Gracefully, the ship flew through the darkness of night, illuminated only by the thousands of stars around it. The enemy was hard at its tail and fast as the ship was, said enemy was faster. Its only hope lay in the majestic cosmic body that now came into sight, a gargantuan pink and purple coloured gas giant. Its outer spheres were a perfect place for a little game of hide and seek. It would take the very best pilot to maintain a course through the gravitational chaos, to keep the ship intact and yet fast enough to shake off the pursuers. It would be a real challenge.
…
Joker sighed. It was a challenge, but he had played through this part of the game at least half a hundred times already. And it wasn't even AR, let alone VR. Just a small holographic game for the omni-tool. Unfortunately, it also was all he had to kill time. And he doubted he'd be allowed to bring his VR-rig to the job. Not that it's much of a job, but regulations are regulations. Especially in the Navy. He growled in suppressed frustration and looked at his omni-tool's watch. 15:20. Still more than half an hour to go. As usual, he had done nothing productive all day. But then, productivity was not what his job was about.
After Shepard's death, the Alliance had locked down the entire Normandy crew. They even had taken Ashely into custody, but had been forced later to release her, under pressure from Council Chairwoman Goyle. The rest of the crew had been a bit luckier, but not by much. Most had simply been reassigned, scattered all over the Navy. But those crew members deemed to have had close contacts to Shepard remained under observation. And unfortunately, that included Joker.
They had grounded him, had barred him from any deployments as a pilot. The official reasoning was concerns about his fragile health, but he knew that was bullshit. The truth was they simply did not want him to fly any of their ships anymore. Not an associate of Shepard's, not after all the trouble the Spectre had caused. More than anything, the Alliance wanted quiet. Peace, so they could consolidate their hold over Council and Citadel. Any reminders of Shepard would be quite unhelpful in that, especially given the current crisis.
Maybe I should just flee to Terra Nova... But he knew that would not work. He knew he was being watched all the time, and while he was not technically restricted to the base... this base was more or less the only thing that existed on this world. Officially it was named for some long dead scientist, but he only ever called it Boondocks. There was no way off it except with the Alliance.
So now he was Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, desk jockey. The Alliance had managed to find the most boring job in one of its most remote garrisons, and had deployed him to it. Or maybe they even had this position created extra for him. He certainly did not feel like he was doing anything necessary. Weather Communications. What the hell? Boondocks was constantly experiencing severe storms and sudden freezes, so the garrison in fact needed an extensive section only watching the weather. But that was not his job. His job was not even feeding the observed data into the base network. He only existed so that soldiers could ask somebody about the weather in the foreseeable future.
Which meant that now most of his work day consisted of sitting in a chair and waiting for somebody, anybody, to come and ask him questions. Which happened maybe every two weeks, if he was lucky.
The door opened. Joker stiffled a groan as he saw Corporal Eccheverría enter. Major grade asshole. The corporal worked in the base's logistics section, and was probably here to fetch some supplies: To add insult to injury, Joker's 'office' was in fact little more than the anteroom to a storage area.
Eccheverría grinned as he saw the game holo the ex-pilot's omni-tool was projecting. "Still something where you can pilot a ship, eh?"
Bastard. Rub it in, will ya? "Here's a weather forecast for you: Piss on you!"
But Eccheverría just continued to grin, fetched what he had come for and left again. Joker looked at the clock again. 15:35. Oh fuck this, I'm going. Not that he had exactly much to do in his bunkroom, either, but at least that way he could maybe avoid some of the assholes running around in the base.
With great effort he came to his feet. His leg bones were still a problem, but one he already had decades to have gotten used to. Slowly, he made his way out of the room and through the base. It was another disadvantage of being on the ground: Distances in military bases were rather longer than on ships. He estimated it would take him a good half hour until he would reach the housing complex.
Damn you Shepard. This all happened because of you. Because you had to save my sorry, crippled ass which I now have to drag across the base. Everything went to hell after that.
…...
A new day, a new challenge at the job! … Haha, right, as if. Again, Joker sat at his desk and was bored to hell. He fiddled with his omni-tool This place's extranet access is a joke. The relay satellites are pathetic. No chance I can download new games through them. Even accessing normal extranet sites was was probably another reason for his assignment. Military censorship was ridiculously easy in such remote places.
However, he had his ways and means to trick censorship, and to get more bandwidth allotment then he had any right to. Manipulating the base's network had been ridiculously easy. Probably even Shepard could have done this. Thus, after some program routines sent, he had enough bandwidth to at least watch the news. He connected to one of the new asari news channels that specialised on human space.
He saw... Wait, that's Feros, isn't it? Somebody was preparing to hold a speech. In fact he knew the woman. Acelia Martinez. The colony's leader since Fai Dan's death. Behind her stood Shiala, the asari they had rescued from the Thorian back then. By all accounts it was her who was really running and organizing things, but of course you could not have an asari as leader of a human colony. At least, not officially.
"People of Feros," Martinez began, "A grave change of affairs is upon us. In the last few hours we've learned of the Alliance Navy's new deployment plans. An entire marines division is to be stationed here on the planet. Our sympathies for Shepard's cause, for our own cause of justice are well known and so the Alliance fears to lose control over the Attican Beta cluster. This forces our hand. As proclaimed leader of this colony, I cannot allow such attempts to intimidate us into loyalty. The Alliance has violated the social contract that would bind us to it, by abducting and abusing children, by covering up corporate crimes at a mass scale - crimes committed against us! - and by its creation of Cerberus [1]. It's ultimately responsible for hundreds of ruined lives, unborn foetuses and deaths! Following the continued cover-up of those matters, Terra Nova, Elysium and Eden Prime have broken away from the government and declared non-compliance. Feros now joins with them. As of this moment, we will no longer accept any orders, laws or regulations by or from the Systems Alliance. We will remain outside government jurisdiction until the Alliance has cleared up all crimes committed or covered up by them, and has sufficiently compensated all victims. Including us. We will remain non-violent and non-aggressive, even to the Alliance marines, but nonetheless I urge everybody to be cautious and alert in the near future. That is all." [2]
He grinned. Ferosnow, too, eh? The planet was home to only a laughably small colony, but it was the symbolism that would matter.
The newsfeed began to show the Alliance Parliament, with a narrator, probably an asari, speaking: "Feros' declaration of non-compliance has led to further heated discussions in the Alliance Parliament. With general elections upcoming, the status of the non-compliant colonies is unsure. Conservative MPs have demanded to have them excluded as a matter of course, since they see the dissident colonies as having put themselves outside the Alliance. Others argue those colonies have not declared independence, but non-compliance. Hence they're officially still part of the Alliance and thus entitled to vote in the elections. In fact, several progressive and socialist MPs have accused the government of trying to manipulate the elections by disenfranchising entire colonies. Despite this it seems the government has in fact no clear policy on the matter yet."
Joker was so engrossed with the news that he did not even notice people entering the room. They were four people whose armbands marked them as military police. Shit, shit, shit! Hastily, Joker closed down the news channel, even though it would already be too late. However, the MPs did not bother with him. They did not even acknowledge his presence. They simply went straight to the storage area. Some minutes later carried a heavy crate out of it. MPs as pack mules? Something new at least, I guess. Joker was relieved to no end that they had not in fact come for him, but he wondered what they were doing.
It was then that Corporal Eccheverría came storming into the room. He looked exhausted. "Stop!" he shouted. "You can't do that!"
What the hell is going on? You just did not tell this to military police. And especially Eccheverría did not, normally. The guy was way too straight-laced, way too much about duty and patriotism and all that blah-blah. Joker's omni-tool made a pinging sound: The connection to the extranet had been severed. The connection of the entire base network to the extranet had been severed. It was then that Joker realized something was very, very wrong.
One of the military policemen let go of the crate and turned to the Corporal. "Don't make a problem out of this," he calmly told him.
Joker realized how Eccheverría fumbled for something at his waist. Fuck! Immediately, his hand went to one of his desk's drawers. The one where he had hidden a weapon himself. He wondered how the Corporal had gotten his.
"Don't!" the military police officer hissed icily. He had his own pistol drawn and raised. "Do you really think you can stop us, on your own?"
Eccheverría froze. Neither did he further try to unsheathe his weapon, nor did he move out of the way. Slowly and quietly, Joker opened the drawer. The idea to store a weapon there had come about by sheer boredom alone: Flagrantly violating the rules for shits and giggles. He would never have imagined that it would turn out to be actually useful.
"Oh just shoot him!" one of the other MPs complained. She sounded strained; whatever was in the crate probably was quite heavy.
The MP in front of Eccheverría did not respond. However, his weapon was raised a bit further. Not much, just small bit. But Joker realized the intent. He's taking aim. And an MP who would just shoot somebody like that was most certainly not acting in a legitimate fashion. True, Eccheverría was an ass, but that did not mean Joker wished death upon him. Besides it was his job to give hell to Eccheverría.
He jerked the pistol out of the drawer, aimed it at the MP and said: "I could've sworn we usually use dummies for target practice."
Suddenly he had everybody's attention. The three MPs still carrying the crate hastily let it drop and reached for their own weapons. This gave Eccheverría the time to finally draw his. In the end, everybody had their weapon aimed at everybody. It was a classical standoff. Joker supposed he would have to use a new name for the colony now. New Mexico... New New Mexico, that is.
"We don't have time for this," the female MP hissed, the one who had already before urged to kill Eccheverría. "If we haven't everything together within..."
"We know," the MP in front of Eccheverría answered. He seemed unbelievably calm. "There's no need to shout this to the world."
Yet another MP rose his voice, addressing the Corporal: "Look. None of us want to die. We promise to not shoot anybody. Just let us pass, okay? This can end without bloodshed." He had a soft and smooth voice and sounded very convincing. At least Joker thought so, but then he was biased: He most certainly did not want to die. Any solutions avoiding that were good as far as he was concerned.
Eccheverría did not back down. "I know what you're planning." He hissed. "Traitors!"
"You gotta be kidding me!" Joker exclaimed. Why isn't the fool using his chance?
"Sorry you got dragged into this," Eccheverría answered. "Truly. You seem to be a better guy than I've given you credit for."
This was not good. Not good at all. The Corporal talked like a man who had already accepted his demise. What the hell is going on here? Joker's hands became sweaty and trembled slightly.
"Be reasonable," Eccheverría told the MPs. "You don't truly think you'll get away with your plan?"
"We have way more support than you could ever imagine!" the female MP hissed. "We..." She started to cough.
Soon, others began to cough, too, including Joker. He tried to keep his aim, but he was shaken by such violent coughing fits that it was impossible.
"What the hell?" the lead MP shouted, before further coughing rendered him unable to talk.
"G... G... Ga... Gas!" Eccheverría coughed out.
And a moment later, the world around Joker turned black.
…...
He awoke with a droning headache and general feeling of nausea. A bit like a bad hangover after all those parties I never visited. He noticed that he still wore his uniform, but he could not tell how much time had passed.
The room he had woken up in clearly was part of a medical facility, but he could not identify it beyond that. It certainly did not belong to his barracks. After a while, he realized it was clad entirely in metal and synthetic materials. There were no windows, but he could discover some Alliance Navy insignia. A ship. It's a warship's medbay. After all, there were no space stations or other spaceborne installations nearby. Going by the room's size it had to be a larger ship than he had ever served on. Most likely, it was a dreadnought or a carrier. What the hell?
He could spot two medical assistants in the room. Unwilling to stress his leg bones by getting up, he made himself heard with a cough and drew the attention of one of them.
"Ah, you're awake," the medic said and came to Joker's bedside. "Good. How are you feeling?"
"Shitty," Joker answered bluntly. "How the hell did I get here?"
The medic looked somewhat awkward. "Ah, yes, you'll be told that. In fact, I have orders to bring you to the Admiral as soon as you can walk. Uh, can you?"
Admiral? "Might be worth a try," Joker replied, "if that Admiral can tell me what's going on. So far nobody else seems to have been able to."
"Right. You'll get some painkillers and anti-nausea pills," the medic told him, "and then we'll get you to CIC."
It took a surprisingly short time for the medication to work. Military medicine. Exchanging effectiveness for increased side effects. I better not think about that further. After only half an hour or so, the medic could take him outside the medbay. A marine had been stationed there, who now joined them. It was easy to conclude for Joker that he was a prisoner. I must have ended up on the losing side of the confrontation at the base...
Slowly, Joker hobbled through the ship's corridors. The Medic walked at his side. Now and then gave a worried look to the ex-pilot, but thankfully he refrained from trying to help. The marine, meanwhile, always remained exactly two steps behind them. Neither the weird circumstances of her job nor Joker's awkward gait could even provoke the slightest change of her facial expression. Joker knew the type; the stone-cold professionals who might as well be drones. He hoped he would have nothing further to do with that marine.
Finally, the trio reached the CIC. It was an immense room. On the old Normandy, the CIC had been the largest room of the ship, but in comparison it would have looked tiny and crammed. And while the Normandy had used the turian model of bridge design, with the commanding officer in the rear of everybody, this ship used the classical human model: The commanding officer's seat was in the centre of the room. Together with some more chairs and consoles for the higher ranking ship officers, it was located on a small elevation. In front of it was a holographic map, and all around it were the consoles and terminals of the CIC crew.
The medic seemed to know where to go to, aiming straight for a woman standing behind one of the crew's chairs. Going by her rank insignia, this was probably the admiral he had spoken of. While she was not a full four star admiral, Joker was nervous enough about being led to a Vice Admiral. Despite her rank, she wore a normal crew uniform. Her brunette hair had been cut down to military length.
The medic stopped a step in front of her and waited to be acknowledged. When he was, he saluted. "Service Chief Carver, ma'am. I'm here to bring Lieutenant Jeff Moreau, as ordered by you."
The admiral returned the salute. "Thank you, Service Chief. You're dismissed."
Carver saluted again and turned to go. The marine remained.
"I've been briefed on your medical situation, Lieutenant," the Admiral addressed Joker. It sounded actually friendly, which only further heightened the ex-pilot's suspicions. "You'll be here for a while, so we've reserved a seat for you."
She gestured to a chair in front of a terminal that had been shut down. Her face seemed to be naturally friendly, and her age probably was somewhere in that nebulous area of 'advanced middle age' that these days could span several decades. Hesitating, Joker went toward the chair and sat down.
"I'm Vice Admiral Paola Morese, commanding the Tactical Operations segment of the Alliance Navy's Second Fleet," she introduced herself. "I'm sorry for the rather unfortunate way you've ended up on this ship. Be assured that this will be only temporary. And don't worry about Corporal Eccheverría. Gas is a very effective way to end standoffs, and the one we used is very much non-lethal. We left him behind on the base in good health."
Joker remained quiet. He was wavering between a healthy dose of respect... or rather fear of her rank, and his anger and confusion about what had happened. "Ma'am I... why was I not left behind? And where are we?"
"Surely you suspect the reason, Lieutenant," Morese answered. "You were with Shepard. What you'll observe surely will be of special interest to you."
Joker groaned. "This'll haunt me for the rest of my life, won't it?"
Morese chuckled. She sounded sympathetic. "I rather suspect it will, and I'm sorry for that, too. But those are the facts. Shepard has thrown the Alliance into its heaviest crisis since its creation, and while you were simply following his orders, well, you haven't been entirely innocent of that, either. So I simply thought it proper that you should watch the solution to that problem."
"Ma'am, with all due respect," Joker answered, "but I've quite enough of this enigmatic bull... baloney. Could you please, please tell me what's going on."
Morese nodded, stepped to the console he was sitting at and started it. Moments later, a holographic map of the ship's surroundings could be seen. As a trained pilot, Joker could immediately read it. Apparently the ship was indeed a dreadnought, the SSV Mont Blanc, and she was accompanied by three 'wolf packs', small flotillas each consisting of a cruiser as flagship and three or four frigates. More ships trailed the main force; Joker recognized them as troop transports escorted by some more frigates.
And they all were closing in on a planet. Its visual image showed an extensive desert zone around the equator. It was Terra Nova.
"My god..." Joker whispered. "My god. The counterstrike begins."
"So it does," Morese answered. Even now she still sounded eerily friendly.
"But if the government starts military actions now..." Joker began.
Morese interrupted him: "They don't. Do you really think they could agree on any really decisive and helpful action? Of course not."
"A... a coup d'etat?" Joker whispered in terror.
Morese shrugged. "Call it what you want. For months now, the Navy has been forced to watch as the honour of the Alliance has been besmirched. Shepard knew he was needed, and he ruthlessly used this to force down his way on everybody else. So, it's only fair if now we do the same."
Losing all respect for her rank, Joker sneered: "Funny that you should have a problem with Shepard. No solidarity among fellow mutineers anymore."
Morese laughed. "You think you can provoke me with comparisons to Shepard? That's a little bit too transparent, Lieutenant Moreau."
"At least we only mutinied," Joker answered darkly, "we didn't try to launch a coup. Yes, that will certainly be a grand service to the Alliance, a military intervention into politics!"
"We aren't," Morese insisted. "There's no political decision making involved. We simply do what we're sworn to do: To defend the Alliance against all enemies, external or internal. It isn't a decision, it's an automatism."
"Funny, Shepard said much the same," Joker replied. "He called it a matter of basic decency, not 'duty'. I can see where this is lacking here." Morese tried to answer, but Joker continued over her. "I mean, come on. A coup d'état, in the Alliance? What sorta legacy do you think will this create?"
"I don't care," Morese answered. "I don't care what you call it, I don't care about legacy. I only care about what I have to do."
"Like Shepard indeed," Joker whispered, mostly to himself.
He looked on the map. The fleet had reached the planet's orbit, and the troop transporters began to descend to the surface. There were quite many of them. So many in fact that their escort seemed almost insufficient. The coup seemed to have more support among ground forces than in space.
"So why am I here then?" he asked.
"We're here to set a signal," Morese answered. "To show the futility of resistance against the rightful human state. And who better as an observer than a member of Shepard's crew?"
"A signal..." Joker repeated. Then it dawned on him. "This isn't a navy-wide coup. It's just the elements here, isn't it? That's also why only a Vice Admiral is leading this."
Again, Morese shrugged. "The rest will follow us once we've won our first victory. And the government will publicly condemn us, but secretly support us as soon as they'll find us useful."[3]
She looked at the holographic map, which now also showed the landing zones of the coupist marines. "Oh, that isn't good at all," she commented.
Joker now focused on these map segments, too. Apparently already now the marines faced resistance. He grinned. "The European 4th Division, plus Terranovan Special Police Forces."
Not that this was something to grin about, in truth. European soldiers engaging Alliance marines? European versus Allianceforces? We're fucked. Utterly fucked. But he would be damned if he showed that sentiment to Morese.
One of the crew members looked at Joker from another station. "Enemy forces confirmed as EUAF, 4th Division and SPF of the Terra Nova Colony," he finally said. "I also get some reports about massed biotic resistance."
Biotics? There's no shortage of anti-Alliance biotics, but I wonder who thatis.
Morese sighed, but that was already the greatest sign of displeasure she showed. "We still have numerical superiority. Most of the 4th Frontier Division, plus elements of the 9th." Again she looked on the map. "And we have allies."
Joker saw it, too: A second fleet approached the planet. Mostly light ships, plus more troop carriers. A moment later, their identifications flashed up on the map: They were Blue Suns ships. And going by how many of them were present, it looked like the entire mercenary fleet had been assembled.
"Shit!" Joker cursed, while Morese laughed. "Who the hell paid for them?"
"There are still patriots in the Alliance," Morese answered.
"Corporate toadies you mean," Joker grumbled, "Only their money could buy the entire B.S. fleet."
The light mercenary units slipped seamlessly into the coupist fleet, taking up positions between the usually larger Alliance ships, while their troop transporters initiated the landing process.
"Bad timing," Morese muttered, "they were scheduled to arrive together with us. But what can you expect from mercs?"
"Your glorious allies," Joker mocked.
A member of the CIC crew gave a datapad to Morese. "And apparently they want to see me. They're asking for permission to dock at the Mont Blanc. Ah well, courtesies have to be kept. Do it!" the Vice Admiral told the crew member.
While he maintained a defiant facial expression, panicked thoughts were running through Joker's mind. A coup in the Alliance Navy, European versus Alliance troops, the obvious involvement of corporate money... and he had already thought the crisis to be bad. Apparently that had been too quick. It would only get worse now.
"Docking manoeuvre initiated," one of the CIC staff reported.
"Incoming!"
That was another CIC crew member. Joker didn't know him, but he had his full attention. A moment later, he felt his weight shift, a sure sign that the ship's mass effect had been hit hard.
"What was that?" Morese shouted.
"We assume ground based weaponry," one of the crew replied, "Trajectory analysis is running."
Somebody else raised her voice: "Ma'am, I have fighters on the screen. Dozens of them, coming from the planetary east."
"Anti-orbit weaponry? Fighters?" Morese asked confused. "No matter, they still stand no chance."
Joker had to agree. The sudden barrage had shaken up some of the lighter units badly, but none seemed destroyed or unfit for combat. He wondered how Terra Nova had managed to install so many mass accelerators on such a short notice. Probably it had been part of their general arming up measures, and now those paid off. Even more mysterious were the masses of fighters now engaging the coupist fleets. Terra Nova simply should not realistically have the means to deploy so many fighters. Realistically, their population should not even have enough trained pilots for so many of them.
Nonetheless, Morese was correct: Even just against the coupist fleet all the ground-based mass accelerators and all the fighters stood no chance, nevermind against the combined coupist and Blue Suns fleet. Still, some aspects were odd. If the Terranovans had anti-orbital weaponry, why had they only fired it now, instead of when the troop transporters had come down? That was when the fleet had been most vulnerable. And how had the European and Terranovan troops been at the landing zones so soon after the fact?
Those mysteries bothered him, if only because he had nothing else to do anyway but pondering them. He must have looked quite lost in thought, because Morese grinned at him and was about to say something.
Before she could do so another report reached her, a report that changed everything: "Ma'am, ground forces report: Blue Suns have turned on us. I repeat: Blue Suns turning on us."
"What?" For the first time, Morese's friendly nature slipped.
"Hostile troops on the ship!" somebody else shouted. "I repeat: Hostiles on the ship!"
And yet another crew members: "Blue Sun ships have opened fire on us."
Yet again Joker was at a loss just what the hell was happening. Must be one of those days...
"Return fire!" Morese shouted, "Return fire! Ground forces are to fall back and regroup. We'll lend orbital support once we've finished up with these turncoats up here. Pack 4.3 is to fall back towards open space. Helm, take us between them and the Suns; our shields can take the punishment. Weapons, ignore the fighters. GARDIAN systems are to focus on the Suns. This doesn't go for the lighter units, their GARDIAN systems need to..."
Suddenly the lone female marine who had remained standing near to Joker all the time whirled around and drew her weapon. A moment and a barrage of gun shots later she lay on the ground bleeding, dead or unconscious.
A motley collection of troops came storming into the CIC. Most of them were humans, but there were also some batarians and turians clad in Blue Suns armour. Some of the humans belonged to that organization as well, but others wore a dark green armour. It took some time, but Joker's shocked mind could finally associate them with the Terranovan SPF. Some other humans wore armours that showed no uniformity. The most striking was a freakishly tall woman glowing blue with dark energy. Another woman wore a familiarly terrible colour combination: A pink and white armour.
This only added to Joker's shock. What is she doing here?
Moments later Vice Admiral Paola Morese raised her hands in defeat.
"Order your fleet and troops to stand down," the woman in pink and white ordered aggressively, just as aggressively as Joker remembered her, "Now!"
Morese nodded to some of her crew who transmitted the order to surrender.
It was then that Ashley Williams recognized the bearded man sitting on the chair next to her. "Joker! What are you doi..."
Morese interrupted her. As always, she sounded friendly: "Don't draw wrong conclusions. We kidnapped him. He is... was our prisoner. He had nothing to do with what we did."
"I don't think I've ever been that glad to see you, Ash," Joker said, and meant it. "Just, can we get this over with quickly? I make a terrible damsel in distress."
Ashley snorted, but it sounded more humorous than derisive. "It is over."
Another woman, belonging to the Terranovan SPF, added: "With minimal casualties, too. All thanks to you, Williams. I must admit, when you called me with your warning I had my doubts, but..."
"But you trusted me," Ashley simply said, and the other woman nodded. "And it's Ashley for you. After all, you trusted me more than even the Alliance Government, despite Goyle's efforts."
"I'm sure the Chairwoman did all she could," Morese commented. "But as you can surely imagine, our backers have contacts among the government." Now it was Ashley's turn to nod.
"Ah..." Joker spoke up. "But if it wasn't the government, then - just who outbid the corporations for the Suns?"
Both Ashley and the SPF woman looked somewhat awkward. Ashley replied: "Ah... let's say... Goyle has some contacts."
"And Terra Nova has some loyal backers," the SPF woman added hastily.
"Does it matter?" a boisterous voice asked. A man in Blue Suns armour stepped forward. "Either way, now I am the new Saviour of Terra Nova." He grinned. "Or at least, that claim should make for some good business."
Joker saw Ashley roll her eyes, but she did introduce the person: "Vido Santiago, founder of the Blue Suns and their second in command."
"What about their first in command?" Joker asked.
"Batarian. And we're on Terra Nova," the SPF woman answered laconically.
Morese grinned. Joker had to respect how even in defeat she always seemed to retain her grace. "Well, as it is, batarians did take part in the defense of Terra Nova. I wonder how this will play out." She looked out into space. "Developments now should be interesting in general..."
That, Joker thought, was something they surely all could agree on.
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[1] Yes, this is factually incorrect, but Martinez doesn't know that. Most public information about Cerberus is based on Shepard's revelations when he broke with the Alliance, and Shepard in turn got his information from Kahoku - and Kahoku in ME 1 described Cerberus as an Alliance black op unit gone rogue. So even though that isn't actually true, that's what the galaxy currently believes. Which of course is a further boost for the dissident colonies and factions.
[2] Keep in mind that Martinez' analysis is highly subjective. Given the Alliance Government's stated goal of deescalation, one even might call it doubtful that they'd so openly use marines for purposes of intimidation. However, after Shepard's revelation how the Alliance used all means to prevent ExoGeni getting to court, the Ferosians are understandably even more extremist than the Terranovans and always ready to assume the worst.
[3] Morese's analysis, too, is quite subjective, and might be more her wishful thinking than reality. Then again, it might also be a good analysis of reality, of how the Alliance Government would react. The point is, it isn't actually that certain as she makes it out to be.
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Despite this outlook toward 'interesting' times, this is the last regular chapter of Reaping The Storm. Await a denouement in the form of an epilogue and then we can finally, finally get to the ME 2 story.