Chapter 30. The Calm Before
26. November 2396 AD, Armstrong Nebula, Uncharted Planet
Unexplored, unclaimed and uncontrolled. All of these conditions had played a role in slavers taking a particular liking for this part of the Skyllian Verge. Used as both a traverse route and as a site for forward operations bases, the nebula had become the single biggest and deadliest, theatre in the Blue Suns' continued crusade against the slaver rings operating out of the adjacent Terminus Systems, a crusade that was rather swiftly escalating in scale as the Batarian Hegemony became bolder in its support of the groups. The slavers had gone from setting up badly fortified, temporary camps to constructing more permanent, heavily guarded and reinforced complexes, sometimes going as far as building entire underground bunker networks capable of holding hundreds if not thousands of slaves.
As such the work of the Blue Suns had become increasingly more difficult.
"Alright, here's the plan," Zaeed explained as the engineers began placing the breaching charges on the heavy blast door obstructing their way into the subterran complex. "I'll be leading a squad straight through the facility, clearing the rooms as we pass them while drawing attention away from Kuril's assault team once we get to the intersection," he said as he nodded towards the brown-plated turian. "You'll split of the main group and head for the command center here," he explained as his omni-tool simulated the process, a smaller dot breaking away from a larger orange mass at an intersection on the map their scanners had created of the complex. "Seize the place and lock it down, turn their own base against them. Sentry guns, lights, give us any advantage we can have."
"Yes, Sir," the turian sergeant nodded as he checked his Phaeston, running a last minute calibration on the rifle while listening to the improvised briefing taking place in front of the ramp leading down to the entrance. Pulling his own helmet over his face, the turian lowered the gun once he was satisfied with the state he was in.
"While my squad fights its way through the facility, Narom's squad will follow us and make sure that any and all captives get the hell out of here," he said as he looked at the human who merely tilted his head to the ground once in response. "Set up a secure path through the place and lead them back here. Once they're outside, Garix and his snipers will lead them to the evacuation site. Any questions?" he asked as the engineers gave him a sign, informing him that the charges they had bought for this mission were in place.
He looked around the small circle of team leaders, waiting for any of them to speak up. They were a good bunch for this kind of mission, C-SEC veterans, former HSA soldiers, members of the turian reserve, all experienced in close quarter combat and more than just capable with a gun at short distances. But that experience wouldn't bring all of them back, the last attack on an underground complex like this one had proven that much. There was something particularly difficult about engaging vorcha, batarians and the rare krogan in enclosed spaces that favoured their fighting style and until Kuril would take the control center, they'd be at an even bigger disadvantage. Cameras, locked doors and sentry guns had been their scourge throughout the last raid on a base like this, making every meter they advanced costly for the Blue Suns and in the end resulting in eight dead and thirteen injured on their side.
And that complex had been smaller than this one.
"Let's get it done then," he muttered as he pulled his helmet over his face, a decision that would turn out to be the best one he had ever made in the course of the next twenty minutes. He shut off the omni-tool before flicking of the safety of his old but trusty SR-7, Jessie, several magazines meant for her lining his chest. His thumb softly brushed against the top of the detonator as he took a final breath, hoping that the charges were as directed as their seller had claimed them to be. With a single, almost comically easy move of his finger, a bright, loud explosion set off the powerful, obviously krogan siege charges that had been placed on the blast doors, punching a hole big enough for an elcor to walk through into them while leaving the Blue Suns standing at the ramp unharmed.
The krogan hadn't been kidding when he had claimed that these were the best keys in the galaxy.
He had to give no further command as a series of smoke grenades were rolled down the ramp and into the opening, the thick white clouds leaking from the canisters preventing the first line of defenders from simply gunning down Zaeed and his team by causing them to fire prematurely. The slavers poured hundreds of rounds through the smoke screen in a matter of seconds and soon enough their guns began to overheat, making them unable to fire. "Go," he dryly ordered before his team rushed down the ramp, the thermal vision of their helmet allowing them to make out the hot jets of gas being ejected by the guns of the slavers, their colder but still noticeable frames being outlined for them by their HUD. It would be a few seconds before their foes be able to fire again. But it would be too late for them by then. Unlike the slavers, the Blue Suns didn't have to wait for their guns to cool down before being able to fight. They had saved their heatsinks, or in some cases ammunition, for this moment.
Walking through the smoke, he lifted his rifle in unison with the rest of his squad, a mixture of mass accelerator and gunpowder fire coming to life as his squad began to gun down the ironically defenseless defenders. The sound of gunfire drowned out the painful and surprised screams of the slavers as the Blue Suns cut through them with ruthless efficiency and well practiced routine. They had taken up position behind crates and barriers, expecting to break the assault just as it began, an expectation that they'd soon come to regret. Just as the first guns began to cool down the last slaver, a batarian trying to fall back to another line of defense through a long corridor clad in brown metal, fell to the ground as Zaeed's bullet tore through the armor on his back, rupturing his organs and killing him in the process. The group of operatives clad in blue confidently emerged from the cloud, taking a moment to check the area before following their commander to the second door.
This had been the easy part. Now they'd venture into the belly of the beast.
Their scans had indicated that following the initial blast doors room, a series of rooms, corridors and intersections not unlike to a maze would greet them. There was no doubt in Zaeed's mind that every turn they took would result in an ambush and as such he steadied himself before opening the door just wide enough for the flashbang in his hand to fit through the gap. A second or two passed before the explosion of the grenade set him into motion, his hand tearing open the door all the way for the pointman to enter, Zaeed himself following right behind him. The turian fired his rifle at the first target in front of him as the field commander of the Blue Suns spun left, coming face to face with an angry looking vorcha wearing welding glasses that had protected him from being blinded while leveling a Blood Pack Executioner pistol at his head.
The Blue Suns operative was quicker on the draw.
Before the mostly naked, brownish figure could pull his trigger, Zaeed ended the slaver's life with a burst of four rounds tearing through the thick skin of his face, blood, gore and pieces of glass exploding out of the otherwise resilient alien as the former army soldier stepped to the side, searching for a new target just as the third Blue Suns entered the room, a shotgun blast smashing into the wall between him and Zaeed, only luck and a lack of aim, caused by the flashbang, keeping either of them from being hit before they found the shooter at the same time, riddling the batarian, who was still covering his four eyes with one of his hand, with holes, they ensured that he couldn't fire again. His corpse fell forward and onto the crate he had hidden behind, vanishing from Zaeed's sight as he once more scanned the room, a blue form lying on the floor catching his eye just as he cleared the last corner, only realising that the gunfire had stopped when he lowered his rifle.
As the pointman moved up to the next door, Zaeed himself knelt down next to the bleeding but still conscious human, already reaching for one of his medigel syringes before the operative stopped him. "Save it, I'll live," the operative grunted in protest before throwing his head back in pain, the hole in his leg bleeding profoundly. Ignoring the injured man's suggestion, he applied the salve to stop the bleeding before calling to the leader of the supporting squad through the breached door.
"Get him out of here," he waved him over as the painful grunting of their first casualty began to stop. They had only cleared the first ambush and already one of them was out of commission. This didn't forebode well. Two members of Narom's squad broke away from their formation, picking up their comrade as Zaeed threw the empty syringe to the ground, taking care not to step into the other man's blood as he got up. He took a few steps towards the next door where the turian was already waiting for him. The two exchanged a quick nod before steadying themselves to breach, another grenade once more being unhooked from the combat rigging around Zaeed's body armor. He pulled the safety pin out of the small cylinder before forcing the door open, time slowing down when the white flash appeared. Accompanied by the familiar loud noise of an explosion the Blue Suns poured into the room, Zaeed himself once more the second man through the door.
The situation that presented itself to the squad was not on he or anyone else would've hoped for.
In the second it took for him to assess the room in front of him, he knew it would be ugly. Apparently realising the scope of the assault, the slavers had decided that the money they'd get for living captives wouldn't be worth anything if they died before being able to sell them. As such they had removed some of their sources of future profit from their cells, putting them between themselves and the Blue Suns, using them as living shields. As the slaves, blinded by the flashbang, struggled in front of several slavers holding them by their throats, Zaeed found himself blending out the rest of the room while raising his SR-7, years of marksmanship drills paying of as targeted the exposed head of a slaver hiding behind a human in his mid-thirties. The bullets tore through the air as he walked sideways in an attempt to clear the door, the electric sound of kinetic barriers being shattered and omni-tool programs being fired to his side nearly inaudible all the while he registered the red flashing of his HUD informing him of an imminent failure of his shield. He fired bullet after bullet into the brown helmet peaking out behind the human, a Terminator rifle hidden behind the captive returning each shot he took. Zaeed threw himself to the side just as his shields shattered, a final shot causing the batarian's neck to snap back while his blood stained the face of his hostage. Zaeed heard shouts to his right as he fell to the ground, rolling sideways and behind some sort of desk only to realise that the short but intense firefight was once more over.
"Spirits," he heard as he turned his head to the door, finding two Blue Suns lying motionless on the floor, their blue and red blood already mixing on the ground to create a weird shade of purple where they met. But as he saw Kuril step over their corpses, his gaze fixated on something beyond them, he rose from behind the console to find exactly what had caused his reaction.
Their scans hadn't shown that. They'd have to figure out just how the slavers had fooled them.
This was bad.
Looking through a semi-open door, the corpse of a krogan still burning at the hands of an incineration projectile keeping it from being able to fully close, he spotted just what Kuril had referred to. Adjacent to the room was a catwalk overlooking a large storage hall, an area their scanners had originally identified as a series of corridors during both the initial and the confirmation scan. Zaeed walked towards the door as a human took the place of the now deceased turian pointman, nodding his head to inform his commander that he was ready. Together they pried open the door before both taking a large step over the krogan corpse, rifles at the ready.
"Holy shit," he muttered as he looked down from the catwalk while lowering his SR-7 at the lack of enemies and the realisation that even Jessie couldn't do more than scratch the paint off of what was standing below them. The brown, sloped armor of batarian tanks, their dual mass accelerator canons identifying them as Votham MBTs, reflected the light of large lamps installed in the ceiling. Several large hydraulic pumps connected to pistons lead Zaeed to believe that it was in fact capable of being opened, which in turn would explain how they had gotten them inside here. Out of the top of his head he counted at least ten of the state-of-the-art behemoths within the hall and as he looked further ahead he spotted both crates stamped with the sigil of Batarian State Arms and more armored vehicles. This group had received some major backing and by the looks of it there were a lot more of them than they had suspected.
"We don't have enough explosives for all of this," Kuril cursed as he walked up next to Zaeed, his original mission of finding the command central of the base being turned somewhat irrelevant for the moment. Their maps were incorrect anyway.
"If they got tanks, they got ammunition. We'll blow this place sky high with an orbital strike. Open the ceiling for the Lockpick and get the hell out of here," Zaeed countered, thinking on his feet. "This is beyond the normal level of batarian support. That's bleeding edge technology."
"The Votham hasn't even been shipped out to the Internal Forces," another Blue Suns operative, the replacement pointman, noted. "Why the hell are they handing them out to slavers?"
"I don't know, but we're not going to let them hold onto them, move do-" as if hit with a sledgehammer, Zaeed found himself falling to the ground, his head hitting the floor just as hard as the rest of him before beginning to sting. The amount of pain flooding through the side of his face as red blood began to pour into his vision was beyond anything the former sergeant turned Blue Suns field commander had ever experienced. As he turned himself on his back, Zaeed Massani could see his comrades run for cover after removing his helmet from his head, finding its black visor shattered and pieces of the blue and white armor to its right torn away as he inspected it in his hands in shock, only realising just how badly he was bleeding after touching the side of his face. Before whoever had shot him could exploit this irrational action on his part, he felt someone pull him by his legs. The familiar sound of sentry guns spinning up drowned out any other noise within the room as he looked for the source of the sound. The sparks of rounds impacting ever closer to him were the last thing Zaeed saw before blacking out, refusing to let go of his helmet even when he lost consciousness.
Good thing he had worn it.
39 Hours Later, Blue Suns Frigate 'Lockpick'
"Bloody hell," he grunted as he touched the side of his face upon waking up, finding the soft fabric of a bandage in its place before realising that he was in fact on board of one of the turian frigates the Blue Suns had received from one of their backers some time ago. "Where's the fucker that shot me?" he demanded to know as he spotted one of the doctors of the frigate, the typical numbness associated with medigel application making it somewhat harder to speak than usual. "He, Jessie and I need to have a talk."
"Dead," the turian replied as he walked over to Zaeed, exchanging one of the IV bags attached to his arm. "But unlike you he didn't come back."
"You're telling me I died?" Zaeed asked before clearing his throat, an action causing the turian to hand him a flask of water.
"We had to dig pieces of your helmet out of the side of your skull, Sir. It's a miracle in itself that your eye remained unharmed considering you decided to remove it by yourself," the medic explained before getting to the part of the story Zaeed had asked for. "You died twice during the operation but you were too stubborn to stay dead."
"How long was I gone?" he spoke before clarifying, "as in hours since I got shot, not minutes I was dead. I don't wanna know that last one."
"Nearly two days," the grey turian shrugged as Zaeed opened the container of water. "We thought you'd be out for at least another week."
"I can sleep when I'm dead," the man chuckled before remembering that he had apparently died twice in the last two days. "What about the mission?" Zaeed inquired while lifting the flask to his mouth, the liquid easing the sore feeling in his throat as he quickly drank its entire content.
"Accomplished," the medic explained. "Sergeant Kuril cleared the complex, saved as many slaves as he could and called in an orbital strike on the entire area."
"How many did we lose?" the commander spoke after wiping away some drops of water that had collected around his lips during his eager emptying of the flask with his forearm.
"Six dead, two injured," the turian replied as Zaeed noticed the other human occupying the medical bay with him, his leg wrapped in bandages as he slept through their conversation.
It was better than last time.
"How many did we get out?" he asked in regards to the slaves.
"Only seven."
"Damn." Just how many had died during the attack? He would need Kuril to give him a detailed report.
"It's actually quite good. There were only ten in the entire facility."
"Come again?" Zaeed asked.
"They were preparing for a raid, their prison cells were basically empty. The captives we retrieved were members of a scouting party of the independent colony they were planning on targeting. By the looks of it we saved them from an assault. Those slavers were packing a lot of firepower and we got lucky that we got to them before their allies arrived."
"Allies?" Slavers usually didn't have any allies. More groups meant that they'd have to split the profit of their attacks. They were too greedy to have allies.
"Yes, allies," the medic said as he walked over to the other human, checking some readings on his omni-tool once he stood next to him. "Multiple slaver groups were headed for the base. As far as the files Kuril retrieved suggest, they were planning on using all that fancy gear to not just raid but actually occupy their next target for some time. They would've captured tens of thousands."
"Anything on where they got the Vothams from?" he knew the answer to that question but he still had to ask. Maybe they could do something about it. Everyone knew that the Batarian Hegemony was supporting slaver rings but as long as the preyed on independent colonies, worlds that had willingly secluded themselves from the Citadel, the Council didn't have many options. Besides the sanctions already placed on the Hegemony for past offenses, there wasn't a lot they could do that wouldn't require military action against the batarians as a whole. Having fought in some of the worst battles of the Fringe Wars, Zaeed understood just why that wasn't an appealing concept for most people. Fighting slavers on their own turf was one thing, invading and fighting on planets with millions of innocent civilians was another, far more brutal one.
"Nothing on their records but they are brand new. Probably straight out of the factories on Khar'Shan," the medic chuckled as Zaeed sat up in his bed, taking care not to rip out any of the small tubes and wires attached to him. "Easy there," he added as he turned his head over his shoulder.
"I've got work to do," he insisted as he looked at the collection of medical equipment attached to him. "Care to take that off before I try and break it?"
"You had half your face shredded by a sniper rifle, you can take a few more days off," the turian argued. "I'd hate to fix it again."
"What if I order you to take this stuff off of me?" Zaeed asked him as the turian turned around.
"As a medical officer I outrule you on matters concerning your health," his current adversary simply replied as he shut his omni-tool off while Zaeed himself cursed the fact that he and the other commanders had decided to run the Blue Suns like a military outfit. "But I can call down Kuril to give you a more detailed report."
"Appreciate it," Zaeed replied as he figured he may as well lay back down. For his own mental health he hoped that the report was as detailed as any other Kuril had ever written. He had only been awake for a few minutes and was already bored out of his mind. Being injured was definitely among his five least favorite past time activities.
"Before I forget it," the turian spoke up before walking away for a few moments, returning to Zaeed with a damaged and bloodied helmet. "You may want to hold onto that," he said before handing the piece of armor over to him. "Could become your lucky charm."
13. June 2398 AD, Citadel, Embassy Area
"In other news, travel and immigration agencies once more urge civilians to only take trips into the independent regions of the Attican Traverse if they absolutely have to. Two days ago yet another slave raid resulted in the capture of at least 4.000 colonist hailing from the independent world of Elissa. Local authorities have yet to identify all victims of the attack but HSA first responders estimate that up to 10.000 people may have been taken by the slaver band. If these numbers turn out to true, it would be the largest raid in the last year," the news anchor spoke before pausing for a moment, most likely to catch her breath. "The claims of surviving militia members that batarian military officials were involved in the attack have yet to verified. In face of the risk of a follow up assault and the casualties suffered by their own militia, Elissa's colonial administration has requested that elements of the human forces already active in the Skyllian Verge and Attican traverse remain on the world. Earlier today, several hundred soldiers stationed on the HSASV Hannibal Barca deployed to the colony's surface," the asari went on as a recording of several human shuttles descending through the clouds above the broken capital was played alongside her commentary. Most of them were carrying marines but Anderson's keen eye managed to spot the few odd shaped ones holding Paladin suits as well. "It is unknown how long human forces are going to remain on the world."
Turning his attention away from the news broadcast, Anderson once more looked around himself in hopes of spotting Saren Arterius. He had never been late before, turians weren't supposed to be late, they were supposed to be overly punctual and considering that he had been the one to ask Anderson to meet him, the N7 had figured that his supervising agent would already been waiting for him.
After the mission on Camala and a still foggy night of 'social drinking' had pursued the N7 to become the first human Spectre candidate, the process of requesting the chance of sending a trainee had been started. A process that had taken months to complete. Once it had been finished, he had, unsurprisingly, been placed under the guidance of a senior agent, a post Saren Arterius had requested. Beginning his field training exactly twelve months ago, the two had already conducted a series of missions related to both the ever present financial crime, which took up the attention of a rather large number of Spectres in times of peace, and the growing slaver threat lurking at the borders of Citadel Space.
The senior agent had told him that it would only take a few more weeks for him to be considered ready for induction, something that would mark the ending of his training phase and mark one of the most important milestones in the shared history of humanity and the Citadel Council. Once the HSA had induced its first Spectre, the way would be paved for more human candidates to apply for their ranks and soon enough the seat on the Council the chancellor, who was rumored to finish his forth term in office this year before retiring after twenty years of being in office, so desired would be in reach. He suspected that they'd go to a final mission before that.
"Anderson," he heard from behind him as he turned around. Walking through the crowd of diplomats was a figure in white armor, several guns on him and the lack of worry about it from the people around him identifying him as a Spectre. Why the turian always wore his armor was something Anderson didn't quite understand yet but since most people didn't seem to mind, why should he?
"You're late," the N7 observed before rolling his neck to release some tension that had been building up from looking up towards the news broadcast for several minutes.
"Yes, I know. There was some personal business I had to take care of," the turian shrugged with a hint of secrecy in his voice. Ever since the salarian councilor had started training his replacement on the Citadel, a young STG protégé by the name of Valern, the Spectre had been spending more and more time with the member of the executive board. If the direction he had appeared from was any indication, this personal business had been related to Councilor Idril as well. The past twelve months had taught Anderson that most missions Saren received were given to him not by the entire council but rather by the salarian councilor, a detail he had yet to figure out.
"Another raid?" Saren added as he nodded towards the screen, the echoing flanging in his voice now something the N7 was used to, and causing the N7 to turn back to it. The recording that had previously occupied it had now been replaced by a salarian with worn-out combat gear, the badge on his chest suggesting that he was a member of Elissa's planetary militia or its police force.
"They were more slavers than usual," the fast talking amphibian began as several Kodiaks flew above him, the sound of their engines causing him to wait until it was once more quiet enough to talk. "We've experienced some raids in the past but nothing on this scale. This group was far more organized than the ones before it and far better equipped any other slavers I've ever seen," he continued as his face was shifted into the corner of the screen, footage of a security camera belonging to one of the shelters now dominating most of the screen. "They had armored vehicles, they had gunships, they even had tanks," the militiaman muttered as a large, brown vehicle with two barrels attached to its turret came into view before firing at something in the distance, the deafening crack it should've created upon doing so not part of the newscast for the sake of its viewers. "We didn't stand a chance," the salarian added before several batarians jogged into the view of the camera, vanishing as one of them fired a burst from his rifle at the camera, his four-eyed helmet and well-maintained gear remaining frozen as the survivor of the attack kept talking. "They overran our defenses and used mining equipment to break into the shelters."
"Looks like it. That's how many now? Five this month?" Anderson replied as he scratched his neck, the salarian still talking on the broadcast as a panorama view of the burning colony replaced the security footage.
"Not counting the ones which got intercepted, yes. That's the fifth," the turian Spectre confirmed. "This entire thing is becoming bigger with every month now. I just read a report confirming that those battle tanks the slavers brought with them were factory new. At this point I'm just waiting for the first batarian dreadnought to join an attack since they aren't even trying to hide their involvement anymore. We've got to put a stop to it."
"We're going after the supplier, aren't we?" Anderson asked. The Citadel Council had time and again called out the Batarian Hegemony on its now blatantly obvious support of several larger slaver rings to no avail, the further sanctions placed on the state only serving to make the lives of its slaves even more miserable. It was only reasonable that they'd escalate things to the next step given the current situation. Spectres could achieve a lot of things regular politicians would never be able to do, if words didn't help, action would.
"There will be more cases like this if we don't do something about it," Saren replied as he began walking through the crowd, people moving out of his way as they either recognized him or decided not to stand in the way of an armed man. Ever since it had been made public knowledge that the Spectre had prevented an attack on the station itself, further details such as their trip to Camala being neglected in the statement of the Council, the turian had become something akin to the face of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch on the Citadel. Spectres, unlike their missions, had always been in the eye of the public because they represented the Citadel Council as a whole, being hailed as the defenders of galactic peace and stability by the media and once they had actually learned what one of them had done for them, the public and the media had crowned him a hero. "But finding the supplier wouldn't make a difference . If we take them down, the batarians are just going to send another one."
"So what exactly are we going to do then?" Anderson questioned as the Spectre came to a halt in front of one of the frustratingly slow elevators, its doors opening for them to step inside. "What's our angle here? How do we put a stop to it?"
"We don't have an angle," a sigh echoed through the elevator cabin once the doors closed, removing them from the public eye. That was one of the drawbacks of being hailed a hero by the public. People expected Saren Arterius to have the solution to a problem the moment it occurred. While the Spectre had a near perfect track record in regards to his assignments, he wasn't a miracle worker. Anderson understood that far better than most people due to having worked with the turian for some time now. Every mission Saren completed, every fight he had ever won and every bad guy's plan he had ever foiled were the result of hard work and at times months of preparation. "And it's not our mission to stop these attacks either," the turian added with a frustrated growl. "Elissa is an independent world, no formal allegiance or connection to the Citadel Council. As long as they aren't attacking our own worlds with those tanks, the council isn't going to risk a war."
That caused the N7 to narrow his eyes. The fact that Saren hadn't denied that they were going after the supplier had caused him to assume that it was in fact their mission and the reason why he had asked Anderson to meet him. Apparently that had been a wrong assumption and in retrospective he should've known better. The Citadel Council held no power in the independent regions of the galaxy and while the HSA had unofficially included independent worlds located in the Skyllian Verge into its patrol schedule, they couldn't officially police planets that didn't explicitly ask for their protection. Maybe this attack would change their mind
"I don't like it either," the turian went on.
"I know you don't," Anderson shook his head. The Turian Hierarchy was very vocal about its proposed solution to this particular problem and Saren himself had voiced his dislike for slavers more than once.
As the elevator came to a stop in one of the several docking bay levels of the station, the doors opened to reveal one of the military bays, a turian one non the less. Following Saren through the security checkpoint, the turian's Spectre status and his own candidacy status allowing them to simply pass through without being controlled by the C-SEC guards manning the scanners, Anderson spoke up again.
"So why did you want to meet?"he asked as they passed by columns of turians either going to shore leave or returning from it, the several docked frigates and cruisers they hailed from visible through a large window in front of them. The grey uniforms worn by all ground troops of the Turian Hierarchy were just as plenty as the darkgreen ones of their naval forces and the discipline expected from all of them had left its mark on the area.
"I've had something made for you," the turian said. "Remember how your ammunition ran out when you wer-"
"Yes, I remember," he interrupted the Spectre who was already smirking. Anderson would rather not have that particular story repeated, ever. As far as he was concerned, no one would ever have to know about it.
"Anyway," Saren continued as they walked towards a turian looking like he was in charge of the logistics around here, his arms resting on a silver counter and his head turning towards them as he peaked up once he heard them approach. "The way I see it, humans make quite decent guns," he chuckled. "But turians make better ones."
"Agent Arterius," he heard the officer say before his companion snapped to attention.
"Lieutenant Ultax," he saluted. Even Spectres were expected to respect the chain of command after all. While Anderson himself was still considered an active serviceman as well, he himself didn't salute people nearly as his supervising agent. At times it was very hard to believe that Saren Arterius was 'just' a non-commissioned officer within the Hierarchy's military, while the N7 himself had long since been promoted to Lieutenant Commander Anderson. Encounters like this also reminded him that the Spectre was still younger than him, something he also tended to forget when they were in the field.
"You're here to pick up your delivery?" the officer asked while already in the process of grabbing a small container usually used to store guns from one of the shelves behind him before walking back towards the table separating him from them.
"Yes, Sir," his companion nodded before the box was passed to him across the counter, both their omni-tools lighting up as the process was logged. Even a turian Spectre wasn't save from the bureaucracy of the Turian Hierarchy. Removing the tag on the handle of the box, he stepped to the side. "Go ahead, open it," he instructed Anderson who then placed his hands on the two locks holding the box closed at either side. With a slight push of his fingers, he felt them come loose, in turn allowing him to lift the top-part of the container up, revealing a black, turian assault rifle with a slightly different design to his eyes.
"You shouldn't have," the N7 said as he ran his fingers along the smooth surface of the Phaeston, realising just how precise the craftsmanship behind the gun was. "I got a rifle. Several actually."
"Human rifles have a good punch and all things considered acceptable accuracy. They don't look half as terrible as other guns on the market and you could probably club a krogan to death with one and still fire it afterwards," the Spectre chuckled. "But they run out of ammunition far faster than this one and don't look nearly as good when they do it."
Lifting the gun from the container, an action that probably would've raised a lot more attention if he hadn't been in the presence of a Spectre or in a turian naval yard, he got a feel for the gun. It was lighter than he had expected it to be while feeling surprisingly comfortable in his hands.
"It has a very high rate of fire and in the hands of a good marksman its incredibly accurate even in full-auto. It'll punch through armor far better than that SR-8 of yours and it can fire nearly a hundred rounds before it'll need to cool down," Saren went on. "As you're no doubt feeling right now, I had it refitted for human anatomy. Consider it an early induction gift."
"I love it already." Anderson smirked as he pressed the gun against his shoulders after making sure that the safety was still in place and no one in front of him. "I didn't get you anything," the N7 joked,
"You didn't have to, let's go shoot it," the turian suggested in excitement before Anderson placed the rifle back in its container. C-SEC would ask less questions that way.
By the end of the day he had a new favorite gun.
2140 CE, Aephus, Turian Naval Rally Point
"And as expected, the induction of the first human Spectre has been received positively by most of the galaxy, except of course by the Batarian Hegemony and some fringe groups," the officer tasked with the threat assessment concluded as Desolas looked at the picture that confirmed the success of one of Saren's parts in their plan.
The first human Spectre proudly standing in front of the three councilors, Cozek still among them and looking as good as a salarian of his age could look.
Lieutenant Commander David Anderson, an N7, had been induced into the ranks of the Spectres at the hands of the Citadel Council exactly one week ago, marking the first time ever since the quarians that an associate race managed to find their footing in the organisation. Of course the quarians had walked as somewhat different, far longer road towards that goal but that didn't mean that the man was unqualified. Saren had assured Desolas that he'd only pick someone actually suited for the position because of how much damage an incompetent candidate would actually do to the rest of their plan and his career as a Spectre.
"Ambassador Jath'Amon has already asked for an audience with the Citadel Council and as our reports suggest, he's going to demand a batarian Spectre," the briefing officer said after pressing a button on her omni-tool, causing the screen to shift to a picture of the brown-coloured, overweight aristocrat. "Which of course won't be accepted," she added. "We expect even more diplomatic backlash once the next series of joint-exercises start in the coming week consider that Kruljaven will be the sight of a major ground exercise."
The officer cleared her throat before pressing the same button on her omni-tool again, the screen now displaying a series of security recordings and dates. Beginning a few months ago, all of them had several things in common. Larger than usual slaver bands raiding more developed, independent worlds and changing their strategy from small assaults into all-out invasions through the help of modern Batarian State Arms supplies. In the corner of the screen a diagram displayed the large increase of the number of raids compared to last year and the number of captives taken during them while also showing that casualties among planetary militias had climbed to an alltime high. Next to it the number of intercepted slaver fleets was written, a number that was far too small compared to previous briefings and raised the question as to how slaver bands had suddenly gotten this good at avoiding Citadel forces.
"As the latest assaults carried out by Blackwatch teams on slaver bases have confirmed, previously rival groups are now banding together due to an as of yet unknown external pressure that may or may not be related to political pressure coming from the Batarian Hegemony. They've started building underground fortresses on unclaimed worlds, making attacks on their camps much harder while becoming far more organized than before," she said before an already familiar image of a dead batarian, the black boot of a Blackwatch operative in the corner of the picture still visible, came into view. That particular report had passed his desk some days ago. "Organisation apparently coming from batarian military officers. This man, killed during a boarding operation on a slaver barge damaged by elements of the 421st Patrol Flotilla, was identified as Colonel Jalath Ildah of the External Forces. Upon confrontation, the Batarian Hegemony denied any involvement.
Of course they would do that. They always did that.
"Furthermore three separate yet simultaneous attacks on independent worlds in the early stages of development have resulted in the capture of up to 20.000 colonists. The few remaining colonists have been returned to Council space for the time being by the 37th fleet due to the irreparable damage caused to the colonies in wake of the engagement. Both security footage and eye witness reports once more confirm that the slavers deployed heavy Batarian State Arms equipment," the officer finished her explanation before changing the screen once more, a news headline now dominating the screen and filling Desolas with both a sense of satisfaction and a sense of worry. He just hoped that it would act as a deterrent.
"We've also received conformation that earlier today several slaver scouting parties attempted to penetrate human territories resulting in a series of naval skirmishes across the Skyllian Verge," the officer said as the general inside Desolas Arterius recognized the action for the probing attack that it was. "Early reports suggest that up to 30 smaller craft and two slaver frigates were destroyed in the engagements but the 7th fleet of the HSA has yet to declare their operation to be over. For now the area is considered a combat zone."
As the headline disappeared, another taking its place, Desolas and the other ranking officers of Aephus' colonial cluster rose to attention, as expected from them upon learning of the retirement of someone holding the rank he held.
"And as the last point of today's briefing, Councilor Ioventus has announced his retirement, allowing Primarch Sparatus to take his place on the Citadel Council," the woman said while remaining at attention until Aephus' current primarch gave all of them the command to be at ease. "This concludes the threat assessment briefing of the cluster and the galaxy as a whole. Should there be any other serious developments or events that require your immediate attention, you'll be notified."
Finally released from the briefing, Desolas walked out of the room and towards his office, the slowly setting sun shining into his face as he passed by a large window, deciding to gie him a last ray of light before vanishing behind the horizon. He slowly walked through the corridors, passing by the armory as he heard the typical arguing of two members of his honor guard in the process. Throwing a nod towards Veltax, the only one noticing him walking by the room as he cleaned his knife, he figured he would not join them for the moment and instead move towards the offices. He still had to make a call to not only discuss the further development of the situation with Saren but also spent some time with his brother after collecting his price from one of the admirals that still hadn't learned that the instincts of the Blackwatch commander in regards to betting on the outcome of fencing duals were impeccable. As his omni-tool buzzed, the vibration on his wrist informing him of an incoming message, he expected it to be just another business call from Melion, his second in command. Of course he had something that required Desolas' attention. He couldn't have single free evening for himself, could he? The chains of command had once more caught him.
When he saw just who had sent the message, he quickly opened it before coming to a halt upon reading it.
'Cozek is dead. Passed away in his sleep. Succeeding him immediately- V.'
And soon afterwards the vibration repeated itself again and again, first Saren, then the briefing officer and finally Tao Rei all requesting his attention once they learned of the salarian's death.
Turning on his heel with the somber promise of raising a glass to Cozek after the extended briefing, Desolas sighed exactly once before saving his grief for later, putting up an act in the process. Officialy, he had nothing to do with Councilor Idril and as such he should seem unaffected but unofficially Cozek had been one of his closest allies and a friend. He'd ensure that the salarian hadn't spent the final years of his life on a futile cause, that was the least he could do.
Summer of 2141 CE, Terra Nova, Grissom Academy
Years of work were soon to pay of as the first class of human biotics would officially graduate from Grissom Academy, her supervision having ensured that they were as ready as they possibly could to be sent of to several combat formations within the HSA's armed forces, a choice all of them had made voluntarily. Considering that they had spent nearly six years in a military school, which was a long time for a young human, Tela Vasir wasn't surprised by their decision. They had invested countless hours, sweat and blood into honing their abilities and by now all of them were eager to put what they had learned to use in the field. A portion of her students would go on to apply for the N7 program while others would be sent to serve in the assault formations of the HSA Marine Corps. A few may eventually even take part in the Blackwatch exchange program, a rare honor, and others had decided to apply to the army's own special forces. As she looked at all 103 of them, standing in neat rows as the headmaster of the academy congratulated them, she couldn't help but feel proud. Others may be worried about the prospect of their students going on to serve in some of the most dangerous professions society had to offer but she knew that they'd do more than just good. They'd be everything their people hoped they'd be and so much more.
She and the other teachers had ensured that.
"There's my favorite former asari Spectre turned teacher," she heard Redford say as he dropped down in the chair next to him, opening the buttons of his jacket.
"What an oddly specific way to describe your bondmate," she pointed out as she turned towards him, planting a short kiss on his lips.
"Oddly specific is a very good way to describe me," the blonde specialist argued as he grabbed one of the glasses off the table, sipping at its contents before throwing his arm around her back. "So, any favorites?" he asked with a smirk.
"Teachers don't have favorites," the asari argued diplomatically.
"Now we both know that's bullshit," he said. "It's fine, I'll just watch your reaction to each of them and figure it out myself."
He had a point. While she wouldn't exactly call him her favorite, one of the graduates in particular had proven himself to her time and again as not only a capable biotic but also a capable leader. As she saw the dark haired human walk up to the headmaster, wearing the school's uniform as if he had been born for this very moment, she smiled to give Redford the hint he so desperately looked for. Kaidan Alenko would go a long way. Tela just knew that he'd leave his own mark on history. During her own training as an asari huntress, she had been taught that certain people would rise to whatever challenge they were presented with simply because they believed they were obligated to do so for others, she believed that Kaidan Alenko was one of these people. He hadn't just come out on top in several of the ending exercises, no, he had made sure that his entire class pulled through, going back from the front of the formation for those that were starting to fall back.
"You did that on purpose," Redford sighed, causing her to chuckle. It was still as funny to mess with him as it had been when she had first met him. "He does look like a good lad though. Perhaps the next Spectre?"
"He was a good student, yes," she said truthfully, by now familiar with Redford's strange usage of certain words.
"So, heartbroken over the prospect of losing your first students? Or are you as relieved as my teachers were when they got rid of me?" the human next to her asked before drinking from his glass some more.
"I'm proud, really," she admitted. "Everything we've achieved with BAaT up to now has been beyond our expectations going into it. They are stronger than we thought they'd be. Of course they aren't asari or krogan but still. If this first class is any indication, humans may very well become number three in terms of biotic power," she started, "but it's not just the statistics or the program that I'm proud of. I'm proud of the students, growing up for me biotics were a fact of life, for them it's something beyond alien. They dealt with everything admirably."
"They're all go to the military?" the specialist asked. "Would probably be for the better anyway," he added.
"In this class? Yes," Tela said, knowing the general direction of where he was going. Human biotics would be in high demand within the ranks of the HSA's armed services but outside of that community, in the civilian world, they were still treated with a suspicion not unlike that the basic turian rifleman had in regards to cabals. For asari, biotics were as natural as breathing, for the rest of the galaxy they had become a rare but still familiar concept over the two millennia they had known about them. For humanity, it was a very new and very alien fact of life. People didn't really know what to expect from biotics and most of the limited media coverage BAat had received had not done that any favours.
But those weren't problems of this evening.
For now she'd just be proud of them.
They had earned that.
Codex: Independent Colonies
Following the Rachni Wars, the Citadel Council was unable and unwilling to extend its rule over all newly colonized planets in the galaxy, resulting in the first independent worlds, colonies founded by private initiatives, communities or companies, appearing on the galactic plain. Looking to seize unsettled and unclaimed yet still rich planets, a wave of private expansion was set off that only came to an end upon the beginning of the Krogan Rebellions, which saw nearly a hundred independent planets fall prey to the krogan war of expansion.
Motivations for moving away from the Citadel Council ranged from a general distrust in their ability to keep them safe, the hopes of finding valuable resources without the requirement of sharing them with the Council to the desire of some to free themselves from the perceived oppression at the hands of certain Citadel Council laws or simply wanting to rule a planet of their own as unquestioned autocrats. However in doing so the worlds also secluded themselves from the protective wing of the Citadel Council's navies, a fact that would lead to independent colonies becoming the largest target for slaver raids throughout history.
Most Independent colonies are usually not as developed as worlds settled and ruled by galactic governments but in some cases, upon reaching a certain level of development, their importance as commerce heavens, corporate refuges or travel locations resulted in them becoming unproportionally wealthy and important, wealth that in turn inspired even more organisations to settle an unclaimed world and declare their secession from the Citadel Council, an action which in turn has never been outlawed due to their importance for the council.
Besides being relevant players in mining and trading, independent colonies also make up some the biggest, non-governmental, sources of costumers for the military industrial complex. The need to defend themselves from slaver raids has caused most worlds to maintain well funded and equipped planetary militias who are akin to an army in all but their name. Yet restrictions on corporations for selling certain heavy weaponry and above frigate tonnage vessels remain in place, restrictions some worlds avoid by simply constructing these things themselves or hiring groups not affected from these restrictions.
Adding to their own troops, the worlds not aligned with the Citadel Council are well known for hiring mercenary organisations to do their bidding, ranging from requesting a small outfit of private contractors to defend their worlds and train their own troops to hiring entire armies to wage war against rival planets to improve their position, a practice the Citadel Council is forced to ignore due to lacking executive power over the worlds that have declared their independence from it. Suggestions to forcefully return independent planets at war with each other to the Citadel Council have time and again been voted down by several generations of councilors on the grounds of their right to rule themselves.
In wake of the slaver renaissance (See Entry 'Slaver Bands') several planets within the Skyllian Verge and Attican Traverse requested , uncharacteristically for them, the already present human forces to periodically patrol their space in an attempt to discourage slavers from attacking their worlds. This decision did in fact have the result the colonial administrations had hoped for as in most cases planets that opted to ask for this kind of aid remained unharmed until the Skyllian Blitz (See Entry 'Skyllian Blitz') threw the entire region into a state of war for several months. The practice of extending their protection on independent planets in the region has earned the Human Systems Alliance the nickname 'Warden of the Verge' in political circles and was received as gesture of good will by most of the galaxy with the exception of the Batarian Hegemony, who called the practice 'imperialistic and a direct attack on batarian interest' after demanding that the Citadel Council declare the Skyllian Verge an area of batarian interest.
Independent worlds remain political and economical important factors as more and more people decide to forge their own destiny outside of the Council's sphere of influence.
A/N: So I got to where I wanted to get before July, chapter 30. Damn. This was actually a very important chapter now that I think about it. Kind of fitting that I got up to here. The first real apperance of Kaidan Alenko, the death of Cozek, which sadly had to be done because of him being a salarian, the induction of the first human Spectre and the return of one of my favorite characters, Redford! (I love that guy)
Starting in one week, the mostly weekly updates are going to disappear, sorry but that's just not possible. I just won't have the time once I start basic training. I can write down some notes on my cellphone if I get any good ideas on what scenes to write but other than that most of my regular writing time will be occupied until at least December.
I'll try, this is a very optimistic estimation, to get out a chapter once a month, something I may or may not always be able to do from now on. I really don't know.
To everyone who's reading this some time after the end of June and is wondering where the rest of the story is, it is coming. Don't worry. I did not abandon it. I don't quit. I will finish Semper Vigilo. It's just going to become a lot less regular than it was before. Stick around for the ride.
For the record we're at 240 reviews, 430 favorites and 521 follows.
As this is kind of a milestone in the story, marking the end of regular updates, I once more would like to thank each and everyone for sticking with me to this point. The reason I am writing this is because you are reading it and for that I really appreciate the lot of you, as silent as most of you may be. I know you're there and that's what counts.
Now even if it'll be a longer time until I get out the next update, I'll still try to interact with you as much as I can. So review, tell me what you think. I like knowing that.
See you around next time.
