DISCLAIMER: Mass Effect videogame is the property of its respective owners and the author has no financial gain from it. Original Characters and story concept are mine though.

A/N: I am back after a five month hiatus. I know, I know... my life got pretty hectic recently. I changed jobs, took steps to go back to the university to get my degree and whatnot. Mass Effect had been on my back burner and I needed to take some time off. Writing just wasn't giving me any joy, so I decided to leave it be until my muse is back.

I still can't promise any regular update schedule - the weekly updates that I had planned when I first stated putting this story up went pretty much out of the window after the first few months. Also, my job is now more demanding and time-consuming, as such I have considerably less time to write. Still, the story is not abandoned, until I say it is.

As a small compensation for the long wait, the chapter is 9,5k words long. :)

My Beta is still the one and the only Redentor

Chapter 11 – There Will Be Blood

Instead of a man of peace and love, I have become a man of violence and revenge.

Hiawatha

Khar'shan

Harsa System

Kite's Nest

Earth Year: 2173

Khar'shan was a despicable place. What were the Batarians thinking when they designed their capital? The architecture was scattered and ugly, the streets were dirty and cramped and apart from a few more representative quarters the whole of Khar'shan City smelled of rotten fish for some reason. A neat trick, considering the city was nowhere near the coast. If I were the Hegemon I would have had my urban planners shot for designing such a travesty.

Of course His Ineffably Glorious Majesty the Hegemon could hardly give a damn about the state of the city. He, along with the other higher-caste batarians lived in opulent villas in the countryside, away from the hustle of the metropolis. It was the lower castes and the slaves that actually suffered living in the overpopulated, dirty and smelly city. Still, from what I heard the Batarian cities were only marginally worse than the cities on Earth in 2173 AD.

'I guess blowing up the place is actually doing them a favour,' I thought as I activated the detonator.

'I wonder if the newest episode of 'Hyetiana Hotel' had already been uploaded to the extranet. Need to check it later...'

My random musings were cut short. The steel and concrete wall of a nearby warehouse exploded outwards, raining deadly shrapnel on the patrolling Police Service air-car that happened to be passing by it. The air car was overturned by the shockwave. It had been hugging the ground when it was struck and it smashed into the wall of the building across the street, instantly killing its passengers. Some bystanders started to scream when they saw the mangled bodies of the passers-by who were unlucky enough to be caught in the blast radius. Most of the pedestrians, street-smart Batarians, dove for the nearest cover should the explosion be followed by machine gun fire as had been common in the past. Batarians had learned by now that when an attack happened they should find some sort of shelter, and when the immediate danger was past, to quickly vacate the premises before the local police started swarming the scene in force. Hegemony Police were habitually itchy in the trigger fingers.

When it came to extorting money from prostitutes, running protection rackets or beating up a couple of punks, the local cops were your men. Unfortunately for them and luckily for us, they were ill prepared to deal with acts of organized terror. Their standard procedure was to seal up the area and arrest anyone they could get their hands on, regardless of their culpability. It wasn't that surprising really – police officers were underpaid, poorly equipped, completely unmotivated and they lacked a dedicated counter-terrorism branch. The State Police Service, it was a bombastic name for the sorry bunch of lazy sods who formed the criminal department of the batarian police force. Training standards for the law enforcement in the Batarian Hegemony had always been poor, but in the last few years they had reached new lows, with the sole exception of the political secret police, more commonly known as the Internals, as they themselves were vital to the regime's day-to-day operations. The Hegemony was too preoccupied with funneling money and resources into their defense budget to maintain the strength parity against their newest rival – Earth's Systems Alliance. No matter what the Department of Information Control says, the money did not in fact grow on trees, so each credit spent on the Hegemony's military buildup had to be taken from other areas of vital importance, such as housing developments, transportation infrastructure, healthcare and of course, law enforcement.

The Batarian Hegemony, partially due to institutional inertia and partially due to its conservationism and slow decision making process had only began to wrap its collective head around the fact that it had a terrorist group in its midst. Meanwhile, the law enforcement and other government agencies were running around like headless chickens, from one crisis to another. If it wasn't a bomb planted in a public place, then it was a large-scale contamination in one of its production facilities. It had been nearly four months since we extracted Commander Balak from the 'Aratoht Gamma' base and in all this time we had been steadily sabotaging the Hegemony's war making capabilities basically unchecked. We exploited the weakness in the batarian political system, that no one thought to use before, because both Systems Alliance and Citadel Council did not wish to engage in such activities unless an actual war was declared – the sole exception being the STG, but the Salarian Union had no common border with the batarians and as such they were considered a secondary threat. Obviously, the Confederacy's Security Branch had no qualms about starting a campaign of terror, since their approach to issues such as 'civilian casualties' or 'collateral damage' was lax to say the least. We also heavily utilised the Batarian extranet, using their equivalent of the TOR system and distributing propaganda materials and videos of our revolutionary group – the Batarian Solidarist Party. I was tempted to name it 'socialist' for simplicity's sake at first, but I didn't want to use a name from human history knowing the batarians' distrustful attitude toward other races. I wanted the Batarians to be looking within their own ranks, not open doors for them to pick a human scapegoat. It was better to make them think they came up with it themselves, so the multiversal equivalent of the socialists would have to do.

From the Hegemony's point of view it would have been reasonable to declare martial law and put the State Police Service under the jurisdiction of the Batarian Internal Police Force, if only to insure the police had much more competent staff. Of course, that was not to be. The interdepartmental fighting waged in the Hegemony made the Multiverse Confederacy (or even the Systems Alliance) look like mere lovers' squabbles. The State Police Service would rather see the Hegemony burn than surrender a single officer to the Internal Police. The State Police Service ExeCom, or Executor-Commissioner had explained their feelings best:

"The terrorists are our adversary, but our enemy is the Internal Police Force."

Speak of the devil. I used my helmet cam to zoom in on the incoming patrol air-cars and a single tracked armoured personnel carrier, which appeared from God knows where and was rolling down the abandoned street. I smiled – it seemed like I was in for a treat today, seeing as all of the air-cars bore the insignia of the State Police Service, while the APC undeniably belonged to the Internal Police.

The Batarians did not disappoint. Some of the local cops had laid down take-down barriers to keep any civilians from contaminating the crime scene, which was pretty dumb to begin with, seeing as all the civilians knew better than to hang around. A few cops went to the overturned patrol car and tried to access the crushed vehicle. Meanwhile, an ambulance, its horns blaring loudly, belatedly arrived and landed on the other side of the barrier. Two medics disembarked and entered the sealed off area to administer first-aid.

On the other side of the crash site a slightly different kind of drama unfolded as the commander of the local troops was currently engaged in a shouting match with the commissar of the Internal Police Forces, who demanded entrance to the area. I aimed my directional microphone to catch what they were saying.

The cop was waving his hands madly as he angrily yelled at the Internal Police officer.

"Commissar, this is my crime scene and I demand that you vacate this area immediately! This situation will be resolved by the real police, not your bloody thugs!" he added venomously.

"Obviously, the people responsible for this attack are abolitionists and fifth-columnists, so the perpetrators fall within the Internal Police's jurisdiction!" retorted the commissar sharply.

"You're only allowed to investigate if the local State Police precinct commissioner provides you with a written request, commissar. Until that happens, leave!"

"In the time it would take you to get your act together the saboteurs will be long gone. If you let me interrogate some locals I could get a clearer picture of what transpired here and capture the perpetrators before they are beyond our reach!"

Two other cops watched this exchange with varying levels of interest as did two Internal Police agents who were standing by the APC. Neither of them made any moves that could be interpreted as hostile, but all men had weapons at hand should they attempt to.

The ranking cop laughed at the irked Internal and made a hand gesture, which I recognized to be rather rude and dismissive in Batarian circles.

"Nonsense! The perpetrators are criminals and as such they will be apprehended by the State Police Service according to standard operating procedure. We don't need YOU terrorizing the local population, thank you very much! Now scram!"

It was now the commissar's turn to laugh.

"Your third rate personnel are lucky to have found their boots in the morning! But fine! We will leave it to you... for now," he added ominously.

The cop gave a sharp nod and turned away from the commissar – a very disparaging gesture. The internals climbed their APC, but the commissar would not leave without a parting shot. He aimed his finger at the sergeant, "When you crawl back begging for our help, as you usually do, I will see to it that it's you personally who has to come and ask, sergeant!"

The coppers ignored the Internal's jab altogether and the APC revved its engine and slowly moved backwards on the street. The State Police officers that were standing with their sergeant all this time, now had adopted very satisfied smirks on their faces, when they saw the Internals' retreating vehicle.

As the police officers went back to their work in securing the area I decided that I had gleaned all the information I wanted. After nearly four months of terrorist actions I felt rather numb towards it, but I still couldn't bring myself to look at the wounded and dead civilians on the street. A glass of whiskey now and then sure helped with assuaging my guilt. Just the one however. I'd already had one person approach me with reservations regarding my habits. I wasn't about to invite another.

I went down a steel passageway and jumped down from the two story building. My Interceptor armoured suit had built-in anti-grav dampeners. Although they were primarily designed to work in concert with the gravity wells deployed by combat dropships, they were enough to protect me when my body hit the ground. I got up from the slightly cracked concrete floor and quickly scanned the back alley where I landed to make sure nobody saw me. At the exact same time, across the narrow street an automatic warehouse door opened revealing two frightened batarians. My upgraded eyes identified them by their brown jumpsuits – construction workers employed by the Ministry of Labour – they presented no threat.

For a second or two we stared at each other and then I barked in my best commanding voice.

"The revolution is coming, comrades! No army can stop an idea whose time has come!" I remembered the recruiting pitch that we came up with back at the base – we had to spread the idea of the Solidarist Party as much as we could. The Victor Hugo quote was my own addition of which I was rather proud.

Batarian workers were never much for heroics and both of them nodded at me frantically. If I were in their shoes, I would have done the same. Still, neither of them moved from the spot.

"The fuck are you looking at, comrades?! I was never here!" I said sharply, raising the barrel of my assault rifle ever so slightly.

Both men scrambled to the control panel and pushed the holographic buttons frantically to close the door. Behind my helmet mask I smirked slightly. Every job had its perks.

Because they had seen me, it made me think that perhaps it would have been prudent to kill them, but I decided against it. Firstly, I wanted to avoid unnecessary civilian casualties if I could – enough people had died already and multiple lives had been written off as collateral damage by some clerk back in Confederacy's space. Secondly, if we wished for our little rebellion to succeed we would need the support of at least a portion of the population and hunting down innocents would be counterproductive. Thirdly, thanks to the Hegemony's ruling class and their obsession with control, the lower classes were whipped into blind obedience and fear. They would pretend to not have seen or heard anything, rather than report to the State Police or the Internals and possibly be arrested as my 'accomplices'. Batarian law enforcement cared little for the snitches and were perfectly willing to put them up as scapegoats if necessary.

Additionally – they would make sure that word of the rebellious 'solidarists' spread amongst other batarians. Eventually they'd start wondering if rebellion was better or worse than living under their current regime. All it would take was one Batarian asking that question in earnest and all this effort would be validated.

Seeing as the alley was now completely empty I called for my team to arrange evac.

As I signaled for the 'Coronado' to pick me up, the familiar feeling of a worm-hole engulfing my body was a welcome change.

Momentarily, I appeared back on the bridge of the 'Coronado', giving a quick nod to Garem Rod'barr who was sitting at one of the computer monitors. I left the room without saying a word, as I activated my omni-tool to begin compiling a report on my latest activity.

As I opened the omni-tool's menu I also noticed a message from Commander Ka'hairal Balak – as usual it was terse and straight to the point. Balak and I would most probably never be on friendly terms, but at least we'd managed to strike a working relationship. I was still more than happy with it, knowing how rocky our start was.

Three months ago

Acheron Shipbuilding Co. TAETRUS FIELDS facility

Planet Acheron (LV-426)

Hourglass Nebula

The poor bastard sitting in front of me looked nothing like the confident Batarian External Forces officer that we brought in here a few weeks ago. A combination of intimidation tactics, a cocktail of drugs that he consumed on a regular basis and the pictures of his family in our custody were enough to slowly grind down Balak's defensive mechanisms. Add to that the fact that he was basically the Hegemony's enemy number one now and you could see that it wasn't a good time to be in Kah'hairal Balak's shoes. He was a trained commando and he passed the batarian equivalent of SERE with flying colours in his time, but just like anyone else a breakdown was just a matter of time and the proper stimuli.

I'd been interacting with Balak for a while now, alternatively threatening him or asking him the same questions over and over again. He was sleep-deprived and constantly hungry, which made his overall disposition worse, but I could clearly see that the batarian was entertaining the idea of cooperation more and more with every passing day. Today was the day that I would finally make him agree to my demands and then immediately crash the house of cards that I'd been carefully constructing around him in the past month.

"Your name, surname and rank," I asked quietly, my hands folded in front of my face, signaling my impatience to the tired batarian. The effect was somewhat ruined by the fact that I still wore the helmet, but my prisoner was already used to the fact that he couldn't see my face. I'd been very careful to maintain my 'batarian' persona at all times. When he finally found out that he'd been in the custody of humans all this time it will hurt so much more.

Balak was pale, his skin taking a greenish hue due to poor nutrition and drugs but his voice remained steady.

"Ka'hairal Balak, Commander, sir."

I pressed a key on my holo-tablet, bringing up the pictures of the destroyed Aratoht Gamma facility once again as I responded. Balak had seen them so many times now that he didn't even bat an eye at the destruction they showed.

"I'm afraid that you had been stripped of your rank, Ka'hairal. At the moment a proper form of address for one such as you is Private Second Class. That is until you had been discharged from our glorious armed forces altogether, which is only a matter of time. The pen-pushers are as slow as usual, I'm sure you know how it is," I sounded genuinely apologetic as I tilted my helmeted head in a friendly manner.

"Yes sir, I know." He responded evenly, but I noticed his shoulders sagging ever so slightly.

I gave no indication of seeing the momentary lapse in composure as I spoke again in a conversational manner.

"You see, private Balak. I seem to have a small problem with you now. I know that you are a traitor to the Hegemony; there is no doubt about it. I feel that my men and I had given you ample time to give up the identities of your abolitionist associates. It saddens me that you failed to take this opportunity and remained reticent. I am afraid that we can no longer afford to waste time, especially if you continue to remain uncooperative."

Balak began protesting almost immediately, his voice carrying a tint of desperation.

"I have told you many times now, that I had nothing to do with the terrorist faction that attacked our base. I had received my marching orders…"

I banged my fist at the table, the enhanced power of my Interceptor armour leaving a sizable dent in it.

"Shut up, private, I am talking now! You had your chance to talk and you wasted it!"

Seeing as Balak was pacified for now I continued in a friendly tone as if nothing had happened. The dent was the only evidence that it had.

"Private Balak, as I was saying we seem to have found ourselves at an impasse, which is not a good thing for either of us. Also, it is my sad duty to inform you that your daughter has suffered a minor accident."

THAT got his attention. I noticed his shoulders tensing up and his eyes locking onto my concealed face with barely restrained horror. I smirked, seeing as clear as day that he was debating whether to attack me or to plead for his daughter's life. I kept talking in the same mild tone, ignoring his frantic behaviour.

"Do not worry private, she is fine and will make a full recovery. Your wife is with her at all times, as she is being treated by our best medical specialists. Accidents are just that – accidents. It's not like any one of us could have prevented it from happening, right?"

The last sequence was spoken in a very deliberate manner, as I slowly leaned towards my batarian prisoner. My body language was threatening, making it crystal clear what will happen should Balak continue to refuse cooperation.

"Make no mistake, Ka'hairal. It was only my compassionate heart," I almost snickered at the irony of it all, my voice steadily rising in volume. "That allowed your daughter and your wife to remain together for the period of your incarceration. I've had enough, Balak. And so have my superiors. Either you start talking right now, or I will put your daughter in solitary confinement with mouldy bread and irradiated water! And the only company your wife sees will be the soldiers of the Hegemon's Guard, in a state of dress unbefitting of their position – and they are considerably less compassionate than I am!"

I stood up and pushed the holo-tablet towards the restrained prisoner.

"Sign the damn confession, private!"

"I didn't do it!" was the panicked response.

"You won't get away with it this time, you traitorous scum! Sign the confession!"

"For the ancestor's sake, it wasn't me!"

"The confession! Sign it!" I bellowed, nearly wincing at how distorted my voice sounded. Like a chain-smoking Darth Vader.

"I just followed orders! I had nothing to do with the terrorists!"

I walked up around the table and approached Balak. I grabbed his collar and started shaking him uncontrollably.

"You two-eyed maggot, are you deaf and blind? I will whore your wife to the slave camp, do you understand?!"

"They are innocent, they've done nothing wrong!"

"You are a traitor! Their suffering is your bloody fault! Your daughter's pain is your responsibility!"

For a moment I thought I went a bit too far, because the Balak stopped fighting me altogether. I let his collar go and he dropped on the table like a broken puppet with the strings cut. I left him there as I sat down on my own chair on the other side of the interrogation room. Looking at him curiously, I noticed tears streaming down his face and all four of his eyes were closed in pain. At that very moment he looked to me more human than ever before. I barely heard his whisper.

"I confess…"

The moment was very awkward and it made me feel like a total bastard, knowing that I strong-armed his confession, but I still had a role to play.

"I did not hear you, private!" I barked at him.

"It was me, all of it!" He shouted at first, but then he remembered who he was talking to and lowered his voice. "I joined the resistance and sabotaged the base. I don't know the names of my associates, but I will fully cooperate with the Internal Police to track them down. Please do not hurt my family."

The last sentence was barely a whisper. Have you ever had this feeling that you thoroughly fucked up? Well, that's pretty much how I felt at the time. My conscience was screaming in my head, begging me to stop this charade and leave this tortured man alone, but the Security Branch's conditioning worked its magic as it always did. I merely pushed the holo-tablet toward Balak and gestured impatiently for him to sign the document.

With his hands shaking, my batarian prisoner signed the confession that confirmed his association with the terrorist group known as the Batarian Solidarist Party and its military arm – the National Revolutionary Army.

I activated my omni-tool once again, preparing my mind transfer and walked around the table to stand by the broken External Forces operator.

"What else do you want? I signed everything you asked for..." Balak's voice was devoid of all emotion, but his eyes betrayed his inner turmoil.

"For your cooperation, you will receive your just reward, commander," I deliberately used his real rank.

Batarian looked up, confused.

"What reward, sir?"

"The truth. And the truth will liberate your soul, Ka'hairal Balak," I replied.

Leaving those words hanging in the air, I connected my data-transfer app to my prisoner and watched dispassionately as he lost consciousness.

As I said before – we had gotten off to a rocky start. When Balak woke up again, he saw me for the first time without my helmet. While he did not attempt to attack me – he was thoroughly broken and depressed by my interrogation – he wasn't too happy with me either. Despite that, we managed to have a fairly civil conversation, which I used to explain the threat we were facing, namely the Reapers. When, after an hour or so, Balak brought up his interrogation I replied with the words I had been preparing for him since the beginning.

"I did what I had to do, commander. The question is – how far are you willing to go to save your people?"

"And destroying our culture justifies that?" he asked sceptically.

"If it saves lives – absolutely. The Hegemony wasn't simply conquered by the Reapers. It was completely and utterly destroyed and the batarians were slaughtered like cattle. I'm going to prevent this, with or without you, commander. What you have to decide, is whether you want your family to die beholden to the culture and government you have always known, or whether you will do your best to ensure they live. Albeit under a regime of our choosing. Because that is the real issue here. Not one of culture or of politics. But of survival. And as a soldier, I'm sure you are intimately familiar with this type of issue." I said with an air of finality.

I stood up from my armchair – we'd already replaced the uncomfortable metal chairs that were there previously – and started pacing.

"I chose you, because you are a true patriot and if your mission history is anything to go by you're also willing to do what needs to be done to protect your people. You have to ask yourself, what should come first – the good of the batarians or the good of the Hegemony's establishment. Because you know it and I know it that the Hegemony won't do even remotely enough to prepare themselves for the Reapers."

I stopped in the middle of the room and looked at Ka'hairal. As was customary, I focused my view on the upper pair of his eyes.

"I am going to fight the Reapers, because that's what I was trained to do. You are one of the few people who know what is at stake and I need to you to make a decision now."

"What is going to happen if I refuse?" he asked. To his credit, he didn't sound too bitter about it. Just calculating.

"You're not going to be sent to the uranium mines on Acheron, if that's what you're worried about. Of course, letting you go is out of the question – you're fugitive number one in Batarian space, thanks to our little propaganda campaign. Basically, you would be transferred to Confederacy's space with the next shipment and placed in a medium-security stockade managed by the Security Branch. Of course, your family would be held separately to ensure your good behaviour," I added with a false smile.

"I wouldn't worry then, lieutenant. I'm not going to stand by while my people are fighting for their survival," Balak responded tersely.

I nodded and gave him the holo-tablet with the document he signed before.

"You will be promoted to the rank of captain, effective immediately and you will be placed in charge of the Special Operations Command of the National Revolutionary Army."

Balak responded with a derisive snort.

"So, I am the officer in charge of the non-existent command in a fictional army. Who do I report to? Is it the Revolutionary Hegemon, or some other figment of your imagination, Dubois?"

"You report to me directly, Captain Balak, until we form a proper government."

"You're awfully sure of yourself," He snickered with derision again, "But it seems like I have no choice but to play this game of yours."

Calling it a 'game' was irony if I ever heard it. But something about his dismissive attitude rubbed me the wrong way. I sat down on the chair and looked at him seriously. We sat there silently for a heartbeat or two, but when I spoke again my voice was cold as a winter's night. Which in Poland got pretty damn cold.

"This is not a game, Balak. Understand this – ultimately the Reapers are your problem, not mine. If all this," I gestured with my hand around us. "Goes to shit, the Confederacy will whisk me out of here quicker than you can say 'the killer robots are coming'. I sympathize with your situation, I truly do, but I'm not going to die here for a galaxy that is not willing to save itself."

'And for the people who are not my people, but characters in a video game that I used to play on my days off,' my traitorous brain added viciously. 'Not to mention that the Confederacy are as likely to leave me hanging, when the shit hits the fan.'

"Do not presume to understand my motivations, Dubois. I know what my duty is and I don't need a bloody merc to lecture me on that," He responded sharply.

It seemed like my big reveal (and the subsequent mind transfer) subdued somewhat his memory of my interrogation. In itself it wasn't bad per say, since I needed him on top of his game, not blabbering about his wife and daughter. On the other hand, I wanted him to remain loyal to our cause – that's why the vast majority of the batarians in his command would be the Blue Suns contractors handpicked by Solem and Zaeed. Should Balak prove to be less than reliable, he would be swiftly removed from his post. Taking a page straight out of Joseph Stalin's political manual? But of course! Why reinvent the proverbial wheel if the old and trusted methods worked just as well.

The freshly minted Captain Ka'hairal Balak of the Special Operations Command of the National Revolutionary Army wasn't loyal or trusted by any stretch, but I could work with him. He understood what we fought for and I could be certain that he'd remain an asset for the time being. I didn't need him to like me, but to produce the results I required. Only time would tell whether enlisting him was the right thing to do or not.

Present Day

Orbit above Khar'shan

Harsa System

Kite's Nest

Earth Year: 2173

A quick scan of Balak's report only served to confirm what I had already realized some time ago. I wasn't a very prideful person, but admitting it still left a bitter aftertaste.

He was much better at this job than I was – that was the simple fact of the matter. He had an intuitive insight into Special Forces operations, while also having the know-how on running efficient staff work (granted, he was an exception in the Hegemony, rather than a rule). No amount of training or data-transfers that I received could replace the hard-earned field experience he's had for the last ten years or so. Living through Galtieri's combat memories was akin to learning to play piano while deaf. Unless your name is Ludwig van Beethoven, you won't be able to master it until you hear the sounds for yourself.

Nonetheless, I was glad to have him. The Special Operations Command, or the SOC, were expanding their ranks and recruiting heavily among the disaffected batarians in the Traverse and the Terminus Systems and many of them were veterans of the Hegemony's army and navy. Of course, the core of loyal, highly-trained specialists was supplied by the ever helpful Blue Suns. Although Solem Dal'Serah still had his reservations about the planned revolution, he understood why I was doing what I was doing. He still found the talk about equality and the abolition of slavery in the pamphlets of the Solidarist Party distasteful, the elitist prick he was, but at least he wasn't actively working against me.

Balak's report was short and to the point. The last two lines of it contained a quick summary:

All Aratoht mines sabotaged; will take apx. 7 weeks to get them operational again. Strong agitation amongst the labourers and slaves; a number of people recruited. Requesting staff meeting – strategic goals to be established and discussed ASAP.

If it was a staff meeting he wanted, then a staff meeting he would receive.

We'd managed to gather most of our commanding personnel in the mess hall of the 'Coronado' – the wormhole technology had proved to be as useful as ever. Sooner or later we would work on transferring the technology to our allies in the Mass Effect universe, but until the Batarian Hegemony was neutered the Security Branch was reticent about any technological upgrades.

Apart from WO Rod'barr, Corporal Rakehal and I, there was also Balak with two batarian officers (a male and, surprisingly, a female) that I was not familiar with. All of them wore the new green-ish uniforms of the National Revolutionary Army, and seemed to exude an air of extreme competence in them. The uniform itself was rather simplistic and utilitarian in design and apart from the officer's insignia they only had the crossed yellow hammers of the Batarian Solidarist Party on their collars. Zaeed Massani and Das'Maral Tarak wore their blue service uniforms and represented the Blue Suns. The PMC, apart from supplying the competent manpower for the revolution, was also working hard on bringing the Terminus Systems into our aegis. 'Acheron', thanks to the Confederacy's money and know-how, had been transformed into a veritable military-industrial hub, supplying vehicles and weaponry to the batarian revolutionaries and various other groups that were willing to pay. If anyone had a problem with the Blue Suns expanding as much as it was in such a short period of time, they weren't talking. Not surprising. With Zaeed back in charge, they knew the Suns would respond with considerable and lethal force.

I started the meeting without any delays and nodded briefly at the people surrounding the table.

"Good afternoon, ladies and gentlemen. Captain Balak requested a staff meeting to discuss the strategic goals of the National Revolutionary Army, as envisioned by the Batarian Solidarist Party manifesto."

"It's a wonderful piece of propaganda. Did you write it yourself, lieutenant?" asked Balak snidely, but I decide to ignore his jab. I merely gave him a dark look and continued on.

"As I was saying, it is imperative that we discuss the long term strategic goals for taking control of the Hegemony and establishing a populist and democratic form of governance."

I turned to Zaeed and Tarak and asked them.

"But first things first: What is the situation in the Terminus Systems and the Attican Traverse?"

Tarak was the one to answer that question.

"At the moment Solem is handling negotiations with Jona Sederis of the Eclipse Corporation, discussing a possible merger, lieutenant. That would give us access to a number of veteran asari commandos as well as Salarian tech specialists, which would be a considerable boon for both conducting combat missions and providing us with much needed manpower for the R and D department."

As usual, he consulted his omni-tool. It was Tarak's rather baffling quirk – he couldn't say or do anything without checking the documents first. I wondered whether he consulted the device when he flew gunships, which I knew he was proficient with.

It was an open secret that even with the Confederacy's money the Blue Suns research and development was, to put it kindly, lacking. A merger with the Eclipse could be only a good thing.

"We are doing well on that front, Dubois my lad. The Eclipse have seen the influx of money that our newest 'government contract' brought in and they want a piece of that pie for themselves. Whatever they're getting from their security jobs on Illium and escorting drug shipments is peanuts compared to our financial turnover nowadays," Zaeed said with an amused grin, the contentment of the situation drawing a rare 'my lad' from the aging merc.

That was true. Although most of the paperwork these days was done by Lox I still had to check it every now and then, to keep track of what is going on. The amount of money and resources that came from the Confederacy, both to the Blue Suns and the batarian Solidarists was truly staggering. I read once that the CIA in the 20th century had more money than a medium-sized Latin American country, but in comparison the Security Branch was in a league of its own. Saying that the Multiverse Confederacy was a post-scarcity society with mostly automated production and distribution was one thing, but actually seeing them freely throwing money and resources at an interplanetary insurgency was something completely different. It felt like playing a strategy game using cheat codes, no joke.

There was one more thing that I wished to ask.

"How successful were you in reaching the Shadow Broker, Zaeed?"

I'd lost quite a number of sleepless nights thinking about the elusive information broker. Barla Von's informants reported very little and the volus himself had to tread carefully to maintain his cover as a loyal Shadow Broker agent. Thus, I decided to ask Zaeed to use the Blue Suns contact channels to get in touch with his past employer.

The old maverick responded with a frown.

"The Shadow Broker won't interfere with us... for now. He isn't happy about our consolidation of power in the Terminus, but he knows me well enough and he trusts my judgment to some extent. He is still willing to trade information with us. Also, I'm fairly sure that he took notice of you, Dubois. He's most likely unaware of who you are, but I'm sure that he'll be watching you."

"Do you think he will contact me directly?" I asked the mercenary.

Zaeed replied with a grim smile.

"Who knows? The Shadow Broker has his own agenda, lieutenant."

There was nothing else to say, so I nodded at Massani and turned to Balak, who was listening intently to our conversation, and prompted him to speak with a slight wave.

"I would like to know, Lieutenant Dubois, what are the long term plans for our insurgency? I admit that the recruitment from among the lower castes and the freed slaves is steadily increasing the manpower of Special Operations Command. In fact the recruitment it's going better than I expected. But we can't hope to overthrow the government with air-car bombings and sabotage alone."

"You are correct, Captain Balak. The work that you and I have done for the SOC, like your latest contamination of the Aratoht mines, or the agitation among the labour force are merely some of the facets of the Batarian Solidarist Party's agenda. Additionally, we have agents recruited from among the Blue Suns, who are arranging underground sleeper cells around which we will build future military formations, when the time for uprising comes."

Corporal Rakehal's omni-tool beeped twice and she turned to me.

"It's an urgent message, sir."

I excused her with a slight nod and called up a map of Hegemony space. The holographic image spread above the mess hall table, indicating various core planets and colonies and adding the latest information from our intelligence agents. I pointed at Aratoht, which had a slightly reddish colour on the map.

"Aratoht with its relatively low population had been receiving a steady and huge influx of batarian immigrants from the Terminus. There have been as many as twenty thousand of them in the last month alone. They are all our men and women, recruited by the Blue Suns."

The two batarian officers exchanged a surprised glance, while Balak nodded to himself as he thought out loud.

"Good idea. Many people on Aratoht have been dissatisfied recently with the governor's decisions, especially regarding the treatment of the slaves in the pit mines. Governor Thar'Amon re-established the punishment of decimation in the slave work gangs, but the free labourers were threatened with it as well. The Solidarist-I mean, OUR propaganda has done its job, fuelling the flame of discontent. The Army and the External Forces have been called out from the barracks and stationed in the major cities and production hubs, but from what I heard the governor doesn't feel like he can be certain of their loyalties."

I smirked at the mention of the disloyal soldiers. The Batarian Solidarist Party manifesto made a lot of promises to a lot of people, but they were phrased in a certain way, blaming the misfortunes and the poverty of the Hegemony's citizens on the corrupt and decadent elite. Its purpose was to drive a wedge between the establishment and the people on the streets, as well as to establish and nurture a sense of common interest between the lower castes and the slaves. It worked splendidly, especially because a lot of it was the truth, if slightly embellished. And it wasn't very long before word of mouth reached the batarian enlisted personnel in the barracks, despite the strict filtration of content in their extranet terminals and omni-tools. Quite a few soldiers had already been recruited into the cause and were actively spreading the knowledge of the Solidarist movement and its goals among the rank and file. The sleeping giant of the batarian lower classes was slowly stirring from its apathetic slumber and nowhere else it could be seen more than on Aratoht. It wasn't a revolutionary fervour of epic proportions as of yet, but the governor of Aratoht still had much to worry about.

As I remembered all that, Balak was still talking.

"There are a number of tactical units of brigade and division size planetside, but none of them could be considered combat effective partially due to the usual logistical problems and partially due to dissent in the ranks," He added with a sigh.

I almost felt sorry for the man. Regardless of my own feelings towards the Hegemony, it had to be very difficult to see the military and the state you served all your life unfold before your very eyes. The fact that it had to be done could not have been very comforting.

Zaeed broke the uncomfortable silence with his usual laid-back drawl.

"Having second thoughts about your involvement, Balak? Perhaps you're thinking of selling us out to that child-fucker, Hegemon?" He asked challengingly while Tarak on the side masked his derisive snort with a cough. While Zaeed could work with the batarians just fine, Tarak being a prime example, he disliked Ka'hairal for some reason.

"Some of us actually cared about the people we had been sworn to protect," Batarian operator bit back scathingly.

"To use, exploit and trample, you mean?" Warrant Officer Rod'barr asked snidely. He had been unusually silent this whole time. I shot him a warning look, silently barring him from getting involved further in their argument. I could do no such thing with Zaeed, who cared little for the social pleasantries and cared even less for my orders. It wouldn't do for everyone at this table to hear Zaeed openly disregard my orders.

"While there were officers who took certain liberties and abused their position, I was not one of them," responded Balak coldly, straightening his posture, not intimidated in the slightest by any of the Blue Suns. The two officers who accompanied him seemed similarly undaunted.

"Then what the hell is your problem now? Dubois explained it time and again, why the government changeover is necessary, Balak. Is there still something that you do not understand?" Zaeed, never the one to let things rest, pressed on.

"Gentlemen…" I tried to interrupt them before it escalated out of proportion, but they ignored me completely.

Ka'hairal flexed his fists and replied, "I'm fully aware of what is happening, Massani. A lot of people will die, either way. Although I should know better than to expect someone like you to understand."

"And what was that supposed to mean?" growled the veteran mercenary.

"Well, you don't seem to give much thought to the collateral damage at all. I heard that you planned to use a nuclear device to terminate Vido Santiago, when he was on Korlus…"

"Hah! Ka'hairal 'Five-Rounds-Rapid' Balak is giving me lectures on collateral damage? That is beyond rich, don't you think Das'Maral?"

"Well Zaeed, I'm sure he had the best of reasons to gun down those turian POWs," Added Tarak acidly, eyeing the former External Forces operator with a less than friendly glower.

"Listen, you expired gun-for-hire…" started Balak with a nasty sneer.

That was the moment when I had had enough. Why a group of grown-up, experienced men (and women) would be acting like a bunch of bloody teenagers, arguing over past misdeeds while we had a real problem on our hands, I will never understand.

"All of you, simmer down!" I bellowed, finally fed up with their pointless argument.

That gave them pause and all of them turned their gazes upon me. Zaeed seemed to be ready to pounce on Balak, Tarak hot on his heels. The three batarians from the National Revolutionary Army seemed ready to fight as well. Balak stood with his fists raised, while the male batarian had produced a knuckleduster from somewhere. The female officer especially looked quite frightening with her teeth bared in anger.

"Debating ethics in a room filled with trained killers? There is an expression on Earth involving black pots and kettles, gentlemen. I will save myself the trouble of acquainting you with it, however. The condemnation of men with blood on their hands by men with blood on their hands has no place in this meeting."

Zaeed and Balak both scowled at each other across the table, mollified somewhat by my observation, but still very much annoyed by one another. But they were smart men, career soldiers. They calculated odds and actions. They both came to the same decision. Angering the man who paid their bills for a brief moment of self-righteousness was not worth it.

"Thank you, now then…"

I didn't get to finish my sentence. The sliding door opened and a wide-eyed Tabitha Rakehal barrelled through them. Without excusing herself in front of the ranking officers she typed something frantically on her omni-tool and the map of batarian space swiftly changed to display a televised event.

The camera was shaky as it was held above the heads of a cheering crowd, but the image was surprisingly clear. The timestamp in the corner confirmed that whatever was happening was being filmed live.

The picture was showing the front garden of the Aratoht's governor's palace. The usually spotless, green grass and pristine shrubberies had been trampled beyond recognition and there were batarians standing about the place, waving their fists at the sky and chanting a vaguely familiar song. The camera lens zoomed in onto one of the vintage lamp posts in front of the governor's mansion. From the lamp post a figure of considerable girth was hanging, stripped of its clothes and heavily mutilated. All four of his – for it was a batarian male – eyes were gouged out and his hands were tied behind his back. The body was so badly battered that it took me a moment to recognize Thar'Amon, the younger cousin of the batarian ambassador, who incidentally happened to be the governor of the planet Aratoht. The mob surrounding him kept throwing stones and piles of dirt at his carcass, despite the fact that he was clearly dead. The camera was shaking even more than in the beginning because its operator, presumably, was cheering along with the ecstatic crowd.

The camera focused on another batarian, standing on the bench, by the impromptu scaffold. This one was wearing a simple brown jumpsuit – the insignia of the Ministry of Labour were torn off, but it must have been a new addition to his uniform, since the darker patches where they used to be were clearly visible. The man was pointing at the hanging governor and giving a rousing speech, which we couldn't hear because of the loud background noise. Judging from the crowd's fervour he could be sharing with them his shopping list and they wouldn't care either way. Another batarian joined him, but this one was a female and wearing a military uniform with NCO's markings. She raised her hands and the crowd fell silent.

"Comrades, let the Chairman Kas'entar speak!"

The camera shot back onto the man in the workman's uniform and I asked the people gathered in the mess hall, "Do we know who this man is? Is he one of ours?"

Balak confirmed my query with a nod and said, "He's the one in charge of the 12th battalion of the Civic Militia in Aratoht City."

Zaeed exchanged a quick look with Tarak and the batarian commander nodded his head.

"He's one of our Legionnaires. He's a loyal man, with a good head on his shoulders. A good soldier, too."

I looked back at the screen.

"What about the woman?"

"She could be one of the new recruits. She could be a deserter from the armed forces. Or she could be just lucky enough to get caught up in a moment," responded Ka'hairal with a shrug.

"Balak, you need to find out more about her, since she's clearly in a position of authority with these people. Contact this Kas'entar and have her identity confirmed. She could be a loyalist plant, and we can't risk that."

The Captain of the Special Operations Command nodded his head and we all looked at Kas'entar saying his piece. He expertly controlled the crowd with his body language. The revolutionary swept his arm in front of him, the gesture encompassing all the people in front of the governor's palace and on the streets.

"Comrades, this had been a glorious day for the solidarist cause! Today we've managed to bring down the heavy jackboot of the ruling caste and here he is!" He pointed at the hanging man. "This useless waste of space sat on his fat bottom, thinking himself untouchable from the Peoples' Justice. But we will bow to the likes of him no more!" Kas'entar spat out the last part venomously.

The crowd gave another rousing cheer in response to his words. But Kas'entar was not done yet and he silenced them with another gesture.

"But this man forgot that his riches and his honours were given to him by the will of the people. He forgot that he had a duty to the people! He failed in his duty and the people had judged him and found him lacking. The judgment dispensed was swift and fair!"

I resisted an urge to shake my head. This was a lynching, plain and simple – there was no justice in it. But then again, it wouldn't be the first revolution to be built upon a body of lies.

"Today is the beginning of a new era for the batarian people and all the races who wish to join us! Today we march and fight as one! Today all the people of beautiful Aratoht are joining us and our comrades on the other planets of the Hegemony in fighting the oppressor! Because our cause is righteous and just! No longer will we be pawns in the game of their thrones! I say – no more!"

The crowd reacted predictably, by cheering again and repeating 'no more' after Kas'entar, but this time their frenzied roar of approval was louder and longer. The fists were raised to the sky once more. The camera aimed its lens at the governor's palace. The Hegemony's dark banners were torn down and a large flag had been hoisted in their stead. It was bloody red in colour and it had a black stripe on the side with four yellow stars on it. The banner had a black circle in the middle with the two crossed yellow hammers of the Batarian Solidarist Party. The design of the flag was simple, aggressive and to the point. The short bursts of machinegun fire and the frantic cheers of the crowd gave the fluttering revolutionary banner an ominous background.

Kas'entar's speech was over now. He waved at the gathered people once again and stepped down from the bench he was standing on. The roused crowd broke into a song once again. It was a tune from a different time – a time long past – but I recognized it now. 'The Internationale' with its lyrics carefully adjusted to reflect the new era.

So come brothers and sisters,
for the struggle carries on.
The Interplanetary
unites us all in song.
So comrades, come rally,
for this is the time and place!
The Interplanetary,
Unites us all in space.

Shakespeare it was not – but it didn't have to be.

I was stunned, way more so than the others. There was no denying that what happened on Aratoht was the result of my actions so far. And once again, fate decided to mess with my plans just a little bit with the general uprising starting way too early than I wanted it too. Thomas Jefferson had once said that the tree of liberty must be refreshed from time to time with the blood of patriots and tyrants – a rather grim take on moments in history when ideology and nationalism were roused among the people. Still, I couldn't have found better words to describe our situation now.

The others, as expected, had been less than impressed by the video and were already planning accordingly. These men and women had seen the real face of war before and even now I could see Zaeed and Balak enabling the holographic map to discuss the opportunities and challenges of an early uprising, their previous disagreement completely forgotten. Corporal Rakehal was on the radio once again, passing the information to the Blue Suns' command, while Rod'barr was hailing Solem Dal'Serah. Balak's two batarian officers had their omni-tools turned on and they were rapidly sending messages to their subordinates on Aratoht to try and coordinate the events planetside. The Civic Militia and the National Revolutionary Army units on the planet reported in, weaponry and armour was being distributed and key industrial and military targets were marked. I had no illusions. It was not going to be easy to coordinate with the chaos we currently found ourselves in.

Balak turned to me and asked politely, if with a faint hint of scepticism, "So Dubois, your revolution came early. What are you going to do about it?"

I pushed my self-doubt to the deepest recess of my mind and looked at the men and women around the table who still waited for my response. I answered the batarian's question with a confident smile.

"Well, ladies and gentlemen. It's time that we made history."

I wish that I was half as certain as I sounded.

A/N: That's it for the first part of the Chapter 11. It's been a while, but the next update will be coming soon. Once again, I can't promise any strict schedule when it comes to updates, since I have other commitments as well, but the story is not abandoned until I say it is. Or I'm dead. Whichever happens. ;)

Have a good one!

RosoMC