Alternate Past: Uncertain Future Mk. II

Chapter 17

Fragile Peace: Veiled Harmony

"War and Conflict, they are perhaps the greatest factors in the development of technology. With very few exceptions, in almost every species, periods of great technological advancement and innovation, have almost always been accompanied by the presence of conflict. The search for a means of overwhelming and defeating the opposition by whatever means necessary. That being said, one has to wonder, just what new technologies this modern Cold War will give rise to."

-Christian Choi, excerpt from discussion between himself and his aide, Linda Danvers

Planet of Khar'Shan, locale of Pride Rock City

It has been several months since Jella Korragan and the Spartan had made themselves known to the Upper Class of the Hegemony, in spectacular and bloody fashion. The message, "The Rebellion Lives", painted in the blood of Jella's targets, had begun to spread. Not by media or the like, no, the Batarian Hegemony's Department of Communications was too good to let that happen. No, the message spread person to person, whisper by whisper. As the message and the remains of Jella's target that night began to spread, so did something else, something that had not been felt by the Upper class of Pride Rock in centuries: fear.

Fear that they were no longer untouchable as they once were. Fear that death by something beyond time was a possibility. The fear that things would soon begin to change, and not for the better as far as they were concerned. And this created opportunities where there had been none before. Opportunities that the Rebellion of Two exploited to the fullest extent.

Since that first operation, there had been many more as Jella chose more and more targets. Each time, leaving the same message behind, though never a scene as bloody as the first had been. With every slaver whose home they breached, their guards taken down to the last, every message they left behind, their reputation began to grow. Until every single person within the city, including the slaves themselves knew of The Rebellion, or as the Upper Class called them, the Psychotic Demon.

But that was not all the pair had been doing, no, they had seized the opportunities given unto them with both hands for all it was worth. With each raid of every slaver home, resources were made available to them. Weapons, ammunition, armor from the guards, credits and valuable goods from the slave owners, along with something just as, if not more valuable: information. Everything from slave markets and auctions, to the slavers themselves who brought back 'product' from beyond Hegemony space. But that had not need been their biggest gain. Rather than anything material, it was what would allow this operation to even have a hope of succeeding: numbers.

With each slave owner's home that they raid, all the slaves they had found there had also been freed. The vast majority of them were, more often than not, so beaten down and broken that even when freedom was offered to them, they did not, or it would be better to say, they could not take it. The idea had become so foreign to them, it almost seemed like a dream. But that was not always the case. From every raid, there were those who still remembered the taste of freedom, of being their own masters. And when the pair had asked if they would join, there had been no hesitation, and so their numbers had grown.

As the news of the raids began to spread, more and more slaves remembered their past, remembered their freedom. Some even began to explain and describe what freedom was to those who had been born into their shackles. And among many of the slave-born, as they were called, the idea of freedom took root, and went deep. So with each successive raid, the numbers of those that joined began to increase.

Still, they had a long way to go. The Rebellion's influence did not go beyond the city. The Hegemony's grip was far too strong.

Jella fell against floor, breathing hard, sweat drenching her body and clothes. She was utterly exhausted, her body never pushed as hard as it been right now, in spite of everything that happened. "By the Gods, John Doe, you don't do anything simple do you?" On sheer willpower alone, she rolled over and got back up on her feet. Across from her, the Spartan still stood tall, his body barely touched by sweat, the slightest sheen appearing on his chest and forehead. Hell, he was still breathing perfectly fine, even though the pair had been sparring for the past two hours. Around them, some of those that had joined their cause, a half dozen in all, were sitting in awe as they watched the pair fight, or more accurately, Jella be knocked down again and again.

"Your enemies will never be lenient, nor can you expect them to be merciful. Your training must reflect that." The Spartan said, speaking not only to Jella but everyone else in attendance. "You must know how to fight under all conditions. Even when you are unarmed and without armor, you must know how to use the weapons evolution has given you all. Nature gave you teeth and fists, know how to use them." Moving his right foot behind him, he brought his fists at the ready: the starting stance for many martial arts. "Now, again."

Jella took up a similar position, with the exception that one hand was straight like a spear tip, the other held against her body: the starting stance for Wing Chun. For a moment, neither of them made a move, watching the other, waiting. Then, Jella struck first. Striking hard and fast, trying to land a blow on the Spartan. Every strike lightning fast, aimed for the head and chest, a testament to her efforts to master what she had been taught. But against a Spartan, it was for naught. John Doe blocked each of her strikes effortlessly, either stopping them cold or slapping them away before they could connect. Stepping back and ducking to avoid the strikes that he could not stop or redirect. Not once striking back.

With each failed strike, Jella was becoming more aggravated, her emotions beginning to take control despite her best efforts. It was a common lesson in every martial arts: never let your emotions take control, you stop thinking, tunnel vision begins to take over, and you will start making mistakes again.

However, to everyone's shock one of Jella's attacks managed to get through the Spartan's defenses. Knocking the unbalanced human male off his feet. Unfortunately, Korragan's little victory was not due to her own skill, or even human weakness.

"Can you hear that?" John Doe asked everyone. His enhanced hearing picking up a rumbling sound that no one else could hear. Dust and sand began to fall from the ceiling as tremors started to be felt by everyone in the room. Loose fixtures swinging lightly. Then it became so loud that the could all hear the crashing noise.

Everybody rushed to the windows, and saw Pride Rock City engulfed in flames. Numerous building had already been reduced to smoldering ruins. As they watched an object rapidly fell from the sky and made another building explode.

"By the Gods, what is this?" A former slave, now rebel fighter whispered, both in terror and shock. Across the city from their hideout, they could see more and more buildings struck by the falling objects, some just crumbling to pieces, others exploding outright.

One person however, was not as awestruck as the rest. "Everyone!" The Spartan's voice seized everyone's attention, dragging it away from the window. "Grab your weapons and gear and head out of the city! You know where the rendezvous points are, now move!" With that everyone began to head to wherever they had each stashed their plundered equipment. Jella however, followed the Spartan, or least tried to as he headed to what was their armory, but she couldn't keep up with Doe's speed.

Upon reaching the room, John was already halfway into his armor. Bodysuit already donned, and armor components being mounted. As she moved to the same with her own armor she asked, "What's going on, Doe? Just what in the name of the Gods is happening out there!"

As he was placing his chest pieces on he answered, "Scorched Earth Operation. Standard Protocol for when the enemy has taken over a friendly position: raze all potential assets in the vicinity before abandoning it." Dull clanks sounded as the armor locked in place. "The Hegemony is bombing the city from orbit. They're going to raze the city to the ground, leave nothing standing."

"And how do you know this?" She questioned, her armor on and grabbing her preferred weapons and slotting them in their place.

Before John Doe put on his helmet, he answered. "I've seen it many times before. Just not this sloppy." Putting it on, he became a faceless soldier once more. "They want to take us out in a single move, and even if they didn't, more than likely they'll just cast the blame on us."

"But..." Jella wasn't sure what to say. She knew from personal experience that the Hegemony and its leaders were brutal, but somehow this level of calculated malice was still a shock. Moreover, as much as she had hated the people who ran Pride Rock City, it had still been her home for her entire life, and watching it be destroyed before her eyes hurt.

"We have to go Jella, we have minutes at most before they destroy the rest of this city. Including this building." John firmly told her. Knowing that they couldn't afford to hesitate at this point. "The Hegemony are many things, but when I very much doubt they will be sloppy in an operation like this." He grabbed several bags and started loading them with as many weapons as they could hold. Running through the various contingency plans in his mind. He stopped when he realized Jella hadn't moved, a shotgun and knife still in hand. "Jella, we have to move. We can not stay here."

"You're...you're right John" Jella admitted as she forced herself to move. Running out of the building along with the Spartan just seconds before it blew up. Yet as they fled the burning city, the place where Jella had grown up, suffered, and experienced all her few good memories, her hatred became even stronger. Growing into a fiery desire not merely to kill and torment her enemies, but to take everything they held dear from her, just as they were doing to her.

That day, the Hegemony believed that they had won. That the enemies that had plagued the city were either destroyed or disbanded. In reality, they had simple created the greatest enemy that the Hegemony would ever known, from within or without.

**APUFMKII**

Things were looking up for Christian Choi and Linda Danvers. The pair were back again demonstrating the improved Babylon class ships to the Upper Echelons of the UNSC. Principally to show Lord Hood that they had fixed the problem with the targeting system, and prove that the Battleship design was viable for mass production and eventual deployment in the field.

As the ships began making their way to their positions, both Babylons and their targets, Lord Hood locked to the pair with an appraising eye. "So, you've found a solution to your problem then? I will admit, if your solution proves itself, I will be impressed."

"Yes sir, I think you'll find our solution was quite ingenious. Though, I can't take credit for it. My assist-my partner," he corrected himself, "was the one who came up with the idea."

"Partner..." Hood said as though digesting the word. Looking from the attractive administrator and chief engineer, suspecting that their relationship was more than professional. Which was technically against regulations, but such rules were usually not enforced as long people were reasonably discreet and kept up a professional appearance most of the time. Especially for those in non-combat roles like Choi and Danvers.

Lord Hood honestly didn't care which of his subordinates were fucking, as long as they got results. Still if Christian Choi failed again it certainly wouldn't help if it came out that he was having an affair with his chief engineer. "Well, Ms. Danvers, would you perhaps, elaborate on your proposed solution?"

"Well sir, the problem was that as 'Dumb'-type AI is not up to the task of the managing a Babylon when firing all the cannons on one turret, let alone two, due to the other tasks it would normally be tasked with, even outside the heat of combat." She explained, bringing up her datapad, "Problems such as micro-changes and thruster movements required to keep the cannons on target, along with keeping it from tumbling out of control or tearing the ship apart, take up considerable processing power. The only AI capable of doing all of the tasks required of an AI on a Babylon would be 'Smart'-type AI, which is not feasible. Neither was the option of trying to increase the processing power of a 'Dumb'-type AI."

"I hope that you are not planning on requisition a 'Smart' AI for all your Babylons, Ms. Danvers. You know as well as everyone else that despite our best efforts, they have to be prioritized."

The Chief Engineer nodded. "Which was why we are using a Virtual Intelligence, or VI."

"Virtual Intelligence?" He questioned, never hearing the term before.

"It's actually a creation by the Citadel Races. Less than a true AI, but more capable than any other program. It has a semblance of an AI, in that it can respond to commands, and operate itself based on those commands, but otherwise it would remain inert. Our solution was to create a VI for each of the gun turrets, and assist the AI of the ship, and/or the crew. They would give all the information while the VIs would do all the hard calculations."

"Its sounds less efficient and more complicated than just letting an AI do it" Hood replied skeptically.

"Only in the initial stages sir. Once we write the VI programs the rest is easy, and writing the program is something a Smart AI did in virtually no time at all." Linda gently countered. "Admittedly, that's an oversimplification, the actual process itself is much more sophisticated than it sounds."

Despite whatever Danvers said, Hood, along with the other officers who heard her explanation, had their doubts. Using an alien concept, that sounded like an over glorified computer, sounded dubious at best, and a pipe dream at worst. Still, the results of this test would speak for themselves.

As Danvers and Hood were discussing the proposed solutions, Hardison watched the group from afar. Since the failure of Project Eezo all those months ago, things had gone downhill for the man. He lost much of his credibility due to the debacle, and few, if any had been willing to trust him to be part of any project, let alone be in charge of, since then.

Hardison had been be 'reassigned', i.e. demoted in all but name, to another project studying Council communications technology. He was still technically an administrator, but he had virtually no funding, personnel, and he even had to share space with two other military projects on Reach.

Watching the woman who had been his lover and personal assistant suck up to an admiral on behalf of his old rival just added insult to injury. And he found himself hoping that this demonstration ended in an even more spectacular failure than his own had.

As the ships finalized their position, Hardison turned his attention to them, waiting in anticipation for something, anything to go wrong, and see his rival's project turn to ash like his own had. The gun turrets rotated, their cannons raised and aimed at their targets. On a nearby holopad, holograms of both ships and targets appeared, this time, is anything did go wrong, everyone would be able to see it in holographic perfection. He heard Choi command them, "Fire when ready." For a moment, nothing happened, than the Babylon's let loose a broadside, firing all guns on one side together, thrusters opposite of them firing full blast to compensate for the recoil.

A split-second later, their targets were destroyed as the massive slugs struck them directly amidships, splitting them apart or shattering them into pieces. On the holopad, the station AIs showed both where the cannons had been aimed, and the trajectory of the slugs: a perfect hit.

"No." Derek whispered, knowing that now, Choi's designs, his vision, would be the one to guide the development of the UNSC fleet for years, and possibly even decades, to come. While Hardison's own contributions would likely be forgotten. Or simply remembered as another technological dead end.

Meanwhile Choi and Danvers were reveling in their success. Explaining to Admiral Hood just how they thought the battleships could be invaluable in combat. As well as other thoughts on Council Race derived technologies.

"Despite the failure of Project Eezo we can't ignore the advantage their FTL gives the Council; in any ship to ship combat against our vessels they have the speed advantage...I'd like you to look at Eezo's research, Choi...maybe you can find something that they missed" Hood informed the administrator.

"Very well sir, I'd be more than happy take a look into it. Though I make no promises. However," Choi brought up a datapad, "There is another project I had in mind, regarding Council tech. A little something I call Project Cerberus…"

Hardison didn't hear anything else, having already begun to leave. The doors closing behind him cut off anything else Choi might have had to say. He thought he heard someone calling out after him but he ignored it, just walking away from the area. "Damn them! How dare they hand over my work, my research, over to that, that pigheaded bastard! Damn them all!" As he continued on his path, people gave him a wide berth, either from his falling reputation or his disheveled appearance.

However, while most of those watching looked on with pity or contempt, one woman was intrigued. A scientist of Derek Hardison's knowledge and skill could be very valuable to the stranger and her friends. Moreover, it sounded like Hardison was ripe for recruitment.

Approaching the angered scientist, she called out to him, "Doctor Hardison!" He ignored her, but before he could walk straight past her, she stepped in front of him, stopping him dead in his tracks.

"Doctor Hardison please listen to me." she said urgently.

"What!" the scientist snarled, still lost in his own private world of humiliation and loss. At least until he got a good look at who he was speaking to. The woman was just as, if not more so, voluptuous as his ex-assistant. Her clothes only emphasising her figure. "I-Sorry, I shouldn't have been so callous. Sorry."

The woman just chuckled and waved it off, "Understandable doctor, its not everyday we have the carpet swept out from under our feet, certainly not like you were." She gave him a dazzling smile, only focus his attention on her even more. "My name's Olivia Miller."

"And what can someone like me can do you for you, Ms. Miller? As you said, I've had the carpet pulled out from under my feet, as it were."

"Just to talk. And discuss employment."

"Employment?"

"There are other opportunities outside of the UNSC, Dr. Hardison. Many, opportunities."

Hardison considered it. He wasn't even sure that he was 'allowed' to work in the private sector at this point, given all the non-disclosure agreements and other things that he had had to sign in order to do classified military research. Still, it couldn't hurt just to 'talk.'

Besides, Olivia Miller was probably the most gorgeous woman he had ever met.

"That sounds great" the scientist eventually replied. Having no idea how much that seemingly insignificant decision would change his life.

**APUFMKII**

Back among the Migrant Fleet, the Admirals were still trying to find a means of demonstrating their value to the New Covenant, specifically the Arbiter himself. And right now it seemed, it was a futile effort.

The Quarian admirals and the Arbiter were meeting aboard his flagship The Luminal Solace. Using the super-carrier for such a purpose wasn't strictly necessary. But as much as the Arbiter hated to admit it, he was slowly developing diplomatic and political skills. And the humans had taught Thel the value of always appearing to have to upper hand and being in control, thus he had made the Quarian leaders come to him, aboard his flagship that was far larger and more powerful than anything other vessel they had ever seen.

The first they had offered to the Arbiter was their expertise in creating environment suits and to an extent, powered armor, after all, the quarian people had been creating suits the moment they had been forced to abandon their homeworld. Thel had shot them down in saying that because of another caste in the New Covenant, the Unggoy, or Grunts as the humans called them, they had more than enough practice creating environment suits. The Unggoy, unlike most creatures, breathed methane in place of oxygen, which meant they had to wear methane tanks and harness virtually everywhere they went. Along with the fact that they knew how to create environment suits. Though Thel did admit, the idea of powered armor amplifying the user's natural abilities was intriguing.

"Our scientists have also developed stealth technology that hides vessels from most, if not all, sensors." Admiral Zaal'Koris proudly announced as he showed the leader of the New Covenant a prototype scoutship they built.

The Arbiter looked outside his flagship at the, in his eyes, tiny vessel. Turning to the quarian fleetmaster, as he thought of the alien, as he spoke. "Just how effective is your vessel's stealth? Are there any flaws or shortcomings?"

Xen answered. "None, outside of the need to vent heat after prolonged use. The ship hides itself from most sensors through the material of its hull, which absorbs the energies of most scanners, and heat is stored within internal and insulated heatsinks to prevent detection." With no small amount of pride she supplied, "It is most likely, that this ship could fly right into the heart of Citadel space and not be detected."

"So that mean's it can still be seen."

Xen's pride deflated at the Arbiter's statement, "I'm sorry?" She asked, but she had a feeling she knew where this was going.

Thel crossed his arms. "You say that your ship can not be detected, that it hides itself from sensors through material and design. But none of that says that it can not be seen by the naked eye." He explained. "The technology you use is called by my people Nullified Signature or Null-Sig technology. It hides itself from all sensors and the like, but it can still be seen. A technology we have since left behind. The epitome of stealth technology within the New Covenant is called Active Camouflage. We can not be seen by most sensors, nor can we be seen by the naked eye. But it does have a weakness, it creates an incredible amount of heat to generate the cloak, but the last iterations can cloak an individual for as long as they desired." As if to prove his point, the Arbiter activated his own personal cloak and disappeared from view, along with his chair.

The admirals sucked in a breath at the demonstration, such technology was highly sought after by all, as the technology was greedily hoarded by the salarians, who refused to share it with anyone, even the other Council races. But it was nowhere near the capabilities of what they had just been shown. Soon the Arbiter reappeared, chair and all. "That being said, your ship does have some value, if you can create a solution to the apparent weakness. Now, what else do you offer?"

And so it went, the quarian admirals offered the best of what their people could give, and each time the Arbiter shot them down, stating that the New Covenant had more advanced variants, and the quarians only offered minor changes and advantages for weakness and shortcomings the New Covenant had accepted and adapted to long ago. Plasma technologies, basic AIs, hydroponics, nothing truly stood out to the Arbiter. Soon enough, he raised a hand. "I have seen enough, but I must apologize. As much as my people are in need, your people do not appear have much to offer mine. Thus, I must ask you to leave my ship immediately...hopefully you will have something worthwhile to offer me next time" With that he rose, getting ready to leave the room, and shortly thereafter the Zortha System itself.

Least until he heard someone shout, "Wait!" Turning he saw it was one of the two females, Xen, that had risen and called out to him. "We may have...something. I didn't state this earlier as the project is still unfinished but, there is something my people have been working on." She hesitated, not sure if she should continue.

"Well? Spit it out Xen!" Gerrel prompted. "I don't know if you haven't noticed, but we're down to nothing here." All manners forgotten.

She sighed. "One of my teams and I have been working on designs for a new space-superiority fighter for some time now. In the hopes of using them when our people would try and take back our homeworld. We have been making changes to the design, but we believe that the current iteration is capable of outmaneuvering any other space-fighter currently in service, and even some frigates. Properly outfitted, it could be made to deliver strikes against cruisers and possibly even capital ships. Though, they wouldn't take them out directly of course."

Thel paused as he considered this. The Covenant had been in need of a replacement for the exo-atmospheric version of the Banshee fighter, along with a better replacement for the tear-shaped Seraph fighter, which was more of a bomber really. Especially since they had begun to fall behind the humans with the advent of their 'Sabres', which possessed the human's own version of shielding technology, and capable of matching or even exceeding the Covenant's fighters.

Nevertheless the Arbiter was still somewhat skeptical, telling the admirals "the idea sounds...intriguing. But Quarian weapons are weak by my people's standards."

Daro'Xen seemed to deflate at this, but Admiral Rael metaphorically leapt to her defense. Bluntly telling the powerful alien leader "so what? Once we build the fighters you can easily put your own weapons on them...the important thing is the speed, you'll have fighters faster, and more maneuverable than anything the the asari, krogan, turians, salarians, or even HUMANS have."

The last statement seemed to have an impact on the Arbiter. The idea that the New Covenant would have something that could beat the humans without resorting to their Assault and Super-carriers, or sheer numbers, was something that Thel had only dreamed of since the Heretic Wars. After humanity had suddenly risen up and become capable, in his eyes, of fighting against the Covenant on even ground.

The youngest Quarian admiral seemed to be on a roll, vividly outlining a vision for the Arbiter "imagine it: entire fleets of maneuverable little ships traveling at FTL as they fired nukes or even more powerful weapons faster than light at their targets. Who could stop that kind of attack?...very few I'm guessing." Thel had to admit that he had a point. Weapons fired out of slipspace could easily be detected due to the radiation that they emitted upon something entering or exiting a portal. But he had seen the quarian's, indeed the Council race's version of FTL, which traveled in real space. A weapon fired at those speeds, it would not even have to be anything sophisticated like a plasma bomb, a single metal slug would do incredible damage going at those velocities.

Turning his attention fully to the Chief researcher among the quarians, he declared. "Very well then, you have gained my attention. You will be given the time needed to create several of your proposed fighters, and I will be sending several of our engineers as well. But know this, should this fail, or not be as incredible as you have made it sound, it is unlikely you will be given a second chance. Do not disappoint me."

The admirals all stated firmly that they would not. Promising the Arbiter that the fighters would be everything that Rael had claimed they would be. However, all of them had doubts. Wondering if they could really build a fighter capable of standing up against the kind of enemies the New Covenant had.

**APUFMKII**

Councilor Tevos was slowly starting to genuinely hate the humans. Not merely because they had inflicted such damage on the Council Races, or because their appearance on the galactic stage had made Citadel Council military dominance of the known universe (which had been secure for centuries) questionable at best. It wasn't even because they had destroyed a major Council world and made apocalyptic war a real possibility.

The crucial factor was that the humans were, indirectly, forcing her to change.

For most of her political career Tevos had been a somewhat conservative moderate. Subtly promoting her own people's interests as she tried to balance the needs of the turians, krogan, and salarians too. Doing her best to keep any major faction in Council space from getting too restless, paranoid, or powerful. While making sure that she and her family reaped the benefits of her work.

Then the humans had destroyed Impera, and to all too many people, moderate, at least when it came to the humans, meant coward. Now everybody in the galaxy, or at least Citadel space, seemed to want the asari to militarize. Except the asari themselves, who had gotten used to the turians and krogan doing most of the fighting and dying for them, and were hardly eager to send their daughters, or for that matter their credits, to fight an overwhelming enemy against what seemed like insurmountable odds.

Unfortunately Tevos had always been something of a people pleaser, so she had promised the other Councilors that the asari would begin shouldering more of the burden for collective defense. But she lacked the influence or authority to make it happen. So now, for what seemed like the millionth time, the Councilors and their security advisors were meeting in the Citadel Tower, demanding to know why the asari Councilor hadn't made any progress yet.

"I told you, I may be representative for the Asari Republics, but I am not its leader." She tried to explain, "Unless the people are willing to militarize, I am unable to do so. That is not to say that I have no authority but I cannot simply order them to start building warships and recruiting soldiers on a massive scale. Nor have I not been trying to."

"Just admit it Tevos...its not that you can't do it...its that you're afraid of how bad it will look if you try and fail" Aethyta sneered.

Tevos was also starting to hate her military advisor. She hadn't actually wanted to recruit Aethyta for the position, but the matriarch had been the only logical choice. Being the most prominent and outspoken advocate of asari militarization. Tevos had picked her so that it would look like she was taking the destruction of Impera seriously, while in reality she was doing very little. It had backfired on her terribly: now her military advisor was demanding that she actually do something, rather than creating a facade that she was.

Then inspiration struck.

With a smile Tevos turned to her advisor. "Aethyta, why don't you take over then? Make it a project to make it so that the Asari Republics will be able to shoulder the burden alongside our friends? I'll even funnel whatever funds I can manage." She promised, when in reality, she planned on sending just enough for the militant matriarch to actually start, but not enough to seriously expand it. Ensuring that it would fall flat as funding dried up and Aethyta would take the blame while she, Tevos, was seemingly uninvolved. Then, she would have the justification she needed to remove Aethyta, and then replace her with someone more...like minded.

For once matriarch Aethyta was speechless. Shocked that a politician like Tevos would trust someone with her with such responsibility. Then she saw the way that the Councilor was smiling and realized the truth.

'She's not gonna give me any real support...that way when I fail she can blame me and still act like she was trying to do the right thing all along. Best of all for the unimaginative old cunt, then she can just go back to business as usual.' Aethyta told herself.

She knew what an experienced old matriarch such as herself was supposed to do. Either not walk into the obvious trap, or subtly try to shift the blame back onto Tevos. Beating her at her own game. Aethyta also knew what she would like to do, which would be to wipe away that insincere smile with a blow to the head. But she also knew that that was not what the asari people really needed.

So matriarch Aethyta decided to do something completely different. Something not even a novice would consider, she sprung the trap. "Well thanks, least now maybe I'll be able to get something done. No offense sweetheart, but you beat around the bush too much. Sometimes you just need kick them in the ass to get the ball rolling. And the old crones are overdue for a wake up call." Turning to Wrex she asked, "Hope you don't mind me asking, but think you can spare some of your help with this? It's not like the princesses know anything about real fighting? They all think that a couple of centuries as a mercenary, or by the goddess, sleeping with one, is the same thing as being a commando."

Wrex began to laugh. "Babe, I'll give your project my full public support and more credits than you'll know what to do with...anything to get the asari off their blue asses."

Aethyta smiled, her smirk growing wider when she noticed the alarmed expression on her Councilor's face. In one swift stroke, she had turned Tevos' plot to ruin her reputation, and transformed it into something actually viable. Turning to the remaining Councilors and asking "so who else wants to invest in the TEVOS defense initiative. I say if you really want the asari to get into this fight, it's time to put your money where your mouth is."

Wrex was really laughing now. He knew what Tevos had been attempting to do, and seeing the look on her face, even if he was the only one that could tell next to Aethyta, was just priceless. His own advisor, Okeer, had a grin of his own. "Like Wrex said, the Krogan Empire will give their support. It's not like we have much in the way of new projects right now. Besides, I've had a few ideas just sitting around that the TEVOS defense initiative might be interested in."

The turian councilor and advisor looked to each other and after a momentary discussion nodded. "We might not be able to give you much in the way of funding, but we have more than a few officers and commanders to help you devise a training regime and anything else you may require to create a regular army. Along with any raw materials." Saren added. The sheer volume of material the humans had been sending into Palaven space had been far more than they expected or knew what to do with. And more was still coming in. As it was, the material was now just sitting on the many moons of Palaven as they were allocated for use.

"The Salarian Union will be more than happy to assist in any logistics and participate in an advisory role." Mordin said, speaking for Valdn. "Apologies, but unable to assist unless you desire for operatives to train eventual stealth task groups."

Aethyta couldn't help but grin at everything she was being offered. She had expected some aid from Wrex, and perhaps token aid from the others like Tevos had offered. Instead, she had gotten the offer of enough resources and assets that this no longer viable, but a promising venture.

W

Convincing her own people to militarize still wouldn't be easy. But for perhaps the first time ever, it seemed realistically possible. Aethyta turned to face Tevos and said "Thank you for this opportunity Councilor."

And despite what Tevos thought, or even what Aethyta had mere minutes ago, she meant every word. She had no intention of wasting this opportunity. She would do anything and everything in her power to ensure that once this project reached fruition, the Asari Republics would once again, be one of, if not the, dominant superpower in the galaxy.

**APUFMKII**

The slaves auctions in Overseer City, the capital city of Khar'Shan and so the Batarian Hegemony as a whole, were infamous throughout Hegemony and Terminus space. While those who lived in more civilized areas did their best, for the most part, not to think about such garish trade in sentient/sapient merchandise.

Nevertheless, the massive auctions were a symbol of the power and brutality of the Hegemony. Wealthy individuals came from all over the known universe to look over the merchandise. Such as warlords from the Terminus Systems, battlemasters from the Krogan Empire, jaded businesswomen from the Asari Republics, and recently, although their own people denied it, even a few rich humans and sangheili warlords. All of whom had far more money than morality, buying people to use as cheap labor, guinea pigs, or simply sex slaves.

Despite the vast majority of buyers originating from the Terminus, those who weren't, were either smart enough to cover their tracks, or were outcasts (or both in some rare cases). Anyone from Citadel space had been the game long enough to hide their activities, and any evidence of it. Whether it be here, or back within their home systems. Amongst the humans, these were usually those unaffiliated with the UNSC, insurrectionists, pirates or just those who had left the UNSC behind, or represented the better off within UNSC/UEG territory. As for the Sangheili? No true honorable Sangheili would be caught dead at a slave auction unless it was to dismantle it. That being said, these were those who all bore the Mark of Shame. The ones outcasted from Covenant society, all with those that were part of the Heretics. As for how they got here in the first place? Currency is the universal language among the corrupt and the villainous.

But one thing all these wealthy slave buyers had in common was a belief that their money and connections empowered and protected them. A feeling that they were untouchable as far as the common man was concerned. Therefore, when a group of such amoral elite were meeting in the fanciest hotel in Overseer City to look over the selection of slaves that the organizers of the event had brought out for them, they were shocked when batarian rebels stormed the room. In their arrogance, none had brought any security or protection of their own, relying on those already present to handle any potentially, 'unruly' merchandise.

That was not to say all of them were unprepared or unarmed. Energy daggers and pistols were whipped out, and biotics flared as those present prepared to fight. Engaging the rebels, some were cut down by the skill and experience of veterans. But years, and for some, decades and centuries of living in the lap of luxury, had dulled the skills of all present. Coupled with the sheer numbers, it was not long before any who could or would fight, were either incapacitated, or dead.

. Beneath his helmet, John Doe smiled. After the disaster at Pride Rock City, where over two thirds of the rebels had died, he had known the rebellion needed a morale boost. But they were in no shape to fight the military. So ONI had supplied him with the location of this auction. He was almost proud at the way they had taken the auction with speed and efficiency for a militia force, and a hastily trained one at that.

Security was relatively small because it wasn't officially taking place anyway. Most of the wealthy buyers were more worried about scandals or legal action back home than they were physical danger. After all, the Hegemony itself welcomed wealthy foreigners such as them, and who would say otherwise?

Jella Korragan was about to start executing the surviving buyers when John stopped her. Telling the angry young batarian, "They're worth more to us alive." She simply nodded and settled for kicking the head of one of the auctioneer's, knocking him out.

Jella turned to a human woman in a fancy red dress who had just bought a naked and weeping asari slave, and been planning to give the slave to her son for his 16th birthday. The woman, who made her money smuggling illegal goods into human space, ever since First Contact, had the best looks that money could buy. Cosmetic surgery having given her a full bosom, pouty lips, a heart shaped face, and a perfect complexion. But she seemed like a weak and pathetic thing as Jella put a gun to her head and told the smuggler "Give her your clothes."

Whimpering pathetically, the woman complied almost immediately. Stripping down to nothing but her bra and underwear before, at Jella's rude urging, she handed them over too. Jella smirked as she pistol-whipping the woman, knocking her out much like the batarian auctioneer earlier.

Jella thought; 'with any luck, she'll still be out cold by the time we leave, and she'll get to experience firsthand what it's like to be a slave.' Grabbing the clothes, she moved over the asari and gave them to her. The asari,upon seeing the act of generosity, latched onto Jella without regard to her own state of dress.

As this was going on John Doe was going around, looking at all the faces and trying to see if there were any familiar faces in the crowd. He made no attempt to push down the utter disgust he felt at seeing his fellow humans amongst the scum present. Human and Sangheili alike, upon seeing the Spartan whimpered and did their best to appear small and inconsequential. Some going as far as to try hide behind one of their fellows, and some of the Sangheili beginning to whisper, "The Demon, the Demon is here! By the Gods, how is it here!", those words only inspired further fear, even amongst those that did not know what he was. He resisted the urge to summarily execute all the humans he found present, his grip going knuckle white on his weapon. There was no point either in trying to hide his presence, as those who saw him either didn't know what he was, and those who did, were in no position to reveal him without risking themselves.

The Spartan turned towards Korragan and told her "You need to say something...remember what we discussed." He stepped away, fading into what little shadows there was with ease. No mean feat for someone of his stature.

Jella felt uncharacteristically uncertain. Other than cursing and threatening people such as this, she had nothing to really say to them. She was not a politician or philosopher, she had no elaborate theology or ideology to express. But then she looked down at the naked blue girl still clutching her waist, seeing a younger more innocent version of herself in the asari, despite all their physical differences.

"What's you're name little one?" Jella asked gently.

"Cara...Cara T'Val" the maiden replied cautiously, as though afraid that the wrong answer would result in a beating.

"You don't have to be afraid of them anymore Cara" Jella told her firmly, feeling as though she were telling her past self that.

Then she gently pushed the asari away as she turned towards their prisoners and shouted "YOU ARE THE ONES WHO SHOULD BE AFRAID NOW."

"The days of slavery in the Hegemony are over...if you murder a slave you will be murdered...if you rape a slave you will raped...and you if mutilate a slave…" Jella's words trailed off. But she raised a knife as she spoke, so her meaning was clear.

John Doe resisted the urge to fidget uncomfortably. He knew from Jella's position the threat was reasonable, or at least made sense. Nevertheless, he wasn't sure that they could retain the moral high ground if they were raping and mutilating people (even if those people were rapists and mutilators themselves).

Jella looked at the assembled slaves, who were all naked. Then she looked at the prospective buyers. Most of whom were still dressed in the finery they had arrived in. Somehow the sight filled her with rage the way that few things had.

"Strip them" she ordered her people.

The rebels responded by simply tearing off the clothes their prisoners were wearing. A few of them fought back and were ruthlessly pummeled. But of the slave buyers just weakly protested verbally, and were ignored, a few remained stoically silent, and many simply wept as they were stripped naked.

Without their clothes the buyers looked much less impressive. Embarrassed and ashamed as their every physical imperfection was suddenly on display. Even the few among them who were perfectly proud of their bodies, felt uncomfortable being so naked and vulnerable before a hostile audience.

"Not so high and mighty now are you?" Jella gloated, happy to see her prisoners 'dressed' like the slaves had been.

As Jella was making an example of those present, one of the faces in the crowd jumped out at him. He took a closer look and scowled, stepping out of the shadows and interrupting Jella. The crowd parted before him like the Red Sea of Moses as he stepped forward until he reached his target.

"Andrew Del Rio. Ex-captain of the UNSC Navy. Wanted for treason, dereliction of duty, desertion and aiding the enemy. Went rogue for reasons unspecified. Suspected cause: due to be passed over for command of the UNSC Infinity."

The renegade ex-captain, once dressed in garb far finer than most any human would ever see, now stripped to nothing, looked up the Spartan. Not in fear, but in hate. "Spartan. Sailor. Dog of ONI, Demon of Humanity, Slave of the UNSC." Del Rio sneered. "So, your masters finally tracked me down then? Let you off your leash to come take me down?" He spat at the Spartan, a fat glob landing dead center of the Spartan's visor.

"No...you're not that important" John Doe replied with damning honesty. Del Rio was definitely one of the most important traitors on ONI's most wanted list, but compared to Operation Spartacus, which had the potential to swing the galactic balance of power in humanity's favor for centuries to come, he was insignificant.

Del Rio's eyes widened in shock. He had been certain that the UNSC would have sent someone after him, to silence him if nothing else. His eyes bulged even more when the Spartan grabbed him by the throat and held him a good half meter in the air. What he said next could only be heard by the ex-captain and himself. "However, the UNSC has standing orders for you to be shot on sight, should the opportunity arise. Therefore: Andrew Del Rio, under the UNSC Code of Conduct Chapter 4, Section B, subsection 4, paragraph 12 and under the UNSC Code of Warfare, Chapter 10, Section A, subsection 1, you have been found guilty of treason, dereliction of duty, abandonment of duty, and desertion Thus, your sentence is death." Before Del Rio could try and gurgle any last words, the Spartan snapped the man's neck. With one hand. In the silent auction block, the sounds of snapping bone could be heard loud and clear by all.

John Doe let go of the body and it slumped bonelessly to the ground. Jella was surprised and annoyed. After all, John had just told her that they COULDN'T simply kill everyone. But she decided to go with the flow.

"THAT'S WHAT WILL HAPPEN TO ALL OF YOU IF YOU KEEP SLAVES...FREE YOUR SLAVES AND YOU WILL BE SPARED...OTHERWISE!" as Jella ended her speech she threw a dagger with expert precision. Hitting the the Spartan's victim in the right eye just as he was passing off this mortal coil. The very last thing Del Rio's brain registered was a dagger thrown by a batarian rebel.

**APUFMKII**

Back on Reach, over two thousand feet below the Menachite Mountain, was the ONI CASTLE base. Virtually impenetrable, it was reinforced with concrete, criss-crossing Titanium-A girders and plates of the same metal along with layers upon layers of solid granite. The facility had built into the titanium mines that once mazed through the long since extinct volcano. It was the most secure facility on Reach, bar none.

And currently the location of the offices of one Doctor Catherine Elizabeth Halsey. At first, the post had been a type of punishment: sending her to work from the deepest, darkest hole the UNSC could muster that still ensured her protection. With the unparalleled success of her Spartans, and her deciphering of the Forerunner database alongside Denton, a database that was right under her feet at this very moment, both literally and figuratively, it now served a different purpose. Oh if she wanted, she could have her choice of office, from the R&D of Mars, to the UNSC's private research offices on Earth. Instead she stayed here, using the layers upon layers of security clearance required to weed out those who try to meet with her from the truly needed, and the worshipping interns.

Right however, only one thing was at the forefront of her mind. The proposal Margaret had given her over a year ago. The ONI Section III Head had hidden it within the data she had given to Halsey and Denton when they had meet to discuss Operation Spartacus and her Spartan's involvement. A file that only she had received. "Damn you Margaret, you knew, you knew didn't you?" She muttered, leaning back into her chair.

The offer in question? Spartan Program Beta. Halsey's one last chance of leaving behind a lasting legacy of sorts. It was Paragonsky's proposal as a successor the Spartan program as a whole. Taking the best of the II, III and IV program and creating something different. The training regimen would be the same as the S-IIs and the S-IIIs. However, all of these children would be recruited from orphanages or foster homes. Children that had no one else left but the government. Emphasis on recruited. The children would be told to an extent what they would getting into, much like the S-III generation had been. After which, they would be trained. As to who however, that was to be decided by Halsey.

After which, their bodies would be augmented, using one of two methods. The first, a hybridized method of all generations. The safety and reliability of the S-IIIs, the speed of implementation, and the new additions of the S-IVs, and the strength and aged appearance of the S-IIs. The current method used to augment S-IVs were still somewhat inferior, but far safer, than those implemented on the S-II generation. The second being the subjects being artificially aged to appear in their mid-twenties to early thirties, before being placed into the S-IV program to receive augmentations.

Whichever method was used, the new generation would then be inserted into the ranks of the S-IVs, to receive their MJOLNIR GEN-II armor. Replacing those who would normal be in their place. The reason for the program was that, for all the good that they had done, and their numbers, the majority of the S-IVs could not hold a candle to their predecessors. Oh they were far above and beyond the rank and file of the UNSC, and even the elite ODST 'Helljumpers' corps, but few could match the S-IIs on any basis. The S-IVs were only superior to the S-IIIs due to their armor and Pre-Spartan experience, and on an individual basis. Squad to squad, many of the S-IVs squads proved to be inferior, with a few exceptions. Case in point being Crimson team, the entire squad as a whole being labelled as a "Hyper-lethal vector", a description granted only to two other individuals in the entire UNSC. Their squad synergy was on-par with those an S-III squad, and close to an S-II, and individually were the closest thing to an S-II.

For all intents and purposes, the Beta program would create the ultimate soldiers, and this time, for as long as needed. Since the reason that her own second generation of Spartans never had a class beyond the first were the substantial costs. This proposal bypassed that issue. As it was, she was conflicted whether or not she should approve, and therefore take charge, of the program. She sighed, being unable to decide on just what path to take.

If that wasn't enough, then it was the disaster several years ago that still plagued the UNSC to this day. Several years ago, UNSC scientists had finally cracked the code to the data they had pulled from a nearly defunct Forerunner database. It had been a fragment of a larger AI, a Forerunner AI. And if the fragment was anything to go off of, it was a powerful one. The fragment itself was no longer sentient, but it contained enough of its code that they could learn from it. And learn they did.

AI technology was advanced massively, faster processing abilities, increase capabilities, and even adding a basic learning program for 'Dumb' type AIs. These advances had been since implemented into the AIs, both military and civilian of the UNSC, giving humanity even more of an advantage over rivals like the Citadel Council. The problem was that existing AIs still had very definite expiration dates.

It appeared theoretically possible to modify the code of existing artificial intelligences with what they had learned from the Forerunner AI, pushing back rampancy and giving these human derived AIs much longer life spans. But no one knew what the side effects of such alterations would be. Especially considering the fact that the AIs in question would have to play an active part in their own transformations.

The Powers That Be in the UNSC were afraid that they would no longer be able to count on the loyalty of their AIs if the artificial intelligences were allowed to modify their own codes with technology no one involved fully understood. Unfortunately Doctor Halsey knew such fears were legitimate. The history of the UNSC's main rival, the Quarian's Morning War in particular, proved that AI rebellions were a real possibility.

However, Halsey also knew it could become a literal self fulfilling prophecy. Suspecting that even the AIs created in her own image, and from her own memories, might rebel if they ever found out the UNSC was deliberately keeping life saving technology away from them as they approached their own demise.

After all, humans that created AIs in their own image. And history had proven that when push comes to shove, most humans would do virtually anything to stay alive. Rumors had been flying around since that discovery for months now.

The scientist sighed, knowing that there was nothing that she could do about the problem right now. So she turned to the latest reports on Operation Spartacus.

"No...no...what kind of mad men are ruling that hellhole?" Catherine muttered as she read about how the Hegemony had destroyed its own city just to kill the rebels. Shortly thereafter publicly blaming the destruction of Pride Rock City on alien terrorists.

Doctor Catherine Halsey was surrounded by other scientists and technicians in her lab. But the founder of the Spartan Program felt completely alone as she realized the implications of what she was reading.

If the Batarian Hegemony kept fighting back against the rebellion with such overwhelming force and brutality, if they were so quick to kill their own, then many of her Spartans, which she thought of in many ways as her children, were going to die during Operation Spartacus.

Spartans were tough, but they weren't invulnerable, and orbital bombardment could kill they just about as easily as anyone else. And if the batarians were willing to simply destroy anything the rebels captured.

'What if the slavers would rather destroy the Hegemony than surrender it to us? Could we even stop them from destroying everything short of a full blown invasion?' Halsey asked herself. Truly grasping for the first time just how nasty and bloody the war ONI was deliberately starting could become.

But one thing was crystal clear.

If Operation Spartacus continued, and it was probably too late to stop it now, many of her Spartans would die. Unfortunately, humanity probably still needed them.

Slowly and reluctantly, Halsey picked up the document requesting her participation in a new Spartan program. She signed her answer almost violently, and then gave it to an aid. Telling the woman to send it back to Parangosky immediately.

"When I first approved of the Beta program, did I know what it entailed? Yes. Do I have any regrets? Many, much like I did with the second generation. But would I change any of it? No, I would not. My actions were what saved the human race during the Great War. But by whatever deity or deities that may or may not exist, I wish they were never needed. For I will have to live with the guilt that plagues me until the day I die."

-Catherine Elizabeth Halsey: Personal Memoirs

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