Chapter Thirty: State of the Galaxy I
"Never stand when you can sit, never sit when you can lie down, never stay awake when you can sleep."
- UNSC Marine Corps Handbook (Unofficial)
Citadel
"We're live in five seconds."
With that cue from their Salarian studio technician Killik, Emily Wong organized the papers on the desk one last time, made sure her coffee cup was in its usual spot, and brushed that errant piece of hair that always seemed to be there back behind her ear. She looked left to her co-host, an Asari named Veyla, who gave her a small smile before folding her hands on the news desk and looking forwards into the camera. Emily did the same, watching the small series of lights atop the recording/broadcasting device count down until the final one turned red. They were now on the air.
"Good evening and thank you for tuning into Citadel Independent News. I'm Emily Wong here with my co-host Veyla D'Mari, and tonight we'll be bringing you our State of the Galaxy report, where we present today's top stories regarding the Citadel, the galaxy, and you."
"To start off the hour: Asari emigration numbers off of the Citadel have broken records that have stood since the Krogan Rebellions almost fifteen-hundred years ago," said Veyla.
"Ever since Asari Councilor Jia Tevos expressed the wishes of the governments of the Asari Republics to not join together with the Human Systems Alliance, the Turian Hierarchy, and the Salarian Union in the fight against the Reapers, Asari have been leaving the Citadel in droves for worlds throughout the Asari Republics," said Wong.
"Alongside this trend is a new, developing sense of racial tension creeping through the Citadel directed at Asari that still remain. With us now to offer some more insight is…
"Suspended? For how long?"
"The rules call for a full week in cases such as these."
"This is absolutely ridiculous!" protested Miela Ieroa, who, along with her daughter Ariela, was sitting in the uncomfortable chairs arranged across from the expansive desk of the school Principal, a Turian in an expensive-looking business suit.
"Ms. Ieroa, you know as well as I do that we have a zero-tolerance policy regarding violence at this school. Not only did your daughter strike another student, but she did so unprovoked, and she used biotics to enhance her blow. The child she hit had to receive stitches."
"Unprovoked?" Meila protested with both confusion and mounting anger. She gestured to the vidscreen on the one of the walls of the Principal's modest office, where video footage of the incident was playing on a loop.
The footage showed her daughter Ariela crowded against a wall of lockers by a Human girl, and Human boy, and a Turian boy. She couldn't hear anything, but could clearly tell by the body language and positioning that the three other kids were accosting her own. After a few seconds the Turian took a fist to the left side of his jaw, the slight blue hue of biotics that was increasing Ariela's strength clearly evident. "Where's the audio? They must have been verbally abusing her or something. There's no reason my daughter would strike another unprovoked like you say she did."
"Unfortunately audio is not available," the Principal said.
Meila raised one of her brows in mock surprise. "Oh really? Unavailable? I'm a SysTech security consultant at Citadel Central Bank and I know for a fact that you use the same security camera system, which most definitely has top-of-the-line audio pickup."
She saw the Turian's lower mandibles quiver slightly, a physical sign she had picked up through her three-hundred and four years of life as a characteristic Turian tell.
"I apologize, but the decision is final," the Principal said with what resolution he could muster. "Your daughter may return to school in exactly one week. Of course, she is expected to keep up with her coursework so she may resume classes smoothly."
Meila flared her nose at the Turian in anger, taking the shoulder of her daughter and having them both rise up out of their chairs, and after an icy glare from the elder Asari the two walked out of the office without a backwards glance.
Ariela was silent the entire walk out of the school building and all the way to her mother's aircar, only speaking when they had both gotten in and the doors had closed. "Those kids have always been bullies. Recently it's become popular to pick on Asari. They tried to on me, but I just did what Dad taught me to do. Are you mad at me?"
She looked over to her mother with wondering eyes, Miela meeting them with her own and giving her daughter a slight smile. "No, I'm not mad at you."
She keyed the ignition to the aircar and tapped the autopilot on the central console display, setting the destination as their apartment in the upper part of Aroch Ward. As the aircar took off from the spot and settled into the VI-corralled skylane to begin its trip Meila sighed quietly. Ariela's Turian father had died during the Geth attack on the Citadel three years ago. He had been a C-Sec officer who had prior to that been an infantryman in the Hierarchy military, so naturally he had taught their daughter not to back down and look after herself if needed.
While in some ways that particular method of parenting had caused some issues with hard-headedness, it had resulted in Ariela becoming a very strong-willed, independent child who wasn't afraid to speak her mind or take action when she thought it was necessary. Thus, why Meila didn't find it at all surprising that her daughter stood up to those bullies in such a… proactive manner.
Speaking of surprising, Meila still didn't know how she felt about Ariela's school's decision to stay open, despite the recent attack on the Citadel by Cerberus. The reason given had been to try and keep things as normal as possible for the children, which made sense she supposed, especially since Aroch Ward had been nearly untouched during the terrorist assault. Although, she had heard through personal accounts and the news that many other schools had closed indefinitely after the Cerberus attack, and would likely remain closed while the Reaper War, as it was being called, went on.
Schools weren't the only thing that had been affected by recent events. The new war that had so suddenly and violently become a horrifying reality to the galaxy had resulted in a lot of changes in the daily lives of those who lived on the Citadel. Arguably the most major change was the huge number of refugees that now resided on the station. Tens of thousands of displaced persons had taken up temporary shelter throughout the Citadel, the large majority being Batarian and Turians, but also a fair number of Humans fleeing in fear, even though the Reapers had been contained above Earth. With this large influx of people also came their equally large need for basic necessities such as food, water, and shelter. As a result, the rest of the Citadel citizens were starting to feel an increasing economic strain when it came to purchasing certain objects. Luckily, Meila's job paid well, and she had enough savings to last her and her daughter a while, at least, she hoped so.
Something else she had noticed was that there was now a certain air about the Citadel that wasn't there before, one of seriousness, and also uncertainty. People were less chatty in general, content to just go about their daily business as quickly as they could; she saw more people talking in hushed, worried whispers, and just noticed less laughter or jovial spirits in general.
Miela made a sudden decision to attempt to lighten both her own mood and her daughter's, tapping in a new course into the aircar's navigation systems.
"Are we not going home?" asked Ariela.
"Not right away. First, we're going for ice cream."
The slight smile and brightening of the eyes from her child made Miela know she had made the right decision. It was only a couple of minutes to the nearest ice cream shop, and the aircar's autopilot set the vehicle down gently in one of the marked parking spots.
The ice cream store was part of a larger shopping area, and along with the variety of other storefronts around the plaza it was open aired as well, nothing but a counter with seats provided in the plaza commons.
The area wasn't particularly crowded, but considering the time of day there were a decent amount of people around. No Asari though, Miela saw after a short glance around. She had just a brief flutter of nervousness in her stomach, but it passed quickly.
She saw that the ice cream counter wasn't currently manned, but Miela spurred them on so that they could look at the different flavors displayed behind the glass. Miela preferred just plain vanilla herself, but she saw Ariela eyeing the cookies and cream and rocky road.
After about a minute a slightly past middle-aged Human man came out of the back. He looked over at the two Asari and Meila saw his grey-stubbled chin twitch.
Miela almost frowned, instead just deciding to speak their order. "Can I have a small vanilla cake cone, and -"
"Medium cookies and cream in a waffle cone please," Ariela said up to her mother.
"And a medium cookies and cream in a waffle cone please."
The man across the counter looked at Meila with harsh brown eyes. "We're out of those flavors."
"Excuse me?" Miela said, looking back into the containers of ice cream behind the glass. Both flavors in question clearly had more than enough ice cream in their respective containers. "I can see the containers right here, they're nearly full."
"We're out," the man said gruffly, eyes unflinching in their hardness.
"Well what about chocolate? Or strawberry? Are you out of those too?" Miela said hotly, temper rising. Both of those containers were full as well.
"Out," was the simple response.
Miela's mouth was open in awe. Why was this man doing this? All she wanted was to get ice cream for her daughter for Goddess' sake!
"Are you refusing to serve us?" Miela asked incredulously. "Why?"
"You know why," the man said back coldly.
Meila's anger was reaching a boiling point now. "Is it because we're Asari? This is outrageous! It's Citadel law that you can't discriminate against somebody because of their species or race!"
"I can refuse service to anybody or anything I damn well please," the man behind the counter snarled.
The way he emphasized the "thing" in anything in how he was referring to them almost sent Miela over the counter after them, but a hand on her shoulder stopped her.
She spun around to come face to face with a female Turian, and although Turian expressions were on average harder to read than other species, Miela saw no warmth in her eyes or facial plates.
"Ma'am, you really should just leave. The owner does have the ability to refuse service to patrons who are being too unruly.
"Unruly?" Miela responded. Meila shrugged her shoulder to get the Turian woman's hand off of her, taking a step away from her. Her hand instinctively found Ariela, and she grasped onto her shoulder tightly. "Unruly? Can't you see how xenophobic he's being?" Miela couldn't believe what was happening. She had never before in her life experienced any kind of xenophobic tendencies, from anywhere. Where was this coming from? "Just wait until C-Sec gets here!"
"You think C-Sec is going to care about two Asari unable to get their precious ice cream?" It was the Turian woman again. "They have much more important things to worry about currently."
"How about you just leave us alone and go home? Just like the rest of you Asari are doing!" This was a new voice, Human, male, a younger man though. He had been drawn by the commotion from the plaza and was now only a few feet away from the female Turian who had first touched her.
"Like the rest of us?" Miela parroted.
"Yeah, you Asari cowards left the rest of us out to dry. Meanwhile, people like my grandsons have been ripped from their families and are fighting and dying trying to save us! And how do you show your gratitude? By running the fuck away!" It was the ice cream man, and he was yelling now.
"But, but," Miela stammered, "I haven't run away! The Citadel is my home! I'm here with all the rest of you! I'm doing what I can to help the war effort, I made a donation to the Turian Refugee Relief fund yesterday!"
"Bullshit! ALL of you selfish blue freaks are the same!" It was a different voice this time. More had joined the crowd. Meila looked for a friendly face, a sympathetic expression, anything, but found nothing.
"All right, break it up! That's enough!" The voice was strong, one of authority. It made heads turn, including Miela's. She had expected it to have been a C-Sec officer, but to her surprise instead she saw several armed men dressed in dark grey armor plate and tactical webbing. There were five of them, and although Miela could clearly read the letters 'UNSC' on their shoulder pads and breastplates, the letters might as well have spelled out 'salvation'.
The crowd parted remarkably quickly for the UNSC soldiers, and the general mood of the crowd which had been whipping itself into a maelstrom calmed just as fast, if a bit reluctantly. The tall, most forward soldier saw Miela and her daughter and quickly inferred that they were the origin of the distress. He gave a hand signal to the rest of his men, who started to form a loose barrier around the crowd. Granted this barrier was armed with rifles, and that was what most likely made those assembled listen to the UNSC soldier's requests for them to 'move along.'
"Lieutenant Clark, UNSC Marines," the man said, looking down at the two Asari with kind eyes. "Is there a problem here?"
"No, not anymore," Miela said, allowing herself a small sigh of relief. "I had just wanted to get some ice cream for my daughter…"
Lieutenant Clark looked back over his shoulder to see that the crowd had mostly departed now, a few still looking back with glares as they walked away. "Those people were that offended that you wanted some ice cream?"
Miela frowned. "I don't know if you're aware of everything that's been going on, but it seems that Asari aren't looked upon so favorably anymore."
"I'm aware of enough ma'am," the Lieutenant said. "There's a reason why we still go out patrolling."
"We should probably get back to our aircar…" Meila started.
"What's your name?" Lieutenant Clark asked her daughter before she could speak any more.
"Ariela," she dutifully responded.
"Well Ariela, what's your favorite flavor of ice cream?"
"Rocky road."
The UNSC Lieutenant nodded his helmeted head in approval. "Ding!"
Another Marine came jogging over at the call, obviously 'Ding'. He was shorter than Clark, but with broader shoulders and a darker Hispanic complexion. "Yessir?"
"I've got a mission for you. I need you to… appropriate some ice cream from that store over there," Lieutenant Clark said, winking at Ariela.
"Yes, sir. Rules of engagement?" The Marine, the nameplate on his chest armor read 'Chavez', had a mischievous smirk on his face.
"Rocky Road. Large cone. Waffle?" Clark directed this question to Ariela, who nodded emphatically.
As the shorter Marine bounded off towards the store Lieutenant Clark asked, "Which one is your aircar, ma'am?"
As Miela turned to point it out Clark reached into a pouch on his belt and as quick as a flash withdrew a small UNSC-issued chocolate candy bar ration. He held the bar behind his back out of Miela's sight, but within plain view of Ariela. The young Asari, immediately cluring in to the subtle act of subterfuge, took the candy bar out of the Marine's hand and deftly slid it into one of her pockets before her mother could turn back around.
Meanwhile, Clark could hear the terse words being exchanged in the ice cream shop through their squad channel, but soon enough Chavez was returning with a waffle cone piled high with Rocky Road ice cream. The smile on Ariela's face upon seeing it was enough to lighten everyone's day, if only a little.
Wong: "Moving onto our next story of the day, formal draft orders have been enacted by the Turian Hierarchy is wake of the recent Reaper invasion."
D'Mari: "Despite the stunning victory over the shipyards of Despara yesterday, new Turian Primarch Adrien Victus signed into being the fourth universal draft notice in Hierarchy history a few hours ago during an emergency council session.
Wong: "Here to expand further on this, and the new reports of massing numbers of troops over Despara is our war analyst…"
Ground Assault Ship PFS Dominus
Despara, Julta System
Tarquin Victus, son of recently promoted/advanced/crowned Primarch Adrien Victus, hesitated for a moment before the closed metal door in front of him, beyond which was the Officer's Wardroom. Waiting for him were the other three Platoon commanders of D Troop, 1st Squadron, 8th Assault Cavalry Regiment, the direct subordinates of his new command. Victus, now a Captain, had been promoted from Lieutenant due to his performance against the Reapers during these past few violent days. The fact that almost the the entire Company he formerly served in had been annihilated by said Reapers, beginning at Palaven, then finished during the defense of Despara and her shipyards, didn't seem to matter to the higher-ups.
Captain Victus was now the acting commanding officer of D Troop, 1st Squadron, 8th Assault Cavalry Regiment. A Turian Assault Cavalry Regiment was a unique unit within the Turian Military, a self-contained unit capable of operating separately from other units, with enough firepower to punch through an enemy formation, enough staying power to hold a defensive position, and enough maneuverability to project a hefty amount of force across a large portion of the battlefield.
The 8th Assault Cavalry Regiment was composed of three Squadrons. Each Squadron was composed of a headquarters Troop, three Assault Cavalry Troops, an artillery Troop, and an aviation Troop. 'Troop' was just another word for Company, and in the case of the Assault Cavalry a Troop was a mixed force of tanks and armored personnel carriers. Lastly, there was one Troop of pure tanks, meant to serve as the armored hammer of each Squadron. That was the Troop that Captain Victus now commanded, D Troop: Twenty tanks and an assortment of light-armored four-wheelers and supply trucks.
There was also a significant logistical element attached to the 8th Cavalry, but it was embarked on another ship. As it were, the 8th Cav had enough organic supplies of fuel, food, and munitions to last for three days of combat operations. Each Squadron was embarked upon its own Ground Assault Ships, large transport ships nearly the size of a Cruiser, but with very little weaponry other than point-defense Guardians and few missile launchers. The ships were heavily armored and shielded though, as the men and several hundred million credits worth of equipment they were transporting were very valuable to the Turian Hierarchy.
It had been just over a year since Victus had commanded tanks. He had graduated Officer Candidate School on an Infantry track, but the officers in charge of the school had deemed that he had done so well that he was offered the opportunity to enlist in a program which offered additional training in a second MOS. Then Second Lieutenant Victus, being the fresh and eager Turian officer that he was, gladly accepted the recommendation into the program, and thus began another cycle of training in the OCS, instead this time he graduated certified in Armored Warfare.
His first command had been to a tank Company, specifically 3rd platoon in this tank company, D Troop, 1st Squadron, 8 Assault Cavalry. He had served with them for a year before the powers-at-be transferred him to an Infantry command and promoted him to First Lieutenant, but that platoon had been destroyed, so here he was, a newly minted Captain.
Victus palmed the green 'open' haptic interface and the door to the wardroom slid open, the Turian stepping through afterwards. The wardroom, like the one on any Turian military ship, was the mess-cabin of commissioned officers. As such, the majority of the room was filled by long mess tables with bench style-seating, with some traditional square and chair tables dotted here and there. Vending machines for both food and drink took up some of the wall real estate, while at the far end of the room was the wardroom's cafeteria where food was served from.
The room was crowded, as was to be expected from a ship full of naval personnel and their ground-pounding cargo charges. It was easy to distinguish the two groups because their standard uniforms and uniform colors were different. The naval crew wore variations of blue and grey fatigues with white or gold trim, while those of the 8th Assault Cavalry were almost all adorned in their steel grey and black armor. That was another thing that was different between the two branches, the Navy pukes only wore armor when their ships were likely to be in combat, whereas the boots-on-the-ground types like Victus himself wore it almost all of the time.
Nearly all of the tables Victus could see were occupied by officers eating or drinking, and more than a few were going through the buffet-style food layout prepared by the cooks. The drinks were non-alcoholic of course, as the entire Turian military was strictly a dry one, at least while on duty. Some music was playing from a set of speakers somewhere, but the laid-back beat and instrumentals were somewhat drowned out by the buzz of conversation between the officers present of the PFS Dominus and the 8th Assault Cav. Victus recognized the type of buzz, it was one that was both subdued and excited, hesitant, yet confident. Everybody in the galaxy knew how big of a defeat the allied forces had inflicted upon the Reapers at Despara, and now it was painfully clear to these men and women that a counterstrike would come.
And so it would, Victus had no doubt, even though official orders had not yet been passed down from High Command. They had spent the last day above the Despara Shipyards reorganizing ships, manpower, and supplies for the oncoming offensive, and everybody knew it was only a matter of time before the mass effect cores were spun up and the fleets and troops started moving out. Those soldiers who had not yet met the enemy in face to face combat were eager to put their rigorous training to the test, and such a mood showed through their words and gestures as they spoke amongst one another. That was something that Victus knew was somewhat of a secret about the Turian military. Most of the other races in the galaxy perpetuated the stereotype that all members of the Turian military were as resolute and unbending as a stone, whereas in reality amongst themselves they could be as boisterous and boastful as any. It was an unspoken agreement, of course, that this was never expressed to anyone that wasn't a Turian.
Victus saw much of this attitude amongst the officers he glanced over as he stood by the door he had just came in. He knew for a fact that no one aboard this ship had seen combat against the Reapers. He had requested and gotten the unit records of the 8th Assault Cavalry and her transport ships upon notice of his transfer, and had found out that they had been conducting a joint training exercise with the Salarians when the Reapers had arrived in their galaxy, and had just now managed to get up to the front. That was the real reason why he was here, Victus knew. He had been chosen to lead D Troop instead of one of the platoon Lieutenants because he had real combat experience against the enemy, which High Command obviously thought was important.
Amidst all of the activity throughout the wardroom, Victus' eyes were drawn to some motion closer to one of the far walls. It was a Turian, dressed in the grey-black armor of the 8th Assault Cav, and he was waving at him. Even at this distance Victus recognized the man, and as he started over there he couldn't help but start to smile. Three other Turians who were sitting at the table Victus was now heading to stood as well, turning towards the approaching Captain, their own smiles appearing over their faces.
Victus maneuvered his way through the crowd of officers, putting out his hand to meet the extended one of the first Turian who had waved at him and grasping the forearm firmly. "Sevenius!"
"Victus!"
The two Turians embraced in an armored hug before breaking off, Victus greeting the other three Turians present at the table with forearm grasps as well. "Alegius, Quilius, Numoril, it's good to see you again."
"Sit down, Victus," Sevenius said, pointing to an extra empty chair around the table. They all sat, with Alegius passing Victus a bottled energy drink. And so began the first meeting, however informal it might have been, between the ranking officers of D Troop, 1st Squadron, 8th Assault Cavalry.
"So, Captain Victus now, is it? You sure came in with some… style," started Sevenius, tilting his head towards Victus.
Victus looked down, aware that his armor was still the black-and-red of his former infantry unit., and thus stuck out like a sore thumb. He hadn't had the time to get a new set with his new - old - no, new - unit's colors.
"You always did have a lousy sense of fashion," remarked Quilius, sitting next to him and earning a elbow to the rib from his Captain.
"We'll have to get the quartermaster to set you back up with the classic grey and black," said Numoril across from him. "No more of this flashy red infantry shit."
They all laughed, including Victus, even though the ribbing was being directed at him. He expected as much though, and for the first time since the war started he allowed himself to relax a bit.
Each one of the Turian Lieutenants around the table with him had been Victus' classmates during Officer Candidates School, with Sevenius having have been his roommate. These four men had become like brothers to him during that time, and still were. Victus took a swig of the energy drink he had been provided, looking on the label to check its flavor, his favorite fruit actually. So, Alegius had remembered. As the laughter and smiles subsided, the mood of the five suddenly became business-like, as all present had expected it to become.
"So, Victus," Sevenius began, "How bad is it? Really? Now that you're a Captain you must know more than we do."
Victus nodded, conceding that he in fact did know more now. "Lucky for all of you, Major Alsis sent me some briefing documents that I managed to read during the shuttle up here." A sigh. "It's not good. It could be worse, but it's still not good."
Those gathered around the table nodded their heads solemnly, as if this is what they were expecting to hear.
"We got our asses handed to us pretty bad at Palaven," Victus continued. "Lots of ships destroyed, a couple of fleets worth at least, plus who knows how many tens of thousands of troops we lost on the surface of Palaven and Menae."
One of those men was the late Primarch Fedorian, whose death had resulted in his own father assuming the role instead. He hoped the elder Victus was doing alright, he had already sent him a message explaining how he was still alive after the battle above Despara.
"Since then, it's been nothing but fighting retreats across nearly all of Turian space, with some largely unsuccessful attempts to regroup and reorganize," Victus said. "They just hit us too hard and too fast. We were unprepared for such a strike."
"Until we fucked them up here yesterday, that is," Alegius added a bit triumphantly, even though he had had nothing to do with the astounding victory.
"Even so, they still pounded the hell out of some sections of the shipyards," said Victus. My section specifically, he didn't add. "There's bound to be a significant amount of Reapers between us and Palaven, so it's not going to be easy."
"All the space stuff is up to the navy pukes," Sevenius said, "Tell us about what you've seen on the ground."
Victus had no doubt they all had thoroughly read their briefing and intelligence reports which outlined the types and capabilities of Reaper troops that the Allies had faced so far. No, they wanted his personal opinion, because he had been up against them face-to-face.
"Weak infantry mostly, but a lot of them. Husks go down easy, but they're fast and can be hard to hit. The Cannibals are meaty and sometimes armored, but they're slow and don't have any shields. They're weapons are shit too, slow-firing because they overheat easily, but you have to watch out for the grenades they can launch. The Marauders are the most dangerous by far. Armored, shielded, and smart. They use real tactics, like cover, flanking, suppressive fire, and the lower echelon troops that they're with use them too as long as they're around."
Victus took a quick look around the table, remembering where he was and who exactly he was talking too. "But that's infantry stuff. No, what we need to worry about, at least what I think, is the Brutes."
They all perked up at that. Obviously that was one of their main concerns as well, and why wouldn't it be? It was the only Reaper husk that resembled anything close to a vehicle, and thus, one of the few things that threatened their tanks.
"Fifteen tons of armor, and fast too, but our intel says the are a melee only enemy," said Quilius.
Victus nodded his head. "That's the only way I've seen them as well. Realistically, as long as we keep them at range we should have no issues dealing with them. Their armor is tough, but not tough enough to stand up to an AP round from our guns. That said, they shouldn't be underestimated. One of those things tore one of my platoon Sergeants in half in the shipyards…"
They all shared a solemn silence out of respect for the mentioned fallen comrade. Sevenius continued the discussion. "They also have gunships-analogues."
"Indeed they do," replied Victus, knowing he talked of the dragon-like gunship/troop carrier hybrid. "From what I've heard, they're cannons pack a heavy punch, but our anti-aircraft weaponry is able to bring them down with some effort."
They all took that news with a slight bit of unease, but what tanker wouldn't? The defense against aerial threats was the concern of the 8th Assault Cav's AA guys, not theirs. Still, the thought of being blown up by a gunship attack that they couldn't well counter if the AA guys didn't do their job was not a pleasant one.
"What about those Collectors that we were briefed on a while ago? Back when those Human colonies were being attacked?" asked Quilius.
Victus nodded in acknowledgement. He remembered those briefings, created from the firsthand source information of one Garrus Vakarian during his adventures with Commander Shepard against the Collectors, and summarily dispensed to the rest of the Turian military in their trademark efficient manner.
"Praetorians," the Captain started, deciding to go through what he remembered of the briefing material again. "Fast, mobile, and heavily armed infantry troop transports. They possess direct fre directed energy beams and tracking rockets, and can disgorge embarked Husks for infantry support. Protected by strong biotic barriers and armor."
"Scions," he continued, "Bi-pedal, direct fire cannon capability on par with crewed anti-tank weaponry. They also have indirect grenade fire capability, and are protected by heavy armor. They are slow however, and big targets. No, neither of these have been either seen or mentioned to me by the higher-ups, so we won't worry about them at this moment."
"So in summary, nothing much we've seen so far that poses too much of a threat for us?" Sevenius summarized.
So far, being the key words there, Victus noted. Truth as it was, this war against the Reapers, though massive in scale already, was still quite new. Maybe the Reapers had some heavier anti-tank capabilities than they thought, maybe they didn't. One way or another though the men and women of the 8th Assault Cav would find out.
"How are the troops?" was Victus' next wide-ended question.
"Sharp, organized, and eager," was Sevenius' answer. "We just came off of a training exercise with the Salarians, so I'd say that applies to the entire unit."
Victus nodded. "And what about your individual platoons? Anything I need to know?"
The assembled Lieutenants shared some brief looks, but all shook their heads at Victus. "We're all ready to go, Captain."
"Captain, right," Victus muttered. That would take some getting used to.
Numoril smirked at him. "What, can't stand the fact that you make more money than us now? And the fact that you'll have to buy for us at the bars because of it?"
They all chuckled, except for Victus, who scowled. After a few more minutes of small talk and catching up Victus excused himself, wanting to go down the the vehicle bay and see his tank for himself. Sevenius offered to accompany him but he had refused, not wanting to take him away from the meal the Lieutenants were about to eat and confident enough in his memory of the PFS Dominus to get to where he needed to go without issue.
The Dominus, being the troop and vehicle transport that it was, had five vast cargo bays. Each of the four 1st Squadron Companies had their own bay, with the fifth reserved for the Squadron's artillery and aviation forces.
D Troop, its twenty tanks, and the assorted other light transport vehicles tasked to the Company were currently packed into the port cargo bays. Victus navigated the crowded hallways with little trouble, noting the looks he was still getting because of his unique color of armor. That would change as soon as he visited the Quartermaster though. Stepping into the port bay through the large, open central doors which lead to the ship, Victus was given to a sight that hadn't been familiar to him in a long time, and one which made him slightly nostalgic even.
Twenty T-86 Rapier Main Battle Tanks lay packed in like sardines, their long, smoothbore 12mm cannons resting just above the armored mass effect drive compartments of the tanks in front of them, save for the first row of five tanks that was. He welcomed the sight of the large vehicles and their sleek, angular armored plating, currently painted in a camouflage pattern of varying grey and black stripes.
The T-86 Rapier MBT had been the standard heavy tank of the Turian Hierarchy for the last seven years. With an eight meter hull length, a width of three and a half meters, a height of two and a half meters, and a weight of sixty-five tons, the Rapier was a tracked beast of a vehicle that represented the armored fist of the Turian Hierarchy on any battlefield it was deployed to.
Adorning the turret was a mounted heavy machine gun near the entrance hatch that the tank commander operated from inside the turret via remote control. This, combined with the other heavy machine gun coaxially mounted alongside the main gun, represented the majority of the T-86 Rapier's direct anti-infantry capability. For indirect fire there was a dual-barreled multi-purpose grenade launcher that could flash-forge any type of grenade needed by the crew from the tanks omni-gel reserves, and could launch it out to two thousand meters via a rotational launcher atop the turret as well. If needed, a dedicated secondary weapons VI could take control and operate the multi-launcher and the two machine guns if the crew so needed.
However, possibly the most important turret-mounted system was the Remus radar antenna mounted on the back of the turret, only slightly higher than the adjacent communications antenna. The Remus Active Protection System was designed to identify incoming missile and rocket attacks directed towards the tank and neutralize them. It did this via grenades launched from two rotational launchers, separate from the central multi-launcher, on either side of the turret, which would detonate along a narrow field of degree, propelling hundreds of small projectiles towards the inbound. These pellets would shred and thusly explode the warhead of the incoming explosives away from the tank, leaving the explosive force to dissipate into the air and against the tank's kinetic barriers and armor. Another dedicated VI kept this system on and running at all times as well.
Captain Victus saw dozens of tankers, his tankers, he reminded himself, lounging about the cargo bay. Some were performing minor maintenance on their Rapiers, some were just standing and talking to one another, a few were playing cards or omni-tool games, but most were sleeping. Unfortunately, the Dominus didn't have enough bunks to service the entire Squadron, so the men and women of D Troop had to make do with small cots along the walls of the cargo bay and field hammocks that were strung up in whatever space was available, including hanging between the gun barrels of their Rapiers.
He drew a few pairs of eyes as he had entered the cargo bay, but he had quickly been dismissed by the tankers of D Troop because of his infantryman armor and Lieutenant shoulder stripes. Sure, he might have been an officer, but he wasn't one of their officers, or so they thought. Victus didn't hold it against them, and he hadn't been expecting the entire cargo bay to jump to attention and salute as soon as they had seen him anyway. Besides, introducing himself to his new troops with screams and shouting demands to acknowledge his presence would probably create a bad impression.
Instead he looked down the front row of tanks, reading off the identification numbers until he found SABER 1-1 in bold block letters. So, Saber was D Troop's identifier, and tank 1-1 was the command tank and thus his own personal vehicle. He walked over, noting immediately the presence of two Turians in steel grey and black armor. One was laid out on his back on top of the turret holding a holopad over his head which he was probably reading, and the other, a woman Victus saw based on the more slender figure and armor type, was hunched over the rear mass effect drive, head buried deep into the open compartment.
The one on the turret noted Victus' approach and raised himself up to a sitting position. "Can I help you, sir?" he asked, eyes surveying the unfamiliar red-and-black armored Turian now in front of his tank with some apprehension, but not failing to notice the Lieutenant's stripes on his shoulder pauldrons.
"Tarquin Victus, your new Captain," he introduced.
The man's eyes widened in surprise and he sprung to his feet on reflex, giving Victus a salute from the top of the Rapier's turret. "Sir! Corporal Serone Aranius, 1st Platoon!"
"At ease, Corporal," Victus said, returning the salute and motioning for the Turian to hop down to the ground so Victus didn't have to keep looking up at him. The commotion had caused the female tanker to remove her head from the mass effect drive compartment, and when she saw her fellow crewmate hurrying down off of the turret to the newly arrived Victus she hopped off of the back of the Rapier as well.
"Sir, Sergeant Arakus Edien, 1st Platoon," she said, also giving him a salute. Victus returned hers as well, noting that in her other hand she was grasping a mechanical tool that she had obviously been using before he had arrived. Victus looked both of them over. Corporal Aranius' bright green eyes contrasted sharply against the dark grey color of his plates, and the red, capital M-shaped facial tattoo that he had told Victus that he was born on Traxl, a Turian breadbasket world a couple of relay jumps from Palaven. The three vertical, dull green stripes across Sergeant Edien's forehead, along with a similarly colored inverted Y that ran down her flat nose and to either side of her mandibles showed that she was from Janice XI, a large Turian mining colony. Her steel grey eyes framed by dark facial plates were the same color as the grey on her armor, and quite piercing in their intensity.
"So, who's who?" Victus asked the two. The T-86 Rapier had a crew of three, a driver, gunner, and commander.
"I'm your driver, sir," Sergeant Edien said. "Corporal Aranius is the gunner."
Victus nodded at them then gestured towards the tank behind them. "Give me the tour?
"Sure thing, sir," Aranius said.
"If you don't mind, Captain, I have to finish the work I was doing in the drive compartment," Edien said.
"What are you working on?" he asked, curious.
"Just fine-tuning the new couplings connecting to the mass effect core to the drive shafts to my liking, sir," she replied.
Victus raised an eyebrow. "New couplings? I didn't hear about that upgrade. Any problems with them?"
"Actually, sir," Edien said, "They worked great right out of the box. Gave us another three kph across the Rapiers in the entire Regiment."
A pleasant surprise, Victus thought. For however efficient and effective the military of the Turian Hierarchy was, it was usually the norm rather than the exception for new technology to go through a period of problems and the resulting troubleshooting. "Very well, Sergeant. Carry on."
Corporal Aranius scrambled up the tank onto the top of the turret, where he hit the latches for the top hatch. Victus followed him, lowering himself down into the turret of the Rapier. He was greeted by the familiar sights of the belly of the main battle tank where the crew fought the vehicle.
The breech of the main gun protruded just a little bit into the turret space, only enough so that its connection to the ammunition autoloader was inside of the turret and able to be monitored by the gunner. In a feature that was unique to Turian tanks, the rounds for the T-86's long gun weren't stored in an internal magazine. Instead, they were sandwiched between the two layers of the tank's armor in the turret, where the extremely dense projectiles provided yet another layer of protection for the crew. This created extra space within the turret while also not adding any significant extra risk, as the AP rounds were non-volatile, given their lack of propellant or explosive charge. Despite how 'effective' the races of the galaxy considered the Turian military to be, they were always looking for ways to improve the survivability of their soldiers. Tanks and personal armor could be replaced, men and women could not.
Where the autoloader and magazine used to be located in older tanks was now a larger, more advanced fire-control system which allowed the gunner to monitor every aspect of the main gun, from temperature, wear, and most importantly, the charge of the barrel capacitors, which was the real limiting factor in how often they could fire their main weapon. This fire control system was what also calculated exactly how a round would get to where the gunner placed the sights, imputing variables such as distance, windage, elevation, atmospheric conditions, even the current conditions of the weapon itself, and output a firing solution. The gunner's seat was obviously in that area, in easy reach of the main gun's haptic controls, which were connected to the display screen in front of the seat that would serve as the target display, and the fire-control system.
The commander's chair was opposite the gunner's and Victus settled into it. Instead of gunnery controls in front of him were tactical displays hooked up to the Rapiers external camera mounts which gave him a 360 degree field of view in the standard visual, thermal, and infrared ranges with up to twenty magnitudes of zoom. He could pick up the gunners barrel viewfinder and optics sight feeds as well. Naturally, since a tank was made to be subjected to the rigors of combat these cameras were small and relatively sturdy, buried into the armor in places that wouldn't compromise overall armor integrity. As a back up Victus could always look out the few viewport slits located near the hatch, covered by thick layers of transparent armorplast, the same used for viewports on starships, in fact . Even those viewports weren't straight, but incorporated prisms to angle the optics, preventing even a perfectly placed shot from encountering only the transparent material, instead of the heavy armor on its journey into the crew compartment.
To Victus' left, instead of the main gun's fire-control system, were more display screens, one large one that nearly took up the entire left wall of the turret, and another smaller one in the corner. The large one was their IVIS tactical display. The IVIS system, also known as the Inter-Vehicle Information System, allowed for the automatic and continual exchange of information between vehicles. By incorporating information provided by an on board Position/Navigation system, unit commanders could track the location and progress of subordinate elements automatically.
In addition, enemy positions could be identified and plotted, while contact reports or artillery requests can be automatically formatted, transmitted, and processed. Both tactical and strategic operational orders could be rapidly distributed via the IVIS system, streamlining the overall command process considerably. Here unit commanders could zoom out for a larger scale view of the battlefield and determine what to do with their unit, and then could zoom in to monitor the progress of their individual vehicles. In keeping with his status as a Troop commander Victus also had about twice as much comms gear throughout his command space as a usual tank did, due to his need to be able to communicate with other Troop, Squadron, or even Regimental elements.
The driver's seat was set more underneath the turret, towards the front of the Rapier, underneath the gun barrel and below and between the commander and gunner's seats. It wasn't closed off as a separate compartment like some main battle tanks were, meaning the commander and gunner could both see and talk to the driver without using internal comms. In addition to the standard haptic control interface, the driver also had a display that had access to the same exterior cameras that the commander had, as well as a visual periscope that allowed a more mechanical viewing of the surroundings.
Like almost all Turian armored combat vehicles, the Rapier incorporated a hard-point integration system, where the armor systems of the crew actually plugged into the seats of the tank to create a closed system that improved shock-absorption and stability for the crew, while also providing them with integrated life-support systems that could last far longer than what their enclosed armor suits could offer. This was especially advantageous, as it meant the life support systems could be reduced, given that they were intended to supply just the suited crew, rather than the whole compartment. Given how hot the tank's internal components could get during high-intensity combat, even the small difference between keeping their armor comfortable, vs keeping the whole compartment comfortable was a noticeable difference in vehicle performance. Any space saved on reducing the life-support could be devoted to thicker, heavier armor, more power for the shields and weapons, etc. The seats were comfortable too, form-fitting and with an adaptive gel layer for cushioning. As they should be, Victus thought, knowing how long crews sometimes had to stay seated in their vehicles during a combat scenario.
Corporal Aranius turned twisted in his seat, looking at Victus. "So sir, is it like what you remember?"
Victus nodded slowly, still taking it all in after his long hiatus from an armor command. "Yeah. How's that old Human saying go? It's just like riding a bike?"
He smirked at Aranius, who returned the expression, grateful that it seemed his new Captain had a sense of humor. "You took a double MOS track as well sir?"
"I did," Victus answered. "Armor and Infantry, if you can't tell by my armor. You?"
"Armor and Artillery, sir," the Corporal responded. "Went to armor full time though because I was too accurate for the cannon-cockers."
Victus had a chuckle at that. Though everyone knew that Turian artillery was among the best of the galaxy, it was a long running joke in the Hierarchy military that they couldn't hit the ground if they tried. "Anything I should know about the Sergeant?"
Victus had received dossiers of his tank crew, but hadn't had time to read them, instead focusing on the more strategic intelligence information that he had been forwarded with the knowledge that he'd get to meet his crew in person and find out for themselves.
"Best driver in the whole company, sir," the Corporal said. "Captain - sorry, Major Alsis loved her. Just tell her anywhere to go, and I mean anywhere within reason of course, and she'll get you there faster than than you can say 'spirits be damned.' It's like she can read my mind too, always knows how to put the tank in the best spot for me to shoot or how to give me the most stable platform to fire from. Always tinkering too, but in a good way sir. Always tries to get the most out of our vehicles mechanical parts. I never let her mess with the guns of course, those babies are my property."
"But of course," Victus replied, not at all unfamiliar with the way some soldiers fiercely guarded their own weapons.
The two were silent for moment, sitting inside their mechanical masterpiece designed to do one thing: eliminate targets. The mood turned more serious.
"Word is that you were on Despara, sir. How was it? Really?"
Victus grimaced, the image of that Brute ripping his senior Platoon Sergeant in half like a plaything unpleasantly resurfacing in his mind. "It wasn't pretty. Reaper troops, they're different than anything or anyone we've ever faced before. Their doctrine, I mean. They just send wave after wave at you in the most reckless, relentless ways possible because to them, their Husks are the definition of expendable. People underestimate how dangerous that kind of mindset is."
The newly minted Captain turned away from his gunnery Corporal, fixing his eyes on the corner of one of his tactical display screens. "We're fighting an enemy who knows no fear and feels no pain.. They'll keep coming at you until they're rendered physically unable to do so. So far on the ground we have the technological and firepower superiorities, but they can afford to just keep throwing things at you until you make a mistake or they run out of troops."
"Well, sir, we stopped them here didn't we?" Corporal Arianus said in reference to the earlier battle above the Despara shipyards, voice equal parts hope and uncertainty.
Victus looked back over to the younger man, and saw what must have been the face of hundreds of thousands of other Turians now tooling up to try and bring the fight to the Reapers.
"Yes we did, Corporal, yes we did." The unspoken question that both of them were wondering though, was would they be able to do it again?
Wong: "And today's breaking news story: Murder at Huerta Memorial."
D'Mari: "Late last night an unknown gunman killed a patient in Huerta Memorial hospital"
Wong: "Early reports say that the victim might have been a Drell, but details are still unclear."
D'Mari: "Surveillance footage initially revealed the murderer to have been one Doctor Margaret James, and Citadel Security investigators…
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