ABOARD DASCS DIOCLETIAN
BEYOND THE ORBIT OF VRITRA 2
VRITRA SYSTEM, LOCAL CLUSTER
APRIL 12, 2003
Merarch Gudrun von Shrakenberg's eyes went to the electrodetection screen as her cruiser dropped out of FTL. Blue-shifted energy waves radiated off of it and the other ships of the Domination's III Fleet as they returned to sublight speeds, igniting the darkness of space like a flare.
"This is Arch-Strategos Teesdale." The voice was calmly controlled, the experienced tones of long-service. He was, Gudrun knew, one of the most experienced officers in the Domination's space fleet; Teesdale had been in space almost as long as humans had been in space, and won commendations for his role in the Final War. "Proceed to the Vritra 2 and engage the alien fleet. Service to the State."
"Glory to the Race," Gudrun replied reflexively, along with the rest of the officers in the circular command chamber. Her eyes flicked around at them all for a moment. All of them these New Race bastards, she thought, then caught herself. It was amazing how habits of mind stayed with you, long after the circumstances had made them irrelevant.
She was pushing sixty-six herself, and Teesdale was older still. This is probably the last war we human Draka are goin' to be fightin'. Most of the Homo sapiens still in the Domination's military were older officers, and many of them had been killed in the Final War. A good portion of the III Fleet had New Race, or Homo drakensis, commanders. The last hurrah for us Old Domination types, she thought whimsically. The future's goin' belong to them. With a wicked grin: Leastways we get to blow up some aliens before we go.
Gudrun watched with frank envy as the black and crimson delta-shape of a first generation purpose-built mass effect drive cruiser pulled slightly ahead of the Diocletian. Her ship had been built with a mirror-matter drive in the mid-'90s and had been retrofitted with a mass effect core later on. Mass effect fields allowed ships to built with an eye more towards aesthetics than just pure function, and the sleek arrowhead design had been popular in the Domination since the advent of scramjets. That was aside from the fact that the wing-body design was helpful inside an atmosphere as well. Sharp, sleek... predatory. Kinda like the Race's ideal.
The Wasp-class stingfighters launched from the larger cruisers and the single dreadnought, the latter built around a mass accelerator cannon that spanned from its forward point to near the rear thrusters. They pulled ahead of the fleet and made for the alien ships. They were blunt pyramids tapering from the thrusters at the rear to the crew compartment at the apex with room for exactly two crew. Slim tubes rose from each corner of the rear with asymmetric spikes flared out to guide the new disruptor torpedoes they carried.
She began to breath easier as they pulled farther away. Those damn things are dangerous, she thought. Besides possessing a warhead that created random and unstable mass effect fields when triggered, the torpedoes used mass-increasing fields while in flight to make them too massive for enemy kinetic barriers to repel. That meant they had to be 'cold-launched', or released before their thrusters ignited, to prevent damage to the stingfighter. Firing them while amidst an allied fleet didn't bear thinking about.
The alien ships, fewer in number than those of the Draka, began to turn to face the oncoming threat. Can't fault 'em for guts. Their ships were reminiscent of a raptor's—or bird-of-prey's—beak, with the main part holding a mass accelerator main gun, and two relatively stubby wing-like portions extending from the rear of the craft. They opened fire with their mass accelerator cannons as soon they brought them to bear on the Draka fleet, almost like a long-trained ballet in their timing and precision.
The Draka warships returned fire as the stingfighters released their disruptor torpedoes, flipped end for end, and kicked in their thrusters back towards their fleet. Behind them, the torpedoes continued their parent crafts' original course, then ignited their thrusters as they locked onto their targets among the alien fleet and sped towards them.
Turrets placed along the exterior of the alien ships' hulls began firing lasers to engage the torpedoes and stingfighters. Several were intercepted and downed, but then their rate of fire began to slow as heat began to build within their sinks and radiators and their cool-down times became longer and longer. Eventually, here and there, torpedoes got through and their warheads detonated, causing rapid asymmetrical mass changes that ripped into their target's hull.
Then the mass accelerator slugs began tearing into both fleets, making kinetic barriers flash as they tried to intercept the hyperaccelerated projectiles. Several of the Drakas' older ships were the first to have their barriers fail, and once they were unprotected the aliens' slugs tore them apart.
Gudrun clenched her jaw as the Diocletian tried to weave itself through the chaos of the battle, the ship jerking sharply around her as an alien metal slug tore into its barriers. "White Christ, this is not like the fightin' back in the solar system," she ground out between gritted teeth. Back when they had had only the Yankees to worry about, the ships had been of weaker materials that were dealt damage from regular rail guns, regular missiles and lasers. The aliens' kinetic barriers and laser defense systems made dealing damage a lot more difficult—and it was obvious that they had a lot more experience at this type of warfare than the Domination did.
She was giving serious consideration to how she could get her cruiser close enough to the alien fleet so that its suicide bomb could do the greatest amount of damage—damned if she was going to let the Race get defeated by an enemy with fewer numbers—when the main gun of the Charlemagne, the III Fleet's lone dreadnought, finally lined up on one of the alien ships and fired. The target was sent slowly spinning by the impact even as its kinetic barriers flared and died. The enemy ship's thrusters had only just started trying to stabilize itself when the slugs of the other ships in the Fleet tore into it, tearing it apart in a huge explosion as its reactor went critical.
The other alien ships seemed to pause, as if they couldn't believe what had just happened, then resumed fire as they began to pull away from Vritra 2's orbit. The Draka fired after them while their stingfighters began pressing home their own attacks, the alien ships defensive turrets having overheated long ago. A few more of the aliens' ships were destroyed as they pulled back, then they jumped to FTL, effectively ending the engagement.
Gudrun slumped back into her command chair, not caring to think about how close the battle had come. She stopped herself from jumping as Arch-Strategos Teesdale began speaking over the comm: "The alien fleet has withdrawn towards the system's mass relay. We have reseized control over the Vritra system." A pause. "Our losses have been heavy, but fear of death has never held the Race back. All frigates are to establish picket positions at the relay and beyond Vritra 2's orbit. All cruisers, establish orbit around the planet. We're pretty sure they just left their ground force behind." She could almost hear Teesdale's bared teeth. "Now we get some payback."
It was two weeks later when a lone probe appeared through the Vritra system's mass relay. It transmitted messages in basic mathematical formulas, and its construction vastly different from that of the aliens who had been ejected from the system. When the Draka responded in kind, the probe returned through the relay and was followed by a ship holding representatives from two other alien species: blue-skinned humanoids and tall, lanky amphibians.
They said they were representatives of a galactic government calling itself the Citadel Council, and wished to mediate an end to the conflict between the newly emerged Draka and the Turian Hierarchy, the species that made up most of the Citadel's peacekeeping forces. A conflict that had begun over a misunderstanding...
CENTRAL OFFICE, ARCHONAL PALACE
ARCHONA, EARTH
SOL SYSTEM, LOCAL CLUSTER
MAY 5, 2003
Eric von Shrakenberg awaited the arrival of the asari diplomat with both anticipation and wariness. The short war with the alien race they now knew as the turians had been a near run thing; the Citizen Force and the ghouloon janissaries had proven its worth against their occupying force on the surface of Vritra 2, but the turian fleet had been a tougher nut to crack. If not for the Charlemagne, I do wonder if we would have won that battle, ran through his mind. The dreadnought's main gun had proven its power, but the recoil had overwhelmed the mass effect field the ship had had in place to handle it, jarring the crew and disrupting several onboard systems. It had been sheer luck that the turians had withdrawn, as the Charlemagne had been in no shape to continue fighting.
Not the first time we Draka have had to bluff while holdin' a lesser hand, he thought as he straightened the lace frills at his cuffs and adjusted his silk cravat. Now stop woolgatherin', Eric. Time to represent yo' nation and yo' people to the galaxy.
His aide stepped into the room. "Excellence, the Honorable Tevos, diplomat and representative for the Asari Republics and the Citadel Council."
Eric levered himself to his feet painfully as the asari glided into the room. He found himself blinking, momentarily startled at the sight of the alien. It was one thing to see recordings and receive reports, another altogether to see an asari with his own eyes. She was blue-skinned, as he'd expected, and wore a high-necked red and white dress that flowed down to her ankles, accentuating a distinctly female form. Her gloves exposed her fingers and thumbs and stretched up along her arms to her biceps.
As Tevos bowed her head respectfully, he caught sight of the wavy folds of sculpted skin that were a startling reminder that she was an alien when the rest of her looked so female. "Excellence," she said, her voice holding a sort of lyrical quality. "I thank you for allowing me to meet with you. It is my hope that we can get past these unfortunate events between your species and the turians and welcome you into the greater galactic community."
Eric took a moment to admire her command of English—or Talk as many were calling the Draka dialect nowadays—before inclining his head in return. "Lady Tevos. Might I offer you hospitality before we proceed? Ah'm given to understand that yo' biology is, ah, similar to our own."
"Thank you, Excellence. I would be honored to accept your gesture."
A dark-brown wench entered the room and knelt smoothly to offer a glass on a tray to the asari. She was in her late teens, movements gracefully polished as the silver and crystal in her hands. She wore a tunic of colorful dashiki, hand-embroidered cotton from the Zanzibar coasts. The asari accepted the crystal glass, but her gaze lingered on the serf as she left the room—especially on the orange identity code tattooed behind her left ear.
"Constantia wine," Eric remarked as he gestured the alien diplomat to the seat in front of his desk. "Only one estate in the entire Domination produces it, down in our Western Cape province. It's preserved today as a historical landmark by our Land Settlement Directorate."
Tevos sipped from the glass after a moment's hesitation, seemed to consider, then nodded appreciatively. "Quite pleasant," was her verdict.
He inclined his head in acknowledgment of the compliment, then composed himself as she set the glass aside. Now we get down to business.
"Before we begin, Excellence," the asari began, "am I given to understand that you hold your fellow Draka as slaves?"
"Serfs," Eric corrected. "It also isn't quite co'rect to term them 'fellow Draka'. That name is held in reserve fo' our Citizens." He watched her face carefully. "Do yo' people take exception to such a practice?"
Tevos' expression remained unreadable as she considered her reply. Abstractly, Eric admired her self-control. Wotan, is this still goin' to be an albatross about our necks?
"The asari, personally, do not utilize such a practice," the diplomat finally answered. "Nor do we or the Council normally condone it.
"However," she continued as the Draka began to have a sinking feeling, "we have been known to make allowances for species for whom such a practice is a cultural institution. One such species, the Batarian Hegemony, practices slavery yet has an embassy on the Citadel. Though they do not, admittedly, practice it in as genteel a manner as your species does."
Eric felt himself relax slightly, but he still noted the outward mask her face held. Their Council may make allowances, but I don' think Miss Tevos approves personally.
"Moving on to the events that have brought me here, I have been instructed by the Council to extend their sincere apologies over the misunderstanding that led to the recent hostilities. The Turian Hierarchy maintains the majority share of our Citadel Fleet, our peacekeeping force, and were... perhaps overly enthusiastic in enforcing the prohibition on activating unmapped mass relays."
"That's one way of puttin' it," Eric replied, raising an eyebrow fractionally. The Draka expedition fleet had been fired upon without warning while out exploring, indeed trying to activate a mass relay when the turian patrol fleet had encountered them. "Do the turians commonly open fire on every species who begin explorin' they surroundin's, or were we fo'tunate enough to be an exception?"
The asari pretended not to notice the heavy sarcasm. "Rest assured, Excellence, that we are prepared to have the Turian Hierarchy levy reparations to the Domination of the Draka for their overzealousness in the prosecution of their duties.
"In addition, I am also here to formally extend an invitation to yourself and, through you, to the Draka as a whole for formal incorporation into Citadel space. I must caution you, however, that doing so requires that the Draka must abide by the Citadel Conventions which regulate the use of weapons of mass destruction, categorized as weapons that can cause environmental alteration to a habitable world. As large as the galaxy is such worlds are relatively rare, and cannot be replaced for millions of years."
Eric smiled. "Lady Tevos, ah'm certain-sure such a measure would be acceptable to mahself and mah people. We've seen firsthand the horrors of such weapons, and no wish to see any habitable worlds laid to waste."
Tevos smiled warmly in response and inclined her head. "That is gratifying to hear, Excellence. Perhaps a representative for your government could be sent to the Citadel? There are other points that will have to be clarified, and in time perhaps your species will gain an embassy. We will—"
She fell silent when the Draka held up a hand. "Wait." Eric leaned forward over his desk, watching the asari. "Gain an embassy 'in time'?" he echoed. "Ah'm not sho' I like the sound of that."
The asari's expression became one of regret. "Unfortunately, Excellence, embassies are reserved for those species that have made a significant contribution to Citadel space, and are important enough to be consulted on matters of galactic politics. Your species is newly emerged onto the galactic stage and has not, as of yet, made any such contribution."
Eric's expression tightened. "I see," he replied coolly.
Tevos seemed to notice the Archon's displeasure. "I should also inform you, Excellence," she continued, maintaining her civil tones, "that those species who do not accept incorporation into Citadel space are unable to establish any form of relations with its associate species, be they diplomatic, cultural or economic."
Eric clenched his jaw slightly while maintaining a outward facade of calm. An embargo, pretty much, he thought. We'd be isolated an' forced to explore the galaxy by ourselves while facin' a hostile galactic government. He knew his people weren't afraid of being branded pariahs—far from it. But though the Draka were able to match the turians militarily planetside, he recalled how difficult even a small portion of those turian ships had been. And it's not like our troops can go marchin' from planet to planet.
He watched the asari diplomat, admiring the cool determination underlying her civil facade. We're too weak to oppose them directly. Besides, we've already set the New Race and the new breed of serfs, the Homo servus, in motion; the Yankees have been exiled into the unexplored space of the galaxy; the solar system is ours. I've wanted to set the Draka free from a life based on death, and we finally have that chance. Giving that chance to my people is the last gift I can give them as Archon.
"Very well," he said finally. "Ah think that we can move fo'ward on that basis." He nodded in reply to the asari's smile, then continued. "However, now that we're puttin' all our cards on the table, ah should let you know that we Draka are not the only ones who have begun explorin' the galaxy."
Tevos listened as the Domination's Archon explained, then nodded slowly. "Yes," she replied. "I think I know of whom you speak of. We've been receiving... unusual reports in recent months."
JEFFERSON, SAMOTHRACE
INVICTUS SYSTEM, EXODUS CLUSTER
MAY 20, 2003
Frederick Lefarge was going over the latest reports from the Naval Forces frigates patrolling the frontiers of the space they had explored when his phone beeped. He set the papers down and rubbed the bridge of his nose as he keyed the touchplate. Cindy insisted he needed to start using reading glasses, but he remained stubborn. "Lefarge here."
"General Lefarge, this is MacDonald." The thin line of the admiral's mustache had begun graying towards the same color as the thinning hair cropped close to the sides and back of his skull.
"Admiral," Lefarge acknowledged, "to what do I owe the pleasure?" Probably another report on a batarian pirate nest squashed. The Strategic Studies Institute, the successor to the OSS, had pried the name of the four-eyed race out of their captives, the race whose criminals seemed to infest a large portion of the galaxy. He sure likes to report each one of those personally. Not that he had any love lost for slavers himself, but he wasn't as... enthusiastic as MacDonald was.
"Sir, report just came in from the Demos system relay. A probe of unknown make came through and started transmitting basic mathematical equations. The scientists say that it appears to be some attempt at communication."
Lefarge's eyebrows rose. That's new. "Really?" A pause as he considered. "Very well. Let our people reply, and let's see what we've got here."