A/N: I based the Sigma's uniform off the pilot's uniform from the original Battlestar Galactica. Also, this chapter shows the introduction of my first major original character into this fic, Warlord. So if anyone is wracking their brains to figure out where she was in the games, don't bother.
GARRUS VAKARIAN, JOUGHIN, JANUARY 27 2188
Joughin, the capital city of Benning, was a pretty nice place, all be told. Just enough bustle to give Garrus that 'City' vibe he enjoyed so much but with patches of lush turquoise vegetation every block or so. The skycars that roamed overhead were almost silent, making a soft purring sound instead of the harsh whooshing he remembered from his childhood on Palaven. He had been ten when the Reapers invaded, just old enough to build a bank of positive memories so he would miss his home planet.
"Hey Garrus, what's up?"
He looked up to see Kari's concerned expression.
"Just thinking about Palaven."
She squeezed his hand in a gesture of silent comfort, making his mandibles flutter slightly. Unlike the shapeless jumpsuits they usually wore, the uniforms they were wearing on their liberty were quite sharp-looking and Garrus caught a couple of boys admiring Kari from across the street. The skintight white top and trousers, the black leather jacket and boots were almost a carbon copy of a pilot's uniform, but in black and white instead of brown and beige and with the Sigma logo instead of the pilot's wings on the breast.
"Hey Garrus."
"Yeah?"
"Do Turians kiss?"
The question was so unexpected he actually stumbled slightly.
"Excuse me?"
Kari was going an interesting shade of red.
"Um ... I mean ... I was just wondering, you know, since, well ..."
They were wandering into one of the many parks that dotted the city. Very few people were about, most of them inside. At these latitudes it got very, very hot in the middle of the day, meaning everybody was sheltering in their air conditioned apartments. Of course, what with the greatly enhanced temperature tolerance of Sigma troops, this wasn't even close to hot enough to bother Kari and him. They sat down heavily on a bench together, Kari still flushing that disconcerting shade of bright red and Garrus's mandibles fluttering in embarrassment.
"Look, um, Garrus ..."
He waited patiently for Kari to collect herself.
"The thing is ... I wanted to say thanks. For taking care of me when my ... When I got that letter. And I ... Ah hell, I'm awful at this ..."
"Turians bite, not kiss. Neck or shoulder."
"Well look what we have here boys."
Both Garrus and Kari turned to the new voice. A group of seven Human boys, looking like part of a gang, clearly trying to be tough guys. Garrus growled and rubbed his mandibles.
"Can it wait? We're having a moment."
The ringleader, covered in ugly tattoos, taunted them as his friends moved to surround them.
"Look at that boys. The bird is having a moment with his scale skank."
He bristled at that, standing up and clenching his fists.
"Say that one more time, I dare you."
Despite his anger his voice was perfectly level.
"In case you can't count, bird, there's seven of us and one of you."
Kari sighed.
"What, am I part of the furniture, or did your daddy not teach you to count in between his basement asshole-stretching sessions?"
The ringleader's face contorted into a mask of rage.
"You'll pay for that, bitch!"
A flickery blade appeared on his wrist.
"Oh look at that, a cheap illegal shiv program on a cheap-ass iTool. Whatever shall we do?"
The gang started closing in on them and suddenly the ringleader found himself staring down the barrel of a very large gun.
"I am sorely tempted to put a round in your head right now."
It was surprising how quickly the mouthy thug was reduced to a quivering heap. Garrus collapsed his rifle and slung it back on the magnetic strip on his jacket before picking up the would-be mugger by the throat and examining him dispassionately, as a scientist would a small animal he planned on dissecting.
"Run along home, little boy. Leave the fighting to real fighters."
His one-armed toss sent the thug flying across the park, crashing into a hedge as his gang fled the scene and Garrus plopped back down on the bench beside Kari.
"Where were we?"
In response, Kari leaned in and nipped him on the leathery skin of his throat before recoiling, hand over mouth.
"Oh god ... I didn't mean ..."
Garrus silenced her by pressing his lip plates on her mouth, holding them there for a good five seconds before pulling away.
"Humans kiss, right?"
She smiled at him.
"And Turians bite."
HURRICANE, THESSIA, JANUARY 28 2188
There were eight of them in their little resistance team. Eight against a planetload of Reapers. Somehow, they had lasted four, close to five years now. Probably the last resistance fighters left on the planet.
Inferno, formerly Captain Wasea of the Eclipse mercenary organisation, had been on Thessia closing a red sand deal when the Reapers hit. She was a master of pyrotechnics, armed with two wrist-mounted flamers and a heavy flamethrower on her back, as well as two Paladin pistols with incendiary ammo mods. Her biotic fireballs had saved the unit from being overwhelmed by Husks hundreds of times already. In her bright red armour with one enormous shoulder guard, she was terrifying on the battlefield.
Tesla, formerly Elnora, Wasea's most recent Eclipse initiate, had come to Thessia with her commander to cut her teeth on bodyguard duty. She had a love of killing Reaper creatures through the creative application of high voltage, hence the name. Her favourite weapon was an Arc Projector she had snatched from a repurposed military R&D lab they had hit three years ago, accompanied by a Turian Phaeston assault rifle with Disruptor rounds and an Overload module so jacked out the pulses of electricity could deep-fry a Husk more thoroughly than Inferno's flamethrower. She wore silver armour with lightening patterns down the arms, usually filling more of a support role in their engagements.
Nova had been her mother, Matriarch Benezia, before the Reapers had hit. Even now Hurricane had trouble reconciling her calm, serene mother with Nova who cackled with glee every time she sterilised a square or park with her Cain fusion bomb launcher or hissed in savage, vindictive satisfaction every time she blew away a Cannibal with her Salarian-made Venom shotgun. Encased in armour a dirty shade of scrapheap yellow to match her Cain, Nova's love of explosions could not be overstated.
Snowblind, previously Shiala, the only one of her mother's entourage of commandos to survive the initial onslaught, was almost the polar opposite of Inferno, taking great glee in the use of cryo weapons. Her white and ice blue armour had glowing tanks of cryo fluid installed on the forearms to feed her Snap Freeze and Cryo Blast Omnitool modules, and her Avalanche cryo grenade launcher on her back had frozen more than its fair share of Husks to be shattered moments later by a round from her heavily customised M-99 Saber marksman rifle.
Longshot used to be another Matriarch, one whose Krogan father had more influence over her DNA than usual. She went from humbly working the bar in Eternity lounge on Illium to somehow ending up in her mother's atrium on Thessia on the eve of the Reaper invasion, conversing with her mother in low, worried tones. She was a sniper, and a lethal one, almost as deadly at extreme range with her heavily modded Carnifex pistol as she was with her Black Widow sniper rifle or her ML-77 missile launcher. Her biotics were also quite formidable, flinging her green-armoured form from vantage point to vantage point with biotically boosted leaps and sprints, taking out anything that got close with a Shockwave or a Flare.
Shadow was the only non-Asari in the unit, a young Drell girl who before the invasion had been Irikah, the maid of a Hanar dignitary in the Illuminated Primacy's embassy. She was a biotic infiltrator of unsurpassable skill, her black hooded cloak suit rendering her invisible until the moment she sank her long diamond-bladed knife into the back of a Cannibal or Marauder, or made a long-distance killshot with her Suppressor silenced pistol. She was also a master at hacking, bypassing most repurposed Asari security systems the team encountered with ease and leaving sticky mines and booby traps in their wake.
Warlord was the most enormous Asari any of them had ever seen, a six foot seven mass of rippling muscle. None of the others knew her old name. She had spent the first two hundred years of her life on Tuchanka, growing up among Clan Urdnot before returning to Thessia. She seemed the only one who preferred the Reaper blasted skyline to the previous elegant sweeps of architecture. When asked she would simply grunt and say 'Reminds me of home'. Encased in dark grey heavy armour, she carried a Krogan-made Claymore heavy shotgun, the force of the impacts sending Husks flying fifteen metres or more, and carried an M-490 Blackstorm singularity cannon stolen from a Blood Pack general on Omega. But her signature weapon was a Krogan Warlord Hammer. She had recovered it from the lair of one Tonn Actus, a peddler of antiquities, along with the Urdnot ancestral armour. When she returned to Tuchanka she was permitted to keep the hammer as a token of gratitude. Hammer in hand, she was a devastating close combat force, swinging it in biotically charged floor slams that smashed swarms of Husks to fragments of tattered flesh.
And that left her. Hurricane. Formerly Liara T'Soni, Prothean archaeologist, crackpot conspiracy theorist and ultimately proven correct in the worst imaginable way. She strode around the battlefield in her steel blue armour, hurling Singularities, Warps, Pulls and Throws at the Reaper forces as well as spinning the crackling aura of dark energy known as the Annihilation Field around herself, the ability that had earned her the nickname. She carried an M-76 Revenant and an M-100 grenade launcher to provide fire support to the rest of her team as she dominated the field with her biotic abilities.
Right now, she was guarding the bikes with Snowblind, checking over the stealth net to ensure all five of the vehicles were covered.
"Gum?"
Hurricane couldn't understand how Snowblind could stay so calm, nonchalantly leaning against a bombed-out wall and chewing honey gum five minutes before an engagement.
"Thank you, but no."
"Your funeral, sister. Just means more for me, I guess."
She tried to think of a snappy retort, cursing her inherent social awkwardness just as the searing boom cut through the air.
"That's Nova all right. Fire up the bikes."
She swept the stealth net off the sleek black machines, rolling it up and stuffing it in the under-seat cargo compartment with her box of spare thermal clips and water bottle before keying the ignition on her bike, pressing the button to remotely activate all five as Snowblind scrambled up a pile of rubble, Avalanche in hand.
"There's Warlord, Inferno ... And there's Nova. Husks hot on their tails. Let's hustle."
The dirty yellow armoured figure at the rear tossed a cluster grenade over her shoulder, whooping as about ten Husks were shredded by the triple mass effect detonation. Then they were there, swinging themselves into their bikes and gunning the engines before roaring off onto the causeway, leaving the moaning Husks in their wake as they weaved around encroaching piles of rubble.
A sibilant hum reached Hurricane's ears over the roaring of her own engine and she scanned the road ahead for obstacles before glancing behind her.
"Vasari bikes!"
Three of the nine-foot tall creatures were bent low over hovering tan bike-like vehicles, all flaring fins and strange spinning organic-looking components.
"Snowblind! Want to play sand snakes?"
In response the ice white figure of Snowblind swung over to ride just in front of Hurricane's bike.
"Tag it, Hurricane!"
She tapped a couple of buttons on her handlebars, slaving her bike's VI to follow Snowblind's movements, then lifted her feet up off the stirrups, swinging around in the saddle to face backwards, leaning back against the handlebars and unslinging her M-100 from the jury-rigged holster welded to the side of her engine block. Glancing over, she noticed that Inferno had done the same with Warlord and was in the same position as her.
"Ready kid?"
She shouted back across.
"I thought we established you weren't going to call me that!"
They were interrupted by Nova decelerating to ride in between them.
"Less banter, more killing Vasari!"
She flipped up the iron sight on her M-100, mentally compensating for the projectile's arc before squeezing the trigger twice. She had ten grenades in the cyclical chamber, hopefully enough to throw off the Vasari pursuit bikes. The grenades arced upwards, a last minute jink to the side saving her target from a direct hit but still filling the side of the leftmost bike with shrapnel. It started decelerating, listing to the side and sputtering as the other two pursues opened fire.
Gritting her teeth, Hurricane hastily erected a biotic field protecting her and Inferno as two yellow beams played across it, draining her energy and her concentration as they didn't give her barrier a chance to replenish. Beside her, Inferno ripped two incendiary cluster grenades off the webbing over her chest, tossing the cylinders onto the ground and then keeping her thumb on the detonator, eyes fixed on her little presents.
As the Vasari pursuit bikes skimmed over them she hit the button, clusters of incendiary bomblets arcing out and hitting the vulnerable base of the bikes. The resulting belch of fire destroyed the right hand bike, propelling its burning rider off it and onto the road where the creature rolled frantically, trying to extinguish the flames. The explosion broke the particle beam fire, allowing Hurricane to gasp in a couple of deep lungfuls of air before the sole remaining bike reacquired her, once again taxing her barrier to breaking point.
"Woohoo!"
The cry came as Nova tossed four lift grenades behind her, the explosive mass effect fields making the Vasari swerve to dodge and slam right into a pile of rubble. Their pursuers defeated, Hurricane slumped back against the handlebars of her bike, gasping for air as she slid her grenade launcher back into its holster.
"You okay kid?"
She limply flopped her hand at Inferno.
"Just gimme a minute. Or twelve."
The red-armoured pyromaniac chuckled as she swung back round in her saddle.
The rest of the ride to the rendezvous point was fairly uneventful. Hurricane shut down her engine, swinging herself off her bike and grabbing it to stop her knees buckling before slumping to the floor.
"Here."
She looked up to see Nova kneeling in front of her with a concerned expression on her face, holding out a bottle of energy drink which she gratefully accepted, chugging half the contents.
"Thanks Mum. Those particle beams really take it out of your barrier."
"That they do."
"We need to screen the latest batch."
"Already done. Tesla and Longshot took care of it."
She stood up, refusing help from Nova as she looked over the thirty or so refugees they had recovered from the prison camp. Six of them had been separated out and stood apart from the rest.
"Alright, listen up, ladies. My name's Inferno. Here's how it's going to work. The main group, that's you lot, are going to head through to our main facility with Nova, Snowblind, Warlord and Longshot. The second group are going to head to our secondary facility with myself, Shadow, Tesla and Hurricane."
Nova walked up and towed Inferno aside, speaking in low, angry tones.
"What the fuck? Why are you sending the kids to the secondary facility?"
Inferno's voice was little more than a snarl as she replied.
"Look around you. This is a war. I'm tired of you babying the kids."
"They're kids! Tesla is only eighty four!"
"They're not kids anymore! They haven't had the luxury of being kids for five years!"
Nova glared at Inferno for a couple of seconds.
"Fine. But don't expect me to be happy about it."
"Noted."
She turned back to the refugees.
"Alright. Main group, move out."
With some hesitation, the group of shell shocked refugees allowed themselves to be shepherded out of the room. Inferno settled herself on a chunk of fallen masonry and set a timer on her Omnitool.
Fifteen minutes passed very slowly for Hurricane as she kept watch on the six oddly subdued refugees. Eventually Inferno's Omnitool chimed.
"Alright then. Move them out to the old police precinct."
The four Resistance fighters hefted their weapons, Hurricane slinging her grenade launcher on her back and keeping her Revenant in hand as they led the refugees through the deserted streets and to the precinct. The town they were in was relatively small and hadn't really been focused on by the Reapers, just sending some ground forces to do a few sweeps once the big cities had fallen. Most of the buildings were largely intact, including the police precinct, which suited the purposes of the Resistance just fine.
After all, those six refugees were the ones that had been indoctrinated.
Inferno and Tesla were the first in, sweeping through the building before declaring it clear and allowing Hurricane and Shadow to lead the refugees in.
"Okay ladies. What we need you to do is to step into these individual rooms along this corridor, one per room. Once you are inside, strip and place all personal articles in the green boxes provided, then take a seat. One of us will be along to process you momentarily."
The six Asari refugees stepped into the rooms, completely docile and compliant. Inferno gathered the three younger fighters around.
"Remember, up, twist and down. Spiral fracture along the spinal column. Completely painless. I'll stand watch, take two each."
Hurricane nodded wordlessly and stepped into the first room. The woman in the chair looked at her blankly.
"Just a physical exam. Making sure you're not sick."
The lie slipped off her tongue, leaving a bitter aftertaste although she remained outwardly expressionless. Crying about it could come later. After all, she had a job to do.
RAEL'ZORAH VAS KARAMAZOV, TON KARAMAZOV, JANUARY 29 2188
"Remarkably efficient."
He ran his hand over the contours of his command chair, lovingly moved from the old Akkan-class to the bridge of the Karamazov II, refurbished slightly with synth-leather instead of the old plastic backing. The bridge of the Kol III class was much larger than the bridge of the old Akkan, yet he actually had two fewer bridge crew, making the whole thing feel unusually spacious. His command throne took centre spot on the upper level, the D shaped walkway split in the centre by a wide stairway heading down to the bottom level that contained six control stations. On the upper level were two two-man control stations, sensors and tactical, with weapons, damage control, power, life support, engines and secondary systems down below. Flanking his chair was the slightly smaller secondary command thrones belonging to his XO and his helmsman respectively. Behind him, his bridge crew waited patiently as he looked out of the forward viewscreen at the sight of Mercury's orbit, thrumming with life, the three equatorial space elevators linking to the sealed dome cities of Galtha, Moralis and New Jakarta.
"Alright, make yourselves at home."
The bridge crew filed in, taking their seats in the control stations dotted around the twin-layered bridge. There were two new faces on his bridge - a Krogan, Charr, transferred from the TON Numenia with a whole page of glowing references, and an Asari unknown replacing his helmsman, who had transferred to the TON Moravi, a new construction Dunov Battlecruiser.
"Helm?"
The fresh faced Asari turned eagerly to him.
"Who the hell are you?"
He accompanied the question with a grin to show he didn't resent her replacing his helmsman.
"Uh ... Ensign Ereba T'Roahé, sir."
"Very well Ensign. All stations check in."
"Sensors check."
"Tactical check."
"Weapons check."
"Damage control check."
"Life support check."
"Thrusters check."
"Power check."
"Secondary systems check."
"Helm check."
"All stations report ready for departure."
"Thank you, XO. Engineering?"
-We sing readiness-songs, Command-Singer. It will be good to sing flight-songs with you again-
"Ever handled a Kol before, T'Roahé?"
"No sir. Biggest I ever trained on was a Percheron light carrier."
"Ancestors preserve us. Take her out, helm."
Did it really count as a maiden voyage? Rael wasn't sure. All they were really doing was heading to Mars Shipyard to finish the refits. The Karamazov wasn't even complete - no armour plate, no energy barriers, no weapons and no phase drive - but she was moving under her own power. He supposed that in the end, that was what counted.
"XO, I don't suppose I could convince you to paint a mural on the back wall, could I? It's rather grey in here."
Legion's head flaps twitched slightly.
"We refuse to depict any pornographic material on the bulkhead of a warship."
Cracking wise and laughing on the bridge of the TON Karamazov in flight - Rael was home.
SAREN ARTERIUS, SEOUL SPACE ELEVATOR, JANUARY 29 2188
"Admiral Victus?"
The Turian face on Saren's comm screen looked nervous.
"News?"
He paused for a moment, unsure how to continue.
"I've got three pieces. Each one worse than the last."
The Admiral waited patiently for Saren to collect himself, the faint flutter of his mandibles the only indicator of his trepidation.
"One of the buildings inside the affected area was a privately owned phase drive repair workshop."
There was a slight pause.
"Three phase drives are currently unaccounted for."
And the third one's the charm. Spirits, he needed to spend less time around Humans.
"We found Reaper code in the Paullus node."
JUSTICAR SAMARA, SEOUL, JANUARY 29 2188
When she entered the apartment her cursed daughter was using, she was not prepared for what she found.
"Raise."
"I'll raise."
"Ah Goddess. All in."
"Uh ... If I want to back out I say fold, right?"
"Yep."
"Okay, fold."
"Three kings."
"Nice. Pair of jacks."
"Hah! Four aces!"
Falere cackled gleefully as she pulled the precarious stack of small, circular tokens toward her. The Human sitting to her right grumbled slightly.
"I never would have taught you to play poker if I thought your little sister would be cleaning house."
Opposite the Human, Rila scratched her crests and sighed.
"At this rate I'm going to need to beg money off you for the maglev fare back to Prague."
The Human leaned back and stretched in her seat, prompting both Rila and Falere to surreptitiously glance at her figure until Mirala shot them both warning looks.
"I'm going to grab some snacks. Anyone want?"
Mirala smirked as she leaned back and subconsciously rubbed her throat.
"You two simply have to try this Human delicacy, what were they called?"
"Pringles."
"Pringles. With soft cheese."
The Human bounced off to the kitchen and the three Asari turned around.
"We know you're there, Mother."
Samara stepped out of the shadows.
"What are you doing here, Rila? Falere?"
Falere looked at her somewhat petulantly.
"Visiting our sister. What does it look like?"
"Why are you not in a monastery?"
"Because we're not Ardat-Yakshi. Not anymore. The TEC gene-modded it right out of us."
At this point Samara did what all fanatics do when faced with a truth that threatens their beliefs. She stopped listening.
"No. The code dictates that all Ardat-Yakshi must live within a monastery. I demand you return there at once."
Mirala's face twisted into a mask of distaste.
"Have you gone senile, Mother, or do you simply refuse to see reason? We're not Ardat-Yakshi. There is no Monastery. Your code is obsolete."
Biotic power started to flicker over Samara, the only outward expression of her confusion and anger as she stubbornly repeated the tenets of the Justicar Code. Falere ran up to her, holding her hands out in front of her.
"Mother, please! Listen to us!"
From somewhere behind her she heard a disdainful sniff.
"A shame you won't listen to reason, Justicar."
It was the voice of the Human girl. Then moments later a rougher, deeper voice.
"Samara. You are under arrest for conspiracy to commit murder and violation of the Blank Slate act."
She could only stare at her daughters as the four police officers that had been hiding in the kitchen cuffed her hands behind her back and escorted her out.
MAGORUS CHELLICK, SEOUL HWS HQ, JANUARY 29 2188
Chellick looked through the two way mirror at the Asari seated in the interrogation room.
"So what have we got?"
His partner, Eddie Lang, thumbed through the admittedly sparse file.
"Samara, last name unknown. Justicar, which is apparently like some sort of religious yahoo cum bounty hunter. Picked up in her eldest daughter's apartment, apparently intending to inflict harm upon said daughter in violation of BS."
The Asari looked almost serene in the cold metal chair.
"Say, Chel, the missus is throwing a barbie this Saturday. You game? Don't worry, she knows how to cook dextro."
Chellick shrugged.
"Don't have anything planned. I'll bring dextro beer. Now, shall we?"
Eddie pushed open the door and Chellick followed him through and into the interrogation room. Samara watched them with dispassionate eyes but otherwise didn't react to their presence.
"Chellick and Lang, Homeworld Security. Why were you in your daughter's apartment?"
The Asari blinked twice, other than that maintaining her infuriating poker face.
"To deliver justice for the lives she took."
Lang shook his head and ran a hand over his buzz cut blond hair.
"Clearly you weren't paying attention when the immigration officers explained Blank Slate to you. All citizens of the TEC upon induction are pardoned of any crimes committed before they received citizenship. A fresh start, if you will."
At this the icy demeanour started to crack as Samara leaned forward in her seat, gazing at them intently. Chellick silently willed Eddie to keep his eyes on her face.
"Don't you see! She's dangerous! She must be stopped!"
It was Chellick's turn to cut in.
"She was originally flagged as dangerous, but our covert observation team have formally changed her designation to safe. That Human girl, Sheridan, has been a major positive influence."
Eddie nodded and flicked idly through Mirala's file on his iTool.
"Mm, yes. Says here she has a job writing as an art critic for the Museum of Terrestrial Art and Sculpture. Not exactly jumping out as a serial killer."
"Her condition ..."
Chellick sharply interrupted the Justicar.
"Is no longer a concern. As we have stated, genetic assays collected from tissue samples in her apartment reveal the gene mods completed eliminating the condition almost eighteen months ago. She's not the dangerous member of the family."
Eddie picked up Chellick's cue without missing a beat.
"You on the other hand ... Your psych profile shows a strong predisposition towards fanaticism, something that thankfully your daughters haven't inherited, as well as minor sociopathic tendencies, limited ability to empathise, strong reliance on biotic power in everyday life ... Not exactly inspiring confidence."
"Which leads onto the interesting dilemma your continued incarceration presents." Samara's regal demeanour had evaporated completely, staring at Chellick like the deer in the proverbial headlights. "Your more ... vigilante tendencies would make you a serious destabilising element in any prison population, not to mention your powerful biotic abilities and paramilitary training would make you an extremely dangerous inmate. Enough to consider a cryostasis facility as a viable storage solution." She had started trembling very slightly by that point. "There is one other alternative."
Eddie delivered the kicker with his usual dry, emotionless intonation he used when dealing with suspects.
"Have you considered a job with Homeworld Security?"
HURRICANE, THESSIA, JANUARY 30 2188
Hurricane screwed up her eyes and tried not to squeal as Tesla dumped a bucket of cold water over her head. The drips ran down her body, dripping from every angle as she used her fingernails to scrape away at the week's worth of accumulated muck coating her skin. Once she was back to a slightly more acceptable shade of blue she turned to give the same treatment to Tesla, who was less successful at stifling her surprised squawk. No matter how many times she had done it in the past five years, she had never quite got used to cleaning herself using a bucket of freezing water instead of the long, hot baths or pneumatic chambers she had grown accustomed to before the invasion. Once she was done freezing Tesla's crests off she turned to give the same treatment to Snowblind, who was idly scratching at the ice crystal pattern tattoos adorning her neck, shoulders and arms. Now Snowblind - she didn't mind the cold one bit.
The three naked, dripping Asari sat down on chunks of rubble around a fire to dry themselves off. Well, almost naked. All three of them wore the metal collars they never removed. Reaper forces were going to capture them, thumbprint on the back of the collar, press the four switches in the right sequence and boom. Might even take a Husk or two with them.
As they sat around, staring into the flames, Snowblind struck up a conversation.
"So how did it go? Taking the indoctrinated refugees?"
Hurricane glanced up at her before returning her gaze morosely to the fire.
"We eliminated them and brought their belongings back to be distributed among the other refugees. Any family members took the personal items."
"Personal items?"
"Two photo lockets, a purse and a toy sand snake."
Snowblind looked at her with concern.
"And how are you doing?"
"Fine."
"Do you want to talk about it?"
"Why would I?"
"Do you even feel?"
Both of them turned to look at Tesla, who was glaring at Hurricane.
"You executed two Asari. One of them was twenty six fucking years old! And you just sit there like it was taking out the rubbish!"
Hurricane blinked, slightly confused.
"Well, in a manner of speaking, it was."
"Gah!"
Tesla stormed off, fists clenched as she violently kicked open the door to the room she shared with Shadow, Snowblind and Hurricane.
"What was all that about?"
Snowblind was regarding her with a concerned expression, finally managing to trigger a flare of annoyance past the icy numbness in her heart.
"What?"
"Tesla was right. You don't feel at all, do you?"
ARELLIA TEVOS, TEC HIGH COMMAND (MOSCOW), JANUARY 30 2188
"This session of the Conclave of Representatives is brought to order."
Tevos sat in her seat, uncomfortably fiddling with the TEC dress uniform she had been supplied with. The faded blue colour almost perfectly matched her skin, making it look from a distance like she was naked aside from a generous helping of decorative gold flamboyance. She had never wanted to wear the damnable thing but the messenger sent to the apartment she was being put up in had mentioned cryptically that she was being invited attendance to the Conclave of Representatives because the matter under discussion was of 'personal concern' to her. And attending the Conclave meant wearing the uniform. Yay.
Representative Wreav came to take his place at the speaker's lectern, pausing to exchange a couple of hushed words with Representative Koris. Once at the lectern, he idly pulled at the collar of his own uniform and cleared his throat.
"I, Representative Urdnot Wreav, put forward the following motion."
He paused dramatically and looked around the room. Tevos found herself grudgingly admiring the man's sheer presence and showmanship.
"To reduce the Reaper's supply of indoctrinated Asari ..."
Suddenly her interest was piqued. She leaned forward, fixing her eyes on the Representative.
"By the deployment of Novalith class kinetic impactors against Thessia."
...
What?
CODEX- THE BLANK SLATE ACT
The Blank Slate Act was brought in two weeks after the induction of the Krogan race into the TEC as an attempt to stem the enormous amount of infighting among the Krogan once they were removed from immediate Reaper threat. The act simply states that all activities an individual may have engaged in contrary to TEC or their own law prior to their induction as a citizen of the TEC be erased from the record, effectively providing a fresh start for all immigrants and refugees. The Act caused enormous controversy throughout the TEC while initially doing little to stem the tide of Krogan-induced violence, however since this was before the dissolution of the Krogan clan structure, the various female clans banded together and declared they would deny breeding rights to any Krogan not abiding by the terms of the Blank Slate act.
Although officially all crimes are forgotten the moment someone signs their TEC membership papers, certain individuals flagged as liable to engage in criminal activity by immigrations officials are subject to 24 hour covert observation up until the point where either they are categorised as 'Safe' or they plan to commit crime, at which point they will quietly be disappeared.
The Blank Slate act is especially unpopular among law enforcement, who regularly refer to it as the Bull Shit act, or BS.
CODEX- HOMEWORLD SECURITY
Homeworld Security is a shadowy organisation that fills many roles on Earth: an oversight authority for local law enforcement, a special investigations division and in some cases an espionage agency. Tasked with protecting Earth from all threats, both foreign and domestic, that can't be combatted by military action, HWS is the template for many other organisations on other major TEC worlds, although none have gained the infamous reputation or checkered past boasted by HWS.
CODEX- CRYOSTASIS
Cryostasis is an alternate form of imprisonment to conventional prisons, only used in very extreme situations or if the prisoner is too dangerous to be incarcerated in a regular prison. The body is first immobilised in a metal container known colloquially as a cold coffin, then the blood is drained and stored in a tank built into the coffin, replaced with an electrolyte fluid that fills the same function as blood but is still effective down to temperatures as low as 2 Kelvin. The temperature in the coffin is then lowered to the point where the body's cells go into hibernation, sustained by the cryostasis fluid but the process of cell division completely halted. The prisoner remains aware during this entire process, the trauma of cryostasis often causing a breakdown of sanity. For this reason the cryostasis fluid is doped with a potent cocktail of psychoactive drugs that will quite literally make the prisoner incapable of developing any form of mental instability. Cryostasis imprisonment violates no less than seventy six sentient rights conventions and is illegal everywhere except on Pluto or Deimos, meaning that both planets have extensive subterranean cryostasis facilities where organisations such as Homeworld Security quietly ship their problem prisoners.
A/N: I want to thank all my followers and reviewers for their continued support of the story, and remind everyone that reviews give me warm glowy feelings inside. Next chapter: The conclusion of the 'Attack on Seoul' story arc, more shenanigans in the Sigma's Week Off, unhappy ex-Councillors and Aria T'Loak.