The Cosmic Age

by Familiar47

Long after the days of the Courier and the Lone Wanderer, humanity uses the technology of alien visitors to build themselves back up. When they reach out into the cosmos however, they discover that the galaxy is not always receptive to the adventurous. Rated for violence and language. Bashing kept at a minimum.

10. Chapter 9: Shanxi Insurgency

The Cosmic Age

Long after the defeat of Caesar's Legion and the liberation of New Vegas, the Courier and Lone Wanderer make use of the Theta Technology to bring humanity back from the edge of extinction and take to the stars. When they reach too far they discover that the galaxy is not always receptive to the adventurous.

I do not own Fallout or Mass Effect

Also, for anybody who is sick to death of stories where the Council is incompetent/evil/out of character/childish/any sort of combination of those things...this is for you.

Also, I will be taking SOME liberties with material from both Mass Effect and Fallout.

Welcome to the new Arc of this story: The Shanxi Insurgency!

Xxx

Chapter Nine: The Shanxi Insurgency, Part 1, Patchjob

Sol System, Luna, Aldrin Command Bunker

March 14th, 2353

"Things are looking grim."

Alliance President Gregory Irons resisted the urge to make some scathing, sarcastic response to the obvious statement.

"The hostile fleet has achieved total orbital domination over Shanxi, and have blockaded the relay." The speaker explained to the gathered delegates of the Alliance Security Council. "They're beginning to dig in and any effort to remove them will incur heavy casualties."

The council was given an overview of the Shanxi system by a projector in the centre of the dimly lit circular chamber, of the swarm of enemy ships surrounding the once proud star fortress Chairman Benny. The gravity of the situation was not lost on them. Gregory had already authorized military deployment, but certain figures in his administration had insisted on fortifying their end of the relay rather than move in immediately. But it had been the voice of one particular individual who had managed to persuade Gregory and Inquisitor Maxson to hold back for the moment.

"Captain Shepard is vocal in moving ahead immediately with the ship's we have managed to gather," Admiral Davis informed the council, attending the meeting via real time QEC projection. "As are many others. How long am I supposed to stall?"

"Rest assured, Admiral, you will not have to hold your forces back for long." The response came from an unseen man who sounded well spoken, with an air of intellect. "I understand and appreciate the need for the situation in Shanxi to be resolved quickly, but the projected losses that would be incurred were we to move now are unacceptable."

"What difference will it make if we move now or later?" An older, more grizzled looking man in a naval uniform asked with a frown.

"The difference, Admiral Grissom, is that in several days your forces shall be supplemented by a task force from the Hyperion ship yards at Titan." The disembodied speaker responded. "I shall personally oversee the operation from the flagship of this task force, however I have no intention of contending for command against battle tested veterans such as yourself and Admiral Davis. I will simply be there to make sure everything is in working order when you launch your counter attack."

The two Admirals exchanged wary glances, both despising the idea of waiting while Shanxi was overrun.

"Gentlemen, I know that your training and instinct as soldiers leave you at odds with this decision. But the fleet that now blockades Shanxi is undoubtedly not the full extent of what these unknown extraterrestrials are capable of mustering. In the event of what has occurred in the last forty eight hours we are to act under the assumption that our foe has been a spacefaring society far longer than we have and possess an infinitely superior industrial base, military power and most importantly technological base. If we are to wage war with a superior faction then we must plan for the long term, far beyond this single invasion."

The projected image in the heart of the room changed, forming into a three dimensional representation of a structure of some kind.

"If we are to prevail, we must shock and awe our nemesis and make them believe that we are far greater than we truly are, that we are their equal or at least powerful enough that to bring their arms to bare against us would result in a war of attrition which they are not willing to commit to." The speaker continued as the council stared at the image of the starship floating before them. "That, ladies and gentlemen, is the reason why you must wait until this task force arrives to launch your assault."

Xxx

Shanxi System, Moons of Macau, Orbit over Macau IV

Paladins Class Cruiser ASV Sharon of Rose

March 14th, 2353

A flotilla had gathered around the remaining eight vessels of the Shanxi Defence Fleet. Technicians and Tending Vessels dotted the hull of the scarred cruiser, working to replace dented and shattered hell plating and the systems beneath where they could. This job usually required a dry dock, but the nearest was at Terra Nova so the civilian workers of Macau's mining facilities made do with what they had. The rest of the fleet was likewise under similar treatment, attempting to get the, back into fighting condition as quickly as reasonably possible.

The bridge of the cruiser was dark and unoccupied, save by Captain Deathstalker himself and his XO. The Death Claw was declined in his chair and observing a hologram representation of Shanxi and the fleet blockading the planet.

"The Shell is collapsing." Deathstalker rumbled, his clawed hands clamping down on the arm rests. "It hasn't even been three days and Shanxi is being overrun."

His XO glanced at his Pip-Boy, generating a screen displaying status updates from Shanxi which took several minutes to update. "They knocked out one section of the perimeter turrets," He explained, "After that they managed to launch an air assault and begin knocking out emitter arrays before the garrison could respond. Now they've started landing troops in the city itself on the edges where the emitters were knocked out."

Deathstalker stood up and growled. "Crafty Devils!" He smirked, "I'm almost hoping we get into another fight soon." He dismissed the image and directed a demand at the human officer. "Commander Wei, status update on reconnaissance groups."

Wei removed the screen and replaced it with another listing data packages sent by the vessels that had voluntarily gone out to scout the system while the fleet recovered. "Able Group reports that the enemy transport ships have remained in close proximity to the Chairman. Bravo has tracked enemy ships landing near outlying settlements and even near several hidden vaults. Charlie has reported no further hostile ships arriving from the relay and Delta has managed to establish contact with the other outposts throughout the system and inform them of our current situation. Total enemy fleet strength rests at approximately one hundred and twenty frigate analogues, thirty cruiser analogues, forty lightly armed transport ships and the single remaining capital ship."

Almost two hundred fully armed warships against his little flotilla. Any effort to fight would bring down the wrath of this alien armada on the people who Deathstalker had the responsibility of protecting.

But inaction was unacceptable.

"Commander Wei," Deathstalker settle back into his chair, "Are you familiar with the term 'death by a thousand cuts'?"

Wei nodded, folding his hands behind him. "Affirmative sir," He answered, "In the days before the Great War it was a form of tedious and overdrawn execution. It is also attributed to the idea of striking the enemy in many places at once, inflicting only the bare minimum of damage while escaping with as few losses of your own as possible. Logan Mason employed it when combatting Manifest forces scattered throughout the arctic regions by personally leading strike teams in hitting convoys and outposts to starve Manifest bases in the more remote regions."

Deathstalker was pleased by this answer. "Based on the placement of enemy forces, do you see any suitable targets for a hit and run attack?"

Wei brought back the image of the system and examined the enemy fleet movements. "The majority of the enemy ships move in large groups." He observed, "Most remain around the Chairman and the transport fleet. Others have spread out in groups of one cruiser and four frigates each, and based on their method of FTL travel they can quickly receive reinforcements. However…"

His hand trailed off to a single patrol group moving just beyond the range of the system's asteroid belt.

"This group." Wei stated, tapping the red arrow representing the patrol. "It's in the perfect position. The majority of the enemy patrols are on the far side of the system, those on the close side are scouting the outer planets and would take time to escape the gravity wells. If we were to hit this patrol quickly with one good barrage we could destroy several of their frigate escorts, maybe damage their cruiser."

"And the time needed for us to execute an escape?"

Wei carefully considered this. "Our FTL drive requires at least two minutes for us to vent heat safely, any sooner and we'd risk overheating the Sharon's hull and frying the crew."

"Two minutes to attack, inflict as much damage as possible and retreat." Deathstalker weighted the risks and benefits of such a plan. "How many of our ships are ready for such an operation?"

"If I may sir, we might only need one ship." Wei brought Deathstalker's attention to the Shady Sands. "And she wouldn't even need to be near the fighting."

Xxx

Shanxi, New Taiyuan

March 14th, 2353

Contested Zone, Southern District

"Enemy air inbound!"

The call brought the exhausted marines to their feet and rushing to their positions along the edges of the half completed building. They gathered in groups of two, one to wield the heavy surface to air rocket launchers and another to spot and help reload. The man who had shouted the warning was a could floors up and pressed flat on his belly with a sniper rifle, using the scope to keep an eye on the pair of alien gunships setting down just a couple streets down from the construction site which their platoon had taken shelter in.

"They're dropping troops off," The sniper whispered, using his radio to keep in contact with the rest of his group. "Eyes on maybe a dozen Raptors."

Raptors, that was the name for these almost avian reptilians ever since the regular forces finally caught their first glimpse of them. Taller than the average man, slender in build yet stronger in overall physical capability and damn good shots. They'd manage to push their way almost a whole mile into New Taiyuan before the garrison could rally and keep them from the next set of emitters. Now holdouts similar to the construction site were set up to monitor and harass the alien forces whenever they tried to make a push.

The sniper watched the Raptors unload something from one of their drop ships. "Wait, they're bringing something off…looks like a whole lot of components for something." They were piling numerous metal pieces up while most of their team set up a perimeter. "Can't tell what it is."

"And let's not wait to find out." One of the rocket jockeys decided. "Lieutenant, permission to open fire?"

The platoon's lieutenant, one Ghalia Nejem was fresh out of officer training, but despite how green she was the young woman had managed to keep her head so far. She was located further towards the middle of the building in the platoon's command post with the radio operator and those not on watch duty where she could keep in contact with command and her men at the same time. At the moment she was leaning on the makeshift table which held a holo-emitter displaying a map of the local area, staring at the red dots representing the Raptor landing party while the radio operator and the other marines stared at her.

After several moments passed one cleared his throat and tried to get her attention. "Lieutenant?"

Ghalia sucked in a breath and pressed one finger to her radio's talk button. "Permission granted. Clip their wings first. Wait for my signal to fire."

The rocket jockeys had their spotters load and check their rocket launchers and then moved into a better position to fire. Six pairs of marines lined up their shots.

"On my mark," Lieutenant Nejem commanded, "…Mark!"

Six rockets exploded from the barrels of the launchers and left behind a trail of smoke as they flew at the Raptor landing zone. Almost immediately the alien soldiers had managed to react, moving for cover without pausing to even look for the rockets as they slammed into their position. The thruster on the left wing of one of the drop ships was hit and exploded into a ball of fire while the ship itself was sent spinning into the ground. The other one managed to lurch up and avoid the strike, accidentally sending a Raptor standing on the entry ramp flailing down a short but painful drop.

"One down!" A Super Mutant marine growled as he switched out his rocket launcher for a large Gatling laser while his partner switched in some fresh rockets.

"Birdy Two is making a break for it!"

"Enemy counter fire incoming!"

Projectiles peppered the floors of the building where the marines were crouched behind half constructed walls and pillars. Several Raptors were firing short, controlled and accurate bursts to try and keep them suppressed while a couple moved out of sight and, unknown to the humans, scaled the nearby buildings for a better perch with grapple lines. For almost a minute the two groups exchanged fire with one of the Raptors and two of the marines getting hit before the two strays reappeared on separate roofs.

"Eyes on those roof tops!" The Gatling Laser toting Super Mutant bellowed as he turned his weapon on one of the buildings, peppering the roof with bolts of red laser fire as the Raptor raced for cover. One or two shots clipped the alien, but he still managed to rolled into cover behind a stairwell entrance while the other was cut down by the sniper posted several floors above.

"Lieutenant, the second enemy air is coming around!"

"Rocket Jockeys focus on the enemy air craft!" Lieutenant Nejem tried to keep control of both the situation and her own rising sense of fear. "Sergeant K'tor, take your fire team to the ground floor and assault the enemy position while we keep them busy. And somebody get another team over to help pour fire on these Raptors!"

The marine in question was one of the rare non-human (and non-Terran at that) in the Alliance military, a Prolat who picked up a shotgun and gestured for his team to follow. All of his subordinates were much larger than him, which made for a rather comical sight at first as they made their way down to the ground floor and took cover by the construction site's gates while the Raptor drop ship flew in and began to fire a chin mounted automatic cannon which tore through one of the rocket jockey teams. A pair of rockets were fired, but the drop ship veered to the side and avoided one while the other struck the main body without doing any significant damage.

"Main body is reinforced, aim for the thrusters!"

The Super Mutant Gunner adjusted his aim and focused on the drop ship as it fired into one of the upper floors, pelting it with a barrage of laser fire. It began to move off when several of the shots came close to striking its thrusters, but just as the Mutant let out a victorious cackle his head exploded. The surviving Raptor Sniper from earlier had used the drop ship as a distraction to pick off three of the marines in quick succession, taking only around two seconds between shots to adjust and let his weapon vent heat.

Sergeant K'tor and his men had managed to cross the street when the Raptor drop ship moved off. They split up into pairs and crept through the alley leading to the enemy LZ. One Raptor was moving between cover and spotted them, but K'tor's point man made short work of him with three quick bursts, allowing the team to set up a foothold at the mouth of the alley. One of the marines received a nod from the Prolat and lobbed a fragmentation grenade at another pair of Raptors while they were preoccupied with firing at the tower.

The explosion sent them both flying in varying states of dismemberment and alerted the remaining alien invaders to the presence of the fireteam. In the following instant K'tor saw the grenadier get gunned down followed by a Ghoul who tried to return fire. K'tor tugged on the arm of his remaining human subordinate and pointed back down the alley with one thumb. "Pull back!"

The private nodded and back peddled, firing his machine gun to give the Raptors second thoughts about pursuing them. But before the pair could make it back to safety one of the Raptors spun out from cover, unfolding a new weapon not similar to their usual assault rifles or sniper rifles. A single object was expelled from the barrel and hit the ground just a few feet ahead of the fleeing marines.

Sergeant K'tor was turned into a bloody mist while the machine gunner was subjected to shrapnel tearing through most of his body. Those who witnessed this were just hopeful that both of them had been killed instantly, unable to feel what no doubt would have been an agonizing and brief aftermath.

"Enemy air is coming back again!"

The Raptor drop ship did return, but this time it was setting down back in the LZ and opening its rear hatch. One of the Raptors waved while calling out something in its native tongue, herding the remaining troops back onto the ship. As they moved they made sure to keep up fire on the tower, which now had significantly less fire coming from it. The drop ship lifted up once they were all aboard and began to fire its chin gun while moving close to where the sniper was hidden, allowing him to climb aboard with help from one of the occupants and enabling the survivors to make a quick extraction as the few surviving marines fired after it.

"They're gone!"

"Someone check on K'tor and his team!"

"No need…they're all dead."

Lieutenant Nejem exhaled and slid down into her seat, removing her helmet. "God help us…" She whispered, her eyes watering as the casualties from this one engagement were listed off. "God help us all."

Xxx

Vault Bunker 9, Level 5

March 14th, 2353

As Shanxi fell, more and more scattered units began to trickle in. At first it had been a flood of nearly a hundred mixed naval and infantry, but over time the tide had turned to a trickle of several people every few hours. And even that began to run dry.

As of today there were almost three hundred people inhabiting the bunker. Most had come from escape pods launched from the battle overhead, but others came from outposts that had been given the order to evacuate and regroup. The rest of their garrisons had scattered into the mountains nearby to protect settlements there and watch for alien activity.

Luckily there was no difficulty in housing, feeding or caring for the wayward herd. The bunker had enough to sustain a much larger flock. What did become a problem was having to remind everyone to not touch the shiny experimental weapons in the labs.

"For the last time, we are not arming people with Next Generation Battle Armour." Inquisitor Grey repeated herself as she worked on her own armoured suit, modifying it with some of the equipment from the regular armoury. "This stuff is experimental for a reason and we aren't in nearly enough peril to make me that desperate yet."

Standing behind her was Parker, with her synthetic arm reattached and her usual demeanour enduring. "And I'm telling you that we need them as best prepared as possible for when either those aliens find this place or we need to take the fight to them!"

Grey had suffered this discussion many times, or rather she'd allowed it to happen. Officially she was the highest ranking member of the Brotherhood on sight, and her rank also granted her direct authority over Alliance personnel-save for Captain Mason of course; however Grey couldn't bring herself to simply start handing out disciplinary actions just because a few people were getting itchy trigger fingers down here. Parker was much older and had centuries of experience leading back to the days of the Great War-and the fact that she'd fought off turning feral was both a miracle and another tally in her favour. The Inquisitor was knowledgable but…impatient, and Grey knew why.

"Then arm them from the regular munitions." Grey sighed, turning away from her suit to face the older Inquisitor. "There's energy weapons and high quality projectile weapons in there, Brotherhood armour far superior to any Alliance issue armour; that is all that I will authorize so you'd better take it."

Parker growled, but seemed to accept the compromise. She stormed out, her grumbling fading down the corridor outside before the doors closed. For a moment Grey almost forgot that she was not yet alone.

"And what do you have to say?" Grey asked, addressing Sergeant Campbell in the corner of the lab she had chosen to make into a workshop for armour's.

"Nothing as aggravating, I promise." The Marine answered as he uncrossed his arms and stepped away from the table he'd been leaning on.

Campbell was no longer in his armour. He wore some basic Alliance fatigues which left his tattooed arms exposed. Grey recognized some of the markings and wondered just how a man who had roots in Caesar's Legion had been allowed into the Corps without a massive media spectacle. The markings were passed down between generations, originating from surviving members of the Legion who had reformed into a culture of their own out of the ruins of Arizona. They'd remained off the beaten path for years, forming small villages and camps and beginning to shy away from most of their previous traditions that had earned them so many enemies.

These days Arizona was still considered a wasteland. Most of the American Midwest was officially reclaimed, but so many people were migrating off of Earth that there were ghost towns scattered across thousands of miles, allowing nature (both mutated or otherwise) to reclaim them. The Neo Romans, as they called themselves, were the most active presence between the Mojave and Washington and were tolerated by the Alliance as long as they didn't try returning to any of their more unsavoury practices.

If she had to guess this one was a second or third generation Neo Roman. Most people thought they were violent, blunt and arrogant misogynists…and truth be told so had Grey until she realized this man's origins.

"It's about Mason," Campbell said, "He's been pretty out of it ever since he got back. He's either in his quarters or at the morgue or the infirmary visiting Grawk. We can't stay down here forever, not while New Taiyuan is under siege."

This, she'd been expecting.

Grey carefully considered her next response. "I don't know if I'm the one who can help Mason out of whatever funk he's sunk into." She said, cleaning some oil off of her fingers with a rag. "And truth be told…I don't know if he and I should ever speak."

"Care to speak a little less cryptically or do I need to start nagging?" Campbell asked with an annoyed frown.

"I mean that…I'm not supposed to have contact with him." Grey explained. "I'm in what you'd call Extreme Witness Protection for Brotherhood members. This goes up to some pretty high levels in the Alliance, a lot of people quietly agreed to arrange it…but somehow Manifest seemed to know who I was right from the get go."

"I'm just going to skip another few paragraphs of you dodging around what I'm suspecting this is about." Campbell decided, "…you're a Shepard."

If he thought that would bring a pause for dramatic effect he was dead wrong.

"Oh, yippee for you, you put two and two together." Grey drawled as she glared at him. "That a problem, Legionaire?"

It was Campbell's turn to glare. "Well if we're going to act like petulant children then you're already a temperamental bitch who could do to lose the attitude a bit and talk like a normal, civilized person." He replied. "…and I might be Legion born, but you just lost a lot of high ground with that jab. Now…I don't care if you're a Shepard, you're probably the only one here who can talk to the Captain. He was the one who was insistent on finding you, so you're our best shot."

Grey, or rather Shepard scoffed and turned away. "Forget it. Alien invasion or not, it's better for everyone if he and I never speak-HEY!" She found herself being lifted off the ground in a powerful bear hug around her hips. As she tried to kick or punch Campbell from her new perch the marine carried her out into the corridor, all the way to the nearest elevator and even waited a full minute for the thing to show up so it could take them up a level.

Along the way people stared in confusion at the spectacle. One man stopped to ask what Campbell was doing, to which he replied: "Delivery to the drunk tank, as you can clearly see my friend has had one Mentat too many."

"Wait, mentats don't cause aggression-."

"Oh interesting topic for sure, bye!" Campbell called as the elevator doors shut.

"Campbell you son of a-LET ME DOWN!" Shepard hollered, clawing at his arms now. "I am ordering you to put me the fuck down, marine!"

"Oh believe me ma'am, I'd very much love to." Campbell replied with a smile even as one of her fists bounced off of his head. "But uh…no."

The elevator opened, and a few stray Alliance personnel watched as Campbell almost casually carried Shepard out of the elevator despite her renewed struggles.

"You'll be cleaning latrines for the rest of your life after this!" Shepard threatened.

"Sounds nice."

"You'll be demoted!"

"Meh, being a Sergeant was boring anyways."

"You'll be dishonourably discharged!"

"Well, that'd sure make the folks back home happy." Nathan chuckled as he neared the infirmary. "You know they still send me letters, right? In all Latin, actual quills dipped in ink, the whole hundred yards! And their language, oh lemme tell you my old man must have described millions of ways that he'd skin me alive if I didn't resign and come back to Arizona." He paused to slam one fist against the control panel, and Shepard used that moment to try and break free only for him to redirect her right through the doors and onto the floor of the infirmary where she caught herself.

She stood up and turned, thinking of taking a leaf out of Campbell's father's book before realizing that the one man she had been trying to avoid all day was standing a couple of feet away, his own hand having reached out for the interior door controls to exit the room before her entry.

Owen Mason stared at her with bags under his startled and slightly bloodshot eyes. His facial hair had visibly grown out a bit in the past couple days, and the rest of him was a mess that would have been any flag officer's nightmare at a ceremony.

"Mason, Inquisitor." Campbell said as he tapped the exterior panel again, causing the doors to begin sliding shut. "Inquisitor, Mason. He added before they closedown tiredly.

A moment of awkward silence passed between the two until Mason whispered one word.

"Jo?"

Owen stared at the familiar face of the woman he had known as his sister in law so long ago. He almost wanted to reach out just to make sure that she was real.

Then reality caught up to him and he remembered that Joanna Shepard had died long ago.

"Who are you?" Owen demanded, "And why did my brother send me to find you?"

This caused Shepard to immediately go for the door controls only to receive a warning that they'd been disabled…from outside. She cursed Nathan's mother for bearing such a pest under her breath and turned back towards Mason.

"Why the hell did he tell you about me in the first place?" She countered with her own question. "That idiot…"

Owen scowled. "Well it would seem to me that it's too late to cry over spilt milk, child. Now why don't you stop dodging the question and explain a few things to me, or I'll wait until Campbell let's us out and talk to Alex myself through the QEC."

The Inquisitor's hands had balled into shaking fists as she glared up at him, but relaxed when she exhaled. "Fine," She said. "…my name is Victoria Mason!" She shouted the last word while glaring at the door as if wanting to make sure Nathan heard her…along with anyone else standing close enough, "And your stupid brother is my idiot of a father."

Owen's glare faded as he placed together the last of the puzzle pieces in his head. "And…Joanna!" He said, "You're their daughter?!"

Victoria crossed her arms and leaned back against the sealed door. "Yes," She replied at room level volume, "And my birth was one of the best kept secrets of the Alliance and the Brotherhood. I've had to go my entire life without meeting any of my relatives besides my dad or telling anyone who I really am because Manifest is fanatically obsessed with killing anyone with the surname Mason or Shepard as you've no doubt learned."

Owen thought back to the days leading up to Joanna's death; the ceremony on Mars, the sudden attack by Manifest, the duel between Joanna and Mycroft as they clashed in bulky power armour and wielded proton blades. Then there had been the news about the secret love of the heirs to two of the most famous bloodlines in Post-War History. Victoria couldn't have been older than thirty years at the most, and that was taking into account the fact that men and women in their seventies or eighties these days now looked half their age.

They'd kept the existence of his own niece hidden from him for most of his life. That fact sent a wave of what could only be described as heartbreak through Owen.

Had they not trusted him? Did they keep him out because he was the second, inferior son?

Owen only managed to get out one word. "Why?"

"You remember how many times you barely dodged death in your childhood, right?" Victoria asked, "Think that, only a lot worse. That's how it was for me growing up after Manifest found out I existed, and it only got worse after my mom was murdered by Mycroft." Her eyes narrowed. "Who, if I recall….you had and lost."

"Don't you pull that kind of shit now," Owen growled, "You might be related to me through blood but that doesn't give you special exemption to mouth off at me. And for that matter: how dare you!? Good people died trying to stop Manifest from escaping and one of them was yours! You show them some god damn respect you up jumped brat!"

His words had succeeded in deflating Victoria of her anger, replacing it with shame as they struck home. She looked over to the section of the infirmary which had been cordoned off to serve as a morgue for the men and women who had been murdered in cold blood days ago. Among them was Paladin Santos, Sergeant Scott and Lieutenant Sutton…

But thankfully Paladin Grawk was in the far side of the room from there, sleeping in a specially designed bed that held his weight with bandages wrapped around his cranium. He'd managed to survive his injuries thanks to the Vertibird which had picked him and Mason up and returned them to the bunker in minutes through a hangar entrance.

Victoria knew that the jab about Mycroft had been a low blow. Only a few days ago she'd told Campbell that the General had escaped because he'd possessed the power to do so at any time and had merely allowed himself to be captured as a distraction. At the time she had been under a significantly smaller amount of stress and not confronted with a grim reminder about her less than stellar life. The fact that her mother's murderer had managed to escape had had time to fester for several days now and had resulted in her being….snippy.

"…you're right." She admitted, "I'm sorry Captain…that was way out of bounds."

Owen huffed. "Damn right it was," He muttered, "But I'll leave disciplining you to your old man after I'm done kicking his ass. He has a lot to answer for as far as I care, but I'll never get a chance to call him on this bull shit if these aliens manage to conquer Shanxi."

Suddenly the man seemed to be more awake than when Victoria had been tossed into the room. He looked focused, his eyes betraying the thoughts which were processed at light speed. Owen had probably come to the infirmary to grieve for those lost and to visit the comatose Grawk, but her arrival had managed to spark a bit of that anger…it was almost like being angry gave him something to think about, to distract him from his own depression.

"That's why you're going to get your ass out of this infirmary and call all senior personnel to the command centre for a meeting at 1200 hours sharp," Owen continued, his hands smoothing out his officer's jacket. "That means right fucking now by the way, Campbell!"

The doors slid back open to reveal the marine leaning against the wall next to the exterior control panel, which had been torn out of the wall so that he could access the wiring beneath. He had somehow used this to connect his Pip-Boy to the system, allowing him to hack into the door mechanism and override the interior controls. He gave them a two fingered salute and disconnected his Pip-Boy. "Copy that, skipper."

Owen folded his hands behind his back and exhaled deeply before stepping past the larger, younger man. "And Sergeant, the next time you manhandle a superior for any reason I'll have you cleaning every Vertibird in the hangar with your bare hands." He said, and then rotated his head until he was looking over his shoulder at Victoria. "Inquisitor, I intend to continue this talk in greater detail, but as I said we have infinitely greater issues that have to be dealt with first. When that time comes I expect you to be more forthcoming and respectful in how you answer my questions. Understand?"

"Yes…sir."

"Good." Owen turned to face forward again and walked away. "I'm going to have a look at that android in the meantime. I expect that meeting to be set up by the time I am done."

…

"You know I'm going to kill you," Victoria glared at Nathan, "Right?"

Nathan simply shrugged. "I suspected the desire would exist, yes." He admitted, "But you don't have the time for that, because it'll be 1200 hours in oh say…" He checked his Pip-Boy's clock, "Twenty minutes."

"You think I won't have time to spare?"

"I think you'll spend too much time drawing it out." Nathan replied as he began to saunter away, hands in his pockets. "You might want to get started, it's never smart to leave a Mason waiting!"

Xxx

Turian Dreadnaught A'kalez

Private Conference Room 01

"They're called Psykers."

Days of continuous work in coercing hundreds of prisoners into eliciting fragments of dialect, hacking captured archives and working his entire team to the point of collapsing dead on the spot had yielded these three words. But they had also revealed so much more behind them, and Captain Kravos Pridius felt satisfied for the first time since he had arrived in this distant sector of space.

"Psykers appear to be similar to Biotics in many aspects," Kravos continued to read off the data to Admiral Trisun and her assembled officers, "The descriptions we have managed to gain indicate that their abilities vary between individuals, but a good deal of what they are capable of bear similarity to Biotics…and most disturbingly to the Asari in particular."

Concerned murmurs spread through the room only to be silenced as Trisun raised one hand. "Elaborate on that last part, Captain." The Admiral said.

"As you are all aware, several days ago one of the prisoners made physical contact with me while I was dealing with General Arterius' thug," Kravos explained, setting his data pad down and sliding it over to Trisun. "When he did I experienced symptoms which many have attributed to a non-mutual meld."

A meld was an experience shared between one Asari and another of any race, linking them through their thoughts and nervous systems. It was used for reproductive purposes, for verifying information and most commonly as a way of cementing a bond of trust between bond mates. A non-mutual meld was when an Asari forced a meld on an unwilling mind, equal in Asari culture as the crime of sexual assault and considered illegal interrogation in other cultures. The victimized mind often fought back against the intrusion, causing pain for both parties unless the aggressor was powerful enough to overcome the defender's will.

Many an ignorant conspiracy theorist had believed that Biotics possessed the ability to influence and read minds. While it was possible for certain exceptional Biotics to temporarily disorient and influence their enemies in the midst of battle or coerce them to speak the truth, it was not the possession of 'psychic' abilities that allowed this but extremely refined use of dark energy to create a specific desired reaction. Asari on the other hand possessed the unique ability to meld with the minds of others, and that had contributed to this persisting paranoia even after thousands of years of study and research into Biotics.

"This ability is called 'touch telepathy' in their tongue, and appears to be analogous to an Asari mind meld." Kravos continued, "Other records and testimony indicate that this is not the extent of what these Psykers are capable of, and that the human who left me in the medical bay was in fact one of their lower tier Psykers who only possessed the one ability."

This would be a cause of concern among the Hierarchy's ranks. The enemy had soldiers capable of assaulting them open a level beyond the physical plain, tearing information away and bypassing the training each Turian soldier received in the art of resisting conventional interrogation and torture. This meant that every captured Turian soldier would be a potential leak by providing even the simplest information that would be considered inconsequential under normal circumstances.

"Observation of the human subject, Psyker Zero-One, has revealed that he now possesses an understanding of Linga Nobilis." This revelation was followed up by Kravos activating the conference table's built in emitter, showing footage of the young human male from the incident in question. He was speaking what was barely passable as the primary dialect of the Turian race, all without the use of a built in translator like almost every being in the Galaxy required to facilitate easy and quick communications.

"These humans represent a greater danger than we imagined," One of the officers voiced his opinion, "Perhaps General Arterius was not so unreasonable in his fears as we'd imagined."

Trisun glared at the speaker out of the corner of her eye. "By that logic the Asari are a much greater threat." She said before refocusing on Kravos, "Do we have other samples of these Psykers?"

"Negative Admiral, it would appear that Psykers are not extraordinarily common among human populations." Kravos answered, "And I am unsure if it is only the basic humans who possess these abilities or all three sub species and the Death Claws. It is possible that these Psykers are considered a rare and desired military resource similar to our Cabal units so the likelihood of locating many on the planet may be low, given how this is merely a border colony."

"Well you've told us what you don't know about them," Trisun sighed, "I suppose that will have to do. We will keep this quiet for the time being under the assumption that these Psykers do not have a heavy presence in the human colony, inform only our special forces units and commanding officers, company level and higher. Captain Kravos, has this human assisted in the development of the full translation matrix?"

"Affirmative ma'am, we are now able to hold full conversations with the humans thanks to this Psyker's assistance." Kravos nodded, "That is how we were able to find out so much about these Psykers in the first place."

"Then begin dispensing copies of this matrix to all units and assign an officer to resume development of the program in your place." Trisun ordered, "I need you to take a more active role in this again, and to that end I will need you here in the A'kalez…in the command seat for her entire battle group."

Kravos's mandibles parted, the equivalent of a human jaw dropping from shock. "W-what?"

"I am heading down to the surface to take over Desolas' frigate support and coordinate with him to secure the human city." Trisun explained as she stood up. "I know this is unorthodox, but I am a firm believer in leading my ships at the front. Now that the front has reached the surface that is where I am most needed, and I require a trustworthy and competent officer to take my place up here in the meantime."

Kravos could not process what he'd just been told. He had just gone from being in charge of a small patrol fleet to…command of his own Dreadnaught?! That would as good as make him the acting commanding officer of the whole fleet in her absence!

"Y-yes ma'am." He managed to reply, "I won't let you down."

"I'd hope not." Trisun said, patting his shoulder as she passed him. "Congratulations on your field promotion, Rear Admiral Pridius."

Every other officer present bowed their heads and pressed one fist to their armoured chest. A murmur went around, stating one thing.

"Hail, Rear Admiral Pridius."

…Kravos could not help but wonder what he'd gotten himself into now. Most would celebrate being given such a prestigious position from out of the blue, but after all that had happened he could only dread what would come next. He had a fleet of over a hundred warships to care for, thousands of Turians depending on him to lead them in battle…

"Spirits, strike me down." He whispered.

Xxx

CODEX OPENED

Accessing Files…

File opened: NEO ROMA

In the aftermath of the second battle of Hoover Dam and the subsequent purging of the remnants of Caesar's Legion across the American Mid West, pockets of survivors formed together in a futile effort to continue the plans of their dead Emperor. These small tribes would sometimes absorb one another or wage war with one another in an effort to place their own preferred ruler into power. As the rest of civilization moved forward these tribes would either scatter or go on to establish permanent settlements in the wastelands. Some would be wiped out for harassing Alliance settlements and abducting or killing citizens, others would be permitted to endure in peace. Today the Neo Roman Tribes are the largest organized groups operating in areas that are now heavily depopulated across North America.

Neo Romans, often referred to as Legionaires as a call back to the actions of their parents and grandparents are considered Alliance citizens, but are monitored carefully in the event of a new 'Caesar' uniting the tribes to form a new legion. They have access to basic necessities and have recently been recruited by both mercenary groups and the Alliance military due to their combat prowess.

File closed

Accessing Files…

File opened: Linga Nobilis

Despite the popular belief, few beings in Council Space can actually fluently understand the language of another species. The Asari are the most common exception due to their meld enabling them to acquire information on linguistics, and in the three thousand years since their contact with the Salarians they have used both their natural abilities and scientific ingenuity to design translation software enabling a flawless translation of any dialect into one suitable for the owner. Because of this a Turian can hold a conversation with an Elcor, a Volus, a Batarian, and a human speaking in six languages. At first this software as crude, but millennia of continuous improvements and adjustments have rendered any drawbacks to be nonexistent.

Linga Nobilis is the primary dialect of the Turian Hierarchy, created as an amalgamation of numerous languageswhich are now rare or extinct from separate tribes. It became the official Turian language after the events of the Unification War and has served to make initial communication between the Turians and the Council at the time much less difficult thanks to the presence of only one language instead of several.

Okay, I tried to make this chapter as short as I could but it ended up being sixteen pages of text plus the usual codex entries that I add in. I've been playing Fallout New Vegas due to excitement aimed at the release of Fallout 4 (which I pre-ordered, curse my weakness). On the bright side (For you) and the down side (for me) my university's teachers have gone on strike and it may go on for a while.

So while I will have plenty of time to type now...there is a chance that my school year is about to become VERY messed up. At the very worst I may not be able to go to the Caribbean on vacation this year and may have to stay an extra month for the next semester (resulting in the loss of a month of work time). However I will roll with the punches and shall continue to work on this whenever my writer's block stops acting up like a bad cold.

I've looked at a variety of mediums including but not limited to Red vs Blue, Metal Gear Solid V, the Mass Effect and Fallout games themselves, etc in an effort to kindle my creativity. I may have succeeded at that, as I have some idea of how to conclude this story in an epic way.

The Shanxi Insurgency Arc will be longer than the Fall of Shanxi by at least a couple chapters, that much I am certain of. It will be followed by the Shanxi Liberation Arc, which will act as a finale to this section of the story. This may add up to around twenty to twenty five chapters.

In short: in the time that it takes for most writers to have humanity steamroll over the Council in every single conceivable way (while possibly annihilating most of the Turian Hierarchy's military without a sweat and scolding an OOC Council that doesn't seem to realize how badly outmatched it is) I will have only written out the duration of the First Contact War.

Also, question to my readers. Should I wrap this story up after the conclusion of the war (with contact between the Council and Alliance and another chapter or two to show the immediate aftermath) and then have the next section (covering the time of Mass Effect 1) come out as a sequel? Or would you prefer that I just squeeze everything into this one story?

Now for responses to reviews

reality deviant – As always thank you for the support!

RedRat8 – Truer words were never spoken-er, typed. As for how humanity reacts to the Council after the conclusion of this conflict, I won't spoil anything except this: the Council will NOT expect them to be eager to join, they will NOT expect them to just forgive and forget this, they will NOT make demands of humanity after a whole Turian fleet just had its ass kicked out of the Shanxi system. Basically I'm breaking the mould that a lot of writers defer to.

Mangahero18 – Worry not my friend, I shall compile a list of all the characters relevant to this story, and have even killed several off as you can see from the previous chapter. And in future chapters I'll try to keep things focused on one scenario at a time for as long as I can. For example, in this chapter we only had four different scenarios going on and didn't cut back and forth between them.

Tylermech66 – Actually I believe they come from a chameleon (and thank god they didn't retain the ability to blend in with their surroundings).

OMAC001 – We shall see! The Monolith's part in this tale is not over yet.

5 Coloured Walker – Nobody has been able to state for a matter of fact how fast an object has to be moving to trigger a barrier. Some weapons in the Mass Effect universe shoot projectiles at much slower speeds and yet still trigger them, so I would think that a basic plasma rifle could still trigger them. As for your second point...hm...I may have to do some more research into the theory behind plasma weapons vs Kinetic Barriers.

5 Coloured Walker (AGAIN) – Thank you kindly!