/*Author's note. Sorry for the wait, I started two d&d 5e campaigns in a new world so I had to write 200+ pages lore for this new world of K'Tanae. Also got a job and some other less than ideal bullshit. Hope you enjoy my shitty writings. */

2011 Hours, October 30th, 2182 (Unified Military Calendar)

Systems Alliance; Leaving Lancer OSDS (Outer System Defense Sphere);

SSV Normandy SR1; Captain Anderson's Compartment

If there was one thing Jeff knew instinctively, this was going to be an absolute freakshow. At least he wasn't going to be center stage as the freak. Brittle bones guy, flunked out empyrean, now piloting space vehicles like some half bred empyrean. Two parts analog piloting, one part god-empyrean mode and one part cracking jokes. Beats piloting couriers around Arcturus at least. Though he should visit a circus, send them his CV. 'Dear circus performers need a guy that'll break bones from a hug or jerking off but can become the stealthiest and deadliest spaceship in all of human history. Then I'm your guy.' Great conversation starter. No, unfortunately he was overshadowed by the two other freaky behemoths in the room.

'Commander' Shepard; homo fucking giganticus, a shit you not human super soldier. Don't let the orange eyes, golden hair, voice actor quality voice and model esque face fool you. Jeff was sure she could kill everyone in this room with her bare hands, even Nihilus. Her muscles and frame, by the dead gods, if a human purity nutjob saw her they would try to burn her at the stake. Made even worse that her frame seemed more akin to an ancient barbie mobile doll than a baseliner. Jeff didn't know if this was either inSAIN science experiment they were punting over to the SASF or SASSEC rescued a Tuonatar Nation Anti-Citizen sometime in the last 10 years. Still Jeff could at least guestimate what she was, the Turian on the other hand…

Spectre Nihilus was worse than this 'Commander' Shepard in Jeff's estimation. At 2.56 meters tall Nihilus overshadowed Shepard by at least 26 centimeters. Nihilus's exposed plates seemed oversized, molded in shapes he'd never seen before and of a color he didn't know Turians had. Pitch black, inscribed with weird white runes that criss crossed his face, and descended on his armor. Made worse by him hefting around what looked like the Normandy's main gun on his back and an assortment of other bizarre weaponry that looked more at home on a neural reality show than on a Turian super soldier. And the armor? Fuck instead of the traditional Turian powered hardsuits, this Turian was definitely walking around in a powered exoskeleton. Nothing on the Normandy could crack that armor or those shields he was sure. Still he didn't want to be within a light year of a fight between Shepard and Nihilus.

And if a fight did break out? Well, he as well as the rest of the Normandy's command staff in Anderson's compartment would be squashed. Kaidan was outside, with a contingent of marines that wouldn't do a hanar shit to Nihilus Jeff was sure. Or Shepard for that matter, he guessed. Chakwas was here as well, but she looked oddly subdued with her eyeing Shepard and Nihilus, in between making conversation with the SA observer Commodore Ahmad. Pressly was pacing with hands clasped behind his back, with a look of pure white venom. Jeff couldn't imagine who ejaculated into his breakfast. Considering the lay down that he gave Kaidan and Jinxins earlier. Adams on the other hand was ramrod straight, his face a picture perfect poker face that betrayed no emotion. A tell tale sign he was annoyed that he was stuck here, and not down in Engineering. Anderson was at his desk hunched over trying to look like he was reviewing his omnitool. Though Jeff could tell he was watching Shepard and Nihilus. Who themselves were leaning against opposite bulwarks eyeing each other menacingly. Jeff tried to sit quietly for once, as much as he wanted to quip some bullshit to break the tension; he was pretty sure with all the tension in the air it would break every bone in his body from the whiplash.

The tension finally broke as a haptic hologram turned to life, broadcasting the user to the rest of the room. Jeff resisted having his jaw drop when he saw who it was. Grand Admiral Jon Grissom; one of the longest serving admirals in all the SA with nearly 70+ years of service from starting as trainee space operator during the beginning of the exodus wars before climbing the ranks to being the most visible member of the FLEETCOM. His achievements were endless, he smashed the Batarians during the 7th battle of Arcturus, when it looked like the Batarians would break through the Sol Defense Perimeter. He participated in the first liberation of Shanxi along with at the time Fleet Admiral Drescher, decimating the Batarian and Turians fleets in the process. And he came out of retirement during the Skyllian Blitz, barely defending Petra Nebula from overwhelming hegemonic forces while the Citadel sat on their asses, urging both sides to cease fighting and come to the negotiating table. Jeff immediately saluted, as did everyone else except for Shepard and Nihilus who both were looking thoroughly unimpressed.

Grissom paused to survey the scene before addressing the gathered, "At ease, apologies for the wait. A new situation has come up radically altering current plans. TRIPWIRE has been alerted to a large buildup of hegemonic forces along Petra Nebula connecting relays. Current analysis is indicating a possible renewed Skillian blitz; which at this juncture we simply cannot afford. Thus most of the 218th Strike Group and the attached 422nd Battle group will be transiting out of the area to take new interception positions on the Exodus-Horsehead relay to counter possible asymmetric hegemonic forces infiltrating phaseline October Iridium. The SSV Normandy SR1, will continue with its current mission profile with the understanding that reinforcements will be limited to Eden Prime's self defense forces and assistance from the 837th light scout battlegroup for the current time. That is all, Grissom out." As the haptic hologram winked out of existence.

The room released it's collective held breath as new cursing and comments began in earnest, before Captain Anderson signed and held up a hand for silence. "Obviously, the situation is not one we could have hoped for."

Jeff saw Nihilus's mandibles flared. His stance shifted, from casual to rigid. His harmonics shifting an octave, "Human understatement leaves much to be desired, Captain. A priority digsite left in the hands of barely trained conscripts and garrison troops will have every pirate, merc and fringer in the cluster converging on it."

Pressly looked as he was resisting the urge to chomp off Nihilus's head, before the duty trumped emotion and he settled down. Anderson continued; "No objections here, 837th light scout battle group is still being rebuilt from it's annihilation last year from Elcor Light pirates in Artemis Tau cluster. At maximum it has a couple frigates and Exodus War era light cruisers. And Eden Prime has a mess of corvettes dating back to FCW, and a couple light lunar mass drivers. Enough to ward off a pirate raid. But against a roving merc fleet?" Anderson made a face.

Pressly folded his arms in front of him, "Unlikely sir. The chances of a Blue Suns strike force assembling this fast are as near bottom. Even as suicidal as the Blood Pack or Eclipse are, they don't have any operating bases within a day's time of Utopia."

Anderson leaned forward, "The major merc groups are unlikely to do anything so drastic, maybe a false flag op on space born interdiction of the beacon. But the minors, I'm worried about. Half a dozen batarian merc groups and syndicates could put a force to wipe Eden Prime's defense off the proverbial map in twelve hours."

Nihilus flared his mandibles, "Human overextension is a well known factor, especially among the more adversarial Batarian groups outside of the hegemon's control. If they knew about the Beacon, they would hit this planet with everything they have. Batarian avarice knows no bound."

Pressly bristled with anger at the comment, ignoring Nihilus and directing his full comment toward Anderson. "Sir, the chances of the beacon leaking is close to null. Eden Prime has been subjected to a communication lockdown by IntelNet, since 48 hours ago. I doubt the Batarians have any eyes on an agra world."

Anderson leaned back, "Possibly. Honestly, I'm more worried than Eden Prime's colonial nation is going to sell it to the highest bidder. Especially after their last administration was caught selling Prothean artifacts to Batarian syndicates in the Horsehead Cluster. Even with the blackout; my gut tells me we might have to fight the self-defense forces to retrieve the Prothean beacon."

Anderson looked over at Shepard. "I need recommendations Commander. Since you'll be taking over as groundside commander in this retrieval op."

Shepard responded, "If we can hit the excavation site while running under the Normandy's vaunted stealth profile; we could probably load it up within 10 minutes and be out of the system within 30 minutes."

Nihilus' eyes narrowed, one of his claws stroking its neck. "An adequate plan, Commander. Though it'll be 28 galactic hours until we reach this 'Eden Prime'. If the beacon has been taken by hostile entities?"

Shepard rolled her eyes dramatically, Jeff saw, her movement exaggerated as she made it look like she was stretching. "Then we'll steal it back from them, and interrogate the survivors."

Nihilus hooked his claw on his fringe, "With nine human marines, a spectre and yourself? Against a possible army of mercenaries, pirates or the planet's own self defense forces?"

Shepard cocked her head like a dog would Jeff saw to a question, "Technically we have a space frigate with the ability to perform in atmosphere fire support and a Mako STO IFV. Plus, me, you, the marines and Anderson to hit the ground running with surprise on side should win the initial engagement. Enough so, we load up the beacon and exfiltrate."

Nihilus stared at her for a second before nodding, "Workable. Though I feel the captain is a bit past his hunter's prime to be much use in the op?"

Shepard smiled that gave Jeff the creeps; "I doubt that. Admittedly, exercise would help him with Kahlee."

Jeff saw there were looks of bewilderment and befuddlement by everyone else in attendance, especially Anderson at this exchange. Anderson decided that the conversation had wandered enough to get it back on track, "For now I say we table Commander Shepard's proposal till we have a working understanding of the situation when we get there."

Anderson started doling out responsibilities, "Lieutenant Commander Pressly, have the Normandy go on full combat readiness, and start 4 hour rotations till we hit Utopia's System Defense Sphere."

Pressly saluted, "Already done sir. Hardsuits are being passed out as we speak and secondary bulkheads are being installed."

Anderson nodded, a look of contentment in his eyes. "Excellent. Lieutenant Commander Adams, it's time to put the Normandy's IES through its paces; start cataloguing the heatsinks and ensuring stealth profile readiness within the next 10 hours."

Adams saluted, before Anderson turned to Chakwas. "Major Chakwas please start preparing the Normandy's medical center for a mass casualty event. Have Specialist Jenkins combat ready within 20 hours."

Chakwas nodded. "If that's what required Captain, I'll see that Jenkins is at least well rested."

Anderson replied, "Good, now Joker you'll start switching off with Vadam every 4 hours as of this briefing. I'll be authorizing Empyrean mode for the infiltration of the Utopia system at least."

Jeff felt excitement and anxiety course through his veins. Normally, he mostly along with his backup pilot and requisition officer Junior lieutenant piloted analog. However the Normandy was a dream. A fusion between computer assisted analog piloting and a fully simulated timed Empyrean mode; allowing full immersion of his mind into the ship's systems. Without the need of a fully encased armored capsule; instead hardlines were plugged directly into neural ports. Allowing him to assume total control of the ship for a brief time. Well before I start having epleptic seizures and brain hemorrhaging from the neural connection load. A fair trade.

"Aye, aye Captain. I'll be sure to get suntan lotion out when we die from the IES frying us alive. I mean it's fine, we've only used it once, and it only turned the inside temperature a brisk 45'C!"

He saw Nihilus and Shepard looking straight into soul for that comment, and the rest of the assembled alternating between facepalming and indignant rage crisscrossing their faces.

Anderson removed the hand from his face, "Adams has assured me that will not be the case this time. Rest of you are dismissed. Joker please stay for a moment."

Jeff locked eyes with Pressly; who was probably going to give him another lecture when he went back to his pilot's chair. Someone has to play the clown around all these straight laced military types, or else the pressure will explode like cheese tubes left on a heat exchanger.

Anderson stood up and walked toward Joker, "Joker. I wouldn't normally break military protocol, but I have a favor to ask."

Jeff raised an eyebrow half a tick, before looking at Anderson incredulously, "Sorry Captain, I don't go for dark, handsome and scary. Staying faithful to my virtual waifu."

Anderson sat down next to him, a look that booked no further wisecrack jokes. "Stow it. No, this is about your Empyrean status."

Jeff rolled his eyes, "If you've read my service record then you know I'm failed Empyrean Captain."

Anderson coldly said, "Only partially failed. And even then that was mostly because of your brittle bones. Since then, you outpaced every obstacle and challenge put your way, even beating the old Balikian's record set back in the late 21st. Only reason you're not piloting dreadnaughts is because of your smart ass mouth."

Jeff stared a second before responding, "Is there a question to this line of compliment, or do you say this to all your dates?"

Anderson shifted his weight forward, his hand clasped in front of him. "Your service record mentions your father is a gen 1 Empyrean. Currently in tripartite control of the Triumvirate Empyrean alliance in the Horsehead Nebula. I need you to reach out to him. "

Jeff narrowed his eyes, shifting his weight back to his exoskeleton support. Uncomfortable with Anderson just asked him. "And what does that have to do with anything. I'm not sure what you're playing at sir."

Anderson sighed, his eyes lifting up to the ceiling. "I need to know if any Empyrean alliances in the Horsehead Nebula are going to pull a Halcyon on Eden Prime."

Jeff swallowed. Halcyon, right that makes sense. Prothean dig site; alliance colony, opportunistic attack, tens of thousands dead, officially blamed on Batarians, unofficially however...

Jeff shakily nodded his head, "Aye, Captain I can do that. Though, it's not likely I'll get anything official." Jeff remembered the last meeting he had with his father. Yelling, screaming, pushing and shoving, before a nasty fall. Broken bones, searing pain. Dad's boot on his throat. Should have aborted you. You're not my son.

Jeff felt Anderson's hand on his shoulder, "I know its hard Joker. I read the incident report, I wouldn't be asking if this wasn't important. Against mercs or pirates? Shepard can handle that easy enough. But against Empyrean troopers? I don't think we can handle that."

Jeff nodded. Anderson stood up, "You can use my comm. Should allow you to bypass regular alliance encryption lock. I'll give you the compartment."

Jeff was silent for several moments after Anderson left, before hobbling over the comm console in his exoskeleton. Composing himself, he linked his contacts to the console, before ringing up dear old dad. "Hey asshole…"

2153 Hours, October 30th (Terran Composite Calendar)

Unaligned Space; Horsehead Nebula; Interstellar Space;

Minuteman Mobile Station - The Illusive Sanctum

"That was deftly done sir. Collapsed Goyle's gambit without so much as a shot fired." He heard his personal assistant say to him, in between the drags on his Cuban cigarillos. She walked in view of him, the very model of scandinavian beauty dressed in the colors of Cerberus; white, black and gold. Not bad salvage from a life spent in less than ideal conditions.

He leaned back on his chair, "Goyle and by extension the MoGA were being a bit too cavalier and careless with this play with the 218th. An ultimate waste of men and materiel in a futile gesture." He drew on the cigarillo before continuing.

"There are better ways to force through a budget increase than wholesale slaughter of a strike group. Would have been a humiliation that the opposition would use as ammo to torpedo the current administration. Better if Eden Prime were to die to remind the rest of humanity what the stakes are." He evinced.

He noticed she cocked her head, an index finger touching her lip in a seductive way. "And where does that leave Shepard and her candidacy?"

"If things go to plan, it and Nihilus should be wiped out by the A/M devices Saren leaves behind. A fitting end for a tool that has caused so much damage to humanity." He drained the rest of Springbank scotch. "Regardless, Eden Prime is an optimal time to put into a pasture Kaleidoscope."

"And Miranda?"

The Illusive Man got up, his cigarello smoldering in the chair's built in ashtray. "Time for her to clean up Colonel Florez's mess, have Greyson and a squad of centurions attached to her for the time being. And tell Kai Leng to suit up, I want him on the Citadel."

1428 Hours, October 31st (Unified Military Calendar)

Systems Alliance; Exodus Cluster; Utopia System

Eden Prime Defense Perimeter; Forbidden Fruit - Lunar Orbit; SSV Goldenspurs

She was fighting for her, its life.

She was the Golden Spurs. And the SSV Golden Spurs Assault Frigate was her. Connected by a series of hardlined neural ports that connected the base of her neck and spinal cord to the space vehicle around her, she was a living demigod among baseline humans. She was a human mind commanding a spacecraft solely, without the lag time of verbal orders or baseliner hesitancy.

She was Empyrean. The very tip of the Systems Alliance transhumanism made manifest. Encapsulated in an armored shell submerged viscous gel, as she piloted the ship through space with nano-second adjustments to its course and calculating known parameters known to her through biological multithreaded supercomputers slotted into her artificial spine she came to a conclusion.

She was going to lose.

There was no way around that reality.

Following closely behind her in a negative z, negative y, positive x quadrant in relation to the Golden Spurs, were three Geth frigates. Accelerating for her. Firing superheated iridium mass accelerated slugs at her. A detachment. Split off to hunt her down. Originally part of the armada that had laid waste to her battlegroup.

A battlegroup that was neither prepared to fight a Geth armada nor a super heavy titan. Four SASF gen 3 frigates, two SASF gen 1 light cruisers and her Empyrean Project Gen 2 Assault Frigate still tried to slow them down. They made their stand in the shadow of one Zion's moons. Launching a furious assault that annihilated 11 Geth Frigates and 4 Geth Cruisers, crippling many others. But there were hundreds of them, and the Titan was a force to be reckoned with. She barely made it out intact. The rest of the battle group? Burning metal.

Geth the Armada had continued its lumbering path toward Eden Prime. She had already managed to kite and destroyed two of them in the process. Luring them along the lunar surface of Forbidden Fruit, Eden Prime's moon, before isolating them with her superior speed and pouncing on them with her one on one superior firepower.

But with her Javelin detached launchers empty. Her GARDIANs burnt out. Her MAC gun down to just 8 depleted uranium tungsten composite rounds. Her shields down to 22% efficacy. Her shield booster fried. Her hull leaking omni gel and nannites like mauled gazelle. Her "Goblin '' autonomous space superiority drones losing badly against the Geths own drone swarm. And new geth detachments cresting Forbidden Fruit's north pole on intercept vectors, there was not much left. She was going to lose.

In 8 minutes she would be fit for only bioreactor recycle.

In the nanoseconds that it took for her to come to this decision; she began to list her options. All the while dodging mass accelerated slugs from the Geth through nano-second adjustment of her remaining vector thrusters.

FTL Communications? Impossible. The Geth destroyed all the FTL communication relays on penetrating the System Defense Sphere. QEC? Extremely unlikely. Geth have deployed tachyon burst fields that have disrupted quantumly entangled communications, leading to 5th dimensional complications. Fight to the death? Useless. In 7 minutes they'll have range and firing solutions to poke her with enough holes to make her into a colander. Retreat? Again, impossible. Deadspace generators have been placed around key intercept points making FTL a suicide run. Hide? Hmm... that may work.

Looking at the cratered lunar landscape below her she formulated a plan. She quickly cloned a repository of her consciousness into the drones and the onboard computers. Allowing them to be managed when she rode the pod express. While that was booting up, she flipped herself toward the lunar landscape. Her engines still functioned as she vectored toward her opposite numbers. Holding her rounds till she could get point blank range to pierce Geth kinetic barriers, her overmind now controlling multiple copies of herself.

Her drones went on the offensive. Her mind in them selling herself for everything she was worth. Instead keeping their angular velocity up, keeping tight orbit under the pulse guns of the Geth frigates. They launched themselves and primed their reactors into a swarm of Geth drones. Geth were unprepared for a suicidal charge, and a clump of them disintegrated in the degenerate matter detonations.

Unable to dodge anymore with her angular velocity reaching zero. Geth mass accelerated rounds tore across her shields, their efficacy bottoming out. With her superstructure quickly being holed, her engines sputtering and fusion plant failing. She activated her plan.

Her armored capsule explosively ejected out of the Golden Spurs, leaving a copy of her consciousness to fight to death. For a moment, she felt disoriented. A moment completely amorphous, amnesiatic, reborn to the world kind of feeling. The kind of feeling when you wake up after a space liberty; after you out fucked and out drank the warrant officers, and started drinking cloner fluid when the booze didn't cut for your nano-infused augmented liver. Before she remembered who she was. Lieutenant Commander Nora Dimayev. SASF Empyrean Project. Graduated third in her class of 11 empyreans; out of a total 1,000 that attempted.

Now as Nora she watched through one of the remaining camera drones that was still in radio contact as she descended toward the lunar surface, the Golden Spurs went out in pure murder suicide. Golden spurs used the last of its capacitors to fire a cluster of MAC rounds that slammed into the lead frigate. The rounds ripped through the shields like it was origami paper, before splintering the centerbeam in a cloud of radiating debris.

The Golden Spurs other shots missed its targets, as the Geth used their superior vector maneuvering to skip out of the way. Before coming in tight orbits around the Golden spurs; pulse guns melting the Golden Spurs. Without any way to respond, her clone activated the final contingency plan. Detonating the eezo core. A blinding flash of blue light turned the Geth frigates, the Golden Spurs and her camera drone into floating electrons and neutrons in the void of space. And she was left to descend on to the lunar plain below her, hoping and waiting for backup to arrive. Without help soon, 34 million inhabitants of Eden Prime were dead against that monster.