"So?"

"Hmm?"

Sparatus looked at his wife as she sat on their couch; prying her feet out of the atrocious contraption she'd called "the latest fashion" she began to rub her aching feet. He followed her into the living room, their home's VI bringing their living quarters to life as lights activated and soft music began to play, Polvea's favorite ambiance.

"Home," she called out to the VI, "Open the windows please, I want some air." She hummed in approval as a cool breeze began to fill their home before settling into the couch in full. "I expected a religious zeal from what you had told me. They weren't." Sparatus sat down next to her, loosening his own formal wear. "The Golden War is important to them, like the Unification War for us. You should know how exaggerated the Unification period is in our schools and the humans have lifespans like asari. Some of their veterans fought through the entire Golden War still live, imagine that! Hero worship, plain to see." She closed her eyes and let out a yawn before beginning to unscrew some of her horn jewelry. "There's talk of putting a station for Commander Vakarian."

Sparatus grunted in agreement, "So you don't believe them?"

"Did I say that Sparty dear?" she'd finished with her jewelry, leaning over just long enough to gently set them on the living room table. "Valern and the other are just objecting to the words the humans are using. Magic, spirits, monsters, gods. I think there's some truth to it." Another yawn. "The asari used to think biotics were the gifts of their Goddesses, what would an ancient asari think about modern mass effect technology? Lots of people would call the Rachni monsters." Sparatus recalled Vakarian's report from Noveria, where the Rachni Queen exhibited some form of telepathy. The Thorian on Feros. "For ambassadors, some of your colleagues are rude and close-minded. They should take lessons from the hanars at the dinner tonight; they didn't seem to be in a hurry to dismiss the human's history."

"You like them." Sparatus stated no accusation in his tone.

"They fought tooth and nail for nearly a thousand years for their homeworld and avoided near extinction in the process. They have dedication to their world so much that they venerate her as a goddess. Duty, dear husband. They have it. turians at heart."

"You don't think you're generalizing based on the few humans you met tonight?"

"You aren't?" she answered back.

Sparatus sighed, considering his wife's words. "You may be right." The entire day had been an ordeal, the Gaian visitation nearly falling apart after Ambassador Suhiro's history lesson and only just saved by some quick talking from Tevos and hanar and elcor delegates. On the face of it, most of his fellow Council members did react with hostility to his choice of terminology. Beyond that, was their story so hard to believe? If he removed all mentions of gods and the supernatural, could he explain their history in a neutral manner? The beginning of the war coincides with a terrible worldwide environmental disaster; great earthquakes that sink island nations. Primitive nuclear reactors suffer meltdowns in the process, infrastructure is ruined. Billions die. Yes, that made sense. But was their magic as easily explainable? They claimed that much of their magic could be used to move objects at a distance, enhance their bodies, manipulate probabilities, see the future, speak to the dead, induce combustion and read minds. One of them had showcased one of their magics, freezing the drinks of several councilors while they held them in their hands, another moved several objects with her mind. Unexplainable? At the moment, definitely. Magic? Not necessarily. Again Sparatus remembered the Thorian, the Rachni Queen. From both biology and his unmarried days, he knew that asari sex had some form of neural connection that, he guessed, could have evolved on some other planet in a form that allowed some form of mind reading.

Sparatus' stream of ideas were interrupted when he felt his wife rise up from their couch, heading toward their bedroom as she began to remove her dress, yawning the whole way. He stood up and headed toward their kitchen, searching for quick refreshment before joining her. He rifled through their expansive refrigerator before stumbling onto several strange bottles.

Noveria Cold?

He suddenly remembered that his niece was visiting in a few days, Polvea must have bought the soft drink in preparation since it was his niece's favorite drink. He poured himself a half-cup; he'd avoided alcohol the entire night and didn't feel like starting now. He added ice; his niece always drank it with ice.

The Golden War caught his attention again, and he resumed his thought exercise. A worldwide disaster that claimed most of the population would greatly explain the length of their war. He tried to imagine a society fighting after the apocalypse. His wife was right, once again. That was dedication to duty. He nodded to himself, alone in the kitchen with a soft drink in hand. Their Gaia, this Immaculate Machine, may simply be nothing more than a Prothean artifact of some sort, perhaps a form of VI defense system. It was not out of the realm of possibility for a society to stumble upon advanced Prothean technology, all of galactic civilization was built on such an occurrence. This Filth may even be a Reaper weapon, a form of nanomachine grey goo scenario, or something similar to the Husk conversion process viewed through the perspective of religious Gaians. Perhaps the Gaians were well-intentioned with the Dholen Incident and were attempting to quarantine some Reaper weapon.

This didn't, however, lessen the threat they posed to the Citadel.

Self-devised or Prothean engineered, their stellar manipulation technology was dangerous, the proverbial gun in a talon fight and was poised to upset the balance the Citadel had spent millennia building. Or potentially save them. He wondered on its applications – could the Gaians simply quarantine any given area of space, or simply stellar objects? He imagined a Reaper fleet being fought by turian forces, held in place long enough for Gaians to simply lock the Reaper fleets inside their traps, cut off from the rest of the universe. Or ask the Gaians if things locked away could be unsealed later, simply hide Pavalen, Thessia, Sur'Kesh, Irune, Dekuuna, all the homeworlds behind impenetrable cages of warped spacetime while defensive fleets fought off the Reaper threat, the worlds reemerging after the storm had passed. Or simply retreat all their forces to these worlds and hide, letting the Reaper fleets destroy the Terminus Systems. The Citadel species would find the galaxy wiped clean of life, plunder the Terminus for their own use and prepare for 50,000 years. Perhaps then, they'd be on equal or greater footing than the Reapers.

The Primarchs agreed. They had told him, in no uncertain terms, to get the Gaians on their side. Unfortunately he had to relay that this didn't seem possible, at least not in the way the Primarchs would hope. Nothing official had been said, only offhand comments by the ambassadors that he'd talked to throughout the day, but none of the other Citadel species, save perhaps the hanar, seemed keen on bringing the Gaians under the Citadel's banner. One of the ambassadors, a male by the name of Zacharias seemed to have had some form of military experience, had pulled him aside and asked him about the Batarian Hegemony and some of the less than ethical practices they held as cultural treasures, namely their vile practice of slavery. Sparatus had pulled his best diplomatic face and attempted to spin the situation as best as he could. However, both of them knew it was just that, spin, and both had also, unofficially, mentioned that their people looked down on such a practice. Sparatus inwardly cursed, the damage had been done. Of course, their reasons went beyond that as this Zacharias had also gone on to comment that their government had a first and foremost dedication to their world of Gaia and many would see a conflict between their homeworld duty and their duty to any galactic allies. Sparatus understood that sentiment. He was given to understand that their government had only recently begun an economic boom, yet most of its spoils were going into much needed rebuilding of the Gaian home system.

Sparatus poured himself another of the soft drinks, finding it somehow soothing to drink the favored drink of today's youth. It reminded him of simpler times.

The other Citadel species would see the Gaian situation as an immense resource drain, a position that they had unfortunately backed themselves into when they created the cover story for the Reaper invasion. They'd sold the lie that the Terminus Systems were going through a huge military buildup and such the Citadel had to counter with their own. To divert any resources would have the political varrens jump on them for aiding a minor third-rate society of less than thirty worlds instead of spending on galactic security. To reveal the Gaian stellar manipulation and the Dholen Incident could cause the same type of panic they sought to avoid from disclosing the Reaper existence.

Sparatus sat his cup down before setting it to be washed automatically. Polvea hated dirty cups. Setting his used kitchenware into their dishwasher, he began to make his way back to their bedroom, light streaming through its open door. There he saw his wife of eleven years in her sleeping wear, looking as beautiful as always. He noticed her scratching along her upper arm, before her hand glided down to a lower arm that was no longer there.

"Funny," she murmured, "I still get phantom itches." Sparatus nodded as he began to undress, he spied his wife's prosthesis on its stand near her side of the bed, the soft glow of a battery recharger working. "They didn't stare," she went on as she began to prepare their bed for sleep. "I get lots of stares at your dinner events. Full of people who've never fought for anything in their life. None of the Gaians stared."

"When they've seen more turian women, they'll stare." Sparatus began, sliding into bed along with her.

"And why is that?" she responded.

"They'll realize you are prime example of turian female beauty."

"Sparty," she leaned in and gave him a quick kiss, "Are you trying to work your diplomatic magic on me?"

Tevos wondered what her turian colleague was doing at this moment.

She stared down at her drink, swirling in her crystal clear glass before turning over and looking at Valern, who sat at his desk reading several reports, no doubt all compiled by STG spies that had attended the diplomatic party. She sighed and wondered how out of the three of them Sparatus was the only one who was happily married. Or even in a relationship. Was she not attractive enough? She could hear her mother already, nagging that she hadn't settled down yet.

"After every formal event," Valern suddenly began from his desk. "Always melancholic."

"You've noticed?" Tevos said, walking over to her to the Salarian's desk and picking up a datapad.

"Workplace efficiency always drops." Valern stated, his fingers working away at his console. "Sadness, despair, loneliness. Unsuitable for the workspace."

There's the Valern I've always known.

"And paranoia, shadows and secret wars are?" Tevos shot back, the alcohol of the evening catching up to her. "I'm not surprised you had the STG eavesdropping on the dinner. Tell me Valern, how do you find the time to spy on everyone and be a diplomat? We did take an oath to only be diplomats, the voices of our governments. Holding a position at STG would be a big enough offense to be removed from that office." She saw some of the information on these pads weren't just limited to the Gaian visitors. "And it is illegal to spy on Citadel officials."

"Paranoia is needed in galactic politics. Paranoia useful when our seat of government is based within a Reaper installation." Valern responded, his eyes blinking in that annoying Salarian manner. "And I am not affiliated with STG in any way, you know that. Should the Dalatrass decide that it is pertinent that I be given information to better ply my trade at diplomatic manipulation, I will accept it. Also, your threats, alcohol enabled as they are, are not effective on me. None of the information on these datapads exists, since I never got them. The security VIs will show that we both left for home several hours ago, your home's VI will also show that you spent the night as you always do. This conversation here has never happened. Nothing to show any illegal activities. Also, you are forgiven for threatening my job while drunk."

Tevos was once again reminded why Valern was single.

"Now, if you are done. We must talk. Information gathered from various conversations. Gaian homeworld suspected bordering batarian space. Scope of territory unknown, but 24 colonies confirmed through several conversations. Territory must be dependent on speed of FTL travel, though this is guesswork."

"This is not very informative," Tevos replied as she attempted to reign in her temper. "Hmmm… Conversation between S. DuGalle and This One Seeks Empathy names several world religions, Chris…tianity, Bu…" She placed the datapad down, unable to work through the alien names without hearing them first. She picked up another, one that seemed to be a report on which foods the Gaians seemed to favor. "Ah, they share culinary tastes with quarians."

"Other information gathered." Valern said, taking the datapad from her hands, handing it back now showed yesterday's news. "One of the diplomats, Zacharias Gazaryan spoke to Sparatus, discussed batarian response to possible Gaian acceptance into Citadel government." Tevos motioned for Valern to continue, not seeing where the discussion was going. "Zacharias and Sparatus discussed standard procedures for new governments heading into Citadel member status. Establishment of borders."

Tevos nodded, new societies were given the chance to establish their own borders as a form of goodwill. Allowed them to claim any unaffiliated systems around their pre-existing colonies. Tevos suddenly saw the problem. If the Gaian worlds were somewhere near batarian borders, they'd immediately move to claim those systems for themselves and there was a precedent for privileging newly contacted species over existing ones. Which means the Citadel would have to renegotiate the terms of batarian expansion.

"Yes." Valern knew she had caught up, "Zacharias was framing his questions as genuine, but appeared to have already known what responses would have been given."

"Which meant that the Gaians knew enough about Citadel procedure, our response to new member species, the reactions of the Batarian Hegemony, and attempted to downplay their knowledge. Crafty. Good qualities in diplomats."

"Good spies." Valern agreed. "Implies substantial knowledge of Citadel government workings."

"Not necessarily Valern," Tevos moved back to the windows, appreciating the view of the Presidium at night. "We did give them access to the extranet, and the Avina terminals around the embassies had been modified to use their language, they could have simply learned all of this today. They were here to learn about us, it is not surprising that they did."

Valern sighed. "You would not make a good spy. Gaians not eager to join Citadel. Will refuse offer."

"Why would they do that?" Tevos asked, not following the Salarian's logic. "By refusing to join, they'd place themselves right at the border of the batarians, an unwise move. Joining offers protection." Tevos paused to briefly wonder what that said about the Citadel, where a benefit of joining was safety from other Citadel members.

"Unknown, more reasons must be discovered. Perhaps objections to some of our laws, cultural reasons, inability to meet Citadel taxation given current state. Perhaps they wish to put this to a vote back on Gaia, some Citadel species took years to pass legislature to join the Citadel. Myriad possibilities. However, advantageous for us if they did not join. Allows us to send clandestine aid to Gaians in exchange for stellar manipulation technology. If hidden from public view, would be useful asset for Reaper preparation. Batarian expansion may not even be a problem if Reaper invasion occurs first. Also keeps Hegemony in our good graces by avoiding potential territorial disputes."

Tevos hummed in consideration of Valern's words. "Perhaps it would be better if they did join. The batarians could leave the Citadel of their own free will in a moment of outrage. We'd finally be absolved of their crimes."

Valern had moved away from his desk, standing beside her as they both stared out the window, an aircar speed by.

"Batarians useful, slave caste will be pressed into conscription. Batarians will field more soldiers than the asari and salarians combined. Standard practice in their wars." He raised his hands, cutting off any response from Tevos. "Slavery is vile, immoral. A mistake that all ignorant civilizations have had the disgrace of implementing. But morality is irrelevant in the face of existential threat of Reapers. Should the Hegemony survive the Reaper invasion and we are in a position to change it, we shall. But for now, a necessary evil."

Tevos downed her drink. "Or will we continue to look the other way as a reward for their part in repelling the Reapers? My predecessor asked me to do everything in my power to destroy the blight of slavery in batarian space. And now I am forced to condone it. At this point, it seems as if my best hope is to survive and see enough of the Hegemony destroyed that batarian society can be completely reformed. Which means I have to wait for mass deaths for slavery to end." She placed her empty glass back on Valern's table, thankful that he had at least provided something to drink. She made her way to the exit, wondering how many security cameras between here and her home the STG would be modifying to erase her presence, to keep plausible deniability. "Tell me Valern," she began at the door, "We had several hard decisions lately, and we will have more before this is all over. Underneath that cloak, I know it gets to you. How do you sleep at night?"

"The same way you do," he replied, still facing out the window. "Alone."

Lore: Citadel Species 3

Like the Venetian counterpart the Citadel government was once pure nobility, a great experiment for all. Look backwards at the Council of Venice, it repeats among the stars. A union birthed in cooperation, loyalty and trust. A shining beacon in the cold void that promised the warmth of civilization. But the Sinking City's name was more than literal. The strain is showing in the Citadel.

The troubled waters are rising and the Citadel struggles to stay above them.

Sweetling, thesssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssssss-Chuck!

Chuck, Chucky, Chuckster!

Did you miss me? Because I missed you. How have you been? How is everything back home? Peachy. I see you've grown up, you've got a car and license to drive and everything! Awwww, you just went out on your first date. I won't judge what you like Chuck. Thanks for letting me tag along. See? I told you there's whole worlds out there of joys and dandies and how-do-you-do's. I'm free to get out there now. I'm already there. Didn't I tell you? I did.

Thanks to you.

Lore: The Fifth Age 3

The Golden War's opening salvos left-left-left-eeeeeeeefffffffffffffsssssssssssssssssssss-you're not still mad are you? I know I'm not. Water under the bridge, past mistakes. Let's move on sha-sh-sh-you in ruins. The survivorsssssssssssssss-don't shut me out Chuck.