Ministry Chapter 4

Sorry for the delay everyone, just have rather a bunch on my plate at present. Also finding it hard to decide where to take this story. Anyhow, here you go hope you all enjoy, and remember, reviews and comments are greatly appreciated.

The H.M.S.S. Wellington had just arrived at Palaven, the first planet on their list for the diplomatic tour. The Marines and crew had rehearsing and drilling in full ceremonial uniform for weeks and were already (due to Palaven's radioactive atmosphere) getting into their ceremonial armour and checking their weapons.

As the ship came through the atmosphere the three Avro-Supermarine Collie Fighters were launched, immediately sliding into escort positions as Turian fighters arrived to complete the escort to Palaven's Capital City of Cipritine. Turian ground control briefly guided the Wellington to land at a military landing pad just outside the city. Due to the publicity of the Wellington's mission however, a large crowd had already gathered outside the base and the council's media outlets were eager to capture this iconic moment.

The Wellington itself had sent a shuttle on ahead containing the B.G.B.C. camera crew and reporter and Munro could clearly see them set up to capture the moment of the Wellington's doors opening.

Munro frowned at the sheer number of Turian troops around the landing pad, The Turians looked like they were gearing up for war with tanks, shuttles and heavy weapons strategically placed throughout the camp.

To the left of the ship a company of Turian troops from their elite 1st regiment were drawn up in parade formation with a number of even more elite special forces behind them.

Munro sighed, even now the Turians were trying to show humanity whose boss. He gestured to the officers who were to accompany him and they donned their helmets.

Human Ceremonial armour was not too different from frontline armour except in paintwork and extra bits added on for effect. In the case of the New Zealand Marines this mean that their armour, instead of being standard khaki, was a deep British Tank Green with red piping down the arms and legs, all troops wore specially made white leather webbing and their helmets were the same as normal, except for a WW2 era looking helmet added to the top. The armour also had the crest of the NZGEF on the right shoulder. The musicians (yes there was a small band) were dressed in similar armour except their leg armour was black and their arms and chest armour were bright Crimson, with trimming similar to the formal red jackets worn at military displays on earth. Marine officers were equipped with their standard pistols in leather holsters as well as their ceremonial swords. Officers also had Lemon Squeezer hats on top of their ceremonial helmets instead of the marines' WW2 helmets.

Despite the ceremony of the occasion, all weapons (except the offices swords) were up to date and loaded, bayonets fixed firmly in place.

The ship's crew also had a company of officers and navel ratings with their black and blue armour with their sailor caps on top of their full head helmets, white leather webbing and with the crest of the ship on their left shoulder greaves.

As the men marched out, the band playing and Commander Munro at their head, Operative Smith and Fred's squad waited patiently in the cargo bay. Once everything had quieted down and the parade had left the camp heading for the city, a Turian High-Command Shuttle arrived and landed next to the Wellington.

Smith nodded to the squad and everyone walked down the ramp to the shuttle. A tall female Turian with striking emerald green face paint and even greener eyes was there to greet them.

"Operative Smith?" was all she said, her tone betraying nothing.

"Yes" came the equally flat reply.

"I'm to escort you to a meeting with high command"

A short but very tense shuttle ride later, they arrived at what was clearly a command bunker. The shuttles viewing screens had been turned off throughout the flight preventing anyone from seeing where the shuttle was going. Fred however, was not unduly nervous. Not only did he have complete faith in Operative Smith and his squad, he also knew the Turians (Having fought them during the First Contact) would not dishonour themselves with killing them out of hand.

Fred's squad was told to wait outside the bunker as Smith went in. After an hour of waiting and trying to talk to their stony eyed Turian counterparts, Smith came storming out.

While he couldn't see her eyes through her visor Fred could tell that she was more than slightly pissed off.

She was silent the whole shuttle-ride back to the Wellington, and stormed into the cargo hold as Fred and the squad struggled to keep up.

The moment the hold was shielded from Palaven's radiation she peeled off her helmet and turned to face the squad.

"They laughed me out of the room." She hissed, "I gave them all that data about what could possibly be the end of all life as we know it and they laughed me out of the room!"

A certain Planet, A certain base.

"Progress report." Came the request from the bespectacled gentleman. Dr. Graham Brown flinched at the sound of it. The voice was smooth and on the surface not at all intimidating, in fact it sounded more like a request from a friend than an order from on high. But Graham wasn't fooled, he'd watched through the security footage of this man slaughtering those Marines outside the base. He'd seen the man who now stood behind him move like the angel of death through those men, blood painting his face and trench-coat almost black. He shivered at the memory.

"The bodies have almost fully matured sir," he stated, trying to keep his voice level, "We'll be waking up TTU119 in a few minutes." The man turned away, his glasses glinting beneath the brim of his black bowler hat in the low lighting of the laboratory as he moved down the row of glass tanks containing the Test Units.

He stopped outside the tank containing TTU119, The tank contained an unconscious Turian, roughly 20 years of age and barefaced, floating in the gel like substance which filled the tank. Graham typed some commands into his omni-tool and the gel began to drain from the tank. As the gel flowed away the Turian began to slowly gain consciousness.

It was over an hour before the Turian was able to talk and in all that time the strange man stayed with him, almost perfectly still. Graham had just come back from grabbing a snack (if army surplus rations could be called a snack) when the Turian opened its eyes. "Who are you?" its voice sounded gravelly through the translators. "I'm Mr. Smythe" the man replied, his voice soft but cold "What is your mission?" "I don't know what you're talking about!" the Turian slurred, "Where am I?"

Let's try again, smiled Mr. Smythe. "What is your mission, "The Reapers are defeated"" The Turian's mandibles flared ad his face seemed to relax slightly. "My mission is to ensure my family gains power and authority and when the Reapers come, to survive. Once the Reapers fall it is to ensure our people recover, but to ensure that in doing so that our people are incapable of threatening Human supremacy." And Why is that?" asked Mr. Smythe, "Because Humans need to be in control," murmured the Turian.

"Thank you." Smiled Mr. Smythe and before Graham could say a word, he had slipped his long silver dagger between the Turians chest plates. The Turian's eyes went wide and his body trembled before slumping to the floor, his royal blue blood pooling and flowing down the drain at the bottom of his tank.

Graham stood paralysed in horror at the cold murder he had just witnessed. Mr. Smythe stood up and turned towards him, wiping his dagger on a pocket handkerchief. "Well done Doctor," his smile contained genuine pleasure and it made him even more terrifying. Graham found himself backing away as Mr. Smythe advanced. "Ensure that all Turian Test Units are terminated, begin production of Turian, Asari, Volus and Salarian Field Units immediately and release when they have matured to roughly the Ten year old levels

Graham was about to respond, when a shrill buzz emanated from Smythe's coat pocket. Smythe fished out a datapad and looked at Graham. "Until next time Doctor." He turned and as the door hissed shut behind him Graham heard something that made his blood run cold, "Ah Prime Minister…"

The H.M.S.S. Wellington (enroute to Citadel having completed galactic good will tour)

"Attention Attention, would Operative Smith please report to the bridge." Blared the Ship-board tannoy.

Fred and the squad were listening in depressed silence to the other Marines and off-duty crew recounting their shore leave on Thessia. Judging by the sounds of it, The Asari had been very welcoming indeed.

Escorting Operative Smith however, ensured that they didn't get a chance to enjoy the native community. Every planet they had visited, Smith had gone to meetings with local high command, and every time she had been laughed out of the room. The aliens choosing to laugh at the idea of "Reapers" rather than do anything about it.

Smith stood up from her chair and smiled thinly at the squad before heading for the lifts at the end of the mess.

A few minutes later the tannoy spoke again. "Attention, this is Munro speaking. We are not heading directly to the Citadel. Reports have arrived of a frigate missing several systems away and we have been sent to investigate."

Most of the crew groaned. Another week or so stuck on board.

3 weeks later

Fred lay in his cave, His omnitool glowing softly, he sighed as he looked at the lightning storm outside. He didn't dare go out or that "Thing" would find him. His food supplies and medi-gel were all gone, it was only a matter of time now. How did a routine search turn into this shitstorm?

It had started a week ago when the Wellington had arrived at the last known location of the missing frigate. The planet below was a garden world, as yet unclaimed because of the constant electrical storms which raged across it.

The frigate was nowhere to be seen but scans of the planet showed that there seemed to be activity down on the surface. Smith, Fred and his squad were tasked with getting down to the surface and finding out what was happening.

Landing almost a day's march from the centre of the activity, the group had quickly turned the Puffin shuttle into a base. Leaving Ted and Donovan` to guard the encampment the rest of the group had started to trek through the thick forest vegetation.

When they finally did arrive and were able to set up an observation post, it was quite a sight that met their eyes. A small cave entrance on the edge of a clearing, and parked in the middle of the clearing were two strange looking shuttles. A bit of research on omnitools revealed that they belonged to the Batarian Hegemony.

After a few minutes of observation a column of aliens were seen being marched out of the cave.

Looking through his rifle scope Fred was shocked to see that they were alien children, he identified Turians, Asari and Salarian as well as some small suited aliens Smith identified as Volus. All looked to be about 10 years old and were chained together as they were led onto the shuttles by armoured Batarians.

Anger filled Fred's body but he managed to keep a clear head. "What do we do sir?" he asked Smith. The Operative thought for a moment. "We'll let them leave and tell the Wellington to intercept. Once they're gone we can clear the cave."

Soon after the shuttles left and Fred sent the message to the Wellington. There was no acknowledgement but Fred just assumed that they were maintaining radio silence.

As the group made its way into the cave Martha pointed out that the cave was obviously artificial. They made their way down into the darkness. Smith ordered that flashlights were to be turned off in case there was someone down there. As a result the group were forced to turn on their night vision lenses. They soon reached a large space with a large metal door at the end. Smith pointed to a strange black and orange symbol on the door. As they moved slowly forward Fred grew increasingly nervous, something felt very wrong about the place.

Smith reached a small panel by the door and started fiddling with hr omni-tool. In a few minutes she'd managed to get the door open.

No sooner had they crossed the threshold than they heard hurried footsteps approaching, in seconds everyone had their weapons trained on the corridor in front of them. A tall man wearing a lab coat was running towards them his face a mask of fear. "R.S.F?" he asked breathlessly. Smith nodded, her rifle pointed firmly between his eyes. "You have to get me out of here," gasped the scientist, "He's insane!" The squad looked at each other and Fred opened his mouth to say something when suddenly the door they'd just come through started to close.

"Shit!" gasped Smith, she grabbed the scientist by the collar of his coat and hurled him out the door before yelling at everyone to move. The door closed bloody quickly but thankfully everyone made it out. Though Tiki lost a bit of armour of the heel of his boot.

Fred looked around for the scientist and saw him legging it towards the cave entrance, running like a bat out of hell. Smith and Tiki were already charging after him and Martha was also starting to move. Sirens started to blare and Fred took that as his cue to grab Martha by the arm and almost drag her after him towards the outside world.

They burst out of the cave following the fleeing scientist through the eternally raging thunder storm. The air was thick and the humidity oppressive. Fred struggled to understand why he was running and why the obvious terror of the scientist had filled his veins with a mix of ice and adrenalin.

A few hundred yards from the cave entrance, hidden in the jungle, the scientist stopped gasping for breath. Smith and the rest of the squad skidded to a halt, their rifles trained on him. "Who the hell are you?" snapped Smith. The man recoiled from her but didn't run. "Dr. Graham Stadson" he gasped, "I worked in that facility for a man named Mr. Smythe!" Fred noticed the man shuddered softly as he spoke the name, what he didn't notice was Smith stiffening at the mention of it.

"What did you do in the facility?" she murmured. "I grew aliens for him!" Fred gestured to Tiki and Martha to try and form a perimeter rather than listen to someone who was obviously a crackpot.

"How do you mean you grew aliens?" asked Smith cautiously. "I was told to grow Turians, Asari, Volus and Salarians which were slightly stronger, mentally acute and attractive than the rest of their species, they were to be released at age ten." "Yes we saw" growled Smith, "And you sold them to slavers!"

"What?!" gaped Graham, "Oh God, that doesn't make any sense!"

"Why not?" snapped Smith, "Tell me what the hell you know you little bastard!"

"Alright alright!" said Graham, obviously struggling to maintain his by now non-existent composure. "Mr. Smythe had me kidnapped from my lab on Albion 6, I specialise in cloning and D.N.A. He brought me here and had me work on creating the aliens I was telling you about earlier." He looked up to see if Smith believed him. She glared at him until he continued with his story.

"When I wasn't working on them, he had other people come in and work on them as well. I never met them but they obviously gave memories or mission plans or something to them." Smith arched an eyebrow. "A few days ago the children were ready to go and I showed Mr. Smythe an example of what we had accomplished with an older Turian I'd had grown as a testbed. Mr. Smythe asked him about a mission, and said some weird stuff then killed it!"

"What did he say?" asked Smith, "He asked what the Turian's mission was, and the Turian told him it was to ensure Humans rule or something!"

Smith's skin prickled, she could see that Graham was terrified and was telling what he perceived to be telling the truth.

She turned to see if the Marines had heard, if they had they showed no signs of it, their backs turned to her as they scanned the jungle for pursuit or predators.

She turned back to Graham and almost vomited in shock. Graham's eyes staring at her as a silver blade poked out of his mouth like an obscene tongue. Behind him was the tight smile and glinting spectacles of Mr. Smythe. "Ahh Operative Smith," he spoke softly, sounding so disarming and quiet, "It's a pleasure to meet you." Smith swung to pistol up only to have Smythe drive his blade forward through her throat severing her spinal cord. Fred turned only to see a black umbrella (Umbrella?) drive straight through Martha's chest, slicing through her armour as though it were paper. Without even thinking he turned and fled, seeing from the corner of his eye as Tiki fell to a bullet between the eyes.

He ran and ran, not stopping until her reached the clearing where the shuttles had been. The shuttles were no-where in sight. Not one sign remained that any humans had ever been there.

He snarled and continued to run until finally his legs gave way. He slumped against a rock, gasping for breath his chest feeling like it was about to split open. He tried hailing the Wellington but no response. He was about to close his omni-tool when he saw he'd received an audio file. He opened it, expecting to hear Commander Munro or the evil quite voice of that thing which had just slaughtered his squad. Instead he heard Operative Smith's voice "Who the Hell are you?..." He listened in silence to Dr. Graham's revelations, the recording only stopped when Smith's heart did.

Four weeks later, Commander's quarters H.M.S.S. Wellington, Citadel

"I don't understand why I had to lose my best marines" snapped Commander Munro, "With all due respect sir, we may have done well but those men were the best."

The hologram in front of him frowned. "I trust you do not feel that your actions were wrong Commander, you had your orders and Operative Smith and her team had theirs. You rescued almost 200 alien children from slavery, have proved to the galaxy that Humans are friendly and trustworthy and have accelerated the acceptance of humans into the galaxy faster than any of us could have foreseen."

"What will happen to the children sir?" Asked Munro quietly, "Due to the tremendous publicity of your rescue, they are all being adopted on their home planets, lots of politicians, and other VIPs are opening their doors to them." Came the response. "Now you must forgive me "Commodore" but I have to leave you, matters of importance and all that."

"Just one more thing sir" asked Munro, "Yes?" "Was Smith and her team really assigned another Mission while on that planet? Are they really safe?"

"You might very well think that Commodore, but I couldn't possibly comment. Congratulations on the promotion, and God's speed back home."

"Thank you sir"

"We'll talk further then"

"Yes Prime Minister."