Chapter 40. The Ties That Bind


19. May 2411 AD, Earth, Rio de Janero, Interplanetary Combatives Academy

"You should all be incredibly proud of what you've achieved. Where others turned back, you pushed on. Where others failed, you didn't just prevail, you succeeded. Ever one of you has proven themselves to be both a remarkable soldier and, whether you're officers or not, a capable leader," the commander of their training class went on, his words still amplified by the large speakers behind him. "From here on out, you're part of a small but elite unit, a brotherhood you'll be hard pressed to find anywhere else. From here on out, you're a credit to the uniform you're wearing, an example others will strife towards. From here on out, you earned the right to call yourselves N7," as if cued, the instructors that had previously done their best to make their life a living hell walked towards the assembled soldiers and started to attach the small, white emblem for which all of them had worked so hard to their dress uniforms.

This was it, the moment she had been waiting for the last two years. The straining opening stages of selection, the hellish endurance test of the Crucible, the countless of sleepless nights and painfilled training sessions, the rigorous standards they had to maintain throughout all of it. Everything had let up to this moment, the good, the bad and the ugly times, all of it paid off now that the small insignia was embedded in the fabric of her uniform. Every time she had pushed herself harder than she though she actually could, every injury she powered through, every nearly impossible problem she had tackled, the fact that it had earned her this emblem had made it all worth it. As the last of the twenty seven trainees that had completed all seven phases of the program received his emblem, the commander's voice once more echoed over the sunny parade grounds.

"No matter the obstacles, no matter the opposition," he repeated the mantra by which N7s were supposed to define themselves. "From here on out, you will be victorious," he took another break, inspecting the small formation in front of him. "Dismissed."

Whoever had called the commander a pessimist, would've certainly changed their mind after hearing this speech. In spite of her better knowledge, Emily currently felt just about invincible. Luckily this was Earth and not Elysium, that particular feeling was as pleasant as it was dangerous. Once their commander had left the small podium on which he had been standing for the past two hours, the freshly graduated N7s briefly snapped to attention before jokingly being ordered to 'scram' to whoever it was that they had invited to this whole ordeal.

"Enjoyed the speech?" she sheepishly smiled towards her parents, one wearing a uniform very similar to her own and the other wearing civilian attires that did a good job at hiding the fact that he, much like the two red-haired women he accompanied, earned his living by actively running into the direction other people usually ran away from.

"The navy sure knows how to put up a show. All we got was a badge and-" a swift elbow jab to his rips followed by a painful grunt interrupted whatever joke her dad had been going for.

"Dress blues suits you. I'm glad you finally came around," her mother added as she tucked at the collar of the uniform, removing some perceived imperfection. Now that Emily was had graduated from N-School, her mom had gotten her wish after all. Since they were a part of the navy, her black marine uniform had been one of the many things she had to leave behind upon completing the N7-program.

"The armor's still black," she pointed out before embracing her parents. "So I'm afraid I won't be forgetting my roots anytime soon. Sorry, mom."

"A mother can dream, can't she?" the older Shepard woman chuckled as they began walking. "Have you gotten your posting yet?"

"Before you answer and say that it's classified, remember who you're talking to," her dad added. He had a point. Between an elite HSAIS operative and a high-ranking naval officer well on her way to command a dreadnought, either of her parents could probably access that particular piece of information through official channels with little to no problems. She couldn't keep it hidden from them even if she for some reason felt the need to do so. Such were the drawbacks of working in the 'family business'.

"HSASV Hong Kong, patrol duties in the Verge," she replied, drawing very different replies form her parents.

"The Hong Kong's a good ship," her mother offered.

"The Verge's shitty place," her father countered at the same moment, causing them to look at each other with a mixture of surprise and amusement.

"So I guess they'll balance each other out," she shrugged. "Besides, you've seen these guys," she nodded towards the group of N7s chatting with each other in the distance. "They can handle a few pirates," she knew that she was downplaying the whole situation but she'd rather not spent their family time being worried. Even though it wasn't anywhere near as dangerous of a posting as it had been in the past, there was still a risk attached to being assigned to the Verge and by extension the Fringe Worlds. Slavers might've left the region following the whole 'Demon of Torfan' incident but pirates and separatists still kept the HSA on its toes, the former too desperate, piracy was a dying business wherever turians showed up and as things were, the Verge was one of the view places devoid of them, and the latter too motivated, the IFS wasn't going to give up on the wave of popularity they were riding in the Fringe anytime soon, to leave.

"I'm not worried about them, I'm worried about you," her dad sighed as he ran a hand through his short, dark hair. "But if you insist on chasing the bad guys, I'd rather have you do it with them."

"This is as close to 'I approve of your decision to commit to N7' as we'll get him today," her mother injected while patting his chest. "We're both incredibly proud of you, Emily, it's just that-"

"I'm your dad and that I'll never stop worrying about you," her father added as he pulled his hands from his pockets. "It's just what dads do. Even if I wanted to, I can't help it. So if I ever sounded like I don't approve of what you chose to do with your life, it's because I love you and because I couldn't live with the thought of something happening to you."

"I know," she didn't need to say more, the second, much tighter embrace did the talking for her. She hadn't exactly expected this day to become this emotional this fast but these things simply happened, "and even if it can get pretty annoying sometimes," a muffled laughter escaped the man's mouth as a form of acknowledgement," it's exactly what makes you such a great dad."

"When are you moving out to the fleet?" her mother asked after the moment had passed.

"Not till the end of the month, they gave us two weeks off," she answered, remembering the timetable she had been given a few days ago. When she noticed the smirk that appeared on her mother's face, she grew somewhat worried. "Why?" she asked with a hint of hesitation.

"Because I think this might be the only opportunity we'll get for a family trip to Rio in the next couple of years," it was a reasonable assumption. Between their work and the sheer amount of time simply reaching each other took out of whatever vacation they got, spending more than few days together was rather difficult. "What do you say, we leave this place behind us and go someplace less," she paused, "worky."

"I like the sound of that."


2154 CE, Citadel, Embassy Area

The hooded alien stepped out of the elevator and began his walk towards his office. He was relieved that yet another meeting of the Council had passed. Jumping between the role of Valern the salarian councilor and Valern the STG agent involved in a conspiracy that included among others the 79th commander of the turian Blackwatch, which was almost unanimously considered to be the most efficient military formation in the galaxy, the director of the human Section 13, one of the few intelligence agencies STG was willing to consider their equals, the daughter of one of his colleagues, who had not only disproven ancient history as the galaxy knew but also given them one of the most useful pieces of evidence up to now and his very own go-to Spectre, Saren Arterius, had been taking its toll on him these last few months. On the one day he had to deal with dalatrasses, journalists and angry ambassadors and on the next one he had to coordinate STG assets operating without the knowledge of the Salarian Union, playing his part in trying to uncover what Doctor T'Soni had called 'a genocide of unrivaled scale and scrutiny'.

If he hadn't been born a salarian, he would most certainly experience the effects of sleep deprivation by now.

And as if his own role in coordinating these things hadn't been enough, he also had to deal with his other obligations. Conspiracy or not, Valern was the councilor of the Salarian Union, albeit not the one the dalatrasses had asked for. It was a duty he took just as serious as expected. Unbidden or not, he had been given the immense responsibility of acting as the bridge between the galaxy and the Salarian Union, a task made all the harder by the fact that he constantly had to suppress his real personality to maintain his cover. Valern the councilor was a very different person from Valern the STG agent. One was diplomatic, the other preferred action over words. One tended to mediate between two rather opposite colleagues by subtle means, the other wanted to smack their heads together and point them at the real problem. Finding new ways to deny the Vol Protectorate a seat on the Citadel Council for establish the galactic economy as it was today would matter very little once the Harbinger decided that they should receive the same treatment the protheans had before them.

Hiding his internal turmoil as he greeted yet another political figure on his way towards his office, Valern couldn't deny that yet another part of him, to be more specific the one who had been schooled in the matters of warfare and deception by the very best commanders of the salarian military, was more than simply dissatisfied with the way this entire situation was unfolding. Salarians, more than any other species or culture, recognized that knowledge was power. Ever since his ancestors had first banded together in the clans that would eventually form the noble bloodlines now ruling large swaths of the Salarian Union, they had fought and won their wars by deception, espionage and initiative. The rachni had been defeated because STG had identified their weaknesses and uplifted the krogan to exploit them. Then, once the Krogan Rebellions broke out, it had been his people who had given the turians the ability to turn the krogan's biggest strength into their greatest weakness. These and many other victories had been made possible because they had known their enemies better than they had known themselves.

Yet in spite of that tradition, the more they learned about what he had at first yet another of his mentor's practical jokes, only the reports and the detailed recordings Cozek had delivered alongside the story and his general behaviour on that fateful day convincing him to sit down and listen to what he had to say, the more Valern realised that from a salarian point of view, they were losing.

Badly.

Critical pieces of information, for example the timing of each step of the Harbinger's plan and the troops involved in them were simply inaccessible for them. They had no idea when, where and with what they'd be attacked. Even on the defense, the forces of the Salarian Union struck first and without warning, wiping out attacking forces through surprise attacks hours before the enemy's own assault. It was a proven strategy. But the more time passed, the clearer it became that this strategy simply wouldn't work against this foe. With a lack of intel on which they could base their attacks on, the salarians would be forced to adapt a more 'turian' doctrine for the first time in over a thousand years, which was were the real problem came into play.

The Union's military wasn't designed to fight the defensive war of attrition General Arterius had justifiably been planning for ever since meeting Doctor T'Soni. Months or even years went into the preparation of brief but devastating opening attacks which allowed them to throw their enemies of balance by taking out the most vulnerable parts of their forces, commanders, logistics and reconnaissance. Once that had been achieved, one crippling blow would follow the other and before their enemies could retaliate, the war they had so carefully planned was decided. Every last fire fight, skirmish and engagement was either fought on the terms of the salarians or not fought at all. It was a doctrine tested throughout two millennia of galactic history and only the most dire of situations had managed to force the salarians to abandon their usual approach to warfare.

Unfortunately the more they learned about the Harbinger, the more likely it became that they'd have to do exactly that. While he knew several STG officers that could get their job done even under those conditions, having proven themselves capable of winning outside of the traditional strategies, realistically speaking he also knew that the odds of the Union's forces triumphing in a war of attrition that began outside of their comfort zone were minimal. A few dozen good STG officers couldn't pull their entire military out of the fire that was slowly but surely consuming it. While the militaries of the the other two council members were still considerable, the HSA being the only instance of any non-council member even coming close to matching their naval might in centuries, the Salarian Union and the Asari Republics had increasingly come to rely on the turians to keep the peace and when necessary fight the war.

Before the Rachni Wars, the Salarian Union had fielded the biggest ground military in the known galaxy, millions upon millions of soldiers standing ready to do the dalatrasses bidding. Additionally just about every single one of the individual states which made up the Asari Republics had maintained a sizeable military force composed of experienced and deadly biotic militias. However following the massive casualties of the conflict, the now traumatized states had abolished the conscription that had fueled these armies and passed the responsibility of providing most ground troops on to the krogan, who unlike the asari and salarian people remained without qualms about throwing entire armies at any potential enemy of the council. While the armies of the krogan grew with every passing year, access to new technologies and more importantly worlds besides Tuchanka causing their population to explode, the council members themselves reformed their own armed forces into smaller, more specialized, professional militaries with the intention of simply stopping future wars before they escalated to the scale of the Rachni Wars, hoping to prevent a loss of life by preventing a loss of peace.

This particular solution had worked until the Krogan Rebellions had turned the Council's loyal protectors into the Council's worst enemies. While the warning signs predating the start of hostilities had given STG, the then newly founded Spectres and the famed asari huntress squadrons ample time to prepare and execute the kind of devastating opening attacks salarians favoured, the sheer size of the krogan military had prevented the Council from subdoing the rebels before attrition had entered the playing field. Faced with yet another enemy who's main strength lay in his numbers, the Citadel Council had only been saved by the intervention of the Turian Hierarchy, which unlike them had maintained an army built around the concept of winning a war by whatever means necessary, including attrition. After the fleets and legions of the turians had given them the forces needed to defeat the krogans, the role of peacekeepers had been passed on to yet another species willing and able to muster enough soldiers to police Council space. Ever since then the turians had formed the raw muscle of the Citadel Council and ever since then the Union's and Republics' ground forces and general military spendings had continuously shrunken to a shadow of their former selves.

If Arterius was right, something most of the evidence they had gathered suggested, the reliance on the turians could very well spell doom for the galaxy. Besides the turians, who's sheer military strength and culture gave them the ability to fight half the galaxy and still come out as the victor, Valern could only really think of one other species which would potentially be able to win through sheer attrition, the krogan. But as the fates, or rather the facts, would have it, the genophage had rendered the fallen species incapable of doing the one thing that had drawn the Union's attention towards them in the first place, fighting wars. A single krogan was formidable and a clan's worth of them could terrorize entire planets but as things were, there simply weren't enough of them to make any real difference in a war, the genophage had made sure of that.

And even if there were, he doubted that they'd even consider helping them for a single second. Why would they? He knew he wouldn't.

After shoving those thoughts out of his head through a brief chat with the C-SEC officer currently tasked with guarding the restricted areas around the councilor offices, Valern entered his private room and set down at his desk with the intention of finally getting to the issue several dalatrasses had asked him to resolve. Even if the Union considered everyone, even the asari and the turians, a potential enemy and had detailed plans to 'neutralize' the threat they could pose, it still went through great lengths to maintain good diplomatic relationships with the rest of the galaxy. While they weren't nearly as powerful as the salarians, the hanar were an important trading partner of the Union and as such the dalatrasses ruling the colonies closest to their space had requested that he'd use his position to ensure that it stayed that way. Even if he didn't like them very much, he knew that working with them made things easier for him. The more he did for the dalatrasses, the more likely they were to get off his back. As such he wou-

His eyes almost narrowed as he caught the slightest shimmer of light within the corner of his room, only his espionage background allowing him to pretend that he hadn't just spotted the effects of a tactical cloak. If he tipped his opposite off right now, chances were that he'd die momentarily. Before he made a move, he needed to get a better grasp of the situation. Keeping up the illusion that he was still working by going about the task at hand, a series of questions began to race through his mind.

Who was watching him from the other end of his office? Was it a spy? An assassin? A Spectre?

How had they gotten into his office in the first place? Countless of layers of security and state-of-the-art scanners should've discovered them before they even got close to it. The measures had been created and tested by STG, they were considered impenetrable.

Why was the intruder here? To kill him? To talk to him? To observe him?

Were there more than one? If yes, how many? Were all of them armed? Could he take them?

And finally, did they know about the pistol his hand was now firmly grasping below his desk? Were they aware that his finger was inching closer to the trigger every passing moment?

"STG trained you well, didn't expect to be spotted this soon," the reveal of a distinctively salarian voice aware of his background caused his eyes to widen ever so slighty. "Suggest that you either shoot me now or let go of the gun and listen."

So much for that.

"Why are you here?" he asked, not even bothering to keep up the act or let alone ask who he was talking to. If the intruder had gotten here unnoticed, the odds of him revealing his real identify on a whim were nonexistent. Besides, the intruder could be anyone. A spy of a powerful dalatrass, a member of STG that had found out about his conspiracy, an agent of the Shadow Broker, it was all the same to him at the moment.

"Good, didn't shoot me. Excellent choice," the shimmer disappeared and not a moment later a salarian with teal skin appeared in the corner of the room, walking towards him as if there wasn't a gun leveled directly at his waist. If his outfit was anything to go by, which it most certainly wasn't, he was a dock worker. Valern couldn't see a kinetic barrier generator or a weapon, his opposite only wore the device that created his tactical cloak. "Dying would've complicated things," the salarian added before looking to the chair. "May I?"

Valern nodded.

"Asked why I'm here," the stranger replied as he sat down and interlocked his fingers. "Simple answer. Wish to have brief conversation with you."

"About what?"

"You're unbidden councilor, just like Agent Cozek before you," how did he know about Cozek? As far as just about everyone was concerned, a career politician by the name of Idril had ruled before him. Valern slapped himself for the question. He probably knew about Cozek the same way he knew about him. "Two consecutive councilors elected without consent of dalatrasses and general shift in Inner Cabinet's politics show promising progress and present unique opportunity."

"For whom?"

"Salarian people. Time will come when you have to make a decision, Agent Valern," the teal salarian began once more making sure to clarify that he knew exactly who Valern was. "Future of salarian people will depend on which side you choose. A few hundred have ruled over billions based on nothing but blood right for two thousand years and Union has watched them do it. Unacceptable and illegitimate system has brought enough suffering. Needs to end."

"What's the nature of the decision?" he asked, looking to get as much knowledge out of the stranger. He didn't need to identify the origin of his views, the kind of mindset he seemed to have was not exactly exotical throughout the groups that had separated themselves from the Salarian Union.

"In the near future you will have to decide between two sides, one seeks progress, the other seeks power. Have faith that you will recognize which one is right," the other salarian said as Valern considered pressing the panic button next to his gun, if only to get the stranger arrested and interrogated.

"How so?" Valern asked.

"Haven't shot me yet, haven't called for security," he shrugged. "Willing to listen, able to make correct decision."

"To make correct decision, I need to know who sent you," the councilor countered.

The salarian's mouth twitched into a smile as his hands reached into the neckline of his grey dock worker outfit, pulling out a necklace to which a small medallion resembling a Jeshesh, a bluish, twelve-pointed flower native to the jungles of Sur'Kesh known for being immune to both ageing and wether, was attached. To most salarians it meant nothing beyond a general representation of the wheel of life, one of the few spiritual concepts most of his people shared, but to an STG agent it was far more significant. The design of this particular medallion was one of the best kept secrets of the Union and only selected STG agents being groomed for leadership positions or high-level intelligence work like he had been before Cozek had pulled him into his conspiracy ever got to see it, making forgeries and therefore impersonation not just improbable but basically impossible. Valern rarely if ever got confused, confusion was the result of a lack of knowledge and he always took care to know what was going on, tt made his duties much easier. But if there ever was a time to be justifiably confused, it was this one. No amount of preparation and training could've prevented his visible surprise and if the look of the stranger was anything to go, that's exactly the reaction he had hoped for.

"You were hunted down, STG killed all twelve members of the League," he stated as he eyed the symbol belonging to the group that had turned on the Union shortly after the foundation of the Citadel Council. As a sign of good faith, the dalatrasses and the Inner Cabinet had declassified the identities of all of its members and had paid the price for it shortly after. Every part of his mind was telling him to pull the trigger right now, the League of One had been hunted down for a reason, they had murdered the entire Inner Cabinet of their time before vanishing without a trace. The first attempt to bring them to justice had been an utter disaster, bringing up no results and a lot of dead operatives and only the second attempt to put an end to them had been successful. Following their intial failure, ten of the best agents STG had ever produced had been sent after the League of One. As expected from agents of their prestige, they had completed their mission but the price had once more been incredibly high, only two had returned. It was a statement to both STG's commitment to any assignment and to how dangerous and capable the League of One had remained even when everyone had turned on them. That alone should've made the choice obvious. Yet for whatever reason, maybe it was an unhealthy amount of curiosity, his instincts were telling him to keep listenting to the salarian and no matter what was going on, Valern always listened to his instincts. They had never failed him.

He still kept his finger on the trigger though.

"Whoever said there weren't thirteen?" the teal salarian smirked as he pointed at the center of the flower, the touch of his finger causing it to emit a golden glow. "STG launched operation under false assumption. False assumptions always lead to failure," the stranger noted and without further notice got up and walked over to the balcony of the office, opening the door in spite of the security mechanisms put in place to prevent just that from happening and causing the councilor to stand up, who now aimed his gun at the teal salarian to keep him from leaving.

"Don't move," Valern called as the stranger did the exact opposite and strolled right through the door, leaning against the railing of the balcony, taking in the Presidium and looking back to Valern. "What will the choice be? Have to be aware of it's nature. Won't allow you to leave until I know," the STG agent insisted.

"Won't shoot me, have already established that," the stranger countered. "When time comes, you will be," the teal salarian muttered before looking over the balcony. He was waiting for something, that much was obvious. Then, just as sudden as he had gotten up, he climbed onto the railing. As he balanced on top of the thin metal rail, he cracked another smile at Valern, completely unaffected by the long fall he was just one mistake away from starting. "Enjoyed our conversation, Councilor. Suggest that you inform C-SEC to improve security of balcony exterior. Would hate to see you assassinated."

If he wanted to make a move, now was the time. The overload program or a gunshot weren't an option, both would cause the League of One member to fall to his death. If he wanted to stop him, he had to grab him. Even for a salarian Valern was fast, so the distance between them shouldn't be a problem. But before he could act, the teal salarian simply turned his back to him and took a casual step forward, dropping off the balcony in the process. The STG agent shot into action just as the stranger's head vanished beyond the metal railing, his naturally quick reflexes allowing him to grasp what was happening sooner than most other people. When he reached the edge, he looked down but instead of seeing the stranger fall to his death, Valern only saw him climb into the interior of a black skycar silently hovering just below his office. Within the span of a few seconds teal salarian looked up, threw him a mocking salute and closed the door of the vehicle, which then vanished into thin air. Yet another tactical cloak. As the faint noise of the car flying past him disappeared, Valern did the only other sensible thing he could think of right now.

Removing all evidence of this encounter.

Even if his duty demanded that he'd immediately relay this information to the Salarian Union, he knew that doing so would blow his and Cozek's cover stories and put everything they had worked for in jeopardy. Only a selected number of people had known that Idril had been an STG plant and even less people realised that Valern was more than 'Idril's' protégé. He could remove the audio of the recording to maintain his cover but doing that would raise the question as to what it was that he didn't want people to hear him say, creating a very similar problem. And even if he removed the audio, his visible lack of a reaction to a strange intruder appearing right in from of him would still put off a lot of people. Valern the councilor was supposed to be a career politician, career politicians didn't pull guns on potential assassins, they called for C-SEC to do that for them.

With a sigh, he brought up his omni-tool and began working on the security feed.

Some day all of his secrets would come crushing down on him but until that day came, he'd do his best to keep them secret.


Spring of 2155 CE, Thessia, Dormitories of the T'Lav University

It was the only possible solution,no matter from which angle she looked at the problem, no matter how many practical tests she ran with the hopes of achieving another outcome, no matter how badly she didn't want it to be true or how much she refused to accept it, it simply was the horrifying reality she now lived in.

The tea machine was broken.

Deciding that the very human solution of 'hitting it till it works', wouldn't change anything either at this point, Liara accepted that she'd have to get through the next stack of papers without a beverage to keep her company and began to head back to her room for the fifth time that night. It wasn't the first time she was working through the night because she had gotten side-tracked from her duties as a faculty member by one of her side-projects, be they her own research or the sporadic and at times seemingly random tasks and questions General Arterius sent her way. Even though she no longer had the luxury of living in a turian military installation, if one could even apply the term luxury to the incredibly spartan quarters she had worked from, and being literal steps away from the primary source of new bits of knowledge, her expertise had still been required even after she had discovered that her 'ridiculous and unprovable' theory in regards to the end of prothean civilization had been correct. Whether being asked to review the findings of field teams or give her own theory on the countless of unique and fascinating but ultimately unrelated artifacts the turian, salarian and human agents had located across the galaxy during their search, the general still considered her expertise as a valuable asset he used whenever he felt the need to do so.

She appreciated it even if it made some of her days far too long for an average asari.

Fumbling with the opening mechanism to the room that was technically only her office but also served as her bedroom on at least half the nights of the month, the archeologist stepped into the dark room and knocked the door close with her heel, intending to drop the stack of papers onto her desk.

"Doctor T'Soni,"it came through the darkness.

"Goddess!" she shrieked in a rather embarrassing fashion before recognizing the flanging voice and calming down. She knew who it was and he would certainly not be a danger to her.

"Apologies, I didn't intend to frighten you," the turian spoke as she turned on the lights and realised that he was in fact not the older but the younger brother. Making assumptions on someone's identity based solely on their voice could create these kinds of mistakes if two people sounded almost the same. However even if she had been wrong about which Arterius it was, the fact that he was not dangerous to her remained.

"Agent Arterius, what are you doing here?" she asked, surprised that he had come here in person. In the day and age of nearly instantaneous communication, it was rare for any of the people she worked with to actually show up on Thessia. Walking past him and dropping the stack of paper, which she by some miracle had managed to hold on to, on her desk, she looked at the turian.

"Your room was open and I found waiting here preferable to standing in your hallway. I didn't want to frighten the rest of the university either," the turian clad in white armor explained. She could see that point. "Although they're probably awake now anyway."

"I meant what are you doing on Thessia," the young doctor clarified, still slightly flustered.

"Oh, of course," his mandibles twitched for a moment. "Didn't you get my message?" he asked, perplexed.

She hadn't.

Why?

A wave of her hand brought up her omni-tool and sure enough, there were several unread messages there. Most came from rather unimportant sources but the one sitting just between advertisement and a university memo hailed from an up to now unfamiliar contact. She hadn't even noticed its arrival in between all of her work. Mentally beating herself up for missing a potentially important message due to being focused on work, the asari offered an apologetic smile once she read its content.

"What is it that you want to show me?" she asked, causing the turian to pull a small, tubular object from one of the compartments of his armor.

"This," he said as he handed it to her, her first instinct being that its coloration, material and most importantly the state it was in indicated that it had to be prothean.

"Where did you get this?" she asked as she sat down at her desk, shoving books, already corrected papers and flowers that had been sent to her some time ago to the sides to make room for this much more interesting object.

"I procured it from a smuggler ring I've been tracking for some time," something told her that she didn't want to know in what state the previous owner of the greenish-black piece of metal was. "And from what I could gather, it might be useful to us, so I decided to bring it to you."

"Withholding prothean artifacts is a serious crime, Agent Arterius," she muttered idly while rotating the tube in her hands, spotting a small but noticeable indentation in its surface. She'd come back to it in a little bit

"Spectres are above the law, Doctor T'Soni," the turian reminded her. "The salarian I took it from thought it might be some kind of map," he further explained. "I hoped you could be more specific than him."

"An intact prothean star chart would be something incredibly rare," she spoke as her mind tried to remember how many of them had been found over the years only to come up with none. In the past it had been assumed that protheans had some other way knowing where they had to travel but knowing how their society had come to an end, Liara began to suspect that they might have intentionally destroyed all records of their worlds to delay their doom. "Did he happen to mention where he found it? Knowing its origins could help us to determine when it was created."

A short but painfully awkward silence followed as the turian averted his cold, blue eyes from her, looking into the distance, searching for something that would catch his attention instead.

"No," he replied as she looked at him, a realisation hitting her, "he wasn't exactly cooperative after I shot him."

In retrospective, she could've guessed that answer.

"I'm sorry, I didn't mean to offen-"

"You didn't," the turian ensured her before looking back at her. "So what can you tell me about the artifact?" he asked after another pause.

Completing her initial visual assessment of the artifact, which had mostly considered of being fascinated by the faint green lines running through its black surface, the archeologist once more waved her hand, this time at the device, to confirm what her gut was already telling her. Like all other examples of prothean technology, it emitted a small but still detectable amount of ionizing radiation. Being turian and as such having a natural tolerance towards lower levels of radiation, it was no surprise that Agent Arterius hadn't noticed this and as long as she didn't plan on carrying it with her for several days, she would be fine as well. Lacking any other readings that should raise her concerns, she put the device down and looked at the turian.

"It is definitely prothean. Now I can't say for sure if it's a map," she began only for the words of one of her own professors coming to her mind. Interrupting herself, her index finger slit into the small indentation she had previously been able to notice and lingered for a moment. "If an obvious solution to your problem presents itself, don't be afraid to use it," she muttered before gently pressing downwards.

"What do you mean by tha-" the turian was about to ask when a greenish projection consisting of countless of small dots appeared in front of Liara's face.

"Turn of the lights, please."

"That was fast," Saren argued before the darkness returned to the room, allowing her to observe the projection more clearly.

"This is amazing," she whispered, trying and failing to recognize if she was looking at stellar constellation or something else entirely. She knew she should've spent more time on astronomy.

"That's the Attican Traverse, isn't it?" the Spectre wondered, giving her a much needed clue. Now that she knew what she was looking at, it was easy to recognize the most distinctive shapes. She had been to some of these systems in the past, yet others she didn't recognize at all. The protheans really had explored much more of the galaxy than them.

"Your salarian was right," Liara said. "It is definitely a map," her mind began to drift. There had to be dozens of unexplored sites on this. This little tube asked so many questions she looked forward to answering. A sense of excitement washed over her.

It didn't last that long.

"Thank you, Doctor T'Soni," the turian said as he leaned against the desk. "With this we might find what we're looking for after all," he added before pressing the same indentation again, causing the map to vanish.

She also could've guessed that he wouldn't just leave the prothean map with her. The lack of tea was really getting to her, wasn't it?

"I'll make sure to get you a copy of this within the week," he promised as he held up the artifact for a final time. "Thank you for your time."

"We can make the copy right now," she countered. "It'll only take a few hours," a small chuckle escaped the Spectre's mouth. "What?"

"I think you still have work to do before that sun rises," he countered while stashing the tube back in one of his armor's compartments, nodding towards the slowly rising ball of light in the distance in the process.

"What wor-" of course, the papers. "Goddess," she placed her hands in her face as she realised that it was far later or more accuratly far earlier than she had initially realised. She always lost track of time when she worked, it was a bad habit.

"Enjoy your day, Doctor T'Soni," the turian offered on his way through the door, "and at least try to catch some sleep."


17. June 2414 AD, Cronos Station

"Not feeling it, are you?"

Lowering the SIS-10, a gun specifically designed to meet the needs of Section 13, he inspected the small set of holes in the human-shaped target opposite to him and after making sure the safety of the weapon was in place, reached for his SIS-8.

"Not, really, no," Daniel Morneau replied before firing of a series of shots into a target further down the range, managing to achieve an even tighter shot grouping in the process. The size of the rounds should've made it impossible but somehow he had been even more accurate than before. "It's just not the same as real bullets."

"Of course it isn't," the brunette specialist sighed as she walked up next to him, grabbing a hold of the newer pistol he had just discarded with the intention of one-upping him. "That's half the point of a mass accelerator," she added before three miniscule holes appeared in the center of the most distant target's head, the rounds simply going straight through the thin paper instead of shattering and unfolding their full destructive potential. "How long will you keep holding onto that old thing anyway?" his partner asked as she nodded towards the SIS-8 in his hands. "You already skipped out on the Phalanx, it's time you get with the times, old man. The future's not gonna wait for you to catch up."

"Old man? Last time I checked you were three months older than me," he snorted."Besides you make it sound like I'm the only one still walking around with one one of these," tapping the side of his weapon before removing the magazine, Morneau stored the gun in its holster and walked away from the otherwise empty shooting range and towards the table on which the last one of the guns they were supposed to test rested.

A lot of specialists still preferred the aged weapon over newer models, if not out of nostalgia then simply for the reason that it was still incredibly reliable and incredibly familiar. While it didn't quite have the punch of a mass accelerator, it was still a sturdy and precise gun. He'd bet his life on the fact that he could bludgeon someone to death with a SIS-8 and it would keep firing afterwards as if nothing had happened. The same couldn't be said over the more refined weapons Yo-yo had brought him here to look at. For all their advantages, mass accelerators were noticeably more sensitive than their purely mechanic human-made counterparts. The small internal computers responsible for shaving off the sand-grain sized rounds that gave the weapons their reputation for having 'unlimited ammunition' and 'unrivaled penetration power' didn't exactly respond well to blunt force trauma and while in theory offering a fantastic solution to ammunition shortages, the fact that most of the hand guns already needed to cool down after a dozen or so shots significantly longer than it took him to simply reload didn't do them any favours either.

"Come to think of it, you were still using one yourself some time ago," he countered after thinking back to their last mission, idly inspecting the SR-9, the mass accelerator rifle which was supposed to replace the current hybrid design serving as the HSA's standard issue assault rifle and was currently being introduced to selected army and marine units.

"Time's change, Morneau. You plan on using a SIS-8 till they stop giving you bullets for it?"

"Well, I stashed a lot of rounds over the years," he said in a halfway serious tone, scratching his chin in the process and looking at the slot in which different kinds of mods could be put into. With older human weapons you had to load different kind of bullet for everything, be they armor-piercing, incendiary or explosive, with this 'Valkyrie' you simply had to flick a button and you were good to go. It might not have been as sturdy as the SR-7 or SR-8 but it definitely had its advantages, versatility among them. He'd give the designers that much.

Could've picked a better name though.

"So you'll keep using it till it falls apart?" Yo-yo asked as he returned to range and steadied the rifle's buttstock against his shoulder, throwing a final look at her before taking aim.

"Sounds like a decent plan, doesn't it?" he offered before squeezing the trigger, the minimal recoil of the gun making it far easier for each of his shots to hit the center of his target.

"It really doesn't," if he had to assign a tone to skepticism, it would've been the one of that reply. "It sounds like an absolutely horrible plan."

"Your concerns have been noted," the specialist chuckled as he passed her the gun, the look he threw towards his last target offering a subtle challenge in itself. Picking up on his intentions, his partner delivered, the fact that her shots were going straight through his own hits speaking for both the rifle and the talents of its current handler. Lowering the weapon with a satisfied smile of her own, the brunette pressed the rifle back into his hands-

"Well it's your loss," she shrugged before a handwave brought up her omni-tool, most likely to let whoever had put her up to the task of testing these guns in the first place know that they were done. "You're the one missing out on some serious firepower."

"I think I've got stopping power covered," he countered, picking one of the shell casings off the ground and flinging it right through the center of their last paper targets, the faint purple glow emitting from his hands in the process indicating what he was referring to. "Besides, as long as you're around, I won't have to worry about firepower," he added before nodding towards the small holes in the target's head. "Now I believe there was some mention of a reward when you talked me into helping you with this?"

"Was there?" Young replied while typing away at her omni-tool with a sheepish smile.

"There was."

"Come on, it didn't even take that long," she argued.

"Still dragged me out here on my day off to get a second opinion," he countered.

"Isn't the fun we had reward enough?"

"Nope. You'll have to do better than that. I sacrificed a good chunk of what precious little free time HSAIS allows me to have so I could give you a hand. Fun just doesn't cut it."

"Don't pretend you had other plans. I know you, you never have other plans."

"Actu-"

"Morneau," a familiar voice spoke as the doors opened behind him, causing both of the specialists to turn into the direction.

"Good morning Alec," Yo-yo greeted as the the older man swiftly walked towards Morneau, a tablet in his hands and a somewhat worried expression on his face.

"Shepa-" he got out just before he caught the small computer flying towards him, "Alright, what's up?"

"Get your stuff, we're moving in ten," the specialist explained before looking at the other specialist currently occupying the firing range, placing a hand on her shoulder once she began walking. "Sorry, not you. I'm afraid you're sitting this one out."

"At least tell me what's going on," she frowned, too professional and too aware of how Section 13 worked to even try to talk her way into whatever it was that he and Shepard would be doing from here on out. While the other specialist gave a brief summary of why he was here, Morneau tried to make sense of what he was looking at. What the hell was a Cerberus research team doing that far into the Attican Traverse? There was nothing but backwater in that particular part of the galaxy. Furthermore why was Director Rei personally sending them to respond to their distress beacon? Reading further into the report and finally reaching the part where it mentioned that an entire platoon of marines had gone dark the moment they had made Planetfall to investigate the signal only somewhat answered this question. Search and rescue wasn't the kind of job Section 13 was sent to do. Recovering valuable sources of intel was one thing, evacuating at least a hundred people was a whole other story. That was the kind of work you sent N7 or ASOC to do. Come to think of it, what were that many Cerberus operatives doing in one place anyway? That wasn't how they usually did things. Furthermore he couldn't help but wonder why was Rei launching a rescue operation in the first place. Unless there was something seriously wrong with Shepard's intel, which he doubted, the marines had only touched down four hours ago. That alone seemed like an overreaction to him. What could cause Rei to overreact like this? The man was collected, even by Section 13's standards.

"Long story short, we've got a serious problem and Redford won get here until it's too late. It's a two-man job and if I can't have Redford, I'm at least taking Section 13's only biotic with me," he finished his explanation with a look to Morneau himself before making his way towards the door he had come through not a minute earlier. "Come on, our ride is already waiting for us," it echoed from the corridor outside of the firing range.

"You owe me one, don't you forget that," Morneau pointed at Yo-yo on his way towards the door, picking up his pace to catch up to the senior agent.

"I'm sure you'll remind me of it," she called just before the door closed behind him.

"So, you're going to tell me what's really going on now?" he began while handing the tablet back to Shepard. "Because as far as the official story goes, this isn't exactly our job."

"I would if I could," the man sighed as they marched through the corridors of Cronos Station, the closest thing HSAIS had to a headquarters. "This is above my paygrade, Morneau. I know just as much as you do. Whatever it is that Cerberus is really doing out there is locked behind more layers of classification than I've ever seen and in my experience, shit like this is what gets people killed."

He could agree with that sentiment.

"Flying blind," he figured, "already liking our odds."

Even if Section 13 operated on a need-to-know basis most of the times, neither of the two specialists were particularly happy about the distinctive lack of knowledge that surrounded this surprise-deployment. Not only was it strange that they were being sent on a search and rescue operation, it was also rather unusual that they were going in on such short notice. Normally days, weeks or even months went into the preparation of their missions, meticulous planning and detailed reconnaissance guaranteeing that they'd succeed but this time the complete opposite was the case. They didn't know the situation they'd be heading into and they didn't know what would be waiting for them once they got there.

"I'm serious, I fully expect this to go sideways. Pack like it's the end of the world," the older specialist instructed as they walked into the armory holding their gear. After pulling out the footlockers holding their armor, they always remained packed just in case they had to leave in a hurry, Shepard headed towards the heavier equipment immediately.

"That bad?" Morneau muttered as he began filling a backpack with everything he could possibly need for this kind of mission.

"I tried to access the related files to get a picture of what was going on but I couldn't get in. My security clearance wasn't high enough to get beyond the encryption," the man replied before grabbing an SR-8 of one of the weapons racks in front of him, "and that's only ever happened two other times. Something about this entire op just feels wrong," he finished before inspecting the sights of the weapon.

He saw Shepard's point.

To him it seemed as if Cerberus had gotten itself into something that could never reach the light of the day. The only reason he could think off that Director Rei would sent Section 13 to do a job regular special forces could do just as well as them was that all of this had to vanish deep inside HSAIS's sealed archives the moment it was taken care off, it had happened before. Whenever a problem needed to be solved without reasonable proof of it having existed in the first place ever reaching the public, people like Shepard and Morneau were sent. Besides one very public failure, the destruction of Illyria at the hands of Andrej Kamarov, the long dead Butcher of Elysium, not a single deployment of Section 13 had been made public knowledge. While their existence wasn't a secret, a quick extranet search brought up countless of articles and conspiracy theories on 'Section 13 of the HSAIS Bureau of Field Work', concrete knowledge of their missions was basically nonexistent. But even in cases like these the specialists involved had known exactly what was going on, they had to in order to get the job done.

So why wasn't this the case today? What was different from before?

"I'm getting that impression as well," he nodded before closing the backpack and throwing it over his shoulder. "Where is it that we're going anyway?"

"Some backwater called Akuze," Alec Shepard shrugged as he lifted both his footlocker and the bag of weapons he had collected in the last minute from the ground.

"Never heard of it."

"Yeah, me neither. You set?" he asked, waiting by the door.

"Let's get this done."

The two specialists left the armory and quickly made their way to one of Cronos Station's hangars, which true to HSA's design philosophy was located close by. Once they had covered the small distance between the two points and reached the docking bay in which the ship that would take them to the far-end of the Traverse in less than two days, a combination of well-placed primary relays and the top speeds the ship could reach shortening their travel time immensely, Morneau let out a small whistle the moment he laid eyes on the craft. Looking like a strange blend of human and turian technology, the frigate reminded him more of a fighter craft than it did of a spaceship.

Well, an extremely upscaled fighter craft.

"Didn't know the navy had cleared them for flight yet," so this was it, the collected efforts of years of cooperation. It certainly looked every bit as impressive as top-brass was making it out to be.

"They didn't."

"Spotty intelligence and an untested ship," Morneau chuckled. "Think we pissed someone off and now they're doing their hardest to get rid of us?"

"It's not untested. It flew here, didn't it?"

"Fair point," he admitted as he eyed the writing on the green hull of the craft while they walked past it on their way to the air lock. 'Ain Jalut'.

"Besides, the turian ones are working like a charm."

"Ones? They got both of their ships flying already?

"Normandy fell behind scheduel. Turns out building more than one of these things at a time is asking a lot of the navy's eggheads," the man explained. "Also, the Hierarchy has far more sophisticated shipyards than we do. I would've been worried if they hadn't beaten us to the punch. You don't want the turians to start slacking off."

"Specialists, right this way," one of the naval officers that had passed the rigorous procedure needed to be cleared for serving aboard one of the HSA's stealth ships greeted them. "You're being expected in the briefing room."

The airlock sealed behind them not a moment after they had stepped inside and before they had even cleared the CIC, a quick look over the crew members working at a breakneck speed told him that they were just about ready to take off. When the door to the briefing room, which oddly enough lacked the traditional projectors seen aboard other human vessels, closed behind them, the lights shut off and a blue figure appeared out of thin air. Apparently the budget of the Normandy-Class had included the same kind of hologram tech installed aboard Cronos Station.

Neat.

"Shepard, Morneau," the highest ranking member of Section 13 said as his bluish figure folded his hands behind his back. "I'm sure you have a lot of questions but before we get there, let me give you the whole story." If he planned on telling them the whole story anyway, why hadn't he put it into the official record?

"At 12:29 local time, the HSASV Agincourt and its wolfpack picked up an emergency beacon transmitting the position of a Cerberus research team deployed to Akuze, a planet in the same system they were supposed to observe for pirate activity," which he was sure was everything but a coincidence. "In accordance to protocol, the commander of the ship diverted from his observation duties to investigate the signal but the moment his ship entered orbit around Akuze, the transmission was cut off. After the Cerberus team failed to respond to their hails, a platoon led by one Captain Francis Hackett," the portrait of a middle-aged marine officer appeared in the air next to the director,"made Planetfall at 13:49 local time, touching down approximately two kilometers south of the last known location of the beacon," Rei paused for another moment. "They then went dark the moment their shuttles touched down on the Agincourt."

Again, that was most certainly not a coincidence.

"I thought we fixed the issue with our comms. How are they still being jammed?" Shepard asked.

"They aren't being jammed, at least not by traditional means. They're just unresponsive."

"That's one way to say they're dead," the older specialist muttered.

"And under other circumstances, I would agree with you," Rei nodded. "But nothing suggests that they encountered hostile resistance or fell victim to natural hazards. They simply stopped responding from one moment to another."

"Just like the Cerberus team," Morneau injected.

"Exactly," the man nodded. "This was their last transmission," he added before the portrait vanished and was replaced by a voice line.

"Agincourt, we just reached the dig site, the whole place is a ghost town," a disembodied voice echoed through the dark briefing room. "We've sent out a couple of UAVs to start an expended search pattern, but they aren't picking up any signs of life either. Just prefabs and ruins. I think we might be too late, over."

"The Agincourt has been trying to hail them ever since but given the development of the operation, the captain has delayed the deployment of further ground troops until the situation becomes clearer."

"Which is where we come in," Shepard figured as Rei's hologram nodded. Every fiber of his being was telling Morneau that this was the most obvious trap he had ever seen but as things were, the actual evidence seemed to point against that. A whole platoon of marines didn't just go down quietly from one moment to another. They went out fighting "Permission to speak freely, Sir?" the senior specialist suddenly added.

"You don't need my permission to speak, Shepard."

"Sir, search and rescue is hardly a job for Section 13, what's really going on? Why not sent N7 or ASOC or even another Cerberus strike team? What's really going on here?"

A long and silent pause followed before Rei locked eyes with the older specialist.

"I know this is an unusual assignment but as things are this is a real search and rescue operation," the director explained before his tone grew darker and surprisingly enough worried, "and the reason why I'm sending you is because I'm afraid of what you might find down there."

"Sir, what was Cerberus doing on Akuze?" Shepard added and a few moments later two buzzing sounds originated from their omni-tools, informing them that they had received a data-transfer.

"Finding answers."


Codex: Salarian Armed Forces

The military of the Salarian Union is often called the most advanced military in the galaxy. While its ground forces number at a fraction of those of the Turian Hierarchy and its navy is smaller than that of the Asari Republics, many military experts consider the salarian military, or more specifically STG (see Entry Salarian Special Task Group) to be the most dangerous force in the galaxy. Instead of facing their enemies head on like turian, krogan or batarian doctrine demands, salarian commanders take the human principle of 'Maneuver Warfare' to its absolute extreme, relying on a strong air force, their naturally quick reflexes making salarians some of the deadliest pilots in the galaxy, a mobile army, supported by an enormous number of drones and combat mechs, and an advanced navy to outmaneuver their opposition at every turn.

Divided between the forces of the Union, to which the entirety of the Salarian Navy, the STG and the Salarian Naval Infantry belong, and the forces loyal to their dalatrasses, which are entirely planet-based but far more numerous than their naval counterparts, the salarian military experienced the biggest reduction of manpower in galactic history after the formal end of the Rachni War (See Entry 'Rachni War'). Abandoning the respective laws that allowed the Union to draft and the dalatrasses to levy every male salarian into military service, the Salarian Armed Forces were turned from a massive, conscription-based military into a small, well-equipped professional force relying on bleeding edge technology to make up for lost numbers. While only marginally bigger than the HSA's armed forces (See Entry Series 'Human Systems Alliance'), the real strength of the Salarian Armed Forces lies not in their numbers but in their ability to gather intelligence, conduct detailed reconnaissance and act on targets of opportunity with unparalleled speed and precision.

While widely considered a sleeping giant due to the size of its population, economy and most importantly its ability to gather intelligence, it has to be noted that the divide between the forces serving the Union and the forces serving their dalatrasses has proven troublesome in the past. A lack of communication caused by both different chains of commands and clashing officers has resulted in the two different branches of services preferring to work separated from each other, only joining forces during irregular exercises or when worlds of the Union are under direct attack by hostile forces.

Furthermore it should be noted that the Salarian Armed Forces have been the biggest contributor to the Council's Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Branch for over a millennia, one out of every three agents hailing from the ranks of STG.


A/N: Chapter 40 and, as planned, the beginning of the final, and if I'm honest longest planned (as in I knew how Akuze was gonna go down from the moment I decided to give each of Shepard's possible backgrounds and origins a character) background chapter. Paragade or neutral or whatever you wanna call it, it's happening.

Now for the sake of those who can't make sense of Semper Vigilo's timetable compared to canon I'll spell it out, at the end of this chapter we're just seven months away from the beginning of Mass Effect 1, meaning that one of the few 'bigger' issues I saw in Semper Vigilo up to now, its long timeframe, is now finally behind us. Now I said it before, Akuze was pushed back for the sake of narrative pacing (I think given the last portion of Morneau's scene a lot of you already know what exactly is gonna be different from canon and why I insisted on delaying it up to now)

But on the offchance that some of you don't see what's gonna go down yet, this is where I'll shut up about his portion.

Just gonna have to wait, be glad I already decided to give you hints instead of ending it on a "where are we going?" "Akuze" cliffhanger.

Sooo yeah.

Other than that I finally got to do one of the things I've been wanting to do for a long time... give the League of One its FIRST EVER apperance. For me they were always something really interesting about the first game and I was really sad that beyond a small sidequest we never got to hear about the 12 (or as implied in the game and confirmed in Semper Vigilo) 13 salarians who played an entire galaxy. I mean just think about it... 13 guys screw over the entire galaxy and no one ever mentions it again... it's too good NOT to appear in my version of things (which by now has turned from a simple albeit original AlternateFirstContact Story to my personal vision of how Mass Effect should've gone down)

Adding to the League of One, I'd like to point out how much fun I had writing this as of yet unnamed teal salarian... I don't know why but I just did. I like silly things, alright?

Also, we got to see Shepard's N7 graduation and my (and I hope your) favorite turian also got to make his return, meeting up with Liara (for who I hope I hit the same kind of tone I gave her in her other scenes. For some reason this time it was really hard to hit the whole 'scientist who gets too excited about certain things' tone)

I don't know if I said that but after Akuze (Chapter 41), the rest of Season 2 (which I think will be chapters 42, 43 and 44) is gonna be all about Saren. Those chapters are gonna be about how HE is going to end up for the beginning Season 3 (Mass Effect 1) and I think you'll really enjoy it. Originally Saren, much like Redford, wasn't supposed to take on so much of a live on his own but up to now, as strange as its sounds given his absense for the better part of Season 2's second half, he's basically been THE protagonist of Semper Vigilo. At least half of the plot points ever since chapter 11, which marked the point where I decided that Semper Vigilo HAS to be more than just an AlternateFirstContact Story, have revolved around him and a lot of them will come to their cumulation in these three chapters (which I plan to make as big and good as I can)

So get hyped for Akuze, which I think is gonna be great, and after it get hyped for three consecutive chapters of Saren and Anderson (Whom I haven't forgotten about, even though it might seem like it)

For the record we're at 323 reviews, 551 favorites and 652 follows.

For everyone who's been here since the beginning, get ready to see a lot of things pay off in the near future.

For everyone just finding me now, I'm only just getting started.

See you around next time.