Chapter 70. SNAFU


1. February 2415 AD, Armstrong Nebula, BC-313 New Dawn

Admiral Kastanie Drescher tapped her fingers on the armrest of her command chair and looked at the screen in front of her, trying to understand the fight she was looking at. It wasn't the tactics that confused her, even those of the geth were all too easy to understand. It was a single ship, one anomaly in the otherwise organized chaos of a space battle. Not only did it seem to ignore the basic laws of space combat and still get away with it unscathed right until its destruction, it also didn't fit in with the rest of the fleet.

All geth ships looked the same, down to the last detail. But despite this, the largest one was entirely different. Its armor-plating, weaponry, movement pattern, hell, even its colour, it was all wrong when compared to the other vessels.

As she watched it detach itself from the formation and plow through the ships of the Citadel Defense Fleet, alien and human alike, as if they were made of paper, Drescher began to wonder. Not just about its origin but also its design. While there were of course a few individual differences, for example the divergence between Council-made kinetic barriers and human-made energy shields, most space-born technology in the galaxy followed the same prothean-inspired principles. Element Zero engines, mass effect-based weaponry, it was the same across every species and every ship. Even for the geth.

So why did this ship stand out?

She paused the footage right before it vanished into the Citadel, where it would meet its demise at the hands of an HSA ship, and increased the zoom so that the squid-like vessel took in the entire screen. Next she took note of the lighting that jumped across the purple armor plating. It looked like a kinetic barriers or some other type of shielding but unlike the typical light-blue flaring of mass-effect based barriers or the golden shimmers of their slightly less durable but somewhat more versatile energy shields, it was black and red and crackling under the constant near-impacts of various forms of ammunition, destroying them before they could ever touch the armor plating.

It worked exactly like the unique annihilation deflectors built into the New Dawn.

The admiral put her hand over her mouth, continued to look at the frozen image for a minute and began to wonder what exactly the Experimental Weapons Division of the long disbanded IFSDF had unearthed in their increasingly desperate pursuit of securing a lasting victory over the HSA and the independence of the Fringe.

Then she continued to view the battle, determined to learn all there was to learn about this new potential enemy of humanity.

Only through understanding an enemy could one defeat them.


Meanwhile, 1. February 2415 AD, Parnack

"Lost visual on the QRF. They entered the compound. ETA five mikes," the pilot of the stealth Kodiak that had dropped him off and was surveilling the area for him spoke through the radio. He glanced at his mission clock. Five minutes would do for the way back. He was just about done here anyways. Holderman walked through the server room and over to the largest one of the data storages, the one his companion had highlighted. With a single tug he ripped off the bolted-down protective cover off the dark-blue roughly closet-sized box and tossed it back the way he had come from, sending it flying all the way to the other end of the lab where it landed with a noisy clatter.

So what? He was still getting used to the amplified strength of the T5-V armor and it wasn't like he had left any survivors that could notice him now.

Next he reached for his belt and all too gently pulled out a small box with a cable attached to it. The primitive technology in front of him couldn't interface with the usual holographic, non-physical link of an omni-tool. He placed the cable on one of the ports of the servers and it began to shift so that it would fit into the port.

"Interfacing. Bypassing security. Network infiltrated, hold one," Tas, the AI that assisted him with using the destroyer suit, spoke calmly while Holderman took another look at his mission clock. Four minutes. If they had to spend a whole minute here, things might get a little hot during extraction. Not that he mind- "The virus is planted, the data wiped and the copy secured. There are no further traces of our involvement. I suggest we extract now, Commander," the tactical assistant spoke a second later, letting Holderman know that he had in fact referred to one second and not one minute.

'Quick,' he thought before pulling the plug and walking out of the server room and back into the computer lab. As he passed the bodies of dead guards and scientists alike, his companion spoke up again.

"Hold. Detecting weak life-signs. Marking point of origin," it spoke before one of the yahg, a scientist with a spotted blue-grey hide that was already covered in several gunshot wounds, started to glow with a bright-red outline. "Suggest termination."

"Good suggestion," he replied before walking over to the large alien and leveling the machine gun he was carrying like an assault-rifle at its head and waited until at least one of its eight eyes looked at him. When it weakly tried to raise up an arm for protection, the Cerberus operative pulled the trigger and produced a bloody explosion. While someone else might've hidden behind Harper's orders to not leave any witnesses, Holderman had no need for such an excuse. He had a score to settle with these alien bastards and he wasn't ashamed to do it. He looked at his mission clock again. This little indulgence had costed him thirty seconds.

Without sparing as much of a glance at the other dead yahg, he broke into a sprint and ran towards the extraction zone without another incident.

Only after he had climbed into the jet-black stealth Kodiak that had been modified to execute this mission and left the orbit of Parnack did he find it appropriate to ask about the details of the knowledge he had just stolen.

"I know what it is," he told Tas after the AI explained that it was data on mass effect technology. "But where did it come from? How did the yahg get their ugly hands on it?"

"It would appear that an individual these yahg are referring to as the 'long lost pariah' sent the already translated data to them on an advanced, automated stealth probe. I suggest we transfer the schematics of this probe to the blockade forces to prevent another breach of quarantine."

Not his call to make. The director would make that decision during his debrief back on Cronos Station.

"Is there anything else on this long lost pariah in the files?"

"I'm afraid not," Tas replied. Would've been too good, no? "However I have found traces of an encrypted communication link. There is a ninety-five percent match between its source-code and the sample of the Shadow Broker's network Section 13 retrieved some time ago. Given this similarity, it is likely that this long lost pariah is in service of the Broker."

Holderman pulled of his helmet and wiped his brow.

"The broker you say?"

"Yes."

He might be in for a premature report after all.


Two Days Later, 2156 CE, Sur'Kesh

While he realized how strange it sounded, he'd much rather prefer to be onboard of the devastated Citadel and deal with the fallout of the reaper attack than be where he was right now and do what he was about to do. As the diplomatic liner gently lowered itself through the cloud, Valern put down the tablet holding Pallin's latest report and looked out of the reinforced window to his right. Below him the deep-blue ocean became visible and with it, the home world of his species.

Sur'Kesh.

After taking in the glistening sea below, Valern shifted his attention to the distinctively less natural, light-grey and white fighter-craft that had joined his ship upon atmospheric entry. His aerial escort, there were two of them, consisted of one pair of interceptors belonging to the Union's military and another pair belonging to the vassal forces serving the dalatrass dynasty that claimed this part of the ocean as their own territory. While observing the two pairs, he couldn't help but notice that the pilots of the Union interceptors seemed to lag behind despite their more advanced aircraft. While there a dozen or so explanations for this, the way the pilots behaved, always making sure to stay behind and below their allies, betrayed their reasoning.

They were weary of them and what they might do.

Valern frowned after his realization.

He hadn't been to Sur'Kesh in a long time but judging by this paranoia, the situation had degraded even more since his last visit. If the Union had instructed their pilots to consider their vassal-bound counterparts as potential hostiles, he had seriously underestimated just how tense things had become over the argument he had been sent here to mediate.

Ever since its foundation the Salarian Union had struggled to balance its power with the traditional maternities that ruled salarian society. While the Union held the monopoly on space-born forces, no dynasty had had an interest in committing their vassal forces to long-term operations far away from their own sphere of influence in the past, the upheaval the humans had caused in the Terminus Systems had changed something in the traditional mindset of the dalatrasses. With the most prosperous salarian colonies in the Terminus under threat by the groups that had jumped into the power vacuum left by the two large mercenary forces and batarian slavers that had kept the border regions in check, their interest in their own space-born forces had shifted, which was problematic because that was one of the only aspects in which the Union's Inner Cabinet refused to back down on.

As its founding charter read, the only institution allowed to militarize space was the Salarian Union. Two thousand years ago, the then-dalatrasses had signed this charter to quell the feverous demands of a new, unified government and stay in power, thinking little about what the sole right to an armed space force would actually mean to the future balance of power with the threat of rebellion looming behind their backs. But now that the Union's navy was stretched thin with trying to safeguard trade routes and interests and the descendants of the great dynasties of Sur'Kesh were starting to feel the pressure. Pirates, slavers and would-be Terminus empires were trying to take worlds settled by their colonists. Therefore they had begun to realise just what their ancestors had signed off on and started to push for a new, updated code of law.

As the middle-man between the Inner Cabinet and the dalatrasses, it was only natural that the Councilor of the Salarian Union had been called back by both parties to broker an agreement. He was viewed as neutral by the majority of both sides, or at least he would've been if he wasn't an unbidden Councilor. Valern sighed. No matter what he did, it'd never change that Cozek, or 'Councilor Idril', which was the name the Salarian Union had known his mentor by, had gone over the heads of the great dynasties of Sur'Kesh and made Valern his successor with the help of the Inner Cabinet.

"We'll be landing shortly, Councilor," one of the diplomatic craft's crew members said as he passed Valern's seat, prompting him to take another look out of the window.

There it was. The home of the dalatrass that had agreed to serve as their host for this meeting.

Despite everything he had seen in his life, he found himself a little awestruck.

While he had obviously seen the palace before on the extranet and had known what to expect, it really was a sight to behold, a testament to the engineering and architectural talent of his people and the wealth of Dalatrass Linron's bloodline, who was quite possibly the richest salarian in the entire galaxy. Unlike the seats of most noble houses, this new home wasn't located at the top of one of the enormous arcologies that sprawled through the humid jungles of Sur'Kesh's and housed the majority of the ten billion salarians living on the planet.

No. The last generations of Linron's family had very evidently considered themselves a bit too good for that particular type of home.

So instead of being placed on the crown-level of one of the pyramid complexes, Linron's palace floated on an artificial island above the ocean, held in place by mass effect engines not all that different from those built into salarian dreadnoughts and offering the added benefit of having a prestigious home on the ocean that didn't have to deal with the strong currents that rocked Sur'Kesh's oceans. From the distance, it looked like any other islands. It even had a beach. But as they made their final approach the fact that every single blade of grass had been put there by design became evident. From above the vegetation created a perfect, colorful circle around the wood-coloured flat-top buildings, pavilions and gardens that formed a circle around the 'sea' in the middle of the 'island'. Individually, each of them could've been considered a small mansion by Sur'Kesh's standards but together they formed an enormous palace complex far too large for any single salarian to ever use to its capacity. If he had to use a single sentence to describe the location it would've either been 'paradise come to live' or 'the peak of salarian decadence'.

Both would've been appropriate.

Before he could ponder more on just how much it must've have cost Linron's family to build this place, dreadnought-grade mass effect engines were not exactly cheap to come by and neither were the quantities of Element Zero necessary to maintain them, the diplomatic craft landed and an aid informed him that his welcome party was already waiting. He quickly got up and exited the craft. Then he found himself on a landing platform, face to face with three distinctive groups. On the one side there were the officials of the Inner Cabinet. On the other five of the most influential dalatrasses of the planet. And in the middle, standing between the two groups, was Dalatras Linron.

"Welcome, Councilor," she greeted with open arms. With the exception of some orange dots, the skin on her smiling face was a tone of grey that clashed with the purple robe she wore. "I am humbled to greet a servant of our people at my home," Linron added before bowing ever so slightly.

"And I am grateful to you for serving as our host," he replied before returning the bow as it was expected of him, not letting it show just how pointless he considered these formalities to be.

"If you'd follow me," the dalatrass said before gesturing towards the entrance of her garden. When he did walk to her side, she took his arm and started to steer him to the side, away from the main path. Since he had already been running somewhat late, he was about to protest. But per tradition, it was her good right to invite him to a tour of her home and only proper for him to accept. So instead of complaining, Valern kept quiet and obediently followed the dalatrass. After all, he didn't want to sink these negotiations before they even began by alienating their host.

"Before we start this meeting, I'd like to express my sincere admiration for what you have done on the Citadel ever since the attack, Councilor. So many destroyed homes, so many dead people," she said, practically showering him with praise. "It speaks volumes about your skill as a leader that you are still able to keep the Citadel from falling apart in times as trying as these."

"The effort is the result of the entire Council working together," he corrected as they entered a more isolated section of the garden, one without the prying eyes of the other attendants of the meeting. He knew what she was doing. Linron was trying to place uncertainty in the envoys of the Inner Parliament, make it seem like he was on her side already so that she'd have an apparent position of strength coming into the negotiations.

"Your humble nature honors you," the dalatrass said before guiding him around the corner and into a pavilion. Now they were no longer alone. "Councilor, I have to admit. I had an ulterior motive," of course she had. If this was the level of subtlety that salarian nobility played on, they really ought to take some lessons from STG. Even their raw recruits were better at subterfuge than her. "There is someone I'd like you to meet," she added before the other salarian turned around. The skin on her horns started dark and as it went down to her face, it lightened to orange and then white. Unlike Linron, she didn't wear a purple robe but instead a lighter piece of red formal wear. If it hadn't already been obvious from context, just the way she carried herself told the STG agent that she was also nobility. "This is Dalatrass Zevin Raeka. She recently inherited the bloodline of the Duchy of Raeka, one of the biggest vassals of my own lineage."

"It is a pleasure to meet you," the new salarian said in a tone a bit too friendly to be genuine.

"As her mother has sadly passed on, it is now up to her to continue her lineage," Linron said, somewhat downtrodden.

"And to do that, I require a mate worthy of my standing," Raeka said, speaking the line as if it had been rehearsed.

Then again, it probably was.

While he didn't let it show, Valern understood what was going on. This was a bribe. A mating contract with a wealthy, influential dalatrass of Sur'Kesh wouldn't just bring the unique opportunity of siring off-springs, which was incredibly rare for salarian males since they outnumbered their female counterparts and usually had to go through months of negotiations between their respective clans. It would also bring money and power. Between these three things, most would jump at the chance in front of him and ignore the strings that would no doubt be attached to this agreement.

"I consider you an example to our people, Councilor," Linron spoke.

"And so do I," Raeka nodded.

"Hence we both came to the conclusion, that you be offered this opportunity to join your clan with the Raeka bloodline."

First his mind jumped to the teal salarian and his warning. Then he suppressed the urge to sigh. His clan? His 'clan' consisted of a dead mother with nearly no social standing, her own mating partner who hadn't chosen to stick around after the deed was done and the twenty-something estranged siblings, which really weren't that many by salarian standards, whom he hadn't seen since he had joined the Union's military and subsequently STG.

Adding to that, he also didn't want to sell out his loyalty.

"Your offer honors me," he said a moment later. "But I must decline."

While they did well to hide it, both let their reactions slip for a moment. Linron was shocked, as expected. Raeka however? She seemed relieved. It confirmed his suspicion that the reason behind her rehearsed lines was that this offer wasn't genuine on her part but more of a favour to Linron.

"Councilor, are you sure you don't want to think about this proposal for some time before declining it? The last I want is for you to regret a spontaneous decision," the older dalatrass replied in an attempt to salvage the wreckage of her intrigue.

"No. My decision is made," he said, prompting Linron to drop her friendly charade. "Now I believe that there is still time to continue the tour before we attend the meeting?" the dalatrass remained silent for a moment. Then she nodded and spoke up.

"Indeed," she said with an icy chill in her voice. "You may leave, Zevin," she added before the other dalatrass bowed.

"Have a pleasant day, Dalatrass Linron," she said before looking at Valern and quickly adding, "Councilor."

"Farewell, Dalatrass," he replied with a bow of his own before looking at Linron. "Now, where were we? The rest of the gardens?"

"Looking at the time, I believe that we best cut the tour short and return to the meeting," externally, she put up another smile, however internally, Valern was sure that he had angered her. He didn't think that someone like Linron was used to people refusing her.

Strangely enough, that didn't bother him in the least.

His loyalty was not for sale.

And thus, the scale between the choices of power or progress and people or nobility had been tipped for the first time.


Meanwhile, 2156 CE, Trebia System, Nanus Medical Station

Ever since he had woken up on this station after nearly dying on Virmire, the beeping of the machines attached to him had been a constant nuisance to his ears, making it hard to focus on any other administrative task he was attempting to take on from the limited reach of his hospital bed. If he didn't know that it'd trigger a small panic if he were to unplug the white machines and toss them out of the window of his single-occupant room, he already would've done it.

He sighed as he felt a small tug below his ribs. Truth be told, Nihlus knew that he was being a horrible patient. The medical officers were trying their hardest to mend the damage the geth gunship had done to him and here he was, trying to reach for the tablet just out of his grasp and probably tearing off half of the fresh artificial plates that had been grafted to him after the original, organic ones had been torn apart beyond repair.

"May I help you with that?" a voice offered from his side. Before he could turn his head, a hand reached for the small computer and handed it to him. After he grabbed the device, he looked at the new arrival. Her plates were dark, nearly black to be precise, and the edges of her mandibles and center of her face were covered in vertical orange lines. While he might not have recognized her personally, he did recognize the rank insignia and the markings of the colonial cluster.

Primarch Olarion.

"Thank you, Ma'am," he said before trying to rise from his bed to offer a salute. If a Primarch was visiting him, he'd follow protocol, no matter how much that might hurt.

"Don't strain yourself, Major, Kryik. I can live without one salute," she ordered.

"Yes, Ma'am," he replied, standing down.

"I believe you were going to read something," she said before sitting on the chair next to his bed and looking at Nihlus, who still held the tablet in his hand. After a few seconds it became clear that she was waiting for him to reply.

"Yes, Ma'am. But it can wait," the officer said qucikyl.

"No please, I insist. I brought all the time in the world. Go on. Read your report. We can talk after you've attended your duties."

He looked at her again and then slowly lowered his eyes to the tablet, going over the newest update he had received on the state of his legion. While he was stuck in the turian home system, the soldiers of Oma Ker were being deployed to establish observation posts and FOBs along the edges of inhabited space, their eyes set on the rim of the galaxy. Their orders were clear. While Palaven and other core systems were mustering their forces to prepare for another attack on Council space, the Oma Ker would stand ready to delay any incursion for as long as possible, preparing to fight a long, grueling war of attrition along a set of planets that had been identified as likely staging grounds for an extra-galactic invasion. As expected, they had received this task because the Primarch of Oma Ker had for once managed to be more vocal than his armigerian counterparts in regards to how ready his troops were to volunteer for the hardest possible mission.

Other than that, there were only more obituaries for the latest Oma Ker lives that the battle of Virmire had claimed and an update to the number of new recruits the colonial cluster planned to request from Hierarchy Command to make up for their losses and to shore up their own numbers in preparation for a possible invasion.

"I'm done," he said as soon as he reached the last page.

"Good," Olarion said as she folded her hands in her lap and looked at him with her dark-golden eyes. "Let's get to the reason I came here, shall we?"

"Yes, Ma'am."

"As you personally experienced, the battles of Virmire and the Citadel have shown us that standard doctrine isn't going to work against the enemy Arterius brought to our shores. We lost two dozen ships and thousands of soldiers to a single reaper ship. The only way we can survive the invasion Primarch Fedorian believes to be imminent, is if we adapt. You served in the Auxiliary Corps. I am sure you had your fair share of encounters with officers who insisted on sticking to field manuals despite there being a better, albeit unconventional mindset alternative. It is a common blight in our military that I have been guilty of in the past myself," the Primarch explained. "I came here because I was tasked with putting together a team, a group of individuals that can think and execute unconventional strategies and tactics with the aim of achieving victory against a foe that has proven immune to most of our doctrines. I want you on that team."

He thought a moment about his single-word question. Then he gave in to his curiosity.

"Why?"

"Do you know how uncommon it is for a member of the Auxiliary Corps to rise to the rank of Major?"

He nodded. "I have been told that I am a rare exception. The first in this century."

"Have you ever considered why?"

He could only shrug in response. "No, Ma'am."

"Then let me explain," the older turian said. "You are uniquely talented at making the most out of an inferior position, Major Kryik. Unlike just about every ranking officer in our army, you spent almost your entire career fighting at a disadvantage. Fewer troops, inferior firepower, small chances of victory, those are the staples of all of your battles. Yet somehow you haven't lost a single fight."

"I lost on Virmire," he injected almost immediately.

"No. Your legion lost soldiers and you were wounded, but you still won the battle. Despite only having an incomplete, mismatched and scattered force at your command, your leadership secured the position from which we won," Olarion corrected quickly. "As I said, you are uniquely talented. Now. To return to my offer. Like I said, I was tasked with creating a team and I want you on it. What do you say?"

He considered it for a moment.

He was proud to serve on Oma Ker. He loved the planet and its people and had planned to spent the rest of his career and life there. But none of that would matter when an armada of Reaper ship and swarms of geth attacked the planet and the Hierarchy didn't have a way to fight it.

"I'll join your team," he said almost immediately after the image of Oma Ker's capital burning at the hands of an undefeatable enemy left his mind. "But first I've got to ask who I'll be working with." It was a rule of his to always know his as much as he could about his comrades and subordinates. The better he knew the people he'd fight with, the easier it was to win.

"Good, I expected no less of the first person I asked," the Primarch nodded with a smile before pulling out a tablet and handing it to him, giving Nihlus no time to consider that he had been number one on her list. Instead of letting it boost his ego, he quickly read over what had been given to him, a list of names. Three dozen turians from varying backgrounds. Regular combat units, special forces like the Recon Corps, the Cabals or the Blackwatch, science officers, one C-SEC detective. All were marked as potential candidates, pending review by the commander of the unit.

"This team of yours," he asked as he read over the first couple of dossiers, they were very impressive soldiers, "does it have a name yet?"

The Primarch's dark-gold eyes lit up a bit in response.

"Officially the unit has been branded as the Nine Hundred-Ninety-Ninth Palavanian Special Purpose Division."

"That's an awfully long name," Nihlus pointed out before catching himself. Not the time to have a loose mouth.

"Which is why I had it renamed," the Primarch said before pulling out a folded unit shield from her pocket and handing it to her. These usually sown on uniforms but given the nature of this team, he assumed that they wouldn't actually be wearing any insignias. He unfolded it and looked at the silver sowing. It was a stylized, setting sun stitched on a black background and three palavani were letters written underneath.

"SLD?" he asked a moment later.

"It stands for Strategic Logistics Division."

"I see," he nodded. "And I will gladly be a part of your team, Primarch," Nihlus replied, prompting Olarion to smile a pleased smile and reach for something else in the pocket of her uniform.

"Before I make your decision known and final with Primarch Fedorian, there is one more thing you should know," she said before reaching into another pocket and pulling out a new rank insignia. Were those general bars? What was she going to do with those?

"What is it?"

"I was tasked with the creation of this new division," she said. "But my responsibilities don't allow me to lead the team myself," she opened her hand. Yes. Those golden button-on pieces she held in her hand really were general bars. "If you accept my offer to join, that responsibility and all the authority that comes with it will transfer to you," she said.

His mandibles pressed against his jaw. Were those for him?

They had to be, right?

"What do you say?" she pressed a moment later.

He had dedicated his life to serving the Hierarchy, to lead soldiers into battle, to win fights and to repay the Hierarchy and its citizens for the life they had given him. Now they called on him to find a way to fight their worst enemy yet.

This wasn't even a choice.

This was simply a matter of duty.

"It would be my honor."

"Then I hereby promote you into the rank of first acting commander of the Strategic Logistics Division," she said before getting up, reaching for the collar of his hospital garment and attaching the bars to it. "Congratulations, General Kryik."


10. February 2415 AD, Amaterasu, Hrabrost

Although the doctors had been strictly against it, Emily had refused to miss either William's or Anderson's funeral. As soon as a date had been set, she had signed herself out of the hospital, flown back to the Citadel to attend the public funeral of humanity's first Spectre and then made the long trip to Amaterasu to join the private one of the deceased gunnery sergeant. Compared to the political maneuver that Anderson's funeral had turned out to be, she much preferred this one.

While there wasn't that much of a difference to other military funerals she had intended, what stood out to Emily was that she had never seen nearly as many family members as now be part of the funeral detail before. As three generations of Williams' servicemen, grandparents, parents and siblings alike, lowered the casket into the grave, the golden eagle and empty globe that set on the red-white banner that made up the HSA's flag slowly disappeared out of Shepard's view.

She knew how heavy the weight they were carrying was.

As a soldier she respected how little they let it show.

As a person she wondered if this their unique way of grieving.

"And even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death," the chaplain spoke while sprinkling some water onto the casket and quoting from his bible, "I will fear no evil, for you are with me, your rod and your staff, they comfort me. Thou shalt prepare a table before me in the presence of them- "While they had chatted now and again, she had never known Williams came from such a religious background or that her family was this large. She had always figured there'd be more than enough time to get to know her entire crew when the mission was over. She regretted that now.

"Surely thy loving-kindness and mercy shall follow me all the days of my life and I will dwell in the house of the Lord forever," the man in front of the casket said. "For you are my shepherd and so am I blessed. In you I find peace and my soul is rested. Amen."

While she couldn't claim to follow any particular religion, she joined in on the chorus that repeated the last word of the chaplain out of respect for Williams' family. But she still couldn't help but press her jaw tighter at that last line and the first shovel of dirt being thrown down the grave alongside it.

As she slowly got closer in line to do the same, standing right behind Liara, Garrus and Wrex, whom the family had invited alongside her when they had heard that they too had served alongside their daughter, Emily threw a glance at the grieving next of kin and friends, something that had almost been entirely absent at last funeral she had attended, excluding Anderson's mother and the blonde woman who had set with her but left before Shepard had managed to talk to her and find out just who she had been to the captain. Although they had died within seconds of each other, their deaths had really been a far cry from each other, at least when one viewed the consequences they had had on other people.

Before she picked up the shovel, the N7 wondered what it would've looked like if it had been her instead of Anderson and Williams. Would she have gotten this or would her funeral have been turned into something akin to the heroic but in the end empty farewell Anderson had gotten?

She'd never know.

So instead of pondering, Emily picked up the shovel, put some dirt on its tip and threw it onto the casket, covering the last visible part of the golden eagle in the process. Then she followed the Normandy's crew and left the casket behind her, a single promise in her mind. The deaths of Williams and Anderson would mean something. She wouldn't let the reapers win.

As she slowly followed the rest of Williams' family off the cemetery and looked up at the clouds for a second, a heavy set of footsteps fell in line with her and drew her attention.

"Shepard," Wrex greeted. It was rare to see the krogan outside of his armor.

"Wrex," she replied, looking at the bounty hunter. Although it was hard to tell with the loose hanging sleeve of his dark-red attire, which probably still had an armor rating similar to her N7 hardsuit, what he had said after Virmire had come true. His arm really had already started to regrow already.

"I thought long and hard about how to tell you this," he began. In her mind, Emily already knew what was coming. She had suspected something ever since she had seen him start packing his gear after Anderson's funeral and after Liara had told them that she was needed to study the ruins on Ilos in the hope of finding out more about the reapers and would have to leave the Normandy. But back then she hadn't felt like saying something. The blow of one squad-mate leaving when she was already down two had kept her from speaking up. "And I figure the best way to tell you is to just be direct. I'm not coming back with you. Tomorrow I'm taking the first ship off this planet. Ticket's already booked."

"Why not?" Emily calmly asked a moment later. She wasn't going to argue with his decision or try to convince him to stay. Now that she knew the krogan, she also knew that that just wouldn't work.

"Do you remember what I told you when we met at Fisk's club? About the coming storm?"

"You said Saren and I were in the middle of it," she recalled after a moment.

Wrex nodded.

"Saren might be dead but this isn't over. My bones are still aching and ever since the Citadel, it's become worse," the bounty hunter explained. "If we want to stand a chance at beating the reapers, we'll have to stand as one. Humans, turians," he paused for a moment, "krogan. It's going to take all of us. And as things are right now, my people aren't ready. They're too busy fighting themselves. Unless something changes, we'll have bled ourselves dry when the reapers show up at our doorstep. I refuse to let that happen. So I need to go back, remind my people of the warriors we used to be. Get them ready for when the storm hits."

"I see," Emily said. "I guess this is farewell then?"

"No," the krogan said directly. "This isn't a farewell." She turned to look at Wrex. "It's a promise. Me and all of Tuchanka will be your krantt."

"My what?"

"Your closest allies," he translated before looking in her eye. "When the reapers come to start their harvest, we'll stand with you. Until we meet victory or until we meet a warrior's death."

She really didn't know what to say, except for one thing, which given what he planned to do felt incredibly necessary.

"Good luck, Wrex," she said, stopping and offering the krogan bounty hunter her hand.

"To you as well," he replied before grasping the hand with his remaining arm, shaking it and leaving with nothing but a brief 'so long, Blue', as he passed Garrus.

"He's really leaving then?" the turian said, his flanging voice devoid of its usual wit.

"Yes," she replied.

"Where to?"

"Tuchanka."

"Oh," Garrus replied, somewhat surprised. "Why Tuchanka?"

"To unite his planet," she said. Judging by his brief silence, it took Garrus a moment to register that she wasn't kidding.

"Ambitious," he finally said."

"Yes," Emily nodded before biting her lip and asking the question on her mind. "What about you?"

"What about me?" the turian repeated in a confused tone.

"Your mission was Saren. Saren's dead," she began. "What are you going to do now?"

Garrus hesitated for a moment and she prepared herself to say good-bye to yet another one of her comrades.

"I talked to Executor Pallin and requested to make my status as a liaison officer on the Normandy permanent," he said as he looked around the cemetery and eyed the trees that dotted the otherwise grassy field. "But C-SEC took a lot of casualties in the attack. We're stretched thin as it is and he said that he can't spare any officers, especially not the few experienced ones that are left. He wanted me back on the Citadel from the moment Saren was dead. I've been keeping him at bay this long but he's really getting impatient by now."

Yup. Definitely leaving.

"So I told him that he'll either spare me and reap the reward from the good I can do with you or lose me permanently and gain nothing for it because I said I'd resign to stick with you. That seemed to do the trick. He approved my transfer yesterday. The only thing missing is the permission of the Normandy's commander."

"You're staying then?" she asked.

"If you'll still have me after everything that happened," he replied, somewhat hesitant, likely talking about the fact that he had spied on the Normandy as part of his first assignment back when C-SEC still hadn't been sure about her or Anderson's allegiance. Considering the honor detail they had sent to his funeral and the very real one tear she had seen Pallin shed at the procedure, that mindset had shifted since then.

Despite the occasion, she cracked a faint smile.

"After everything that happened, I'd be an idiot to let a soldier half as good as you go, Garrus."

While she was still bad with turian expressions, she was pretty sure what she was seeing on Garrus' plated face was the same thing she was feeling. A mixture of relief and happiness. After a moment or so, the detective caught himself and nodded.

"I won't let you down, Shepard."

"I know."


11. February 2415 AD, Cronos Station

"You in here Robin?" the specialist called into the room after not immediately spotting the engineer and hoping that she'd appear from some hidden corner and wave him in. It would've been a rather pointless trip up here if he had managed to align his arrival perfectly with her break or worse, her day off. When no reply came and the door stayed half-closed, he looked to his left and then his right and then let himself in, slipping through the door gap and into the lab. Once inside, he scanned the room. Still no sign of the blonde engineer or her somewhat annoying but also very amusing lab partner.

"Great," he muttered before spotting the reason he had come here and instantly cracking a smile.

Jackpot.

His armor.

While the engineer had initially said that there wasn't a lot more they could do about biotics, the fact that she had taken this long to fix it and that it looked different from before it had gotten torn apart on a molecular by an asari matriarch gave him hope that she had worked yet another miracle. Figuring that it'd be more than rude to just take the footlocker and leave, Morneau decided that he'd wait for the engineer to show up. But despite that decision, he figured that he could take a quick peek at her handiwork before then. Just so that he knew what he'd be working with. As he went to pick up his chest-piece and wondered about the faintly amethyst glint on the now mostly black armor-plating, a light-blue sphere materialized next to him, seemingly registering his presence.

"Unauthorized user recognized," it spoke in a soothing, distinctively female voice. "Identify yourself."

"Uhm. Hello," he replied before the sphere continued, its 'mouth' blinking in the process.

"Scanning voice-print. Unknown. Scanning immediate surroundings. Electronic HSAIS ID detected. Requesting service ID-, requesting service ID-, requesting service ID-. Error. File redacted. Detecting S13 encryption. Attempting decryption. One percent. Two perce-"

"EDI, please stop decryption and initiate shut-down," Robin quickly called as she entered through the door and looked at him with a face screaming 'what the hell are you doing?'.

"Understood. Stopping decryption and initiating shut-down, Ms. Wigmore," the sphere spoke while he slowly put down the piece of armor.

"I swear to god, I didn't do anything," Morneau said while raising his hands. The engineer in the lab coat said nothing and simply walked over to him and looked at the disk the sphere had projected itself from. "It just kind of turned on," he added while tugging at the collar of the combat shirt he was still wearing from the shooting drills he had just finished.

"Yes. She tends to do that when she gets curious." the younger blonde woman replied with a frown before pulling one of the dozen or so plugs from the base of the disk.

"Who's she?"

"EDI," Robin replied off-mindedly.

"E-what now?"

"Oh. Nothing important, actually," she muttered in a tone that made him wonder if she was even supposed to talk about it. Probably not. "I take it you got my message?" the woman asked before looking at his armor. Since he wasn't particularly eager to get her in trouble with her supervisor, he just pretended to ignore what had happened and picked up the chest-piece again.

"Yup," he nodded. "I gotta say, it looks good. Don't get what's with the new paintjob though. I kinda liked the grey."

"It's not a paintjob. It's ablative armor."

"I thought you said you couldn't do anything else about biotics?"

"I can't," the engineer muttered. "It won't stop what happened. It'll just give you some more time before it happens again."

"Neat," he said. "So. How does it work?"

"Do you really want to know the details or are you just asking for the sake of small-talk?" she asked while moving a strand of hair behind her ear, once again occupied with the disk.

"A bit of both. Just give me the dummy version, alright?"

"When you break it down, annihilation fields just seem to be permanent mass effect fields. Those work by putting Element Zero under a constant electric current. Whoever put you through the grinder back then used their amp and natural biotic abilities to create a constantly charged field of Eezo around you. That bit of amethyst you see is an insulator coating. It stops electric currents. If the current can't flow, there's no permanent mass effect field. And where there's no permanent mass effect fields, there also isn't an annihilation fields. So as long as that stuff is on there, you won't get shredded like last time."

"As long as?"

"Under sustained biotic assault it's going to come off eventually. I suggest you consider it a one-time safety and get it renewed after every mission."

He'd take it.

"Has anyone ever told you that you're a genius, Robin?"

"Yup," the woman shrugged. "But this time I don't actually deserve the credit. I didn't come up with the idea or the design. Aidan did. I just put the pieces together and sent you the message to come pick it up."

"Hold up. Abby did something that's gonna help with keeping me alive? Voluntarily?"

"Yes."

"I knew it. He does care about me after all," he chuckled.

"Don't get ahead of yourself. I'm pretty sure he only did it because I asked him nicely. Kind of surprised me too that he agreed to do it, actually."

"Really? That surprised you?" he asked, raising an eyebrow. "The guy would fall on a sword if you asked him nicely," he caught the glance she threw at him. "Speaking off Abby. Where is your worse, Scottish half anyways? Scouting wedding venues?"

"Really? This again?" Robin sighed. "How long are you going to keep up with that childish joke?"

"Until the two of you realise that I'm right and make me your best man. The speech's already written."

"I take it that means 'forever'?"

"Nah. I got a feeling it'll be a couple of years down the road before you make up your minds and I get to say 'I told you so'."

"You know," the woman muttered before looking at him. "There is probably a deeply-rooted psychological explanation for your excessive need to pair me up with Aiden. Maybe you're projecting your interest in me onto him because you're afraid or incapable of forming a lasting relationship with me?"

"Uhm what?"

"Or are you using me as a stand-in for your own feelings? Is it actually Aiden that you're interested in? I mean it'd certainly explain the childish teasing and attitude you adopt whenever he shows up. You're looking for his attention and that's the only way you know how to get it," she put down the disk and looked at him with an overstated thinking expression. "Or maybe this isn't about the two of us at all. Maybe it's about that colleague of yours. Rachel, wasn't it? Is it possible that your continued insistence of me and Aiden being interested in each other is actually caused by you projecting your own relationship with your own work partner on the two of us? Since you want to be with her, it's only logical that Aiden would want the same from me. That'd make sense too, wouldn't it?"

For a second, the specialist looked at the engineer. Then she cracked a smile, telling him that she was kidding. Still, his brain remained shut down for a second.

He had not expected that.

"You're right. This is fun," she said. "I knew picking that psychology class on the side would come in useful one day," when he remained unresponsive, she waved his hand in front of his face. "You still with us, Daniel?" It finally snapped him out of his surprise.

"If I promise to drop the joke, will you promise to never go full shrink on me again?"

"Now you've got me confused. I thought it wasn't a joke?"

"Pretty please?"

"But what about the wedding? And your speech? It will all have been for nothing if you just give up now. What about the 'I told you so'?"

"See now you're just rubbing it in," Morneau smiled before leaning against the desk. He got beaten at his own game and it had happened in such a spectacular fashion that he couldn't help but be impressed.

"That's exactly what I'm doing and I have to say, I'm also kind of enjoying it," Robin admitted. "But to answer your question, no, Aidan's not scouting wedding venues. He's on leave back on Arcadia, holding some guest lectures at UMT."

"Okay," he nodded before beginning to pack his armor into the footlocker. "Can you give him my thanks?"

"You can do that when he comes back next week. It'll be good for the two of you to have a positive conversation for a change."

"While I'd love to have a chat with good old Abby, I can't," Morneau said as he picked up his helmet.

"Leaving again already?" she deduced.

"Yup. Duty calls."

"And where to does it call you this time?" Robin asked, despite knowing that he couldn't talk about his destination just as much as she couldn't talk about this 'EDI' project of hers.

"Nowhere in particular," it was a lie and they both knew it. With Saren dealt with, he had been reassigned to chasing the latest lead on the Shadow Broker, on his own this time around. He was leaving tomorrow and unless something went horribly wrong or horribly right, he wouldn't be back for a couple of months. But he couldn't tell her any of that. "A bit here, a bit there. You know how it goes."

"So, basically the usual? Off to stop the next end of the world?" she said, half-jokingly and half-worried.

Although their relationship almost entirely consisted of Morneau nearly dying and breaking things in the process and Robin subsequently doing her best to salvage said things and find a way to prevent a similar near-death in the future, at least he had gotten the impression that they had become friends somewhere along the way. While all his other friends, which were the handful of Section 13 agents that had graduated the training course with him and Redford, didn't exactly get worried about him going on what was just another mission to them, Robin was different. Maybe it was because she didn't think the way those specialists thought or maybe it came from the fact that she had seen firsthand just how often he had gotten lucky, but with her, he always got the impression that she was worried that his luck would eventually run out and that he wasn't going to come back.

Either way, it made good-byes a bit weird.

"Yep. Pretty much," the specialist said while placing his gauntlets in his footlocker.

"Guess I'll see you around then," the engineer figured.

"You will," he said reassuringly before closing the container and lifting it off the desk. "Try not to start the synthetic apocalypse until I get back, alright? I kind of wanna be around when that happens," the specialist added before he walked to the door.

"I'll do my best," the woman returned. "And you try not to break your new armor. That thing was really expensive. If I've got to rebuild it again, you're the one who pays. Not the HSA."

"I will make no such promises," he called before leaving the lab.

He was after all going to Omega and as things went, the self-declared queen of that rock really, really didn't like humans.


17. February 2415 AD, Euler System, AN-258X

"In his latest public address, Ambassador Udina continues to push for a vote regarding human membership on the Citadel Council. As he explained today, it were human Spectres who stopped Saren and human warships which destroyed the advanced geth dreadnought that attacked the station three weeks ago. In addition to the most recent events, Donnel Udina also named humanity's continued contribution to the Citadel Patrol and Defense Fleet and their ongoing efforts to protect independent colonies in the Verge from slaver raids as reasons for the Council to consider a vote," the asari host said while Haugen looked at the barrel of the weapon he was cleaning, a modified SR-8 carbine, perfect for the tight quarters of the mining base. He wasn't sure what it was about this place but for one reason or another, stuff around here got very dusty, very quickly. Whether or not that was good for his lungs? He honestly didn't want to think about that right now. If his healthcare covered radioactive exposure, it would also handle dust, right?

"Moving on to news from the Attican Traverse with Joram Talid," the asari announced before the camera shifted to the turian next to her.

"Thank you Tarissa," the turian nodded. "We'll start our segment off with an update regarding the recent attack on Zorya," Haugen peaked up at that, deciding to pay more attention. "While communications with the planet are still limited due to severe damage of its comm buoy network, the possibility of a geth incursion can now be ruled out completely."

Good.

"As of last hour the paramilitary organization known as the Blue Suns, which grew to notoriety due their confrontation of Terminus slaver rings and rumored connections to active and former C-SEC officers and human military personal, has contacted various news outlets and issued a statement. According to one of the self-proclaimed commanders of the group, the Blue Suns are responsible for the attack on Zorya. In the words of the human commander, whom our sources have identified as one Zaeed Massani, a former HSA soldier, the aim of the attack is to topple the 'oppressive and corrupt regime that has tyrannized the colony since its founding twenty-three years ago,' the turian said while doing some air-quotes with his hands. "Although we have yet to confirm the authenticity of this statement, footage of armed combat in Zorya's capital Thun between planetary security forces and combatants that appear to belong to the Blue Suns has already surfaced on the extranet. If their involvement is confirmed to be true, this would make Zorya the latest and up to now largest attack in a string of operations carried out by the group in the region. We will continue to update you on this story as it develops."

"Thank you Joram," the asari moderator nodded before the next segment began. But since he couldn't care less about whatever the hanar on the screen was up to, the attention of the ASOC officer returned to his weapon.

"I gotta say, I liked them more when they were fucking up batarians in the Verge," Lieutenant Makarov, the leader of one of Phantom's sister squads, Wraith, muttered before wiping his hands off on a towel.

"You know that those planets they attacked were some of the Hegemony's best costumers, right?" Haugen replied absent-mindedly, recalling what he had read about the Blue Suns in the past few days. While he couldn't claim to be the most politically-interested person in the galaxy, the fact that they had been stuck on this rock for the better part of the last three weeks had left him a lot of free time. So whenever he wasn't working a shift at one of the mining base's stations in order to keep up the illusion that the asteroid was still just a mining base, he listened to the news.

"Maybe. Doesn't change that these guys are carving out their own little empire and we're watching them do it," the other ASOC officer shrugged. "Mark my words, ten years down the road, we'll have to give them the same treatment we gave Eclipse and those Blood Pack fuckers."

"Then that's what we'll do," Haugen muttered while putting his SR-8 back together. "If it ever becomes necessary."

"Sounds like you don't think they'll become a problem."

"I think anyone who offs slavers for a living can't be that bad," Haugen elaborated while putting the tools back in their box.

"Offing slavers is one thing. I'm with you on that. But conquering planets? I don't know man. Sounds to me like they'll expand their list of acceptable targets soon enough."

"That's fine by me as long as they stick to the Terminus."

"And if they don't?" the leader of Wraith squadron pointed out.

"Then I'm with you on giving them the Eclipse treatment," Haugen said before his radio came to life.

"Phantom-Lead, come in."

"Go."

"We've got activity at the relay. Three ships just entered the system. IFF marks them as unknown contacts but they're definitely batarian ships."

"Size?"

"Corvettes."

Good. They could handle a couple of corvette crews.

"Understood. The mission's a go. Sound the alarm."

"Yes, Sir."

A second later a low whine echoed through the mining base and the two ASOC officers split up, each going to link up with their squads. When he reached Phantom at the landing bay entrance, they had just finished putting on their armor and were in the process of disappearing at the hands of their camo systems.

"I take it the rules haven't changed, Boss?" Miller asked over the squad intercom, his voice inaudible to the outside world.

"Yes. Everyone but Balak and other officers gets iced. These guys are terrorists. We have to assume they'll fake a surrender to take some of us with them. Don't take any risks by trying to capture them. I don't want to scratch any of you off the walls because you triggered an s-vest. Understood?"

"Yes, Sir," the squad replied in unison.

"Status on the corvettes?" he asked over the radio. While he knew that he should probably help with coordinating the 'hunting parties' that had spread out over the station, he wasn't going to pass up on the chance to take part in this fight.

"ETA one minute," the soldier that had taken his place as a coordinator answered. "Their VIs just broke through the station's firewall but they haven't discovered our overlaying network. We still got full control over all systems."

"Copy that. Kill the interior lights and arm the traps," he replied. A second later darkness befell the station and his night-vision turned on, making the ASOC operatives even more invisible than they already were. Alongside the green overlay a filter that highlighted the various shrapnel-based explosives his soldiers had hidden all over the station in red appeared too. While they weren't powerful enough to tear a hole into the hull, they'd shred any batarian that got too close to them the moment they were detonated. As he heard the dampened sound of the hangar shutters being opened, he braced himself.

The hunt was on.


Codex: Mass Relays

While limited FTL drives are common place, long-distance travel across the galaxy is only made possible by the Mass Relay network that spans the Milky Way. These structures work by creating mass-free corridors of space-time, allowing to reduce journeys that would take centuries to hours, or in the case of primary relays, seconds.

Although all relays discovered up to date with the exception of the Omega-4 Relay (See Codex Entry 'Omega-4 Relay'), there is a clear distinction that can be made. The network consists of primary and secondary relays. Primary relays are those that are used to propel a ship across thousands of light years. Unlike the secondary relays, which link to all other relays within a short distance, primary relays only have one partner and appear to be linked in a way that ensures arrival at the Citadel sooner than later. Examples of Primary Relays include but are not limited to the Alpha Relay in the Viper Nebula, the Omega-4 Relay and the Ninmah Relay which linked Rachni Space to Citadel space.

Originally constructed by the prothea-

[Incoming message detected.]

Hey again.

So turns out vetting you wasn't that bad of an idea. Daddy's a big shot in the HSA, isn't he?

Now before you get worried, no I won't hunt you down or some stalker shit like that.

I've got a genuinely good motive here. So hear me out.

[Message received]

[Incoming message detected.]

Didn't block me yet? Good.

So. Where were we the last time around? Right. The 'geth ship'. Yeah. Like I said. Total horseshit.

That thing was as much of a geth-ship as the relays are prothean-tech. You remember Commander Shepard? Who am I kidding, of course you remember her. Who doesn't know the second human Spectre? Well, as it turns out, she actually had a theory about that before she went MIA two years ago. She called that thing a 'Reaper'. And unlike the Council wanted you to believe, no, that wasn't actually the name of some geth cult that left the Veil to blow up the Citadel. It's what that ship called its species. Yes. You read that write. The ship gave its kind a name. Not the geth, not the Saren, itself. It was sentient, it knew what it was doing and it had friends before we killed it.

Either way. You're probably asking yourself what that's got to do with me hacking into your Codex and the answer's this. That Reaper ship? I think it's got something to do with what's been happening this last months, with all those colonies going missing. I mean think about it. How many are gone by now? Nearly a million? I know they're blaming slavers but with the Suns holding a tight grip on the border, doesn't that seem a bit unlikely? Wouldn't it rather fit the MO of a genocidal race of space ship out to fuck with the species that killed its buddy?

Ponder on that for a bit while I figure out a way to keep the Codex from discovering me at all.

[Citadel Codex application has encountered a harmful VI client. To protect your omni-tool and data from possible malware, Citadel Codex hast shut itself down for the time being. To reactivate your Citadel Codex, please contact customer supp-]

[Are you sure you want to terminate Citadel Codex Application? This may lead to a loss of personalized data.]

.

.

.

[Thank you for using the Citadel Codex.]


A/N:

So the month-long break it took me to balance work and planning out Season 4 (yes, I still insist on treating this like a TV series, bite me) is over and we've hit the in-between chapter that's like most set-up chapters. Talking, not a lot happening and all over the place. We've got politics, we've got drama, we've got comedy and we've got some good old back to the roots secret-organistion founding!

Yes.

It's basically SHIELD from Marvel but with turians.

I'm not ashamed to admit that.

Either way, we also continued the codex plot, which as you can now guess is going to tie into the disapperances that'll form the plot of Mass Effect 2 alongside what I'll call a bit of an expended Lair Of the Shadow Broker plot.

The plan, which knowing me is probably going to change at least thrice before we actually get there, will be to continue the trend of several plot-lines in the beginning that'll shape up into one final plot when we hit the endgame of Mass Effect 2. While I don't think it'll be as all over the palce as Mass Effect 1, which retrospectivly had a bit too many side-plots for my liking, I do intend to keep at least these four things going.

- the Collector Plot which will include Shepard and the Renegade Background Haugen (in an as of yet spoilery capacity that I won't go into other than telling you that he'll be involved) which is going to be action and character-focused

- the Lair of the Shadow Broker / Section 13 plot which will be more about the kind of intrigue I used to write in the beginning

- the preparation for the reapers/politics plot which will also follow the earlier style

- the League of One plot, which I will thus refer to as Twelve Plus One.

So.

Other than that?

Who can guess what'll happen next?

Batarians are gonna get smoked.

That's what.

But other stuff too so tune in again whenever I find the time (no promises when that might be, as usual.

Either way. While I was busy not writing (as usual I grinded the actual text out in a couple of days and dicked around a month with some notes) we cracked a THOUSAND follows.

Holy shit. I know I keep saying this, but I'm absolutely humbled and amazed that there are actually a thousand people who thought I'm talented enough to want to read more. It's such a strange concept to try and imagine you all in a room and realise that I couldn't even fit half of you inside.

Fuck do I not want to let you guys by somehow becoming unable to finish SV.

For the record we're at 601 reviews, 922 favorites and 1016 follows.

See you around next time.