burner, but its premises are explicitly detailed in chapter 26
I hope the wait was worth it, folks. I finished everything related to my studies and my biggest focus is work and my astronomy hobby. I can dedicate more time to continuing my stories on this website too.
So, what I wanted with this chapter was to advance the Turian Hierarchy related story that I have been teasing and sometimes even blatantly telling what was coming. The storm hit the shore.
I seriously got bogged down in writing Garrus' investigation, so I decided to drop that part of the chapter and use Chellick and Quentius to move things along. I hope I did not do a piss poor job of it.
On the Turian home front, I used Tarquin, Adrien Victus' son, to show how events were unfolding there. This is effectively the beginning of Sparatus' faction's rebellion and coup. I also wanted to use Tarquin to give an Average-Joe Turian's opinion on various items connected to the situation at hand.
Then, I also wanted to show how the Alliance under Dominic Osoba's leadership as interim president of the federation, with a bit of manhandling from Harper, is handling its external affairs. Harper – he is a man of action, bordering rogue. My reading on The Illusive Man is as the man who's seen what horrors are lurking and tries to be decisive, least he loses time with formalities that do not achieve anything but waste time. In canon, Harper was at Shanxi as a mercenary and was involved in thwarting a Reaper cell of Desolas. You know Osoba as the diplomat in ME3 in the embassy, looking for news of his son who died on Eden Prime fighting Cerberus. Of course, Osoba is not done yet. He's got more in store.
For the ending, I added a skirmish between the Alliance and a yet unidentified party. I could have very easily cut that whole 4000 words skirmish down to a few hundred as a report or a higher-ups topic of debate on how to tackle. But I wanted to exercise my space battle exposition and see how you folks take to it. I will have multiple engagements coming up in future arcs. Let's be honest, military is one of the main points I wish to pursue in the story as there will be wars. War is the continuation of politics. I wanted to blend as much realism as I could with the exposition, maybe detail a few more technologies. I know it will never be perfect, but I want it to have a plausible basis. What do you think?
Oh, and I also removed the timeline from chapter 1 and left the codex only. I still haven't rewritten it as a good prologue chapter. There is only one thing slower than Internet Explorer – my update speed.
A STORY BROUGHT TO YOU BY Apollonir