A/N: I've noticed that my other fanfic, A Lone Samurai's journey is not getting as many views as it should have, so I will be rewriting all of the chapters soon enough, but it won't be so soon, though.
Note: I've edited some parts of this chapter to make them seem more sensible to you guys.
WindBear47: Right now.
Sceonn: Really? Thanks for the review!
Chapter five: Unstoppable drive
Four people sat on their chairs in large, spacious building, their positions elevated to a height making them look like a trio of elder gods talking to inferior subjects who took their orders.
It was where they conducted their every meeting and carried out their direct discussions with other improtant members of states of every race, clients or members.
Normally, whenever they talked about matters of importance, it would be involving reports on Batarian slavers or mercenaries pillaging planets and taking prisoners in the Terminus systems, or perhaps something new occuring in the galaxy, be it a new technological discovery from reverse-engineering Prothean tech or changes in state of governments.
Right now however, neither were the subject of discussion in the large building they knew as the Presidium.
Now, they were convening to figure out the three mysteries that not even STG operatives were able to solve.
One, the sudden and complete disappearance of the Quarians, Krogan and Geth from the entire galaxy, though a few thousand Geth still remained beyond the Perseus Veil.
Two, the planets of Tuchanka and Rannoch vanishing from their star systems.
Three, the continued disappearance of various mercenaries and Batarian slavers never returning from the recently activated Relay 214.
If it were biotics, it would at least explain some unknown factors, but the erratic energy readings that their sensors picked up, the feats performed that defied even the most advanced laws of physics and which would require biotics surpassing that of matriachs?
This resulted in investigations going back to square one.
"Anderson," A feminine, accented voice asked, "Just what in the name of the Goddess have we stumbled upon?"
A human male, now christened Anderson, responded, "If I really had an answer, I would give you one. The fact that both Cerberus and the Systems Alliance do not know means we are also in the same predictament as the rest of you."
"I thought Cerberus has the most advanced tech humanity had to offer to date," A bird-like, baritone voice muttered, "And even they are unsure how two whole planets just suddenly vanished. Poof, like they never existed."
"Salarian operatives dispatched beyond Relay 214 have also not returned despite having the best stealth systems employed in their ships," A fast paced, slightly high-pitched voice countered.
All four sighed as they lay back in their chairs, the four most powerful figureheads in the entire galaxy not having an answer to a mystery for the first time since its existence.
They were the Citadel Council, and they were responsible for making decisions that affected the galaxy as a whole. In truth, there were eight races in total that composed the entire galactic community as a whole, not including the keepers who always maintained the Citadel daily.
Most were client races, having to submit to the authority of the Councilors who had candidates from the Asari, a mono-gendered, all-female species, the Turians who filled the peacekeeping role, the Salarians who served as the intelligence arm of the Council, and of course, the humans, who admittedly only managed to gain a Council seat two years ago.
The Quarians and Krogan used to be client races as well, but the former's creation of the Geth and latter's war tendencies led to both losing their embassies and being the subject of discrimination everywhere they went.
Of course, the galaxy's hatred of AI actually originated from a Prothean beacon on Thessia, which told the Asari that the Protheans did not trust AI at all. The fear was only further cemented with the random Geth attacks that occured in both Council and Human space.
To many of the races, the Asari were seen as the wisest, most skilled diplomats capable of maintaining peace in the galaxy.
In truth? They were not what the galaxy thought them to be. They simply wished for new races to join the Council so that they could get their dirty hands on their advanced tech and assimilate it into their society so that they could remain the dominant power, and whenever a Batarian slaver gang or group of mercenaries pillaged a colony, they and the Turians and Salarians used those incidents as an excuse to increase military spending.
But now, the status quo they were so used to maintaining was starting to crumble before their very eyes, as slaver attacks became less and less frequent throughout the galaxy, and mercenary attacks dwindling in number.
Tevos, the Asari Councilor wanted to prevent the status quo from crumbling itself, but it was happening too fast to be stopped. Her head crests were beginning to show her distress, the mass of short tentacles slowly moving to accomodate her mental state.
All Asari were near identical in physical build, the only differences being skin tone, face paintings and perhaps facial features.
Sparatus, the Turian Councilor, was actually content with less attacks happening in Turian space since the Hierarchy's forces had, time and again, failed to catch these slaver gangs. His species were avian in nature; though they had lost the ability to fly, they still had metallic plates underneath their skin to help reduce damage sustained from Eezo bullets. Some were identified by skin colour, others by face tatoos.
Valern, the Salarian Councilor, was more interested in solving the mysteries of the century, furiously typing commands onto his orange-glowing omni-tool. A bipedal race, their heads bore what passed off as horns and large eyes which always closed upwards, and differences, like the Asari and Turians, were mostly identified by skin colour.
"We should dispatch a patrol fleet beyond the relay, see what we're dealing with," suggested Sparatus, much to the dismay of Councilor Anderson.
"And let the Collectors rampage throughout Alliance space, killing and taking hundreds of thousands of human colonists?" Anderson said angrily.
"I'd say the threat beyond the relay is much more of a concern than these 'Collectors' you've been talking about," Sparatus waved off his human counterpart's anger.
"We still can't dismiss the possibility of the Collectors becoming a potential threat to the Council races at large, Sparatus, so stow it," Valern sternly shot down the Turian's suggestion, almost causing Sparatus to lose his temper.
"Perhaps we could make First Contact with the new race beyond the relay, gain their technological secrets and their friendship, if there are any," Tevos suggested, elicting looks of caution and concern, though not for her.
It wasn't the first time the Asari Councilor suggested making a peaceful first contact with a new species whenever one was encountered, so the other Councilors would have written it off as one of Tevos' tendencies, but in the case of Relay 214, the potential outcome was far too unpredictable, even for Valern's and Anderson's liking.
"Tevos, I know what you wish to do, but don't you think you are becoming a little too ambitious in this case?" Anderson cautioned, "I mean, whatever or whoever's beyond the relay would not take kindly to foreign visitors, since quite a few Batarian slaver gangs have simply vanished beyond the relay."
"He is right Tevos, as a former STG operative, I cannot overlook the dangers of such a venture," Valern agreed with Anderson.
Tevos and Sparatus were about to retort, but seeing the futility of doing so, simply held their tongues and sat back down in their seats, moving the discussion back to square one.
The debate was progressing nowhere at this rate, with the ceaseless bickering doing little to aid the decision-making process. Anderson sighed and sipped his coffee, in a poor attempt to calm his nerves and supplement his tired mind with energy.
The prolonged silence did nothing to alieviate the heavy tension in the air, until finally, a red-faced Councilor Sparatus stormed out of the Presidium, leaving his counterparts staring at him until his person vanished behind a sliding set of metallic doors.
This did not bode well; in the past, the Turian Hierarchy had always leaped at a chance for glory and securing a new client race, causing much resentment between them and the new race, though the Volus were an exception since they willingly became one for military protection.
Many humans still hated the Turians for what they did during the First Contact War, occupying Shanxi and driving out the garrison by force.
Only whatever God existed knew what Sparatus was planning.
And it did not bode well for any of them.
IIOII
It was a few days after Sparatus had simply walked out of the Presidium on his fellow colleagues. He could not stand the thought of these new alien races becoming a threat to much to handle, even with the combined might of all the Council races, client ones included; the way all the slaver and mercenary ganga disappeared beyond Relay 214 only strengthened that superstition.
He was a member of the Blackwatch, elite Turian operatives tasked with maintaining the preparedness of the Turian military against potential enemies within or outside of the known galaxy.
The sheer notion of simply trying to make peace with these potential 'allies' like Tevos sickened him to the core, just like the time when she and the Asari Republic interfered with what would be a glorious conquest of a new race for the Turian Hierarchy.
No, no one would interfere this time; not the Asari, not the Salarians, not even the humans and the extremist group who called itself Cerberus. No one would stop this conquest, no one.
No one would stop the Turians from diffusing a potential threat to the entire galaxy at large.
Sparatus would have been chided by his Councilor counterparts for simply abandoning his position as a councilor to simply lead the Turian invasion force. If he really wanted, he could have had another Turian commander to lead the fleet for him whilst he continued to work with his colleagues. But his Turian pride and the previous humiliation he suffered when the Asari vetoed his suggestion for conquering the Systems Alliance, won over any rational reasoning and sense of logic within his mind.
It was inappropriate behaviour unbeffiting of a Turian Councilor, but he simplt felt like it anyway.
With little persuasion employed on Sparatus' part, he managed to convince Primach Fedorian to deploy three fleets worth of ships, the entire invasion force consisting of five dreadnoughts, four carriers, sixty-four cruisers and over two-and-a-half hundred frigattes, all in pristine condition and weapons primed to the maximum settings.
From the Council's perspective, such a fleet was massive and albeit overkill for something so mundane; the Asari could simply make peace talks with them, and gain a new species as allies and numerous technological advances which would greatly benefit the Council as a whole.
Perhaps only the Asari would benefit though, as they were notoriously reputed for stealing any technology just to stay ahead of everyone else in the tech race between the Council species.
On board the Palaven's Glory, Sparatus was no longer wearing his customary Councilor uniform, a light blue coloured skinsuit made to fit Turian physiology. Now, he was wearing his outdated Blackwatch uniform, his black armor hugging his form perfectly.
He stood in reverence of the large fleet which had gathered under Fedorian's command, ordered to respond to every order Sparatus issued.
The mass relay hung in orbit over no particular planet, the gyroscopic rings spinning around a large core of dark energy ready to propel any approaching ship at relativistic speeds across the vast expanse of space.
"Commander Sparatus," A Turian ensign said, "All ships are ready and awaiting your command."
A sly smile crept onto the Blackwatch operative's face as he heard the report.
"All ships are to engage FTL drives and move through Relay 214," Sparatus ordered in a stern, slightly satisfied voice, "Today, we will find the cause of the disappearances beyond the relay and quell any threats found there."
He began to rally his troops in an inspiring speech befitting of a Turian commander.
"If there really is a new race beyond the relay, we will crush their resistanse, make them a client race of the Hierarchy! We have always been the bulwark of the Hierarchy ever since the day it was founded! We will not back down, we will not surrender, and we will triumph as victors of the conflict!"
Sparatus did not know how much he raised his voice until he finished his speech, crossing his arms behind his back as he allowed the gravity of his words to sink into all Turian soldiers listening to the fleet-wide broadcast.
One cheer became three, than three became many.
Throughout the fleet, thousands of cheers erupted as Turians shouted and raised their arms, inspired by their commander, their moods quickly filling with enthusiasm as they quickly manned their battle stations and armed themselves for the conflict to come.
One by one, as Turian ships were flung across space by the mass-reducing force of the dark energy core of the mass relay, bright blue tendrils extending and touching every ship for brief seconds, Sparatus stayed where he was when he broadcasted his speech, overseeing the ensigns' routine of monitoring the various situations through their holo screens.
Now, the time for simple gossip and chatter was over.
It was time to wage war.
No one would stop it.
IIOII
An Orcish ensign simply sat down on his chair, enjoying his break time by playing a new round of Dragonstone with his fellow colleague, the various cards scattered on the playboard before them.
Dragonstone was, admittedly, a card game only created about twenty years ago by a select group of Thedosian developers, before the Quarians, Geth, and Krogan had met the Thedosian Empire and their allies by extension.
But it was fun to play, and within two months of its creation, many began clamouring for a copy of their own Dragonstone set alongside other popular card games such as Hearthstone and Diamondback, some even managing to get their hands on limited edition copies.
Heck, even the High Emperor himself liked to play Dragonstone as one of his pastimes whenever he was off work.
Other ensigns and soldiers were busy either eating their meals, taking quick naps when their superiors were not looking, or simply refreshing themselves with quick remedies of coffee or tea and biscuits.
The Orc smiled, looking at his deck that seemed favourable to him, only making his Quinari friend scowl more as he looked as his deck, a sign that he was going to lose the game if things do not turn any better for him.
"Hope you're ready," The Orc taunted.
"What?" The Quinari asked.
Without further speaking, he took a card from his hand and placed it on the board, making him smile in triumph as his Quinari counterpart simply sighed and acknowledged defeat.
The Orc did not have long to celebrate his victory though, as alarms blared throughout the ship once more, serving to simply annoy the Orc as he rushed to his station, furiously typing in irritation as he demanded to find out who was attacking them now.
Perhaps it could be yet another Batarian slaver gang, looking to plunder a colony for its riches and to haul off slaves to sell, or a mercenary gang, looking to steal more of their technology and make a big buck selling it to the highest bidder.
As the results came up on screen, the Orc was genuinely taken aback at the sheer number of ships that came through Relay 214.
Over three hundred ships had arrived, far too big for a simply mercenary or slaver attack.
This was an invasion force, no doubt looking to get rid of the causes of the disappearances of the scum of the galaxy, which had been no other than the quick-response fleet assigned to guarding the relay and making sure none made it to the colony of Lakash to use its defenses against them.
Numbering at over a thousand ships, none exceeding the length of 1,700 kilometres but outfitted with standard-issued plasma and energy weaponry, they would be more than enough to trump the invasion force, so none of it was supposed to be the ensign's concern.
But the fact that more ships had passed through the relay meant that someone beyond it had found out that the mercenaries disappearing was simply too convenient, the fashion on how they were dispatched too fishy to wave off as unimportant.
This could only mean one thing.
The High Emperor would have to deal with a potential political shitstorm soon enough.
IIOII
Sparatus nearly dropped his rifle in hand and almost stumbled to the cold, metallic floor when he saw the massive fleet gathered before him.
On the other side of the would-be battlefield, where the enemy forces were gathered, were over a thousand ships, nearly two kilometres in length.
Sparatus was expecting a meagre flotila of ships, inferior in technology and severely outnumbered and outgunned to take on the Turian fleet, not a mammoth of a war machine equipped to take on the entire Council's military. Spitits, even the entire Turian fleet could not match these new aliens in sheer numbers.
Some of the ensigns were even beginning to reconsider attacking the alien ships, and most opted for simply fleeing the battle and never wanting to antagonise the aliens again, although most of these waited for Sparatus' orders.
But they were soldiers of the Turian Hierarchy. They would not surrender. They would never surrender even against bitter odds.
And so Sparatus resolved to fight the aliens once he had collected his bearings, and moved to bark orders across fleet channels, quickly reorganising the previously stunned personnel aboard.
"Ensign!" He called out, "Have all frigates and destroyers focus fire on the larger ships! Keep them distracted while the dreadnoughts have time to wear down their defenses!"
"Yes sir!" The ensign replied without hesitation, then relayed the commander's message to the specified ships through a comms channel.
Soon the emptiness of space was filled with multiple Eezo slugs flying at hyperspeeds towards the seemingly inactive alien ships, too fast for them to dodge, too fast to counter with tracer rounds.
Neither actions were necessary; as soon as the slugs had been fired, they did not impact on the ships' hull as hoped, rather, they hit an iridiscent barrier that reflected off the slugs on its rippling surface.
Salvo after salvo of slugs kept impacting on the barriers to little effect, the surprisingly robust shielding reflecting off every projectile aimed at the enemy ships. Yet, despite all of that, the alien ships still did not return fire in retaliation at all.
Sparatus was not liking any of it at all. First the Thanix cannons did not damage the ships at all, next the fighter craft that were nearing the ships suddenly lost control and either crashed into each other or managed to miraculously escape certain destruction, and now nuclear warheads weren't even working.
Yet, the alien ships did not fire, as if waiting for something else to happen.
Sparatus growled; he was starting to lose his patience. This conflict had gone on for far too long, longer than he liked.
He had to end this soon, or the dammed Councilors would catch wind of this engagement and try to diffuse it.
He would not see it pass though, as he saw the alien ships finally charge their spinal cannons and fire, destroying all dreadnoughts completely, to his shock and horror.
These dammed aliens had energy weaponry at their disposal, capable of completely bypassing their kinetic barriers and utterly reducing any of their ships to slag.
But it did not stop there. Several alien ships suddenly disappeared through large bright motes of light, out of their sight and completely missing from their radar. In a state of shock, ensigns and technicians frantically scanned to find where the ships had gone.
Their answer came when said ships had reappeared.
Within the Turian ranks.
And all of them rammed into their flanks in a seemingly suicidal fit of agression.
More ships had been lost by the ramming, and after several broadsides had been fired from alien ships' arnaments.
What was most shocking to Sparatus' eyes, however, was that the aliens ships were not damaged in the slightest even after such a dangerous act, meaning these ships were constructed out of an alloy far stronger than anything they encountered before.
It wasn't long before the Blackwatch operative began to see the folly of his actions, as Turian ships were being destroyed left and right either from more broadsides being fired from the alien ships, or enemy fighter craft scattering to massacre their destroyers, the dark, empty void of space illuminated by lances of energy and brightly coloured explosions with more shipwrecks dotting the landscape.
But in the void of space, with no air, nothing could be heard. Not the explosions that would usually ring in people's ears, not the dozens of ship arnaments unleashing payloads of destruction, and certainly not the screams of people dying.
And Sparatus could only watch all of it through his own Turian eyes, unable to help any of his subordinates for fear of being killed.
Suddenly, a great impact could be felt as the ship rocked and tilted at a dangerous angle, causing Sparatus to stumble and hit his head on the floor.
His vision began to fill with white light, his head still throbbing with pain as he tried his utmost to stand up. His hearing was barely working at first, then the all-to-recognisable sounds of gunfire rang throughout the corridors, forcing Sparatus to tough out the pain and arm his rifle.
The set of doors leading into the command deck soon sprang open, soldiers dressed in unfamiliar garb storming into the room and cornering the Turians into a tight corner as the few remaining crew members prepared for their last stand.
Sparatus was nervously aiming his rifle at the aliens that stood across the deck, armed with weapons that should have been mere antiques and all manner of firearms that were strangely designed but no less deadly.
One, most likely the leader, stepped forward and raised a hand at the Turians to dissuade them from attempting a foolish attack. Wearing a flamboyant cape unbeffiting of his status, he placed his oversized battleaxe on the floor headfirst, then proceeded to unfasten his helmet, a loud hissing accompanying the action.
Once Sparatus managed to get a full view of the leader's face, he was absolutely stunned to find that he looked so similar to a human; the reason why he did not simply consider him a human was the pointy ears that extended out of his albino hair, and the eyes that made him shift uncomfortably, even with his iron discipline.
Black eyes with amber pupils that bore down heavily on his soul, strange yet ancient markings covering one half of his face, and an intimidatin, almost overbearing aura of authority and fearlessness.
"I am High Emperor Amarthathor, of the Thedosian Empire," He heard the leader introduce himself, "You and your men stand accused of attacking the Empire and its allies. To what justification were you compelled to do such a thing?"
Sparatus could feel his world shattering to pieces as he digested the Emperor's words. He was speaking English, perfectly accented English that he spent his time learning despite his inherent dislike for Humans.
They had attacked more than one galactic nation, nations who were technologically and numerically superior than the whole Council combined. Spirits, even though the Batarians had broken away from the Council and went to increase its military might, they still did not come close to obtaining strength equivalent to that of the Hierarchy.
He could see why Tevos and his other colleagues were apprehensive about attacking this new species; the Hierarchy had only succeeded at conquering Shanxi because the Systems Alliance employed the same technology as they did and were heavily outnumbered.
He saw the leader reach into his helmet and pull out a sort of data chip, then pixels of bright light began to materialise into something.
It revealed a holographic figure that looked similar to the Emperor, save his dark skin tone and absense of strange markings on his face. He seemed to be sipping a holographic cup of tea whilst lazily sitting on a couch, waiting for something new to do.
But he recognised it, it was an AI, an artificial construct banned throughout the Galaxy by Citadel law ever since the Quarians created the Geth.
He needed to dismantle it. It was too dangerous to be let loose, even if these... Thedosians used them without any issue.
"Before you get me started, Sparatus," Amarthathor said, as if he read the Turian's thoughts, "Let me tell you that you are just fearing AI because someone else told you to do so."
"But, but they are dangerous!" Sparatus screamed his head off, "They must be-"
He did not get to finish his sentence when a cybernetic fist impacted on his face, then he felt himself being handled roughly as he came face to face with-
A Geth. It was a real Geth, standing in front of him.
But the way the Geth handled him was rather strange; usually, the geth would settle for injecting some sort of tranquiliser into the victim's neck, rendering him unable to fight, or shooting on sight.
But he was holding him like an organic would in anger. Why was the Geth angry? Did he do something to offend it?
"Do not speak to Amarthathor like that, Turian," The Geth did the organic equivalent of spitting on him, "Because of your irrational fear of AI, because you abandoned our Creators when they needed you most, they nearly died out completely! Extinct, just for your convenience!"
Sparatus and the other Turians were taken aback by the Geth's display of anger, as it clenched its fists harder, gripping tightly on the Turian Councilor's armor as he wound up a fist, ready to punch him once more.
Another armored fist latched onto the Geth's arm just before he could deliver the blow, recognising it to be the Emperor's.
"Emperor..." The Geth muttered in confusion.
"That is enough, Legion," The Emperor addressed the Geth by its name, "Your anger is justified, but simply beating him will take us nowhere."
"But..." Legion tried to argue but was silenced by a stern glare.
"If you truly wish to avenge the deaths of your Creators, aid us in finding the Ethereals and put an end to their reign."
The Geth – no, Legion – hesitated for a few seconds, which seemed like an eternity for AI, then reluctantly let go of Sparatus, allowing him to drop onto the cold, metallic floor.
Legion proceeded to walk away from the other Turians until he was behind the Emperor, conceding to his judgement.
"Take them away," Amarthathor ordered, "I will question their leader later when I feel like it."
Sparatus made no effort to resist the soldiers restraining him as they dragged him away to spirits knew where.
The other Turians were unwilling to peacefully surrender to their enemies, so many struggled, even going so far as to try to steal their weapons, but none ever managed to escape their restraints, as they all suddenly fell asleep due to a strange energy radiating from many of their hands.
Since he was the only one who did not resist, he was not subject to the same merciful fate as the others were.
Sparatus' thoughts were a raging malestorm inside his mind, unrelenting, agressively arguing and never agreeing on one thing at a time. They only served to aggravate the Turian Councilor's anxiety even further, threatening to snap the last strands of sanity still remaining in his mind.
No matter how much he tried to rationalise the thoughts in his mind, they always focused on one statement that repeatedly refused to be forgotten.
We attacked a sleeping titan.
These words kept repeating themselves like a religious sutra being chanted again and again, blocking out any other throughts and exterior stimuli from being registered by his fragile state of mind.
We attacked a sleeping titan.
He could not stop the recitation of the mantra in his mind, nor did he bother wanting to.
We attacked a sleeping titan.
It was all he ever thought of for the next few hours.
IIOII
"Hey, you hear, Wrex?" An Orc was busy gossiping about the latest events to his Krogan friend beside him.
"About what?" The Krogan said uncaringly, slamming down his glass on the counter after drinking down its contents.
"I hear that an entire Turian fleet had the balls to attempt a full-scale invasion of the Empire via Relay 214," The Orc scoffed at the sheer audacity of the invaders, "Only their leader and a few dozen managed to survive the skirmish, I hear."
"Ah, who gives a damn about these arrogant birds Arkail," The Krogan shared the same sentiment as his drinking buddy, "Glad somebody finally handed their asses to them."
Both laughed heartily, content with drinking all of their troubles away with cold glasses of beer to their heart's content.
"I see that you two are having fun."
They turned their heads to recognise the owner of the accented voice speaking English.
"Ah, Tali!" Arkail was all too happy to see the Quarian again, "Come, have a drink!"
Tali seemed to nervously try to inch away from the bar counter, not wanting to offend her friends, but at their insistense, she sat down on an empty stool and ordered a glass of beer, the frothy, golden liquid tempting her taste buds as it filled the beer glass.
After gulping down her beer, she suddenly found herself ordering more refills, quickly gulping down every glass with gusto as she found herself addicted to the taste of the delicious beer.
The cold liquid touching her lips and quenching her parched throat was refreshing, but she began to take her drinking spree to a new level.
After downing more than a dozen glasses of the frothy beverage, she began swaying dangerously, almost falling off her seat more than once whilst her friends simply laughed at the sight before them.
Thankfully it was already nighttime when she began her alcoholic craze, so at least she could sleep off the beer.
Arkail simply shook his head at the comical sight of Tali'Zorah mumbling incoherent words in her drunken state, moving to take his landlady back to their houses when the nearby television shifted its channel to a news broadcast.
"Attention everyone, we interrupt this channel to bring you urgent news," An elven reporter said with a tone of urgency, bringing their attention to the broadcast, Tali still mumbling incoherent language, "Two minutes ago, allied forces have intercepted yet another ship that just passed through Relay 214. It identifies itself as the Normandy, and the crew that has been detained for questioning is made up of Humans, with reports suggesting that the leader is one who goes by the name of Commander Shepard."
"More information will be revealed once investigations have made progress. Reporting for Thedosian News Network, I'm Danath Lavellan."
As the news channel cut its connection, Wrex was staring at the screen in disbelief, recognising the name of the ship and the leader that were mentioned just now.
Shepard. It had been over two years since he last heard from her, after her supposed death and the loss of the Normandy.
It was hard to believe the cold, disheartening fact that one of his few friends, his true friend, had died so suddenly.
He sometimes hated to admit it, but he missed Shepard and her cheerful, albeit naive attitude.
To hear that she was still alive, he needed to find out if it was truly her, if it was truly the Commander Shepard he had grown to respect and regard as a true friend.
"I'm sorry, I need to go," Was all Wrex said before rushing off in the night, leaving Arkail holding the unconscious, drunken form of tali'Zorah.
"No point leaving you like this, Tali," Arkail said to no one in particular, "Let's get you home."
IIOII
She was hating it. She was hating every moment of it.
It was supposed to be a simple scouting mission; head through the relay, briefly scout the other side, and then head back through the relay with their findings. It was supposed to be simple, given that the Normandy had the latest stealth drive improved by Cerberus engineers.
She did not excpect a humongous fleet waiting for her, and one which managed to detect the ship despite the stealth drive engaged.
And now she was waiting for their supreme leader to be interrogating her, no doubt asking about her motives, her wants, needs, etc, all the while leaving her concerned about how her crewmates were being treated whilst serving their time as captives of this 'Thedosian Empire'; she may not like Cerberus, but that did not mean she did not see the good side of its operatives, especially the new recruits.
But the room she was in, it felt... nice, very nice, almost to the point of being hospitable rather than giving an aura of oppression through dimly illuminated surroundings and dark coloured, heavy walls. A crystal clear lamp illuminated the whole room enough to allow Shepard to take in her surroundings.
The room she was in could not even come close to an interrogation room, come to think of it. A couple of potted plants guarded the only doorway inside, their flowers diffusing a sweet, alluring fragrance that the Spectre began to love. A glass window at one end of the room allowed anyone inside to have a good overview of the city below, the sounds of bustling activity obstructed by the airtight glass panel.
As Shepard was mesmerised by her surroundings, she heard the doors part to reveal...
She was unsure what to make of the man who entered the room.
He was admittedly tall and masculine, though not as much as an average human male, but what would make him stand out like a sore thumb in her society were his pointy ears, the unnatural white of his long hair, the strange markings that seemed to cover the entire right half of his face, and perhaps the most frightening of all... was his eyes.
They were the most unnatural, the most... alien of his features. Black sclera protecting golden amber irises housing slits of pupils which should have belonged to an animal. Whenever Shepard stared into those eyes, she could not help but feel that she was staring into the eyes of an otherworldly being, hopelessly beyond her comprehension, and that of any intelligent scientist or biologist.
She could not suppress her nervous swalloing of saliva down her throat, her nerves becoming more and more jittery by the second as she observed the man sit down right before her.
His clothing was nothing regal or fanciful, just a black T-shirt emblazoned with the insignia of a roaring dragon, two wreaths of laurels criss-crossing each other below it, and a pair of what looked like cotton jeans covering the entire length of his legs, and...
Why was he not any footwear whatsoever? He seemed to be fine with walking barefoot, but what about the floor becoming unbearably hot in very sunny conditions? Wouldn't that result in horrible scalding of his feet? Yet he did it as if it was of no concern.
"I am Amarthathor, High Emperor of the Thedosian Empire," The elfin man introduced himself.
...Did she just hear that right? She was officially talking with the leader of the Empire, who was wearing nothing more than plain civilian clothes before her?
She was unsure whether it was how the Thedosians behaved or that God was simply playing an extremely ridiculous joke on her.
"I-I'm Commander Shepard, of the Systems Alliance," The human Spectre stuttered in her introduction, "Or at least... I used to be."
Amarthathor tilted his head at the last few words. "Used to be?"
"I-It's kinda complicated so... I might be... taking a while to explain this," Shepard said as she struggled to find the right words to speak.
What was she doing? She was an N7 Soldier, one of the best the Alliance had to offer since the creation of the initiative, and the first and only human Spectre to ever be appointed the honour by the Council itself, so why was her resolve faltering now, in front of this High Emperor?
Was it the strange, somewhat frightening aura he was emmiting? Was it the sheer authority he radiated despite his ordinary appearance? Was it his handsome features that somehow-
No, she had to get the last part out of her mind. No way she was going to fall for some sort of space elf during a mission of utmost importance assigned by the Illusive Man, untrustworthy as he was.
She braced herself, steeling her nerves with a newfound resolve she did not even know she had within herself, and said, "Me and my team were sent to investigate the the recent disappearance of a large fleet of over three hundred ships beyond the relay, the one that led to your Empire's space."
"Would it be the Turian fleet, by any chance?" Amarthathor asked, much to the surprise of the Spectre, "Led by a certain Councilor Sparatus?"
Shepard was taken aback by the new information. She had not been expecting the Emperor to know the name of the Councilor and ex-Blackwatch operative who led the large fleet beyond Relay 214.
"H-How did you know?" Shepard tried to comprehend the situation before her.
"I believe it would be better for the leader himself, to explain."
She was about to ask again about how Sparatus could talk with them when the doors opened yet again to reveal a very familiar face.
Councilor Sparatus.
But she could see that something was fundamentally different about the Turian before her. Before, he was about as stubborn and arrogant as his Asari counterpart, not believing a single word she said about a distant threat that could engulf the entire galaxy, with the Council unable to stop it.
However, right now Sparatus was just... silent. He did not say anything at all when entering the room, though he paused in his tracks when he lay eyes on the human Spectre before him, which meant that he was also not expecting to see Shepard herself.
He slowly took a seat next to Shepard, placing his hands on the table.
And taking a deep breath, he began to say his piece.
"I'll be blunt," Sparatus said, "I would not settle for leaving the mystery of disappearing ships beyond relay 214 any longer, so I took a large portion of the Hierarchy's fleet to deal with any potential threats beyond the relay."
At least Shepard could understand the actions Sparatus did, though it would be what any Turian commander would do, with their absolute paranoia about threats becoming too much for the Council to handle.
"But you were not expecting to lose badly, did you?" Amarthathor questioned the Turian prisoner of war before him.
The ex-Blackwatch agent simply shook his head, giving Shepard the answer she wanted.
"Shepard," He turned to address the human Spectre beside him, "The Empire has technology more advanced than the whole Council and Cerberus combined, and outnumber all of us over a thousand to one."
The Turian's features softened in grim sorrow as he continued, "If any Asari commandoes or mercenaries were to try to steal their technology, they would be awakening a sleeping titan."
She was desperately trying to wrap her head around all the new information she was receiving; exactly how did one galactic empire manage to produce so many ships over the years? Did it never engage in any galactic war throughout the entirety of its existense? Or perhaps it had another race handling its military might?
"Was it the Empire alone, or was it allied with other, more powerful races?" Shepard asked.
"Allow me to repeat my statement," Sparatus took a deep breath before continuing, "The Empire alone has an armanda of ships outnumbering the whole Council over a thousand to one."
She was barely keeping herself from falling off her seat as she fumbled to process the numbers in her mind. She knew the Turian Hierarchy had the strongest and largest fleet in the whole galaxy, but even then they numbered about a thousand. If the Empire did outnumber the whole Council's fleet in the numbers specified by Sparatus...
Then God help them all, especially Councilor Tevos, bigotted and arrogant woman as she was.
"Although I'll admit, the Empire has allies as well; although they do not possess as much military strength as we do, they still outnumber the Council's military as well." The High Emperor added, not helping Shepard's already confused state of mind.
"I think all of this might be too much to handle for Shepard, Emperor," Sparatus interjected, "Why don't we allow her a bit of rest for today?"
Standing up from his seat, Amarthathor concluded, "I believe that would be best. Thank you for your time, Sparatus."
The Turian nodded as he left the room, leaving Shepard alone with Amarthathor as he passed her a cup of tea.
Staring into the steaming hot liquid inside the porcelain cup, she then stared at Amarthathor, who simply stared at her back with his signature soul-piercing gaze, then wordlessly took the cup and sipped the tea, taking care not to scald her tongue.
The taste was... beyond describing it as exceptionally sweet and fragrant, yet her acute sense of taste could not detect any sugar inside the refreshing drink, making it all the more flavourful and naturally soothing.
She eagerly took her own sweet time to savour every last drop as she was mesmerised by the simplistic, yet addictive flavour of the tea she was sipping.
Eventually, the cup was empited of it's contents, and Shepard daintily set down the cup onto the table, her nerves having calmed considerably.
"Now that you've calmed down," Amarthathor said, "Let me get straight to the point."
A steel grey glow on his arm began to become more visible, and as Amarthathor began tying various buttons on the holographic arm-mounted computer, a projector which Shepard failed to notice was in the table began to show images materialising in swarms of bright pixels arranging themselves.
They revealed a ship in a specific design that the Spectre had come to hate and dread for causing the destruction of the original Normandy and the death of its previous crew. The drill-shaped figurehead, the crude pieces of metal welded together to sustain its design...
It was a Collector ship, one of many that have been attacking isolated colonies throughout Alliance space.
But here was the million credit question: Exactly why was Amarthathor taking interest in the Collectors now? Was it because they had attacked one of the Empire's colonies, or perhaps one of its allies'?
"We know that you've been tracking these Collectors for quite some time now, so let me tell you the reason why I summoned you here. But first..."
Amarthathor proceeded to snatch the cup from the table and lift it up high, then quickly pushed himself away from the table using his own legs.
Shepard was about to question the feasibility of his actions when a loud, wheezing sound quickly intensified in volume, actually nearing her hearing range by doing so.
She only had a moment to blink before the loud wheezing of wind was accompanied by the shattering of glass, followed by a large, round sort of canister impacting on the table, causing it to break in half through the sheer overwhelming force which was more than what the table's material could handle.
She was lucky that the quasi-expensive table did not shatter into minature pieces and injure her, though she was left terribly on edge due to the suddenness of what just happened, her fingers gripping the edges of her chair tightly, small, barely visible traces of cold sweat trickling down the sides of her forehead.
Amarthathor, however, did not seem bothered by the dangerous, life-threatening situation that most recently occured, and simply activated a strangely familiar, yet differently designed, steel grey glowing device on his arm, typing a few commands to allow a Krogan face to materialise on the device's screen.
"I asked for a copy of the decree to be delivered as fast as possible, not a bloody cannonball straight in my face!" He exasperated whilst ranting at the recipient of his sudden foul mood.
The Krogan, however, did not seem bothered by it in the slightest, and simply replied, "Well, I wasn't even at home yesterday, I was in Tuchanka."
"Well it's not my fault you're not listening," Amarthathor nonchantly replied, despite his earlier harsh tone.
"Yeah, talk to you later," Was all the Krogan muttered before cutting off the connection.
The Emperor simply reclined in his chair as he deactivated the wrist-mounted device, rubbing his forehead to clear the strands of stress-induced sweat from his skin.
When Amarthathor beckoned Shepard to follow him somewhere after recovering the canister from its recent impact zone, she could only gulp in nervousness as they navigated the corridors of the now-recognisable apartment they were in.
Soon enough, they entered another room, this one more recognisable as a living room, the decor of the room about the same as the one she was in, with the addition of a large screen television and a few plushy couches.
As he closed the door, the Emperor proceeded to place the canister on a nearby table, typing a few buttons on a holo console which caused it to pop open with a loud, prolonged hiss.
Inside it was a scroll of paper, which the Emperor took out handed to Shepard.
Unsure of what was inside the scroll, Shepard simply unrolled it to read the following its contents.
In response to the recent Turian attack and the unprovoked assaults on the colony of Lakash by several slaver gangs and mercenary squads, High Emperor Amarthathor has decreed, after much deliberation with the leaders of the Azerothian Coalition, Korprulu Alliance and the other independent factions, that we are going to war with the Turian Hierarchy and the other member races of a previously unknown galactic power known as the Citadel Council, and the rouge state of the Batarian Hegemony to make them answer for the recent slaver attacks.
The first and third fleets are to launch an attack on Turian Space alongside Azerothian forces and a few Shado Pan agents assigned to help us by Lord Zheng Shao of the Pandaren Republic, whilst Korprulu forces launch an attack on Batarian space with Rachni and Arrakoa forces; if any Quarian, Geth or Krogan wish to aid in the war effort, Emperor Amarthathor has given permission to allow them to serve as fellow soldiers on the front line.
The Asari and Salarians, as the blue women and frog-like people identify themselves, are not considered our enemies, but should they dare cross us, Allied forces are more than welcome to end them where they stand.
Once the Hegemony is dismantled and the Hierarchy pacified, an Allied fleet comprising fifty ships from each galactic faction will make haste for the Citadel, where the leaders of the Council will be waiting. Once there, no one is to fire unless fired upon; we will move there to ensure they are no longer enemies, not incur more hatred towards us. Commander Shepard and the crew of the Normandy will act as liason between the two sides when the diplomatic meeting takes place, but only when the two enemy powers are taken care of.
Once diplomacy matters are taken care of, we will concentrate on exterminating the Collectors from the rest of the galaxy, and send a Vanguard-class ship to aid Shepard in her efforts against the alien kidnappers, and three soldiers chosen by leaders from every faction to serve as her crewmates as well.
Be swift, and never fail in your duties.
Yggdrasil guide you.
She was unsure about the last few words at the end of the scroll. Was it a prayer of sorts, or simply someone wishing well-being? She was more inclined to lean towards the latter.
But the fact that the Empire had encountered the Collectors before, meant that she had to warn them about another threat looming in the horizon. A threat much, much larger than the Collectors themselves.
The Reapers.
She would never forget the attack that one of their kind, Sovereign, made on the Citadel. It took the entire Citadel Defense Fleet just to take him out, and had suffered casualties numbering thirty percent of their original strength.
Yet, despite all the damage Sovereign had caused, the Councilors, save Anderson, refused to believe her reports about the Reapers' existense, and simply wrote off her claims as pure fabricated nonsense.
Just as she thought this though, Amarthathor proceeded to move towards the exit when she prevented him from leaving, by blocking his passage with an extended arm.
"Wait, Amarthathor," Shepard pleaded.
He turned to acknowledge her.
"Yes?"
"There's something you need to know," Shepard said with an all-too serious expression, stopping Amarthathor in his tracks.
"About what?" The Emperor asked.
She took a deep breath, and said, "There is a much larger threat, one that will concern the Empire and all of its allies."
Amarthathor could hear the seriousness in her voice, and he knew it was a no-nonsense plea for action. He may not have been through an actual war yet, despite his milenium-long life, but that did not mean he could not write off the possibility of an all-out galactic war on their hands.
"Take a seat," The half-draconian Emperor said, which Shepard graciously did.
Once he sat down on one of the plushy couches, he fixed an equally serious stare at the Spectre, and said in a commanding voice, "I want you to describe in detail everything you know about this new threat, starting with its name, origins and intentions. Right now."
IIOII
It had been about three days ever since Shepard had shared everything she knew about the Reapers to the High Emperor. Three surprisingly fun-filled days spent exploring the unknown wonders of the Empire and the Coalition, and perhaps the Korprulu Alliance as well.
She was asked to wait for some time for the war with the Council and Batarian forces to be quickly dealt with, and for a few things to be given to her as an aid against the Collectors, so she spent her time exploring the unknown wonders of the Empire.
She saw that their divergence from the path of reverse-engineering Prothean technology had actually done them so much more good than thought possible; tall, ornate structures of pristine metallic alloys rose high in the sky, bearing many different types of decor that never did the architects any justice.
Large, crystaline pylons defied gravity as they hung over the tops of the skyscrapers with smaller crystals oscilating around the larger counterpart, asymmetrical aspects of the structures only serving to further enhance the beauty of the golden and silver spirals that outdid even Asari architecture.
The only things that ever distracted her attention on the urban landscape were large, reptillian creatures flying just barely past the temporary lodging she was staying in. Originally, she would have acted instinctively to try and kill them, but Amarthathor identified them as his kinsmen in their original forms.
She remembered how close she was to killing one when one of them landed on the rooftop.
Flying on a dragon high in the air was so totally different from doing so in the Normandy; at least there was an airtight environment to protect her from the strong wind blowing in her face.
But it actually allowed her to behold all the wonders of the colony all the same, just more realistically rather than within the confines of a spaceship.
The strong, cold winds harshly blowing in her face, her crimson hair flowing in the breeze, it was certainly an experience few would ever dare to forget.
She had spent a good portion of her time just exploring the different city districts to see what they had to offer, liquor, local cuisine, even the different clothing stores to examine all aspects of Thedosian fashion.
Encouraged by Amarthathor to buy at least some souveniers, she decided to try some simple clothing; no fanciful dresses or suits, just plain shirts and what passed off as jeans.
The material they were made of was rather comfortable, accentuating her figure yet allowing a little breathing space, sturdy yet soft, warm yet airy. Satisfied with the quality, she bought three full outfits of Thedosian clothing.
And to add to her happiness, she had found out that her Quarian friend and one-time teammate was actually alive and well, along with the survivors who only numbered over three million now.
It was slightly disheartening to find out that so many Quarians had died, but she was still relieved that her good friend was okay, although she was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that both the Geth and another long-hated species were friends of the Empire.
Said species being the Rachni.
She often heard the Council talking about how close the Rachni were to completely eliminating the Council, forcing the Salarians to uplift the Krogan and manipulate them to fighting their war. When she first met them though, their behaviour was not murderous or violent as the Council described them. Rather, they simply possessed child-like curiosity and the tendency to always question how certain technology worked.
As for the Geth, she wondered exactly how did the Empire manage to get the Quarians and the Geth to make peace with each other, as she remembered many Quarians still being sore over the Mourning war; she did know the reason after a brief talk with the Emperor, but she was still brainstorming how the Empire managed to do it in such a bloodless way.
Then there were the Krogan. Having met many of them as bloodthirsty mercenaries with few of them being actual businessmen, she was once again stunned to find many happily associating with Thedosian citizens, though more than a few glass windows were broken in 'friendly' fights.
Upon seeing Urdnot Wrex, the Krogan immediately beckoned her to take a drink of beer, the frothy, cold, golden liquid quenching her thirst fairly effectively. Whilst reminiscising about the good, old days, Wrex was busy introducing Shepard to a new card game called Hearthstone.
It was rather fun playing the new game, though she was horribly losing to the battlemaster in every round.
When the third day came, Amarthathor explicitly told her that he planned to assign her a group of specialist soldiers to aid her in her mission.
The Empire and some of its allies would be assigning her the soldiers they choose, with the others exempted from the choosing process since they had insufficient population numbers, but that would be only after the Empire, along with its allies had made first contact with the Council.
And in preparation beforehand, she had to undergo gene therapy to remove her Eezo nodules and replace them with new biotic amps.
When asked why was it necessary, it was because the Eezo in her body would not react well with the magic they employed – seeing magic existing in real life nearly made her faint – and for that, they would be using Extrasolarium nodules to serve as her new biotic amps.
She was, yet again, stunned beyond words to find that the Empire had managed to create an artificial isotope of Eezo, dubbed Exso for short, using magic.
She was told that her new Exso amps would not interfere with her bodily functions when in contact with magical energies,especially with her new teammates' constant usage of magic within her ship, and that her biotics would actually be more powerful than when she last used them, though that would have to be seen later.
And as a sign of friendship, Amarthathor handed her a communication crystal for easy communication with whoever had one as well; he personally told her that the crystal was for explicit use by her, and her only. No one, absolutely no one else can have access to the crystal.
With that, all she could do is wait for this ridiculous war to be quickly resolved, so that she and her newfound friends could focus on the true threat.
The Collectors.
IIOII
The Hegemonic Defense Fleet had but a moment to react before the first few unknown ships appeared behind them; normally, the Defense Fleet was trained to hold off threats originating at the relay, not from without.
So when attempted moving into a defensive formation, the first few Batarian ships had easily fallen to emerald lances of plasma easily cutting through the palladium alloys like wet paper, whilst more unknowns entered the fray.
Within minutes, the entire Defense Fleet orbiting Khar'shan was obliterated, leaving no enemies to stand in the way of the invaders.
But it was not until exactly five minutes later, that the real assault began in earnest.
Lances of highly ionised gas and other types of projectiles began raining on the surface of the planet Khar'shan, streaks of fire beginning their relentless storm to weather down the planetside defenders garrisoned in the different installations scattered throughout the Batarian homeworld.
Taking care to avoid civilian centres and slave concentration camps, the orbital bombardment did not last longer than two minutes, and once it was over, several shuttles and drop pods descended planetside, ferrying thousands of troops and hundreds of armored vehicles and tanks to commence the ground assault.
Emperor Amarthathor decided to personally lead the forces, so a retinue of his elite guards and retainers, the former known as the Archknights were accompanying him in the assault.
On the third of Wintermarch, at three o'clock in the late afternoon, High Emperor Amarthathor embarks on his maiden battle.
The drop pods landed with a loud thundering sound as each of them created mini craters where they impacted due to the large amount of g-forces that acted on them whilst penetrating the atmosphere. Loud hisses and snaps followed, the pod doors opening to allow the invasion army to gather itself before one of the major cities of the Batarian homeworld.
From their perspective, there was an utter lack of walls to deter aggressors from attacking the city, making it extremely easy to overrun with their sheer numbers. With the recent orbital bombardment, it eliminated gunship and tank facilities, removing any armored support the Hegemony forces might have to delay their offensive.
And yet, despite all this, they could see hundreds of Batarian troops gathering to blockade the streets all across the city, indicating one thing.
They would not go down without a fight.
He was fine with this, and Amarthathor would not hesitate to write each and every one of their epitomes with their blood.
He raised his axe in the air whilst mounted on his trusty steed, and bellowed one simple order.
"ATTACK!"
At once, the thundering of hooves clattering and armored boots thumping on the ground reveberated throughout the air, followed by loud mini explosions of various tanks firing their payloads at the Batarian barricades, scattering many limbs and trails of blue blood wherever the rounds impacted.
Like a huge tsunami wave, a flood of soldiers wearing different types of armor clashed with the Batarian defenders, wiping out many who could not overcome their robust barriers and hardened armor with their pitiful Eezo weapons and intimidating those who witnessed their comrades' death. Volleys of laser beams and energy orbs completely bypassed their kinetic barriers and cut through their armor like soft leather, killing any who did not die in the recent barrage of tank rounds, and those unlucky enough to get caught between their dying comrades and the shining blade of an archaic weapon.
However, the Allied forces also suffered casualties, albeit minimal from the omni-blades that the Hegemony soldiers used on their enemies.
For some Batarians, the blood being spilt, the number of corpses scattered along the streets, turning them into mass graveyards, the sight was just far too much for them to bear.
But it would not end there.
For the war had begun.