Once Bitten, Twice Shy

by Varigos D. Vastitas

Unwittingly uplifted beyond expectation by their foes, humanity not only destroyed their aggressors, but surpassed them and made their way to the stars. As Humanity expands from the Earth will they find their place in the galaxy, or will ghosts from the past come back to haunt them? (Co-writer NathanHale2.)

16. War and Peace, Part Three

"When life is victorious, there is birth; when it is thwarted, there is death. A warrior is always engaged in a life-and-death struggle for Peace" - Morihei Ueshiba

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For nearly two thousand years the galaxy called the Turian race the undisputed master of warfare and combat. The moment the Alliance Ninth Fleet unloaded their devastating payload upon the icy surface of Altakiril the status quo was permanently destroyed.

The intimidating towering turrets that had once held the planet's primary defense was crippled, the power drained by the Alliance UR-86 warheads. Many of the remaining Turian military assets were demolished, if not reduced to dripping slag in the ensuing white phosphorous cascade. Any military force on Altakiril that could be targeted from space was designated a priority, and subjected to the flames forged from humanities' desire for revenge. What was not melted by chemical fire or crippled by electrical warheads was swiftly struck down by the support ships of the Alliance fleet.

The loss of element zero across the planet caused hundreds of thousands of mass effect fields to abruptly short out, allowing the disasters they contained to explode from their gravitational prisons. Vehicles held aloft by eezo fields fell to the ground, a scarce few staying aloft just long enough for those inside to say a quick prayer before a quicker death. Numerous starports were reduced to gaping wounds, mostly thanks to anti-matter detonations from the larger varieties of docked starships.

The assault on the surface was not over with the invading Alliance' bombardment. The surface of Altakiril was known for being an icy shell for most of its year, only melting for a few months at a time. The white phosphorous flames scorched that frozen shell, turning it into an icy flood. The torrential ice water flooded the streets of the unprepared Turian towns. The life giving liquid flooded homes, businesses, transportation tunnels. Any gap that could be filled was sealed off by a crushing flood of water. Thousands died, struggling to fight against wave after wave of fire and ice. Many Turians dove into the crushing waters to escape the chemical flames, only to die fighting to escape the water. The Heavy metal skin that allowed the Turians to survive the harsh ultraviolet sunlight of Palaven doomed the race to die in the pounding waters.

Such an assault would crush a lesser race, if not utterly and completely demoralize them. It just pissed the Turians off, hardening their resolve, and steeling their will to fight. The Turian resistance had begun to form before the bombing run could be finished.

The lack of mass effect weapons was a loss, one that would force the surrender of many others, however the loss of trillions of credits in military hardware, countless lives, and homes was more than enough reason for the Survivors to continue. Several Turian commanders used the remaining communications' hardware to address those who survived the assaults inside the remains of scorched cities.

"Brothers! Sisters! A new enemy has arrived. They have stolen our weapons and laid waste to our homes. I ask you now, will you let this travesty pass?"

A roar of defiance reverberated from the ruins the once great Turian buildings as hundreds of survivors listened to the message, transmitting to thousands more listening in from other assaulted structures. "We are not as weak as these things would think. These aliens came here thinking that their show of force would be enough to make us scatter. There is not a male or female on this planet that will not fight them to the last. Let every able handed Turian, adult or child, take up arms against these invaders! Let those fools fall to the dirt, torn apart by our weapons. Those who cannot fight can rebuild, crafting weapons and homes for us to use."

"They may have stuck first, but the Turian's will strike last!" The cheers burst forth, the training from serving the hierarchy awakening in the young and old alike.

"All those with Biotic potential need to come forth. It is in this time that I call upon them to serve against our foe."

There was no end to the volunteers. Whether they were combat capable or not, the Turian people wanted to fight.

The Turian survivors began to raid the ruins of their once great cities. Anything that could be potentially useful was taken to their encampments. Survival training was used to great effect, many underground structures that were neither unstable nor flooded became bases to begin their counterattack.

Recovering anything that had power had become the priority, Turians brought in batteries of all types from whatever could be disassembled. Those with engineering training or any scientific skill put themselves to use by reconstructing medical stations or communication systems. Vehicles were disassembled to be remade into blockades, structural supports, or even shields to keep out the enemy.

Sterile medical supplies and still salvageable machinery were taken from clinics and hospitals, the materials used to make medical stations for the injured survivors. In the future they would be essential to save what lives they could. There was no deceiving anyone, they all expected that there was to be a conflict, and they would do all they could to survive the event.

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Captain Anderson had long held himself to a strict manner of behavior, a small consequence of him having rushed in the ranks. He did his best to present himself in a calm, professional, and dignified manner at all times. When a helpful Quarian placed a large container of water in front of him, Anderson ruined his image and guzzled the water like an inebriated college student in the nineteen nineties America.

The hydrating fluid was a refreshing blessing to many of the Shanxi survivors, many of them drinking so much of the purified liquid that their Quarian hosts were afraid they wouldn't have enough for a trip to anywhere to restock the precious resource. Thanks to the addition of a few thousand survivors it would be a rather cramped trip nonetheless.

Both sides of the first contact scenario were fascinated by the other. The Alliance population were amazed at the efficiency and appearance of their Quarians rescuers and the Quarians were amazed at the spirit and tenacity of the resilient survivors.

Sadly Kar'Donna Vas Rayya was still the only Quarian really willing to try to have an in depth conversation with the humans. Just as sad was Kar'Donna's lack of tact. "What really happened at the three fourteen Relay?"

Anderson smiled morosely, taking another large gulp of water. "The Turians attacked us for examining a Relay. We never used the damn things before for anything other than beacons to jump to."

"That cannot be all." Kar pointed out, "The Turians have said you used biological weapons and attacked first!"

"I don't know what the Turians have been saying, all I know was what I saw. I was part of the team that chased after the Turian patrol. They killed our patrol and attacked a civilian science vessel doing some research on the relay, my team got sent in to assess the threat and neutralize it."

"How many ships did you use?"

"I'm not sure, but I think it was no more than a dozen shuttles."

The Captain's disbelief was apparent in his body language, "Impossible! You destroyed the crew of a dozen Turian cruisers with what you could fit on a dozen shuttles?"

"What can I say?" Anderson shrugged, "We Humans are very good at what we do."

There was an awkward silence between the two leaders for a few tense moments, "How... how did you do it?" Kar'Donna asked, a mix of curiousity and awkward shame infused in his voice. "The Turian report said you used biological weapons, but a report from another Citadel species said there was no trace of anything biological or chemicals apart from what is expected on a Turian vessel."

Anderson looked at his Quarian counterpart with a look of shock and faint amusement. "I'm surprised you didn't ask sooner. Our species have a genetic gift that allows us to effect the minds of others around us. Some of us are more powerful than others."

"Strong enough to drive a ship insane?" Kar'Donna asked softly. Anderson recognized the unasked question: "Will you do it to us?"

"That power is limited to a special few of us that are strong enough with the gift." Anderson explained, "I'm the only one that strong out of all of us survivors, and I don't intend to try to pull that off."

"That is a relief." the Quarian captain remarked, "Why are you answering my questions so openly?" he asked, "Does your military not have rules against sharing secrets?"

Anderson took another long draw on his water, savoring the taste of it for a few moments to delay answering. "My people left us to die." The XCOM officer replied bitterly, "We've been there for months, soaking in the radiation, starving and dying of thirst. They never sent a single recon craft to check up on us. When I get home, I'm more than likely going to quit the army."

"That is rather sad," Kar'Donna replied, "I know that it has yet to be asked, but how are we going to get you home?"

Anderson leaned back in his seat, rubbing his eyes to hide the disappear that would otherwise be plain on his face. "I don't know, I honestly don't. Without a Hyperwave communications system there is no way to find Earth."

Kar'Donna placed a hand on Anderson's shoulder, a Quarian display of comfort, "David'Anderson, I swear to you. Your people will have a home with the migrant fleet until I can get you back to your Earth."

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The moment that the Ninth fleet bombardment ceased, hundreds of thousands of Alliance Drop-ships charged the besieged icy world, leading before them were millions of the Alliance AVDs. With the loss of Altakiril's anti-air and space weaponry the vehicles landed on the planet with only token resistance from the land and debris.

Trained Alliance Marines rushed out, defended by their new model war machines. Tanks, Predators, even the commanders emerged from the capsules armed and ready to strike at Humanities enemies. The Troops rushed in formation. Securing any advantageous firing positions, establishing and reinforcing barricades, and setting up a landing zone for their reinforcements. Engineering teams created turrets and walls with nanomachine formed materials, Medics prepared triage centers for the soon to be wounded, Commanders directed technicians who set up the com-links and tactical maps of their areas.

The Zeus ships landed, unfolding and reconstructing into field support barracks and command centers. Their defensive guns remolding and shifting into mortars, defensive turrets, and anti-air guns.

The Bombing fleet in the stars above changed into a blockade, assault style interceptors switching out with their brothers mid-air. Patrols were established as the Ninth fleet became a blockade that separated Altakiril from the heavens.

Very few Turians were captured after the landings, mostly the reckless and curious that wanted to see. The Alliance Marines spotted, chased, captured and tagged them in minutes. Smarter survivors ran away to spread the word. Many more Turians were found within the ensuing hours, located by Thermal sweeping and Marines listening for the cries for help.

Turians trapped in rubble and wreckage were grabbed, and forcefully injected with the peacekeeper prisoner chips. Their yells of pain were little warning to the others still entombed nearby, only a foreshadowing of the pains they had yet to endure.

The Alliance was not kind to their new Alien captives. The injections that shackled the Turians to their role as a captive had to be forced under their metal lined skin, a process that caused great pain and was a great pleasure to those who gathered them. The poison that the peacekeepers produced worked as a paralytic, but was pain free to humans. It wasn't as kind to the new prisoners. The machine produced chemical venom burned in their veins, turning their blood into streams of hate, pain, and corroding fire.

Paralyzed, the prisoners could only lay awake in an eternity of pain. Unable to scream, to move, to end their torment with their own hands. Those blessed few were thankful to all the spirits of their ancestors when the pain forced them into unconsciousness. A few medics noticed the elevated heart rates, the primal expressions of pain frozen on their faces. The Alliance jailers ignored it as nothing more than the natural biology of those they watched.

One by one the front line was created, Alliance bases formed inside the enemy territory. Soldiers formed defensive patrols as the mechanized divisions begun to roam, fulfilling the search and capture protocols they had uploaded.

Humanity would finally begin to repay the Turians for Shanxi.

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Captain Kar'Donna and Captain Anderson had spent hours talking peacefully. Anderson had answered many of the captain's questions with little hesitation and only a few half-truths here or there. Anderson was still feeling very sore towards the Alliance command, but he was not yet to the point where he would spread state secrets out of spite.

The same relaxed exchange wasn't present elsewhere in the flotilla. The Quarian crews and human survivors had kept themselves separate, both cautious. The Quarians felt sympathy to the stranded survivors, and a slight hint of guilt that they had only found them because they wanted to steal from what had been left behind. The Humans were distrusting of everything not human, something understandable between their history, culture, and the fact that once again an alien species had attempted to kill them.

The Quarians aided the best they could, distributing water and the appropriate foods to the Humans and doing there best to treat the injuries and radiation poisoning that was common among them. There were a few who refused treatment, refusing to be helped by an alien while fearing a trap. As the hours went by, many of the weary humans tried to get what rest they could. Most were so exhausted they fell asleep within minutes of trying.

It was only after Anderson himself went to bed that the Quarian captain could finally make his report to the admiralty board.

The Quantum Entanglement Communicator made a direct transmission to the leaders of the Migrant Fleet. The five Admirals were standing rigid as usual when Kar'Donna started his report, "Admirals, We are on route to the fleet. I bring great news." the captain couldn't hide his excitement.

Admiral Zaal'Koris Vas Qwib Qwib spoke for the board, "What have you found Captain Kar'Donna?"

"We have found survivors, they are on board as we speak."

"Were they hostile?" Kaal'Koris questioned stirnly.

"Not at all, " Kar'Donna explained, "They are lead by a male that identifies himself as Captain David'Anderson. I have spoken with him for hours, and I have learned much. Including a piece of shocking news that I am afraid will lead to worse news." Kar'Donna hesitated, not sure how to phrase what he wanted to say.

"Well what is it captain?" Zaal'Koris questioned impatiently.

"Shanxi was not the Human home world!" Kar'Donna blurted out, "It was a Colony world, one that had been what they call a seed world. They were intending to use it as a staging point to colonize and terraform other worlds!"

"Are you certain of this?"

"David'Anderson told me this himself, he intends to return his people home and has no reason to lie. Their home world is called Earth, and the system it is in has no mass relay. They use what they call a warp drive to make jumps similar to the mass relays!"

"This is indeed grave news. This means that the Turians have committed a grave crime against a people with the means, and now the motive to strike back. The Citadel will need to be warned at once."

"Admirals, I have a request to make." Kar'Donna interjected quickly, "Captain Anderson has offered to trade knowledge with the Quarian people in exchange for shelter and a home until such time as they can find their way to Earth. I have given my word that I would find them a home with our people until then. I ask that the Human survivors be given a home in the Migrant Fleet."

The Admiralty board were only mildly surprised at the request. Captain Kar'Donna was known to be a little too emotional, and a sucker for the underdogs. Quickly they paused the transmission to debate with each other. Kar'Donna stood stiffly before the comm station, well aware he might have pushed a little too far. When the transmission resumed, it came with news that made the Quarian captain sigh in relief.

"Captain Kar'Donna, you may inform Captain Anderson that the Human race is welcome within the Migrant Fleet."

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While the Alliance ground forces established their front lines on the surface of Altakiril, the Turians used their home advantage well. They kept to the shadows, observing their enemy. They kept trained, eagle-like eyes on the specifics. Numbers. Weapon placement. Troop placement. The appearance of the enemy officers.

The commander of one of the dozen groups spying on the attackers was a retired C-Sec officer. The man had served the Hierarchy for a dozen galactic cycles before that."Listen well soldiers!" He addressed his underlings. "The enemy has us outmatched. They have weapons, trained soldiers, and air superiority. Unless by some miracles we get our eezo gear back, we need to get something in the air to signal for some reinforcements."

"How in the spirits name will we do that?"

"We steal one of their ships, take a comm pack from one of our ships, and pray we can send a signal to the Mass Relay's Quantum Entanglement Communicator. If we can send the signal to the Citadel they can call in the entire Citadel Fleet. Turians, Salarians, Asari. The whole fleet."

Those listening to the veteran speak would remember his words for the rest of their lives. "Make no mistake Children, this is an invasion."

With swift speed the dozen or so would-be spies rushed back to their camp. Hearing the echoing cries of their captured brothers they ran as if the spirits blessed them with divine speed.

Across the planet, teams of less patient Turians had already begun a counter assault.

Biotics were common across the galaxy at large. Any world touched by element zero, and many more without any, were known to have organisms with biotic potential. At a young age those in the civilized species were tought and trained to harness the power of the element zero in their bodies to perform miraculous feats using small scale mass effect fields.

Turian biotics learned to weaponize those same abilities. Using the power to affect gravity, matter, even their opponents own tools to great and devastating effect on an enemy forces' morale. A fully trained Biotic soldier could take on a dozen normal Turians without breaking a sweat. Altakiril's defenders were scarcely trained, but that lack of knowledge meant they had their own creative methods to fight back.

A few local gangs had heard the call to arms, and in true patriotic spirit, raided a construction site for weapons and gear. A dozen in their number were biotics, and they found a fun way to use their power to literally crush the enemy. They forced their power into some tungsten reinforcement rods, the dense and heavy material normally reserved for space ship repairs, the rods were thin, barely an inch and a half round, and the longest was only seven feet long. They made excellent clubs.

Even gang members had a level of military training, and they used it to great effect. A burst of biotic power to turn the tungsten rod weightless. A swing with all your strength. Release the biotic field before impact. The Alliance armor was designed to resist bullet strikes, but several gang members striking your helmet with astronomical force would cave anyone's helmet in. The light armored lancers could evade normally, but the Turian resistance was smarter. Hiding high above in the wreckage of their cities to fall and strike out of sight.

Military tactics rarely work properly when the enemy slashes at you from the shadows with a literal tonne of force. Seeing the success of blunt instruments, the Turians began to melt down several dozen sources of metals. The craftsmanship was crude, the effort was immense, but with a day worth of labor a dozen Turian sized slab-like blades were available to be used by the biotic members of the resistance. Other members quickly learned that trying to hit anything but the joints of their enemy would do nothing. The arms, legs, chest, and even the feet were all heavily armored. However, there was a weak spot. In fact there were several. All of them the joints. Weak knives and crudely made spears wouldn't pierce a plate of metal, they would rip into the thick cloth in the joints if enough force was applied.

Explosives salvaged from the construction yards was applied to great effect. Trip wires were made, carefully constructed under the guidance of retired Hierarchy soldiers. Many of the adults had realized the identity of their human foes, and having heard of the events of Shanxi knew that the best way to block the enemy would be a good bomb. The supplies were in limited supply, home made substitutes for the volatile chemicals were difficult to make in a war zone. The Turians were creative, raiding several schools and emergency stations to gain the needed supplies for improvised land mines.

Another problem for the Turian resistance was the lack of effective armor. Many suits of armor could be found in homes, police stations, and security offices, however there was still not enough. Many of those intending to fight would have to stick to group ambushes, or hit and run tactics or risk a quick and painful death.

A serious lack of Armored vehicles was another consequence of the bombing. Almost all the tanks, and small gunships that would have been of use were gone. With the destruction of the Turian bases on the surface, many supply depots that would be stock full of armaments were now rubble. The precious bases that had underground hangers, and thus still intact vehicles, were buried under melted metal and rock. It would take time to dig, time that the survivors did not possess.

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Gui Montag was not pleased, The Turians were proving themselves to be more clever than expected. The landings had gone smoothly, the shock of the initial attack run preventing any sort of organized defense from blocking the invading Alliance force. The Bases had been established with the same ease. Before long a day had passed by and the invasion was well underway.

The Turians were rounded up with little difficulty. Most were picked out of pockets in the ruins of the cities. Wounded, weak from hunger, or suffering from shock, they were easy prey for humanity. The Predator combat drones would detect their targets, using thermal scanners and audio sensors, and lead the marines to where the treasures were buried. Dig them up, if it was possible, tag them, and drag them back to the set up prison yard. There were some 'accidents', materials spotted by the marines were misidentified as weapons, and the recovered Turian was quickly eliminated.

The bases were encountering some signs of a Turian resistance. Several defensive turrets had lost their gunners, complements of Turian's hand-thrown I.E.D. Major Montag could hear several commanding officers barking orders outside: "Micheals, Williams! Man those turrets on the double! I want suppressive fire on that street five minutes ago!" The Turians were most likely making another run to the walls of the camp, no doubt to try to throw bombs over the edge again. The tactic had worked several times before, causing minor injuries and some damage to the walls of the camp. More of an annoyance to the Alliance war machine rather than an actual attack.

"Adjutant." Montag called out, addressing the base information VI "What are the estimated Turian casualties from the initial strike?"

The computer assistant took only seconds to compile the requested data. The VI projected its reply from a set of speakers in the command room. "I'm sorry Major Montag," the synthesized voice replied apologetically, "There is a severe lack of data. Surface scans of Altakiril still detect a large amount of the population survived the first strike. However we can only estimate that, at most, only thirty-seven percent of the Turian hostiles were killed."

Montag grumbled to himself. The fake emotions in the Adjutant's voice often made the VI sound annoyingly sarcastic. "Adjutant, how long until the Turians will regain the use of their Element Zero technology?"

The Adjutant's answer was much quicker, and much less pleasant. "Samples exposed show faster than expected recovery. Biotic subjects will recover their abilities within twenty-four hours of exposure. Weapons grade samples will reactivate within sixteen to seventy-two hours. Element zero fueled reactors will be online again within four to five days. The effects of UR-86 warheads will last no longer than five days maximum Major."

Montag rubbed at his forehead, Alliance command was asking for too much. The Turians were employing annoying tactics similar to what had been employed on Shanxi. Several times in his area alone, Turians had ambushed a squad using explosives before hammering the shocked troopers by using crude weapons and biotic technicians. What was worse was that the most of the soldiers under his command were wet behind the ears rookies. Virtual reality training could simulate battlefield experience almost perfectly. However it always fell short in one area, fear of death.

A good soldier was cautious because they feared injury, feared death. The death of their squad-mates or the death of themselves. After the Ethereal war, there had been a severe lack of war to educate the future soldiers of humanity on how to fight. Training only worked so well, and sometimes training was what got you killed. The lack of a real threat in Virtual combat training was showing, as many troops on patrol would freeze up when they felt real pain or when a teammate died. Higher ups noted it on Shanxi as well. Combat shock, they called it. When a teammate died in the simulations you could see them again after the training mission was done. In the real world, the moment they red line, they were gone.

The Turian guerrilla tactics improved constantly, when someone found something that worked, they started spreading the word. Weaknesses were constantly picked on. The Turian resistance would focus on the officer, cut them down quickly to shock morale, then rush in to wound or kill as many as they could. The Turian's were taking damage as well. Lightly armed and barely armored, it was only the creative do or die tactics that were allowing any sort of victory. The Turian people were determined to tear the Alliance soldiers from their planet even if they had to burn it themselves to do it.

Most squads were returning unharmed, but with increasing tales of Turian ambushes. Some unlucky squads would return with a single dead or a few wounded. Thankfully the losses were mostly with the mechanized patrols. The predators would patrol individually in the riskier sections of the ruins, places where it was too hazardous or too cramped for an armored soldier to slip in the rubble. If the machines were caught of guard they were too easily taken down. If the machines managed to survive an ambush they could quickly call for help from their brethren. Even if the first robot was taken down, the dozen that took its place would overwhelm the ambush team just as fast. Several dozen Turian rebels had been captured like that.

The loss of human life was minimal, drone losses were still in the acceptable range, and enemy losses were pleasingly high. Still Montag was annoyed, and when annoyed the enemy died. The constant suicide bombings at their base walls was beginning to take its toll on the stockpiled resources. The engineering teams were already having to remove materials from the ruined buildings near their position to keep repairing the wall from the improvised explosives that the Turians continued to make.

"Get me one of those Turian hostages, make sure to turn off its peacekeeper and find a translator that knows the language of these damn metal heads. I want them at the northern gate in five." Montag ordered.

While his orders were being fulfilled, Montag strapped himself into his Mechanized Exoskelital Combat suit. The armor folded around him like a second skin. The MEC was a tenth generation, a model designed to fight crowds and in close quarters. Its main armaments were the twin Elerium flamethrowers strapped to the wrists, each more than capable to burn anything organic to ash.

Armed and Armored, the Major calmly walked to the gates keeping an eye on his frightened Turian captive. The local was frightened, clearly shaken. There was some of the captive's blue blood pouring from a wound on its arm.

Major Montag nodded at the gate, "Open it." As it opened, the major looked at his translator. "Repeat what I say, exactly as I say it." The MEC on-board computer marked several Turians peaking out from nearby rubble, a perfect set of witnesses.

The Translator did as told, "This planet is now under the control of the Human Systems Alliance. If you surrender you will not be harmed, you will be treated under human rights. If you persist on continuing to assault this outpost there will be consequences."

"Release the prisoner."

The moment the Turian had its bonds removed it attempted to run towards the perceived safety of the ruins. Montag only let him clear the defensive perimeter before he turned the street into a river of flames. The freed captive fell to the hellish ground, screaming in a dying frenzy. The flames eagerly licked at his flesh to sustain itself, consuming the fats and oils of his body until nothing but scorched bones lay among the others that had died the previous day.

The translator swallowed with a suddenly dry mouth before he continued his grim message, "Every time the walls of any Alliance outpost are attacked, one prisoner will be executed by fire. The people of Altakiril will surrender to the Alliance occupation force or they will be eliminated. "

Montag's MEC helmet allowed him to zoom in on the faces of the horrified Turians. "Adjutant."

"Yes, Major?" the VI asked with its synthetic tones feigning polite interest.

"Send orders to all ground encampments. If there is an attack on any Alliance base, publicly execute one hostage to discourage the locals. We need to show them that we will break them. Torture and interrogation is now approved for all hostages, no limits."

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"The Prisoner will not say anything to us except that same statement."

"Has there been any luck with anyone that gets close to it?"

"Every time someone enters the room, the same thing occurs: the prisoner stares at them for a few seconds, starts glowing. Then the glow touches whomever is closest. Then that person goes berserk, tries to release the prisoner and starts trying their hardest to kill whomever is in the way."

"Is their any signs of resistance to the process?"

"Occasionally. Mostly if the Prisoner is showing obvious signs of fatigue. If the Prisoner is asleep the insanity doesn't occur at all. However if our captive is awoken the results are much... messier."

"Define messier?"

"The Prisoner uses a more condensed glow, and those touched by it suffer a neural aneurysm followed by an instant death or coma."

The two scientists looked past a then shield of glass at their prisoner, a human in bloody damaged armor. Another scientist was asking questions with a speaker system, each time the answer was the same.

"My name is Major Johnathan Parker. Service number ACP3 739 603 432. Go fuck yourselves, you extraterrestrial assholes." The prisoner stated dully in its natural tongue.

"This is getting us nowhere," remarked the first scientist, "Make preparations to transfer the prisoner to the Citadel. Perhaps the Asari will have more luck."

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CODEX ENTRIES:

Turian Ground Forces - Defensive Saboteur

Created during the Alliance invasion of Altakiril. The Turians learned quickly that the Human Systems Alliance had the upper hand in any conflict involving eezo technology. To counteract the Alliance' technological advantage, the Turian survivors created improvised weapons and explosives to fight back. Using Biotics and basic knowledge of physics the Turians used their improvised weapons to great effect against the armored Alliance troopers.

Alliance Engineering Corps - Nanomachine Construction Paste

Created by experimenting on the effect of Meld on inorganic materials. NCP is used for rapid repair and construction in space and on foreign worlds. The paste works by breaking down matter into its base components before remaking it in the desired material and in the desired way. Structures that are made have a risk of being less durable than needed as the nanomachines will prioritize creating the outline of a building with what materials are available before filling in the rest of the structure. There is a severe danger of severe injury or death if there is anyone inside the construction zone while the Nanomachines are active. Thankfully the machines destroy themselves in the construction process.

Alliance Command - Adjutant VI

To assist in their role in the military all commanding officers of significant rank are given a Adjutant class virtual intelligence assistant. The Adjutant can relay orders, provide tactical data and serve as a personal adviser. Many officers show marked improvement in efficiency thanks to the VI, however many dislike the synthetic voice packages, often complaining that the faux-human voices sound sarcastic or bored.

Quarian Quantum Entanglement Communicators

When the Quarians discovered the mass relay network they poured over the strange space station for a number of years, eventually learning how to reverse engineer many of the technologies it possessed. Many Quarian ships possess a QEC for emergency and priority transmissions to the Migrant fleet. When the Quarian people joined the Citadel community, a more restrictive version of the technology was released to the general public. Even with VI and Salarian assistance the Citadel community has yet to re-create the Quarian's more efficient version. The Quarian version is comparable to the Alliance Hyperwave Transmission technology.

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Author's Note:

I'm not sure if anyone actually cares, but I was convinced to make a twitter so that I could post updates so people would have a clue of how long till I will update. If any of my fans actually want to read halfhearted updates you can find me at Varigos VarigosVastitas.

Don't expect much from it if you do sign up, I'm not sure how long till I forget I have a twitter.