Chapter 18
Edited by a person of many names Blood Raven AKA TimedRaven117. Go check out his story Mass Effect: X-Com Theory!
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TFS The Battles of Ypres, deep in the Petolemaic Hegemony 2658 GS March/20/2330 AD
Captain Carmen Ibanez looked out of her bridge window with utter contempt. They had chased the Skinnnie dreadnought for nearly two months, and though they had won every skirmish along that path, the ship captain was good at keeping his ship supplied and moving whatever the costs, he would not give a proper battle. Who ever was in command of that ship was either lucky or skilled, likely both, at running.
To make matters worse, the ship was tough enough to both give and take punishment. Carmen had tried everything: She tried jumping ahead of the ship and making a nuclear minefield, it drove through it thanks to its' harmonic shields, she tried using her limited fighter wings the next time she jumped ahead, they proved insufficient as whoever commissioned this ship had the sense of mind to splurge for point defences on her. Jump right next to her and she jumped away. Either the ship had a better drive than anything the Federation had, or the captain was wasting a lot of fuel. She had tried everything in the book, and then some, but they all end with the ship getting way and it was driving her up a wall.
"Ma'am, Destroyer Midway is coming in with the latest news." Her XO announced from her seat. Midway had been running mail for them, they were so far out in Hegemony territory it was faster to send ships back to Federal space to get the news.
"Understood, let's see if we have any good news." She pulled down a screen from it's mounting above her and checked the surge of information. Most of it was normal victory here, status reports there, maybe an update on a small strategic defeat occasionally, but nothing to gossip about. That was, until she got to the last page.
"Some one send a message to the Midway's captain that he's a dick for not putting our orders at the front, bring the ship to a full stop and turn us around." Carmen announced to everyone.
"Ma'am?" Her second asked.
"Apparently while we've been chasing this asshole the war ended, as of the 14thwe are in a state of ceasefire with the Petolemaic Hegemony,and a peace conference is to be held at the Citadel Station. It was our ambassadors idea, sort of an olive branch to the Cids so they can feel good about being the peacemakers."
"But what about the dreadnought ma'am? We all know that's going to haunt us."
Carmen sighed sadly, "Not much we can do about it, we have to pull back to the border, if not we're violating the ceasefire agreement and we will end up declared pirates and enemies of the state, and frankly what are we going to do? We have tried and we failed. If anything this is just a good excuse for us to call off the hunt before they make us look like fools to the entire Federation, or worse get us where they want us and win a battle. Besides, whoever that captain is, he has earned his victory. Let him and his men savour it. We may get lucky and actually meet them officially, I certainly have questions for him."
Her second nodded in understanding and began giving the order to get the ship turned around. Sitting back in her seat, Carmen looked up at the news again. "Peace. Heh, wonder how long that'll last." Indeed, she could scarcely remember a time when the Federation was not in an active war. Thinking on it she sighed sadly.
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Citadel space, Citadel, Council Chambers 2658 GS March/30/2330 AD
Councilor Tevos did her best not to show the migraine the Petolemaics were giving her. They had been at this meeting for a few hours, and thank god they could do this behind closed doors as she did want to think about how much pain she would be in if she had to stand on the podium for that long. The Petolemaic had so far been good to his word and the fighting along the Terran border was subsiding as the information was spreading. So they had decided the peace conference should go through unchanged.
But as soon as word got out about the peace treaty and the Turian-Federation Victory, everyone wanted something out of this. Councilor Gallius wanted to move his troops in and disarm the population and enforce Turian law. The problem with that was the region was worse than the Traverse with none of the infrastructure. From what data she had managed to gather, it almost looked like the Greater Petolemaic Hegemony may back right up next to the Attican Traverse on that side of the galaxy, which frankly made them part of the Traverse to begin with. So she had to talk him and the Turian military down from doing that and possibly causing some form of revolt. However she also agreed that any military grade laser weapons must be taken. It was a half measure but it was mainly being done as the tech would be a boom for Citadel space.
Except. It would come at a cost, as Ambassador Maghernus had argued that the Federation, with its superior knowledge of Petolemaic weaponry and tactics, should be entrusted with seizing and maintaining the weapons until the planets could be entrusted with self defense again. He had a point and it had been put forward expertly by any means, to refuse would be to show distrust in the Federation, and make it obvious they were taking the weapons for themselves for study, a decidedly hostile and overtly aggressive move. To accede to the reasonable request would be to show that they trust the Federation, but lose out on the opportunity of studying the weapons in greater detail and variety. And the rabbit hole kept spiraling down from there on that subject matter.
Then there were the Asari matriarchs beating down her door wanting things. Thankfully it was mostly small things like the ability to send researchers, scientists, and dumb maidens to have fun. But then there was those demanding to know what happened to the population of Tesla'Vir and that had been most concerning. But thankfully Lew'Gen'Tak, after mentioning she might have to have the Spectres take a look in their space, had readily promised to find as many survivors as possible. Fortunately he had assumed the Spectres were like the Terran Pathfinders, or that threat would have meant nothing.
Councilor Cenike's people were asking for access to the shipyard they had taken and other technology, something they could give them easily since Maghernus had no way to politically bar them off from access. This was also an intelligence victory, as the STG would have access to a jumping off point to both Petolemaic and Terran territory if necessary.
The Volus were complaining about how all this would affect the economy and thank the goddess the Elcor and Hanar were easy to please. The Hanar wanted to send missionaries, or as Maghernus joked, "Appetizers", and the Elcor were taking a wait and see stance.
Frankly with all the headaches Lew'Gen'Tak had caused by upsetting the status quo, she was surprised the Terrans were not adding to it unduly. Ambassador Maghernus had been running back and forth from the meeting to a room down the hall where he could talk to his superiors and so far the Federation was just going with the flow, from what she gotten there was still an ongoing debate in the Federation council about what to do with the territory. She heard second hand from a few Asari who hanged with a member of the Terran security staff who talked too much, that a few days ago Sky Marshal Riverfield wanted to have the territory integrated under his control, but since it was being surrendered to both the Citadel and the Federation, the Federation council had stepped in wanting to have a shared control of the region between them and the Citadel to cover cost.
This apparently had started a scandal, as they had called in witnesses from the Terran military who talked about how Riverfield's strategic stances had pushed this war into being. He had basically been forcing independent colonies that wanted autonomy from the Federation to house bases for them, and when Petolemaic raiders attacked the planet they used it as an excuse to occupy it to remove the threat. As a result a bunch of Skinnie and Terran worlds were being stripped from Southern Command and there were talks of adding a new region and Sky Marshal to occupy the border region and to work with the Citadel on Controlling the Skinnie DMZ. Riverfield was not being thrown out on his ass she guessed because it was actually a clever strategy when everyone is trying to kill you, but since things have changed so rapidly they needed to act more civilized.
This was before they even had to deal with the Petolemaic forces that were running a hit and run campaign in Citadel territory. Thankfully Lew'Gen'Tak was a man of his word and used the communication system to send out a recall and made clear they were not wanted back in the Hegemony unless they surrendered to the Citadel. But very few ships had taken the offer. No doubt they have to deal with these raiders for years. But Maghernus had said they would be inexorably lucky if that was the case. He had estimated that the campaign may last for decades depending on the political climate in the Hegemony.
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Unknown Garden World, 2658 GS April /10/2330 AD
General James Projak sat at his new desk, made from the jungle wood of the planet he had settled on for now. most of the regular Skinnies and brutes that had stayed loyal complained about the planet, but his guards and the Human slaves he had granted "freedom" weren't complaining, and that kept the order. He was now at the extreme edge of Skinnie space, far from Terran and Citadel space, but in range of the lawless space that had not sided with the Citadel. He hoped that this intel was good, otherwise he had risked his life coming out here for nothing.
On his way out here he did have the pleasure to board the dreadnought he had built, and had survived being chased by a Federation dreadnought half way through the Hegemony, Captain Ibanez and her ship nearly got them a few times too. But he had suitably rewarded the captain for his skill. Being his personal Naval Admiral would definitely be a prestigious position.
Standing up he walked over to look over the camp he currently called home. Very few buildings were up, even he was still living out of a tent, but things would get better, most of the Human slaves he had "freed" had left the main camp on the planet choosing to find somewhere far away from the Skinnies. That was fine with him, and he even quietly applauded their initiative. They couldn't leave the planet, and sooner or later he would make them pay taxes in some form or another, the brutes were also roaming the planet's surface but they were nomads so staying in one spot was not their thing, some had taken the few ships they owned to a nearby desert planet, but they said they would stay true to their agreements to fight when called.
This left him with a small Skinned Human population which was keeping watch on the indentured servants and the civilized Skinnie population he had uprooted from Carthago, which were building their new homes and farms around the camp. Many of these Petolemaics were also from planets on the route the Federation took, and so they had great interest in either finding a new home, or staying true to Projak's leadership. But frankly he was sure he would be dealing with a revolt if he didn't choose a planet or location on this planet the guard thrived on, they were happy to keep everyone in line and maintain the peace as long as they got to go on long hunting trips in the jungle, he didn't know what happen on those trips and frankly he didn't really care. What made them happy kept him in power so he was damn sure they got their trips.
The only major problem he was having that was going to be pain in his ass was the indentured servants, they were the aliens from the Citadel space, most of the raiders on that mission had come from him and he was sure to get a large portion of that planet's population. He wanted them for intel and technical support as it were, the Terrans would be getting the Citadel tech, he was sure of it, and he needed to be able to compete not to mention the lawless space used it.
The first problem he ran into was the Turians, they were worse than the Federation. If he kept them he was sure he would have a rebellion on his hands, so he dumped them off on some planet they could live on without any tech, sure it seemed like a loss now but it was better than rebellion later, the Asari were much easier to deal with, well on a psychological level. If they wanted to they could be a real pain in his side as well, but he had come up with a solution for that, and that's why he called them indentured servants and not slaves, he would give them their freedom after 5 years, but since he still controlled all of the ships they would not be able to leave, and by then they would have settled in, integrated, and be giving him taxes. There had been a smattering of other aliens as well, all had contracts of different time periods but for the most part they would be working in construction and farming for the next few years for the civilized Skinnies and the few Skinned Humans who gained power.
Turning away from the camp, he was going to get back to work when he saw Ar'Ack coming up with an Asari, her arms held by constrictor ooze, something they been doing with the more troublesome Asari, "General, this Asari has caused ANOTHER problem in the camp."
"Talking rebellion?" James inquired, taking a seat. The Asari were still ignorant of their language, and they made full use of it. Their typical way of exchanging information, through these melds, was strictly forbidden between species by Projak, he needed to keep them isolated and dumb for the time being, and he most certainly did not trust this process, and neither did his soldiers or civilians.
"No… she killed another Asari who attacked her with her abilities." Projak had made damn sure to educate his men that this was not magic that could do anything, but a set of predefined abilities that could be predicted and exploited under circumstances. Although he could hardly blame them, the coven's psionic abilities were damn near magic. Ar'Ack had taken to this well, and Projak could see a budding explorer in the Petolemaic now that he had been educated on these mysteries. The Asari was pushed to a seat and his two guard took up visible position to warn her to not try something.
"Beyond the fact she is adding years on her time of servitude I don't see why this requires my attention. Do you suggest execution?" James questioned
"The other Asari who saw what happened have explicitly refused to work near her, they say she is something called 'Ardat-Yakshi', I told them to forget what they saw and they seem to have. But the tales are spreading, and if we do not deal with her, they most certainly will. But there is more. Judging by what I saw, I believe she is a psionic, similar to what the Coven and Terrans use." Ar'Ack explained, keeping his constrictor pistol trained on her.
That got James attention, sitting forward he looked intrigued, "Really now?" Smiling unsettlingly, he began to speak in her language, "Now Miss, Delanthia, I believe that's what you call yourself, would you mind trying your little trick on my metal decanter?"
The Blue women gave him a twisted look back, "Why not tell your guards to let me go?" James felt a familiar pull, one he been trained to deal with. A good try for an unskilled and untalented beginner. Why, if he spent time in proximity with her, he may even have confused it with natural affection. Whore. He could tell she had practiced that.
"So blue squids have psykers?" James spoke in Petolemaic, leaning back into his chair with his fingers steepled, the women seemed confused and infuriated. He smiled and took on a mocking tone, "Aww… Is the Asari wondering why I don't fall for her?" He chuckled, looking to Ar'Ack, "The Federation's Military Intelligence likes to put people like me through the gauntlet in hopes of making them, if not immune, resistant to psychic influences, her tricks won't work on me at her skill level, but I'm beginning to see the need to put my men through the same rigor Ar'Ack. It was good of you to inform me of this. Make sure everyone is informed to not trust the Asari's advances. If need be, connect them to the Coven in levels of insidiousness." That made everyone in earshot unsettled, whether Human or Petolemaic. "But I think that will only apply to this one. Get me some warpaint and piercings."
Looking to the alien, he smiled at her fury, "If you ever try that in my presence without my approval Asari, I'll rip a tentacle from your head. Surprised it didn't have an affect? Well it seems you have a power that I know of. And don't think I do not know of your kind Ardat'Yakshi. Demon on the Night Wind. And now you owe me 15 years of servitude."
The women considered his words, her fury and anger never leaving, but it looked thoughtful, "I'll only be more trouble than I'm worth, you should just let me go, accept your losses."
Projak laughed harshly, "From the stories I've gotten, your people hate Psykers, or at least, they hate your kind of psykers. And either keep you locked in a monastery like nuns, or hunt you down. And from the stories of carnage and debauchery you sew in your wake, I can see why." Images of the psychic masters of the Petolemaics came to mind, and those who knew of them also had their grip's tighten on their weapons, such evil could not be left alive uncollared. "Now you're in luck, I won't immediately execute you and hang your corpse up as an example. I just so happen to have a position in my court opened up for someone like you. I wouldn't mind having a psyker in my employment, if you're interested of course, otherwise you can go back to the fields and get the five more years of work you stole from me tacked on to your contract. Good luck surviving the first night now that every Asari in camp know's what you are." James said flatly, looking at her like a hunter who's trap has just been set off.
She made the effort to think before speaking, "I would be very interested in working with you." The women said with fake smile.
Projak Chuckled, "No, no, you'll be working FOR ME. And any sign of disloyalty will be met harshly. But on the upside, you may now own property, and what you do with your property is your own business. I don't expect to hear of your appetites overlapping with other people's property." He said that with an obvious threat backed by the sound of the cocking of a Terran Rifle. His intense glare changed like night and day, to a friendly smile, "Congratulations, Miss Delanthia you're hired. I hope you don't mind not shaking on this deal. Now, what's your real name?"
"Morinth." She said flatly, gritting her teeth. But as she thought of the deal, she realized this was perhaps everything she wanted: Power, money, and an endless supply of slaves to do what she wanted, to indulge her needs. Yes, this was perfect. Her previously fake smile morphed into a predatory genuine one. As the goo was dissolved, and she stretched her arms, she hesitantly took his hand gently.
"Excellent. Now the first order of business, let's make sure no one ever doubts who you're loyalties lie with, and your power ever again." As he said that, a small procession of Skinned Humans and Petolemaic priests entered, carrying cushions laden with a wide variety of piercings, ritual blades, and bowls filled with dye and tattoo ink.
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Somewhere In citadel Space, Unnamed planet, 2658 GS April /20/2330 AD
Colonel Mar'Rack roared in frustration as he kicked his desk over. The fury and shame he felt at the knowledge that cowards in the Hegemony had willingly sold you and your friends out tended to do that. They didn't even have the courtesy to let him know personally, he had only found out when his staff was going though the information they gathered in the last raid.
From that he learned of the capture of the the Grand Admiral, his close friend, which was a knife in his heart to hear. The loss of the home world was a further kick to his mandibles. But it was not only tragedy and heartbreak, the only good news that come out of this travesty was the admiral's son had escaped untouched. A small comfort, but he was sure greatness awaited him. His raider fleet had been causing trouble in Citadel space for a while now, and had established several bases beyond their ships operating area.
No doubt one day the alien, or heavens forbid the Terran, would find and root them out, but for now his forces were secure. So the only concern he now had to his long term survival was to make contacts to trade his commodities for things he needed. Now that getting resupply from home was out of the question, this left him with very few realistic options, sure he could surrender and hope they let him and his men go home, but the fact of the matter was the Citadel media was being rather merciless in the portrayal of his men as pirates, and the Federation wanted the blood of the instigators of the war. No, he now had to think out of the box, like the raider he was. The thought of that brought sadness to his face once more, Lo'Ho.
He could remember that fateful day like it was merely last night. The day they were all on Shanxi's surface, drinking tea and talking peacefully as they brought the battle to them. Colonel Lo'Ho, Leader of Raiders, his mandible tusks spread wide in a smile, the gold patterns shining on his matt green suit as he spoke to Mar'Rack, Leader of Soldiers. His golden armor gleaming, he held his helmet under his arm, a green cape with gold designs draping his shoulders to his ankles. He was smiling as well as he described the battle of Fortuga Hill, the battle where Mar'Rack's father fought as a soldier of the Hegemony, back when it was still proud and unified. The battle which had inspired Mar'Rack to himself be a soldier for the glory and unity of the Hegemony.
Tel'Rock, his rightful lord entered the war tent, the sun of the planet gleaming in behind him like some heavenly force. He nodded politely as he turned to Rel'Rock, Leader of Venerables. He was wearing the Venerable heavy armor power suit, the Petolemaic analogue to the Terran Power Armor, colored bronze red with stylized gold markings. It was in point of fact the same suit Tel'Rock wore when he had been a young ambitious warlord and had come to Lockhet with a rightful claim to its throne, though he wore a short red cape as his station required. This was the boy's first time outside of the Hegemony, one that Mar'Rack wished had not been the disastrous predecessor to the campaign that was the subjugation of the Hegemony. But at the time it was a good omen, his first time on campaign. For if he was to someday lead Lockhet and hopefully be skilled enough to end "The Time of the Headless Tribes", he would need to become a warrior and statesmen of much skill, and not just inherit his father's name and wealth. He said the penultimate of the story, of his father capturing the bunker and lifting the flag of the Hegemony above the rebels. This got an awed expression from Rel'Rock who he could tell wanted to hear the rest of the story.
Finally, a person even Mar'Rack missed, the last officer was General James Projak, the Terran turncoat Tel'Rock had taken into his army after he had sold out a Terran colony a year ago. Projak apparently had ambitions along the lines of a tyrant, and the mindset of one as well. He wanted power and land and didn't care what he had to do to get it. But Mar'Rack, in his many years of wisdom had seen a soft light in the man, one who had seen darkness, and somehow saw his betrayal as a thing that needed to be done for the greater good. The man lead not with just an iron fist, but respect, and natural charisma, his skill on the battlefield was equal to the determination he had in the stateroom and court. Projak was a Terran who was devoted to an intangible cause that perhaps even Projak himself didn't see. Of the officers in the room he seemed to bring down the cheer, as he grimly looked over a map laid out on the table. He was wearing a modified Terran uniform, instead of the grey with black trimming and silver buttons, it was green with red trimming and gold buttons.
He knew not of the fate of his old comrades, Tel'Rock, Rel'Rock, or even Projak. He knew one of them would have something, an idea, some way to lead this old soldier, who desired only to be lead, not to lead.
Taking that moment, he looked into it, before he steeled himself with resolve. His men still needed a leader fit for them, and he would be it. What would they do? Lo'Ho, before his death on Shanxi, would have attacked, reaving his way until his enemy succumbed to the death of a thousand cuts. Tel'Rock, in his many years of administration and wisdom, would bide his time, build up his force and wait until the time came for him to return and strike back with all he had. Projak, the most complicated of all, he would manipulate and investigate, gathering spies and intelligence, his forces seeping and overlapping with the enemies. Infiltrating their lines and waiting for the signal, waiting for everything to be ready, and when he knew victory was assured, he would strike, his forces would emerge in a thousand ambushes and raids, striking the enemy's capacity to prosecute battle, to eliminate their fleet piecemeal and entirely, and then his reserves, concentrated to a point, would push his entire force into the weak point, and their line apart. And if victory was unattainable? If it was all an exercise in futility that would only bring misery to himself and his men and dependents? Projak would... Surrender. As he said himself, there is no shame in admitting defeat to a greater opponent if it will assure the survival of you and your men.
Yes… Yes… Mar'Rack's mind raced with the possibilities. Projak, as his creed would dictate, if he believed victory impossible he would have surrendered. There was no news of Projak's capture or assassination, of which the Terran would have paraded as the price of betrayal. That meant he lived, at the very least. Or died unknown at the worst. This would need confirmation, but Projak's remaining forces from last tally showed them relatively intact, his fleet assets, his army, he had even accumulated many clans and tribes in his retreat from the tidal wave of Terran forces. All he needed to form a power base and infrastructure was there! Spies and couriers would need to be sent. This would be simple, he had already sent a few when the Citadel asked for surrender.
But he had too many hot commodities to let his forces appear to have surrendered. They didn't know how powerful he was, if he halted his overt raiding and strikes he could perhaps build up a powerbase in the hidden fringes of Citadel Space with all the clans and tribes he had come with to colonize space. Yes… Yes! Now how to dispose of the slaves? Well there was the Batarian Hegemony, he disliked what he heard about them but they were renowned merchants and traders, and one of the only official buyers of slaves. But they were connected to the Citadel, and may betray the deal to curry favor with the Citadel by disclosing the location of the trade off…
Looking at the media once more, to the family and friends of those lost. Tel'Rock was not much of a slaver, he saw the gathering of slaves as a means to an end of his goals. And Mar'Rack's goals? To survive to fight again, and to ensure the secrecy and protection of his army and fleet. And how would he get them off his trail? He smiled wide, he would… return the slaves to the Citadel Authorities with a few more "Surrendering" ships offering them in exchange for safe passage. By doing this, the stories in the news would change from the grieving family of those lost, to the joyful return of those thought lost forever. Why waste resources finding an enemy who had surrendered in totality? While there may be some ships looking, eventually when nothing was forthcoming they would stop being sent. And when their guard was down he could strike when the time was right.
He had in his holds more than a few illegal traders, people who fell into the crack's of society, and criminals. Those he could sell, those he could continue to raid and hunt and no one could weep a tear for the lost and the damned. Those he could sell to the Hegemony, and if they inquired as to their origin, if they ever thought of getting cold feet from their secret supplier, why they would only find alien refugees, criminals, and traders of smuggled goods. And if they ever thought they were better, thought they deserved a bit more, or thought they could fuck over a Petolemaic, why, he would have a fleet ready to take a planet and enslave its occupant and free their slaves to be the new masters. To be a lesson to all that one did not mess with the Petolemaic and get away with it. That they were still a force to be reckoned with. And they couldn't turn to their Citadel Masters and complain, for all would know of their discretion, of their traitorous actions of dealing with the enemy. To make Tel'Rock proud that his teachings did not go unlearned.
And that's where the second part of his plan came to be, he would head for this rumored Attican Traverse. The region was lawless and largely uncharted. It would be easy to hide out there in the long run, to make permanent settlements, outposts, and factories. It was also taking the long way home, the Hegemony traitors would only stop and arrest them if they took the short way, because it was so heavily monitored they at least had to look as if they were following the treaties laid out for them. There was also the problems of relying on these relays, Mar'Rack was no naval specialist, but even he could see the numerous flaws. Projak's strategy was all the more effective, as the Traverse was subject to expensive and very important colonization and exploration efforts, with only a few relays leading to them, Projak's plan of infiltration and then unsuspecting ambush would swiftly and suddenly end the legacies of dozens of colonies, worth trillions of "credits" in the galactic market, and no help would arrive in time as there was only two possible paths to the Traverse from Citadel space, and with enough time he could comfortably hold all entries against an armada.
And finally, the biggest benefit, was the ability to access the open market that was the Terminus systems. Lawless, ruled by petty warlords, raging tyrants, and pirate kings and queens. Why, it was almost home. From there he could do more than just get food and weapons, he could get mercenaries, trade, establish colonies, and usurp planets and bring their manufacturing under a new purpose.
Sighing he only realized now how much time had passed. Spending hours formulating plans, drawing up contingencies, and giving nonstop orders to his men and women under him. He saw something in them, he saw perhaps what Projak sees in his brutes and light infantry. And what Tel'Rock saw in the realms. He saw lines, movement, chains. And another greater thing. The importance of image, before he had been raging, moody, depressed. Now, he was a Petolemaic with a new vision, a vision that would see his men and woman, his people, brought into a new future, where they were not slaves or protectorates under the Terran or other powers. Where they would be a master of a realm that would make even the Terran tremble in awe.
Sitting down heavily. He poured cool water from his decanter, and for not the last time, wished he had never laid eyes upon Shanxi. Closing his eyes he remembered the days in the sun with his father, pointing out over their family home on Lockhet. He remembered the cryptic sagely advice he told him, to earn his victories, he had to crawl, and scratch, and fight for each and everyone of them. "I will father. I will make you and the whole Hegemony proud." Looking to his now upright desk, he took a paper and pen, and began writing a coded letter to Lew'Gen'Tak. That Petolemaic will be made to see his plan, his vision, he would stop fighting, for now.
But when he was called upon he would make the Citadel rue the day they sided with the Terran.
~[==|==]~
Beyond the borders of the known arachnid Empire, Glendathu 2658 GS September /25/2330 AD
The last Queen born of Klendathu watched the soldiers around her with suspicion. They were about the same size as her own brood guard, which were gathered around her, hissing like the wild animals they were. Each of them were the size of Terran Marauders alone. But these soldiers stood in neat rows, holding their massive plasma rifles with confidence and covered in heavy armor made of metal.
The Last Queen wanted nothing to do with these soldiers and their masters. She had been an opponent to any ties to their western, older brothers for centuries. But times had changed, and the Arachnid Empire could no longer rely strictly on their powers of adaption and numbers. They had lost their home world, the most humiliating blow in all her history, this meant they must deal with these single forms, even if their preference for mechanical technology and civilization seemed distasteful compared pure adaptation and animalistic brutality. But they failed, the vanguard, the great innumerable vanguard had fallen to these upstart apes.
She slowly moved across the green marble stone towered the Palace of the Queen of Glendathu. Her massive bulk slowing her movements, she could move faster if not for worry of cracking the stones and insulting her host. Thankfully the Queen she had come to see emerged from the palace flanked by more of her soldiers, and walked the steps with ease, something the massive Bug queen could not do.
The Queen she had come to meet was smaller than an Arachnid Queen, only slightly bigger then her guards and looked very similar walking on six legs, she did not look like she could produce an army, and that was because the bugs of this world with their technological civilization had abandoned the need for queens, allowing their weak queens to be half as populous, as the weak workers and warriors instead keeping the office to denote the rulers who after these century were somewhat less weak than the general population. They bred like weak apes and weak Petolemies. Coupling and producing offspring to be later enhanced as they saw fit.
"Ah, A Sister From Klendathu, what brings you from the home world." The Queen said as she came to a stop in front of the Arachnid Queen, her purple cloak rustling in the breeze. She already knew, but she had to hear it. Had to hear it from her. The sadness etched upon the Arachnid Queen's subvocal emanations was almost enough to move the great Royal Guards around her.
She sucked in a tremendous breath, and then stood up proudly, towering over the Pseudo Queen, her voice however, did not reflect her look, "I come bringing sad tidings from the sister Empire, Klendathu has fallen to our dreaded foe, the Terran, they destroyed the Home World-"
She didn't get to finish, "You Lost The Home World!?" The Little Queen stated in a cold rage. That did it, the brood warriors and the Royal Guard trembled, all of them falling to the ground, as if in supplication to the Queens, why, the Arachnid could even hear the sad crying from some of the Royal Guards, "What of the scientists I sent to explore the Terran ships and study their technology?"
The Arachnid paused, gathering herself, "No. I must clarify, no army could have taken Klendathu, not even the Blue skins could have prosecuted a ground war with success. No, it was destroyed, there is only ash and rubble. Of the Scientists, you know the answer my sis-"
"Don't call me that, you foolish beast!" The Little Queen's demeanor shifted quickly, her soldiers rising from their supplicant position like lightning, their weapons in hand and aimed at the royal brood, which reacted with almost animalistic panic and tried to move to protect their queen, but were barred. A moment past and then the Little Queen calmed, "My name is Naplon, unlike you beast, those of us in power have names." Naplon stepped forward, her many eyes narrowing as she spoke lowly, "You are failure, a failed petty experiment. Our ancestors, our old mothers left you technophobes on the homeworld, thinking that if you master the adaptation like you said you would, you would have made a worthy ally in our war against the traitorous Blue Skins. Instead you fall to an upstart nation, one you angered in your zeal to prove adaptation was the future. Tell me, do you think killing helpless worker analogues for a skirmish on a dead little world was really called for, because I want to hear how dumb you lesser arachnids are." She grew impatient quickly, as the Arachnid searched for words, "TELL ME!"
The arachnid queen didn't know how to respond and tried to use the logic that started the war to begin with, "They look like Blue Skins! They were most likely an experiment by them, like the Petolemaics, we had to destroy them before the blue skins linked up with them."
"Towing the line like the fish you are," Naplon tutted, drawing a bladed rifle from her side, "Fine let me guess, you came here to ask us to fix your mistake. Then tell me how many queens are left in your pitiful empire?"
For the second time in her life, the Queen felt powerless, "N-not many, enough to rebuild, but with the Queen-Mother dead on Klendathu, the chorus is broken, no one wants to work with the other. They are afraid that if they become obvious than the last lights of our empire would be stamped out by the Federation. I myself only survived by dint of already being in the process of arriving."
"Disgusting, and with you broken, our people no longer have a buffer to the Petolemaic, Terran, and Old Ones. Tch, I should have you killed for incompetence, but there is no time." Naplon put her weapons away and looked to the queen with impatience. "Swear allegiance to me and I shall retake your empire for myself, and humble the Terrans, sating your thirst for blood, and avenging the homeworld with a lesson they shall never forget. Refuse and I shall order your death."
The arachnid queen waited only a moment, then kneeled before Naplon, "The Biologis Arachnida Empire is yours, Great Queen Naplon."
Naplon smiled, before turning to a nearby soldier wearing a white cape in heavy armor, "General Ro, take the first and second army into the… Former Biologis Arachnida Empire and pacify those queens who will not bow, show them who's in charge."
"In your honor my queen!" The general said, saluting by putting his fist to his chest and doing what a Human would call a curtsy.
"You know, I think I will have to change the name of my office if we're going have these… Things in our empire." She said looking at the Arachnid Queen, "Perhaps Empress?"
"None of your subjects would complain, my Empress." General Ro said with a stone face.
"Hmm and I don't care much about the Arachnids opinion on the matter." She gave the Arachnid queen a disgusted look. "Very well Empress I shall be, and my first act shall be to prepare the Pseudo-Arachnid Empire for a war of reclamation." She said looking out over the forested mega city that surrounded her palace and grew out of the earth itself, and the massive battlewagons that dotted the sky above her city.
"And what of the Terrans?" The Arachnid queen asked, an unsure look upon her.
"They have fought hard, they have beaten and outsmarted you. They will be humbled, and they will feel pain, but… They are most certainly a race to be kept in the game. What was once enemies, can be morphed into allies. A lesson from the Petolemaic that should be observed, sister."
~[==|==]~
Citadel space, Citadel, Victory Avenue 2658 GS October/31/2330 AD
[Song: Polyushka Polye by The Red Army Choir]
Victory avenue had a long and illustrious history for victory parades. First named so after the defeat of the Rachni by the Krogan, when the returning Krogan leadership landed their many transport ships filled with Krogan, Asari, and Salarian soldiers. Who proceeded to march out in formation holding the many trophies of victory.
The Brushfire Wars against the terminus systems, parading the freed slaves or captured foes, and the returned fortunes looted from worlds in raids.
The Krogan Rebellions, when legion after legion of Turians marched down in rank and file. Escorting thousands of captured Krogan clan leaders, shamans, and females for the signing of the end of the war.
It was now host to another victorious people. Terrans, and Turians. Together marching down the avenue in full battledress. And alongside them, the tens of thousands of citizens of Tesla'Vir rescued or returned in the war. Councilor Tevos had said there would be no celebration of the end until the return of their people was at hand. And now that the last remnants of Skinnie forces in Council space had surrendered and returned the captured populace, they were celebrating.
Maghernus said it was a good omen for the parade to be today. It was the date of a Terran holiday, both a harvest festival and honoring the dead and religious figures. A common way to celebrate was to dress up in costumes and to feast with friends and family. And as she looked down many of the Terran's armor were decorated lavishly with warpaint, fetishes, and accessories. Marauders like the Chickenhawk's painted and feathered to look like actual "chickens", Armored vehicles with bright parade paint, the heads and upper bodies of the crew saluting and waving to the civilians all around and giving rides to the civilians who were rescued and waving patriotic flags, Powersuits with animalistic stripes and designs, light infantry with a plethora of hats and paint designs. They went on and on.
Many of them drew the crowds eye, and Maghernus made the attempt to point out to the other diplomatic observers, the Councilors and Ambassadors, of the different units arrayed before them.
As the various squads and platoons walked past, they turned their heads to look to the observation box, which held both them and the Terran and Turian officers as they marched in step to traditional music. Some squad and platoons stopped and performed a variation of precombat rituals and "psych up" exercises, which normally consisted of speaking in tongues or exuberantly about oneself or their squad mates, slapping oneself, and moving rapidly as a group. Many found the process fascinating, especially as Maghernus explained the purpose and effects that they had, which were surprisingly varied and effective.
It seemed like it would go forever, and Maghernus had said that nearly a tenth of all forces used in the war by the Terrans were present on the Citadel to march in celebration to both the end of the Bug war and the Skinnie War of Aggression.
A TENTH. That was in the hundreds of millions of soldiers, and they also had the Navy here too, with hundreds of vessels slow boating above, showing their warpaint and hulls to the ecstatic crowds. The march was slated to last a whole day.
They alternated between a Turian legion and a Terran Regiment which were of roughly equal numbers.
Maghernus looked to be in his element as he waved and saluted the passing soldiers while talking of the many storied and important groups that walked before them. Each squad or platoon had extensive history behind them, and it was almost like Turian record keeping, except more informal and personal. Looking to Gallius who stayed close to the Terran they had often shared insights and stories of the regiments and legions that passed them.
Tevos knew after this the two would be thick as thieves, and the Turian ambassador, a mostly traditional post nowadays, was among them as well. However she was starting to get suspicious with how intently they were talking with Lew'Gen'Tak involved as well. As the Volus First Armored Legion were driving by, the three walked up to Tevos and Cenike.
"Councilors, I sincerely hope you are enjoying our righteous victory parade." Maghernus said with genuine happiness. Cenike nodded, and Tevos raised her drink in acknowledgement.
"Indeed, this event has been both informative and exciting." Cenike explained with a rare smile.
"I would have to agree, it has been a long time since we've had such a wondrous victory." Tevos added, sipping her Thessian Wine.
"Indeed fellow Councilors. But this does not mark the permanent end to the matter. I've been speaking with the other major parties in this matter and we've come to a decision." Gallius explained for the group. "You see, this war is only the first if we do not solve the involved parties principal grievances. The Petolemaic people's need for central leadership, and the Terran's justified fear of Petolemaic raids and strikes. To that end, we believe a close partnership and exchange programme between the Terran and Petolemaic governments is in order. To be monitored by Turian observers of course."
Tevos' mind raced feverishly, 'Oh shit.' She kept up the facade of cheerfulness and support, "That's wonderful Gallius, the end of long term hostilities is necessary to keep peace in the region." She commented happily. No actually it wouldn't. While the Asari and Salarians loved to put on the facade of encouraging peace and prosperity, they actually wanted to encourage THEIR peace and prosperity, and their prosperity was dependent on the Citadel Council being the dominant galactic force. With the Federation's intently stated desire to remain separate as equals, and their powerful technology and economy they could prove to be a huge thorn in the side of the Council and the Republics if they so desired, and having the Federation constantly busy trying to maintain peace in a large part of territory would suitable make them vulnerable to Citadel economic pressures allowing them to have significant control over the Terrans despite being separate. But by forming a buffer state to be on its own with direct Council interest in keeping peaceful, it would upset thousands of established plans and political strategies.
"Indeed, which is why instead of annexation or pacification, we have proposed a buffer state to be made up of the worlds stripped from Southern Command, and those ceeded by the Petolemaic Hegemon will join together as the 'Free Worlds of Three Peoples', or more informally known as the Systems Alliance." Maghernus explained proudly, Tevos thought she caught a gleam of insidious glee at the misfortune he had just dumped upon Tevos and Cenike.
Lew'Gen'Tak did the Petolemaic version of a smile, "It will be a tripartite government. The Hierarchy will provide the peacekeeping naval and marine forces. My people and the Terran's will provide administrative resources and personnel to have equal power on planets with both populations, and to govern their respective worlds, and our local populations will go by a Turian conscription model to provide local militias to protect their home planets and to intermix our cultures to allow integration and acceptance. The Libertatem League will also be given the option to join the Systems Alliance as the initial Naval force. The administrative capital will be focused on Lockhet, while the political capital will be awarded to the Republic of Ha'Mon for their support in the war. With the Libertatem, if they accept, being given the option of being the military capital. Furthermore, we'll be going by a confederation of independent planets, connected politically by an overarching administration, with a upper and lower house of representative, which controls the navy, while the planet's control the armies. This model, as you can see, will make it so that the planets cannot raid one another, and are instead encouraged to work together for mutual defense. Those who disobey rulings from their representative administration will no longer have naval support, and therefore become vulnerable to the many dangers of space. This is simply a rough draft of what we have planned, but it is more than adequate. Unfortunately, as a new independent nation, one would have to deal with them directly to access their territory."
All four representatives, Turian, Human, and Petolemaic, smiled widely. 'Those matriachfuckers. It's going to be hell to deal with the Matriarch's now.' Tevos thought with an outward smile.
The end of book 1
Author's Notes: Around this time the chapter was written, the Red Army Choir of Alexanders Ensemble experienced a catastrophic event. (The Alexandrov Ensemble is an official army choir of the Russian armed forces. Founded during the Soviet era, the ensemble consists of a male choir, an orchestra, and a dance ensemble. The MVD Ensemble also claims the Title Red Army Choir) On 25 December 2016, a Russian Defence Ministry Tupolev Tu-154 carrying 64 members of the Alexandrov Ensemble Choir went down 1.5 km (0.93 mi) off the coast of Sochi, Russia while enroute to Latakia, Syria for a Christmas celebration with the troops deployed at Khmeimim military base. The plane crashed with no survivors.
This is a catastrophe of both musical and military traditions, the song Polyushka Polye was chosen to honor them and their families.