Technophiles and Militarists

by thelordofdarkreunion

The Reaper invasion is nigh. Outnumbered and outgunned, the Citadel must turn to two new, dangerous allies for salvation: the Adeptus Mechanicus and Imperium of Man.

5. Prepare for War

Here we go! I made a goal and I kept it. This chapter is out in one week! Thank you for all your wonderful reviews. I always appreciate them. If you're big into politics and planning, I'm sure you'll love this chapter. We have the Citadel meeting with the Imperials, Hal planning out his own shenanigans, and, finally, the long-awaited arrival of the Imperium. I'm not entirely sure what else to say, so without further ado, on to the reviews and the story!

Guest: Thank you.

fahriuchiha: Of course. Trazyn is quite the nice fellow. You gain an immortality in the greatest museum in the universe! This chapter contains more politics, which should be fun!

vernacularthecynic: Thank you. The Imperial Guard will be present here in massive numbers. Unfortunately, I just haven't included the Death Korps as one of the regiments. I do make a mention of a few of those that will be showing up. If you want the full list, feel free to ask! It'll also be showing up next chapter, if you want to wait. The Death Korps are probably my absolute favorite 40k faction; unfortunately, I just felt as if they didn't fit this story. Sorry to disappoint, if you're disappointed.

BonesofSmite: Yep. We have the Treaty and deal here! The Inquisitors are all made up by me. Unfortunately, most named Inquisitors already are doing something or in some big plot, and it didn't seem right having them show. I am a big fan of Coteaz and Hector Rex, but they're far too competent at slaying daemons to get caught up in extra-galactic politics.

Rando guy that likes this FF: There will be people on Earth that survive, but those who were left as the rearguard in Vancouver are dead. As for the Guard regiments, the Cadians and Steel Legion will be showing up. The Catachans will not. If you want a full list I can give it to you. However, I will be showing everyone who arrived next chapter if you want to wait or don't like spoilers. Ave Imperator.

LezGo35: Indeed. Ave Imperator.

themadnimrod: Ernest Evans was an absolute badass. I did get this chapter out sooner, and I'm feeling pretty good about it.

Doc43Souls: Yeah, you're right. I even listened to the Battlefleet Gothic soundtrack to get in the mood for writing this chapter. The Angels will show, and you are right about similarities between the battle on Earth and Siege of Terra...

PaladinSans: You're right, but I didn't want to include Primarchs. We will be seeing plenty of normal forces, though, which should be fun.

Guest: Yes, there will be Space Marines. Five chapters total, two of which are mentioned in this chapter of the story. The Krogan would indeed definitely like chainswords.

The Disqueting One: I'm not sure. There is a Treaty in this chapter. I'm sure the Citadel will get something in the future.

powerhendler: Thank you for reading!

Anatheras: I'm glad to be back! Shepard's head will be spinning, don't you worry.

ADeter: AVE IMPERATOR!

oOo

Prepare for War

"You don't understand! You surely must realize what's going to happen! When we uplifted the Krogan to fight in the Rachni Wars, they almost destroyed us! The Krogan! A race that had been primitive only years before! This is an empire of a million worlds, enured to fighting things just as bad or far worse than the Reapers. What do you think is going to happen after this war?" -Matriarch Annila of the Asari Republics

"Judge Claude Frollo longed

To purge the world

Of vice and sin

And he saw corruption

Everywhere

Except within." -The Bells of Notre Dame, The Hunchback of Notre Dame (film)

"A cry for help in time of need, await relief from Holy League

Sixty days of siege, outnumbered and weak

Sent a message to the sky, wounded soldiers left to die

Will they hold the wall or will the city fall?

Dedication

Dedication

They're outnumbered fifteen to one

And the battle's begun.

Then the winged hussars arrived." -Winged Hussars, Sabaton

oOo

The Citadel was somber these days. It was unlike the subduedness of the past few years, where any semblance of 'somber' was due to the ongoing cold war between the Citadel and Mechanicus. This was not the gut-twisting anticipation that gripped the massive space station during the First Contact War decades ago. Yes, this may be first contact with a new species, but it was far from anything the Citadel had ever experienced.

This somberness was fear. The emotion gripped the Citadel, shook it, twisted it, and refused to let go. The influx of refugees confirmed it, the holo-news supported it. Fear, terror, panic… this was all many had left. All they had were meagere possessions, now suddenly worthless in times of strife, fear, and the knowledge that the so-called conspiracy theories of a single human officer were completely true.

The Reapers had come. They were here. The Systems Alliance, one of the four governing bodies actually on the Council itself, was doomed. The Turian Hierarchy was under assault and barely holding. There were no alliances, no unity, and no hope for the people of the galaxy. The Reapers, a laughable idea to anyone thinking strait, actually did exist. Shepard was right, the Council was wrong. The Quarians and Krogan would not help; they were basically exiles. The Council's loss.

Shops did a nervous business with refugees and old customers alike, prices rising daily. Those who lived on the Citadel grumbled about the influx of newcomers; those trying to escape their homeworlds for the so-called safest place in the galaxy were fraught with tension and nerves. C-Sec was on high alert. Crime was rising. The Council shut themselves in. The four Citadel races bickered amongst each other, alternately pleading for aid or completely unwilling to give it. The Citadel Fleet was always ready, always prepared, but silently wondered if they would actually be able to do anything. Sovereign wrecked them. The Omnissiah's Blade was so far out of their league they were completely unable to fight it. What could they do against a full Reaper invasion?

Morale was low. The Alliance Navy Fleets were either destroyed or licking their wounds. The Turian Navy, prideful point of the Citadel and galaxy, were on the defensive at Palaven and losing ground by the hour. Some found solace that Thessia and Sur'Kesh hadn't been attacked; others protested that the Asari and Salarians were not pressed and still were unwilling to help their allies. Tensions were rising. It was clear things were as bad as they were going to get. So what now? What to do?

Currently, the Citadel Council, alongside Commander Shepard, multiple special envoys, Archmagos Belisarius Cawl, and several strange newcomers were meeting to discuss that ever-present question.

The space around the Citadel was more crowded than usual. Starships of all sorts, from huge liners carrying those afraid to remain on colonies to tiny transport vessels simply staying close to safety littered the void around the massive station. As always, the Citadel Fleet remained a constant presence. Their might was reassuring to everyone… everyone who did not serve in the Fleet itself. For they knew their strength, they knew it would not be enough, even though they all hoped it would be.

But such things did not matter today, for today the Citadel Fleet was patrolling farther out than usual. They were led, as always, by the Destiny Ascension, the massive dreadnought a comforting presence to anyone on the station beneath. The rest of the Fleet in all its glory, the Turian dreadnaughts, grumbling that they should be home, defending Palaven, the graceful Asari ships so attuned to the attitudes around them, and the sleek Salarian vessels always seeking information all revolved around the Ascension this day. For this day, something extraordinary was happening.

The reason why the Fleet was much farther from the Citadel proper than usual was explained to any curious civilian as "an exercise". The typical excuse for the military doing unusual things always worked, especially in times like this. Most civilians thought it was good the Fleet was on alert. Those more attuned to the military side of things wondered if it was an ill-omen.

The true reason the Citadel Fleet was out was not because of "an exercise", but rather because the Citadel Council did not want this meeting held on the Citadel itself. Indeed, they didn't want any other vessels to see exactly what was happening. This area in space was far away enough that the multitudes of civilian ships orbiting the Citadel could not see. This was not meant for their eyes.

The massive figure of Destiny Ascension loomed in the void. Built by the graceful Asari, it reflected both the nature of its creator species and the glory of the Citadel at large. Surrounding what was once the largest starship in the galaxy were the myriads of other Citadel Fleet defense vessels. Each was neatly in their place, each surrounding the Ascension in a cocoon of defensive firepower.

Between the other vessels of the Citadel Fleet and the Ascension herself lay six other vessels. The largest was far larger than a dreadnought; the smallest barely measuring up to a frigate. The first ship orbiting the Destiny Ascension was, of course, the Normandy. Its sleek body and clean design was a welcome presence in contrast to the strangeness that were the other five vessels.

The other five starships, small pinpricks of light between the mighty vessels of the Citadel Fleet and the vast expanse of space, were all completely unique, and all quite strange. The first was large and blocky, nearly the size of a dreadnought, with strange and intricate carvings throughout a sleek gray body. It was rectangular, and looked something like a mining ship. However, the grace of the vessel, the size of the engines and weapons, and simply a gut instinct when one looked at it put this starship as much more than a simple tug.

The next was smaller than even the Normandy. Finished and elegant, in black with gold trim, it looked something of a luxury yacht. Beyond that, any further purpose could not be discerned. The third vessel was baroque and gothic in style, with furling arches and massively intricate carvings. Indeed, there were even stained glass windows, depicting epic battles between haloed heroes and eldritch beasts. Even the gun barrels lining the vessel's sides were engraved with golden filigree.

Of the last two vessels, one was about the size of a cruiser. It was a simple affair, made of solid gray metal. It had engravings and sigils on it, but they seemed to belong instead of over-embellished. The last, and final starship was the utterly massive form of the Serendipity, flagship of Archmagos Belisarius Cawl.

The reason all of these bizarre starships were orbiting the Destiny Ascension was because of the Citadel Council. They were aboard their grand starship, their pride and joy, flagship of the Fleet. They had been spirited away from the Citadel itself, through secret passages known only to the rulers of the station and aboard the Ascension. They did not want this meeting to take place on the Citadel. They did not want anyone to know of it until they could figure out exactly what was to be done.

Within the Ascension itself, the Council stood alongside Commander Shepard. They were around a massive table, ovular in shape. It was made of sleek black plastic, with gray smooth edges. The interior of the room was much the same, with walls made of similar material in a similar style. The room itself was large; perhaps one of the largest within the Ascension besides the bridge, hangar, or mess hall. Its purpose was simple. This was the safe room for the Citadel Council when they were aboard the Ascension, and the place where they conducted all their business while in the dreadnought's massive halls.

Currently it served as a meeting room of paramount importance. This was the reason why the Council did not want to remain on the Citadel.

On one side of the table were the Councilors. Sparatus, Tevos, Valern… Udina. How Shepard wished Anderson hadn't resigned. Oh, well. Couldn't be helped. Anderson was doing good work back on a beleaguered Earth. The human Councilor looked back to Shepard, a tight yet emotionless expression on his face. Shepard returned it with one as equally emotionless, a look he'd practiced over the years to give to incompetent sergeants and superior officers. Udina looked away, back towards the other side of the table.

To the Councilors' right, opposite Shepard's side, were the holograms. Admiral Hackett, the highest-ranking survivor of the Alliance military and now de-facto head of humanity's state stood crossly, holographic form tinged with blue light. After the destruction of Arcturus Station, once the host of the Alliance Parliament and nerve center of their naval armada, Hackett was quite literally the highest ranking available human government official outside Udina. Oh, yes, there were some presidents, chancellors, or prime ministers left on Earth under the protection of Anderson's resistance, but they were, for obvious reasons, unavailable. Udina was humanity's Councilor, Hackett its commanding authority.

Next to Hackett were two more holograms, wavering in blue-hued light. One was a large and stately Turian, magnificent and complicated silvery plates bearing swirling golden markings. The next was a very familiar scarred face. Shepard smiled as he traced Garrus's blue markings in his mind. Primarch Fedorian, ruler of the Turian Hierarchy, and his Reaper-expert assistant, Praetorian Garrus Vakarian. With the coming of the Reapers, Garrus had become the official assistant of the Primarch.

Next to the Turians stood the heavily robed figure of Dalatrass Linron, ruler of the Salarian Union. Her clothing was ornate yet plain, and even Shepard could tell it was hugely expensive. She stood alone, moodily crossing her arms and glaring at the other denizens of the room.

It seemed none of the rulers of the Council's member races could make it in person. Indeed, the only representative of the Asari was Councilor Tevos. Apparently the Matriarchs trusted her enough to speak with their authority.

Across the table were the newcomers. There were five in total. Farther in the back, towards the room's exit was Archmagos Cawl. His massive form, hunched so he did not scrape the ceiling, was shrouded in the shadows. He did not actually stand around the table; a motion Shepard thought curious. Alpha Primus, Cawl's ever-present shadow, was nowhere to be seen. Shepard thought that curious too.

Actually standing around the table proper were four humans. First on the left (from Shepard's perspective) was a man of medium height wearing black and white robes. These were even more ornate than those of the Dalatrass, with swirling dark engravings among the sea of pure white. His face was bearded; a salt-and-pepper black with streaks and flecks of grey. His eyes were dark, and looked disapprovingly at the aliens present while black-gloved hands thoughtfully stroked his beard.

The next, and the one seemingly in-charge, was a black-clothed woman. Black gloves, black boots, black pants, and a black tunic all covered her form. These were not a neat, crisp shining black, but rather more subdued and worn with everyday use. A black cloak complimented this outfit while a hood of the same color covered her face. Shepard could not actually see what she looked like, beyond the fact she had milky pale skin. All else was obscured in the shadow of her hood.

The third wore crimson and gold, with a scarlet cloak and beautifully ornate sword on his hip. His outfit would have been gaudy if not for the fact it looked like he could leap into action at any moment and begin slaughtering everyone present. His hair was short brown; eyes a weird mottled mixture of multiple colors. Shepard would have placed his age at about thirty five, but his body looked to be as spry and powerful as someone in their early twenties. Stranger still, his eyes were ancient, peering out with wisdom to match even Tevos's centuries.

The last man wore brown and black leather beneath armor of bronze and steel. His style looked almost steampunk in appearance, with a blending of the fashion of his colleagues and that of the Adeptus Mechanicus Shepard was so familiar with. Covering the man's face was a mask, looking almost like a welder's visor.

Hung around all of their necks, emblazoned on all of their clothing was the same symbol, repeated over and over again: a stylized capital "I" with a human skull in the center.

Sigil of the Imperial Inquisition.

Shepard had caught up with his reading as soon as Cawl deftly informed him precisely who would be representing the Imperium of Man. There wasn't much he was privy to about their organization within the Mechanicus's archives. He knew the Inquisition was the Imperium's secret police. He found out they were feared and dreaded, and wielded nigh-unlimited authority.

Most frighteningly, he found out they had the ability to order anyone, from the lowest menial laborer to the rulers of the Imperium themselves to do their bidding. Also included with that infinite authority was the ability to order an act called Exterminatus, or the complete destruction of a planet.

One man could order the annihilation of an entire world and every soul within, and couldn't be opposed nor questioned. (Apparently the Inquisition came down very hard on those who ordered Exterminatus without proper cause, which was scant reassurance. Shepard couldn't think of any proper cause for such an act in the first place.)

Shepard was beginning to understand exactly how dangerous the people he was standing across from were. He had tried to inform the Council; predictably, they'd brushed him off. He wasn't even mad. It was expected.

But now, this was where negotiations began. This was where things got interesting.

"Is everyone present?" asked Councilor Tevos, voice ringing clearly throughout the room.

"I believe so," replied Primarch Fedorian, dual-toned voice a heavy rumble in comparison to the light grace of the Asari's.

"Then let us call this meeting to order," said the Inquisitor in all black. Her name was Valorn, if Shepard recalled correctly. Elisa Valorn. Apparently, there were different sub-branches of the Inquisition, which only added to his confusion over the organization. Valron was something-xenos, meaning she specialized in aliens. The man on the far left was heretic or hereticus or something of the sort, specializing in hunting down human traitors. Shepard looked at him closely. If there was anyone who was classically secret police in nature, it would be him.

Of the others, the man on the right in the mask was Mechanicum or Machinum, or possibly Machinus. Shepard couldn't quite remember. Whatever the exact name of his branch was didn't particularly matter. The specialty of that Inquisitor, named Vell, was to oversee the Adeptus Mechanicus and make sure they didn't deviate from the Imperium. The intricacies of Imperial politics made Shepard's head hurt. He already had enough problems with Citadel politics; he didn't need to add the machinations of a million-world empire into the mix.

The last Inquisitor, the man in red, was a member of something called Malleus. Whatever he did was apparently classified, for Shepard could find no mention of Malleus's specialty. So be it. Shepard's thoughts were interrupted by Inquisitor Valorn.

"In the name of His Divine Majesty, the God-Emperor of Mankind, and by the grace of the Golden Throne, I hereby call this gathering together." Valorn looked around the table. Her eyes, deep in the shadow of her hood, caught the gaze of everyone around the table. "We meet today with the Citadel Council to discuss grave tidings of war. May we learn from each other and come to an agreement this day. Ave Imperator." The words sounded rehearsed, yet flowed from Valorn's tongue with consummate grace.

Several of those on Shepard's side of the table looked somewhat alarmed at the phrasing, especially "His Divine Majesty, the God-Emperor of Mankind." It was a rather uncomfortable reminder that these strangers quite literally worshiped their Emperor as the immortal god of humanity. Shepard didn't know the particulars of that: whether the Emperor was truly immortal, whether something made him immortal, or whether the Imperium simply believed him to be immortal. He wasn't exactly sure he wanted to find out, either.

"Yes," said Sparatus. For the first time, Shepard detected a note of apprehension in the Turian Councilor's voice. "Let this meeting begin." His mandibles furled into a sudden frown. "From what little I've heard about your… Imperium, and it's not a lot," this was accompanied by a very disapproving glare, "I was under the impression that the… High Lords of Terra were its rulers. Not you." His intentions were clear. Was the Imperium simply snubbing the Council? The rulers of the Citadel and all the Citadel races were all here, but the High Lords couldn't be bothered?

The Inquisitors shared a glance among each other. In the background, Shepard caught Cawl rolling his eyes. Curious. At what? Sparatus? The Inquisitors? Shepard sighed to himself. Now he was getting caught up in the political intrigue.

Hesitantly, each of the Inquisitors reached inside their cloaks, pockets, or robes. Each drew out a small sliver of dull bronze metal. They looked at each other suspiciously, slowly, and placed each sliver on the table. Peering more closely, Shepard realized each sliver was one quarter of a circle. Four pieces of the same icon.

Four hands reached out, and each pushed their owner's piece together with the others. The pieces locked together, forming a whole medallion.

No. Not a medallion. The icon in the center was reversed. A seal. It was a double-headed eagle, magnificent wings splayed wide. In the center of the body was a simple capital "I". Above the eagle's twin heads was a haloed skull. Inquisitor Valorn looked up. Shepard realized he'd been caught staring.

"This is the Seal of the High Lords," she said gravely. Defiantly, she looked up at the Citadel representatives. "The High Lords rule an empire of a million worlds. Ours is an Imperium constantly at war. They send their regards and condolences, but they cannot leave Terra. Instead, we speak with their authority."

More questions. Why? Why this? Did the Inquisitors not trust each other with the full Seal? Did they think one of them would abuse its authority? Would one of them truly do that? Or perhaps it was the High Lords themselves? Did they not trust just one person with their weighty power? What was it? Why?

"Very well then," said Tevos, interrupting Shepard's internal thoughts. "It is settled," she said calmly, looking at her fellow Councilors. Distantly Shepard realized this was another farce; they had not agreed, but to disagree would set negotiations back and make the Inquisitors think the Council couldn't agree. This made it look so that each Councilor was in agreement with each other.

He spent too much time around politicians. He needed to get out more. Maybe take Tali to a beach? After the war was over…

"We respect your authority and recognize you speak on behalf of the Imperium of Man, and the Adeptus Mechanicus," said Valern, smoothly including Cawl in the last half of the sentence. "Now, let us get down to business."

"Of course," replied Inquisitor Valorn smoothly. The other representatives of the Imperium had yet to say a word. Valorn looked up, eyes sweeping the Council. "It is my impression, and the impression of the Imperium that you seek a military alliance to defeat the Reapers. Is that correct?" The Councilors looked at each other.

"That is correct," replied Hackett before anyone else could get a word in. Shepard hid a smile. The Inquisitors had opened up bluntly. No intrigue here. They wanted something. Hackett was just as straightforward. He wanted something: forces to help retake Earth. So far, Hackett and Udina had pleaded with the Citadel for others to help defend them. It had all been in vain. The Asari and Salarians, who always spoke of unity, were unwilling to help defend a fellow member race. The Turians had fallen under attack and were barely holding as it was.

If the Citadel would not help, then perhaps the Imperium of Man would. Shepard only hoped the price for that help would not be too high.

The Inquisitors nodded with approval at Hackett. Whether that was because he was forward, because he was the only one trying to defend Earth, or simply because he was a human in a room full of aliens was unknown.

"Very well then," replied Valorn. She drew a scroll of heavy parchment from inside her cloak and unfurled it with a flourish. Shepard and everyone on the Council's side simply stared. Parchment? What was this? Did they not do this digitally? Amusingly, Shepard could see Cawl rolling his eyes again in the background.

Inquisitor Valorn pushed the heavy piece of parchment towards the Councilors. It certainly looked official, complete with furling gothic script and an area pre-marked for official seals on the bottom. Shepard did a double-take. Yes, they wanted a seal. Like in wax. Dear god, this was really old-fashioned.

Craning their necks to look, the Councilors and Shepard leaned in to read the document. Several of those on holograms adjusted them so they could see the parchment better. Musing through the gothic script, Shepard read.

The Treaty of the Citadel

1. The Terminus Systems and Attican Traverse will be signed over to and subsequently governed by the Imperium of Man and the forces of His Divine Majesty. Any current Citadel colonies in the area may keep their status as protectorate under the Citadel. The Citadel Council will acknowledge the Imperium as the legitimate rulers of the Terminus Systems and Attican Traverse. This region of space shall be known as Segmentum Galactica Secundum forevermore.

2. The Imperium of Man shall provide military aid to the forces of the Citadel and the Citadel Council to fight the race of Abominable Intelligences known as the Reapers and any of their allies. Aid will be provided to the signatories of this Treaty and their client races; no more, no less. The details of the forces of His Divine Majesty who shall come to the aid of the Council shall be discussed as a separate treaty. However, this treaty remains binding, and the government of the Imperium of Man shall abide to any requests for aid to fight the Reapers and their allies.

3. The Imperium of Man shall rule Segmentum Galactica Secundum as they see fit, without interference from the Citadel or any of its member races.

4. A council, henceforth known as the Oligarchy, shall be formed to rule Segmentum Galactica Secundum. This council shall be made up of the representatives from each major Imperial military and governmental branch as appointed by the High Lords of Terra, and be subservient to the God-Emperor and High Lords, as is proper.

5. The species of the Citadel will be declared Xenos Sanctum.

6. The species of the Citadel are to pay the Imperial Tithe, which shall be set upon each species and each world by the Oligarchy.

7. The Citadel Council may request aid from the forces of His Divine Majesty at any time.

8. The Cult Imperialis and Cult Mechanicus are to never be outlawed under Citadel law, and the adherents to those faiths may practice their faith without interference.

9. Mars is to be turned over to the Adeptus Mechanicus to establish a forge world upon that world. The forge upon New Mars shall swear subservience to Blessed Mars and the Machine God. The forge shall provide the Systems Alliance and the forces of His Divine Majesty in Segmentum Galactica Secundum with weaponry, vehicles, fuel, and all other manner of equipment the forges of the Adeptus Mechanicus provide.

10. The races of the Citadel may petition the Adeptus Mechanicus to establish a forge world in their own systems. The Adeptus Mechanicus shall respond as they see fit.

11. The Inquisitorial Mandate, Seal of Mars, Seal of the High Lords, and seal of Magisterium Lex Ultima shall be respected throughout Citadel space as unquestionable. All shall respect, and none shall question those bearing the Inquisitorial Mandate. The words of those bearing the Mandate shall always be followed by anyone throughout the galaxy, be they Councilor or menial.

12. An Imperial embassy shall be established upon the Citadel and upon the homeworlds of each Citadel race.

13. The species of the Citadel shall be treated fairly and in accordance with their status of Xenos Sanctum. However, should they not follow the law of this treaty the forces of His Divine Majesty reserve the right to retaliate as they see fit.

They read, and read again. Then they re-read, just to make sure. Then they re-read one more time, just to make sure there weren't any particularly vicious clauses hidden within the treaty. Shepard waited, trying not to look up. He didn't want to meet the eyes of the Inquisitors. Somehow, that would be showing weakness and letting down his side. He didn't know why he knew that, only that he knew. It wasn't his place to be the first to respond.

"This is… very interesting," inputted Primarch Fedorian after a moment. The Councilors shared glances.

"Indeed it is," said Tevos slowly. Both Valern and the Dalatrass looked as if they wanted to speak, but were resigned to an angry silence. "You want… both the Terminus Systems and Attican Traverse." It was more of a statement than a question. "You must realize that the Council claims ownership of the Traverse-"

"And the Terminus Systems are not exactly… welcome to outsiders," finished Valern. Inquisitor Valorn (Shepard didn't notice how similar their names were until now; it must be rankling the Inquisitor, having a name so similar to an alien) simply smiled. Shepard winced. The smile was less akin to a good-natured expression and more like a hungry wolf looking at prey.

"Oh, I don't think that will be a problem. I'm sure we can handle ourselves in regards to the Terminus Systems." The Councilors tried not to look nervous at that. Hackett and Fedorian shared a quick glance. It was so very interesting that the Alliance and Hierarchy, two powers that fought a war only decades ago, were now more on the same side than anyone else at this table. Even the Inquisitors looked like they didn't trust each other.

Desperate times, desperate measures. Although Shepard had no problems allying with the Turians. He looked to Garrus. His friend seemed to be lost in thought.

"What exactly do we get in return for signing the Terminus Systems and Attican Traverse over to you?" asked Hackett, ever the military man. He had a planet to retake and a species to save. If it meant getting Imperial firepower, then he would probably sign.

"I'm glad you asked," replied Valorn with a smile. Both Valorn, the bearded man to the far left and the red-cloaked man drew new pieces of parchment from their cloaks or robes. Each was in a similar style to the Treaty of the Citadel. Fixed beneath each was a seal of red wax, stamped with the insignia of the High Lords.

These were not treaties or any sort of signatory documents. Rather, each was a list. Written in the same beautiful gothic script as the Treaty were names and designations in the hundreds. Looking deeper, Shepard realized these were military forces. One parchment held naval elements, one ground elements, one the forces of the Mechanicus. There were so many, and the script so small Shepard wasn't exactly sure what the Imperium was promising.

"This is… quite a lot," said Tevos, stalling. The Inquisitors stared at her disapprovingly. "I believe we should take some time to discuss this." She gave a polite smile. "If we may." Valorn waved her hand, as if allowing them to do so. The Inquisitors started to look bored. Shepard looked around the room, trying to read expressions as the Councilors retreated.

"Commander Shepard," came the smooth voice of Archmagos Cawl. "May I have a word with you in private?" The Inquisitors looked back at the Tech-Priest, who so far had not said a word. It seemed that they didn't want him to speak. It also seemed that Cawl did not care.

"Of course," replied Shepard. Out of everyone here, minus Garrus, Hackett, and possibly Fedorian, Shepard trusted Cawl the most. Maybe not the best of ideas, considering the shenanigans the wily Tech-Priest could and did get up to, but Cawl was impossible not to like.

"This way, if you please." Cawl motioned Shepard forward, towards the door. Shepard followed Cawl through, ignoring the watchful gazes of the Inquisitors and the glances of the Citadel representatives busy pouring over the treaty.

Through the door, into an outside hallway, and through another nearby door led Shepard and Cawl into a small room done in the same style as the rest of the Ascension's interior. Apparently this room was somewhere where diplomats were quartered or supposed to meet outside the main conference room.

The Archmagos tried to straighten out, but instead bumped his head on the ceiling. With an annoyed grumble, he clicked over to the side of the room, beckoning Shepard forward. Strangely, Shepard felt more comfortable in the massive red-robed shadow of the mechanical monstrosity that was Cawl than in the room with the politicians.

"You wanted to talk?" asked Shepard, interest piqued. Cawl sighed and idly tapped an arm against his chest. His Omnissian axe was nowhere to be found. Another curiosity.

"Yes," replied Cawl, mechanical voice sounding tired. He glanced around, making sure they were alone. "I know this treaty is asking a lot-"

"That's… putting it kind of mildly," scoffed Shepard. "You're asking us to sign over half the galaxy." Cawl shrugged.

"You're not using that half. I know the Citadel has claimed the Attican Traverse, but they do not have a presence there. Any Citadel colonies in the area are still yours."

"I know, but still!" Shepard ran his hand through his short-cut hair. "Half the galaxy!" He whirled around. "Plus Mars! I forgot about that! You guys get a planet in the Sol system!

"Yes, because-" Cawl made a visible effort to calm down. He sighed again. "That's not important, and not what I came here to tell you." Another sigh. "You saw those ships above Earth? The big ones that looked like they were from our galaxy?"

"Yes, we did." Shepard had been wondering about those. As the Normandy had been leaving Earth, packed to the brim with huddling refugees, the crew had noticed new formations of starships descending on the planet. They were definitely from Cawl's universe: no one else had starships of that size, shape, and design.

However, they were most definitely not Mechanicus-affiliated. Instead of proud gothic spirals and holy icons to the Machine God or God-Emperor, everything about them was twisted and wrong. It was like someone had infected the ships with rot, and left them to decay in the void. Shepard and his crew weren't even entirely sure how such things remained space-worthy.

The symbols on the ships had been nothing anyone had recognized. They had the typical Mechanicus/Imperial affinity for skulls, but instead of eagles or cogwheels the prevalent sign seemed to be a strange eight-pointed star. They were not Imperial, not Mechanicus, but definitely from their galaxy. What was more, they were seemingly allied with the Reapers. Both Shepard and Hackett wanted to ask who they were, but were saving it for after the main negotiations were taking place.

"I suppose you've already figured out they do indeed come from our universe," mused Cawl. Shepard remained silent. Cawl turned down to stare at him, eyes peering down with such an intensity it riveted Shepard to the spot. "They are what we call the Dark Mechanicum."

"So like… evil Mechanicus?" queried Shepard. Cawl nodded unhappily.

"Exactly. They are traitors, seduced by darkness." Cawl's stare became even more intense, if such a thing were possible. "They are ancient, they are powerful, and they are… Well, can you keep a secret?" Shepard nodded wordlessly. This seemed to satisfy the Archmagos, who continued. "They are led by a man named Kelbor-Hal. Arch-Heretek Kelbor-Hal, the man who ruled Mars and the ancient Mechanicum some ten thousand years ago, during the Great Crusade and Horus Heresy." The names meant nothing to Shepard, but the numbers did.

"Ten… thousand?" He stared, wordless. Cawl nodded.

"Ten thousand." The Tech-Priest's gaze became distant, his voice somber. "I remember as if it were yesterday… Chrom, Regulus, Lord Hal… Sota-Nul, Protos, Malevolus, Melgator… Why…? Why did you lose your way… ? Was it Horus, or something more?"

Shepard took a step back in shock.

"You were there." His voice was almost accusing. "You were there." A note of fear, never present in the cheerful Archmagos's presence, crept into Shepard's voice. "Just how old are you?" Cawl's gaze snapped back to Shepard.

"Ten thousand… more or less. I can't… I can't remember." He sounded sad, almost. "Why… why can't I remember?" A silence overtook the room. Shepard didn't dare break it.

Cawl, Archmagos Cawl, the cheerful, wiley, eccentric, somewhat crazily fun Tech-Priest was ten thousand years old. Shepard suddenly felt cold. There was fear now; for some reason he wanted to go back into the main room and see Garrus again. Even in hologram form, his friend was comforting.

"But my age and experiences don't particularly matter at the moment." Cawl's voice was back to normal, though more subdued than usual. "My point, and what I was trying to tell you originally is that Fabricator General… my mistake, Arch-Heretek Kelbor-Hal is here." He became more rushed, as if desperate to impart some vital piece of information to Shepard. "He was the ruler of Mars. What you must understand about our galaxy is that once upon a time, men created wonders beyond our wildest dreams. This was the Age of Technology, thousands of years before the Age of the Imperium. This technology destroyed us, and shattered the human race, adrift and lost before the coming of the Emperor. The Emperor took over, and launched His Great Crusade to reclaim the stars. But it was all undone by traitors. Kelbor-Hal was among these traitors." Cawl slowed down. Shepard could hear his mechanical breath. "Forgive my history lesson. But Hal now is here, and he brings the ancient horrors of the Dark Age and all the power of the Traitor cause of the Heresy with him. We believe he controls the Reapers. He must be stopped, and we will do anything to do so."

Shepard tried to wrap his head around what the Archmagos had just said. Tried. Failed.

"So… let me sum this up." He pursed his lips. "What you're saying is that this man, Kelbor-Hal, is ten thousand years old and unbelievably dangerous. He now controls the Reapers." The thought was an anathema. Who could control the Reapers?

"Yes," replied Cawl. "All of which circles back to the Treaty." Ah. More politics. Wonderful. "What I am trying to tell you, the reason why I wanted to speak to you alone is that Hal must be stopped. He is now the Imperium and Mechanicus's number one priority." Cawl fixed Shepherd with another weighty glare. "My point is that we are going to stop him. Treaty or no. We are sending our forces already. They will arrive shortly. Signing this treaty provides us with an alliance. Not signing it means we'll just wipe you out."

"But-!" Shepard's protest was cut short.

"Let me speak. I argued long and strenuously to try and preserve you. I do not wish this galaxy dead. In fact, I quite like it here. But my point is that it is in your best interests to sign; otherwise, we'll fight this war ourselves."

Shepard's head was reeling. This was all too much to process; he didn't, couldn't understand the history of Cawl's reality. Who were all these people? What had happened? How old did people get there? How did they reach such an age? Were the Inquisitors that old? The High Lords? Everyone? Who was Hal? Obviously he was no good, judging by his present actions, but what had he done before?

Shepard pushed all these questions out of his mind, and instead focused on what he could. The present. The Treaty.

"Very well," he said tiredly. He rubbed the back of his neck. Still had that nervous tick, though God only knew where he picked it up. "I'll try to sway the Council and the others." He held up a hand before Cawl could speak. "Of course I'm not going to be telling the Council what you told me about your forces arriving either way. I'll try for something else. What, I don't know." Cawl nodded quietly and made a move to head out. "One more thing, Archmagos," interrupted Shepard. The Tech-Priest looked back. "How… old are the Inquisitors?" The question actually got a laugh; a rather unexpected reaction.

"I don't know for certain, but within the normal range of human age." Cawl gestured theatrically to himself, red robes spinning. "Tech-Priests can reach ages considerably older than normal humans. Natrius is well within the hundreds. I myself am one of the oldest loyal Priests still alive." Shepard sensed a genuine smile beneath Cawl's faceplate. "To reach such an age is definitely an anomaly. You need not worry that everyone else from my universe is as ancient as I am." Shepard could only smile in response.

"Okay. We should probably get back. I'm sure the others are missing us."

oOo

As it turned out, the others were not exactly missing them. As soon as they walked in, the Inquisitors glared at Cawl, who simply grinned behind his faceplate, shrugged, and went back to his corner. The Councilors and the other Citadel-affiliated representatives looked up from where they were poring over the Treaty and the list of Imperial forces.

"Good of you to rejoin us, Commander." Udina's voice, normally hostile, simply sounded tired. Shepard almost felt for him. Almost.

"Good to be back, Councilor," replied Shepard smoothly. Walking over to his side of the table, he activated his omni-tool. "Just doing some math," he muttered at the inquisitive and somewhat hostile glances shot his way. He leaned in deeper, peering at the list of incoming Imperials to make it look more convincing.

Making sure no one could see his tool's interface, he began punching in keys, frowning and looking back and forth from the list to make it more convincing. Far from doing math, he was sending a message.

Cawl says Imperials are showing anyway. Hunting man called Hal. Hal controls Reapers. Treaty best hope. Otherwise Imperials come anyway and destroy everything. -Shepard

It was a risk, perhaps too large a risk considering the intercept systems of the Ascension and the technological mastery of the Mechanicus. Cawl was right there, and Shepard was sending messages under his nose. If they were intercepted… it probably wouldn't end well. It was a risk Shepard was willing to take.

The hologram of Garrus looked down, as if studying some new report brought by a subordinate. From his place, Fedorian looked down as well, seeing the report his Reaper expert brought him. Fedorian gave Garrus a nod, careful not to look at Shepard. For his part, the Commander frowned. This was already going too far. Hopefully no one else would find out.

"What exactly are all of these forces?" asked Hackett, interrupting the silence. Fedorian, Garrus, and the Dalatrass looked up, interested. The rest of the politicians continued murmuring over the details of the Treaty.

"I'm glad you asked," replied Inquisitor Valorn. There was a note of interest that had not been in her voice previously. She crossed over to the table and joined the military men looking over the lists. "You receive the Imperium's finest, a full crusade of a size and power not seen since Lord Solar Macharius." Seeing their blank looks, Valorn added, "And that's quite the force, let me assure you." She began going over the lists. "First, of course, we have the might of His Majesty's Navy. You will see we have three full battlefleets, each complete with hundreds of Navy ships." Valorn flashed a smile beneath her hood. "Those listed here are simply the Navy vessels. Many other factions bring their own."

Who's Hal? Turians behind Treaty. Need help. Hackett? -G

So, Garrus and Fedorian were inclined to sign the Treaty. Apparently, they were willing to hand over territory for the promise of Imperial aid. Shepard was fairly certain Hackett was of the same opinion. Hopefully the Council would agree, and present a united front for the Citadel.

"Now, as for the ground forces, we have the full power of the Imperial Guard, the normal human men and women of the Imperium. We are bringing many millions of them, to better help save your worlds. There are many famous regiments throughout, including the vaunted Cadians, the stalwart Mordians, reverent Tallarn, the… ah, but I see these names don't mean much to you. Suffice to say that we are bringing the best regiments in their full numbers from dozens of the greatest worlds in the Imperium."

Hal from their galaxy. Very powerful & old. Controls Reapers. Bringing Titans. Bad news. Need Imperial help. -Shepard

"Then, of course, we have the Emperor's Angels of Death, the venerable Space Marines. These men who give themselves to the Emperor and take the genes and blood of His sons are the finest warriors in the Imperium. They are genetically engineered super-soldiers without equal, clad in the finest power armor and wielding the mightiest weapons we can provide them with. And you are getting five full chapters!"

Humans and Turians together, huh? Council hanging us to dry, as the human expression goes. Need Asari and Salarian signatures. -G

"In fact, the crusade is being led by Dante, Lord of the Angels. Ah, you need not fear; Lord Dante was chosen for his wisdom and demeanor. He is lord of the Blood Angels, one of the First Founding Marine chapters. Indeed, he is the oldest Space Marine alive today. An excellent choice for supreme commander, you'll find out. Oh, in addition, you'll be getting Lord Shrike, Master of Shadows. Another First Founding Chapter Master! Truly, with both the Ravens and Angels behind you, this war cannot fail…"

Need further info on Hal and arriving Imperial forces. Will try Cawl. Keep you updated. -Shepard

"Lastly, we have the forces of the Adeptus Mechanicus," interrupted Cawl. He moved forward, claw legs clicking softly on the Ascension's deck. Brushing past Valorn, who looked none too happy at the intrusion, Cawl pointed to the list displaying the Mechanicus forces. "Due to the nature of recent events, you know about our military." The Citadel representatives nodded. "Well then, this should give you a good idea of precisely how much firepower we're offering you in total. Millions of skitarii, the full power of our Cybernetica automatons, the technological specialists of the Ordo Reductor, four Knight Houses, and three Titan Legions."

Shepard's eyebrows went up. Garrus's manibles quirked in surprise. While the other Citadel representatives might not have known precisely what these forces were, both Shepard and Garrus had fought in the Dawn War. They knew which Mechanicus forces were which, and precisely what each one did. If this was anything to go by, what they were getting in the Treaty was very good indeed.

Shepard had a sudden, horrid though. If the Imperium were willing to give them this much military firepower, then this Hal individual must be very dangerous indeed.

Shit.

"Now, we're not shortchanging you," said Cawl with a grin. "You are getting the full might of Houses Taranis and Krast. Every single Knight they can muster. House Raven and Vulker are also sending sizable detachments. All four of the great Houses of the Questor Mechanicus. In addition, you are getting the entirety of Legio Ignatum, Mars's own Titan Legion." Cawl spread his arms out dramatically. "Plus very sizable detachments, the majority, in fact, of Legio Honorum and Pallidus Mor." It seemed the Tech-Priest was back to normal.

Shepard, Garrus, Fedorian, and Hackett moved in closer, reading the lists once more. The Salarian Dalatrass feigned disinterest, but Shepard could see her mind was running through everything Cawl had said at breakneck speeds.

"To put it all in comparison," continued the Archmagos, "The forces of the Machine God that fought in the Dawn War were about a twentieth of this, this, this, this, this, and this." Cawl's finger poked down with each word, pointing out six tiny lines among myriads of many hundreds. Shepard recoiled, impressed. Hackett nodded sagely. The Turians' mandibles fluttered. Now that was impressive.

"One more thing. We have reports of strange ships, seemingly coming from your universe, in our galaxy. They don't seem to be yours, they don't act like yours, and they definitely don't look like yours. So… what are these ships?" asked Hackett with a frown. He crossed his arms, waiting for a response. The Inquisitors glanced at each other warily. The Salarians perked up, eager for new information.

"They are… Mechanicus traitors," replied Cawl. The suddenness of his voice came unexpectedly. "We believe through ancient and very, very heretical powers they are actually controlling the Reapers." Everyone in the room stopped cold. The Citadel representatives all stared at him. How could anyone control the Reapers? "What's more, they have terrible technologies, ancient and forbidden." A few of the Councilors took in the monstrous form of the Archmagos. If he was considered normal, what horrors did the Mechanicus consider forbidden? "To make it even worse, they are bridging their own forces, including traitorous Knight Houses and Titan Legions."

The Citadel representatives shared looks among each other. Hackett and the Turians were frowning; the rest were nervous or shocked. That made a few things more clear. It also made for more questions. Unfortunately, none could be asked now. They would have to wait.

"May we have a moment to discuss the Treaty?" Tevos's smooth voice carried through the room with practiced ease. Inquisitor Valorn nodded.

"Of course. Time is of the essence, though, as I'm sure you all well know. We are eager to aid you in retaking your territories from these perfidious abominations, and I'm sure you want your planets back." The other Inquisitors only gave stony glares as the Citadel representatives retreated from the room to discuss the intricacies of the Treaty.

oOo

It took some time, some promises, some lies, and a not-insignificant amount of threats, but eventually all of the Citadel races agreed to sign the Imperials' Treaty. Udina had initially been hesitant until Hackett gave him a long, disapproving glare. The Alliance's representative quickly crumbled.

The others took a bit more convincing. The Asari were hesitant. They were the finders of the Citadel, the first Citadel race, and the founders of the Council. Despite what others may say or think, the Asari were the true leaders of the Citadel. The Turians provided the military, the Salarians the intelligence and scientific knowledge, but the Asari provided diplomacy and leadership.

If the leaders of the Council signed away half the galaxy, they would lose both power and prestige. The Asari had always worked to keep their place on top. With the coming of the Mechanicus, that power had been greatly reduced. Before, if one wanted prestige and power on a galactic scale, they had to join the Citadel. There was now an alternative: join the Quarians and Mechanicus. If the Treaty was signed, it meant the Imperium of Man controlled half the galaxy. That was a much bigger threat, and meant the Asari were no longer rulers, but rather a species that needed to band together with the other Citadel races to survive.

However, that point would be their undoing. Primarch Fedorian was no fool. Indeed, he was rather upset with the other races of the Citadel for their failure to come to Palaven's aid. When the Asari or Salarians were in danger, they called the Turians, and the Turians came. When the Turians were in danger, the Asari and Salarians waited in their own un-attacked territories, playing a defensive game with the Hierarchy's soldiers died.

Fedorian gave an absolutely magnificent speech, decrying those who had abandoned the Turians and humans to their fates and wondering what ever happened to the ideas of unity and honor. He topped it all off by threatening to leave the Asari and Salarians to their fates after the war was won. If the Salarians and Asari did not want the Turians or humans in their Council, then the Hierarchy and Alliance would be more than happy to join with someone who truly would help them in their darkest hour.

Tevos had been convinced. Her position was unsustainable. It was either not sign the Treaty, in which case the Citadel lost all Turian military support, or sign the Treaty, in which case the Imperium became a threat, but the Council remained unified. She chose the latter.

The Salarians, on the other hand, required a different touch. Always the spymasters and scientists, always aloof, they were far more likely to try and stick it out, keeping their old position of power. Shepard did not know much about the Salarian Union, but he did know the Dalatrass had only won her position by a very narrow margin. Anything that upset the status quo would likely see the end of her rule.

However, with promises of Imperial technology (which might or might not happen; the Mechanicus was very prickly when it came to sharing) and a varied stance between threatening to bring in the Krogan to fight the war and soothingly stating the Krogan would fade away with the Treaty signed, the Salarians finally, arduously, agreed to sign.

Hours later, the Citadel representatives trekked back into the main room. The holograms of the various leaders appeared around the table, back in place. Garrus and Fedorian had been getting more messages off-screen as of late; Shepard swore he heard gunfire at one point. Palaven was under siege, after all. He only hoped they would be alright.

"The Citadel Council has agreed to sign the Treaty of the Citadel," said Tevos with a smile. Shepard noticed a strain in her voice that was not previously present.

"Very good," replied Valron, a hint of politeness not previously present in her voice. "Sign here." The Councilors all looked at each other, somewhat bewildered. The Inquisitor in the mask sighed and produced an extremely ornate fountain pen from his pocket. Udina reached over the table and gracefully accepted the pen.

As the Councilors all put their names down on behalf of the Citadel, their races, and their client races, the bearded Inquisitor produced a strange circular device. Finishing, Udina handed the pen back to the Inquisitor. (Hilariously, Shepard noticed him discreetly wipe the pen clean with a cloth when he thought no one was looking.)

As for the Inquisitor's device, it became immediately apparent what it was. The man reached down and ever-so carefully poured a perfect circle of hot wax from the small sphere. Valorn took the Seal of the High Lords and pressed it into the wax, creating the Imperial signature of the treaty. It took a few awkward seconds to dry, where everyone was looking anywhere but at each other.

"Very well," said Valorn after the wax finally dried. "Reinforcements shall be shortly. We will keep you updated." So saying, the Inquisitors turned as one and headed for the door. With a theatrical bow, Cawl followed them. One by one, the holograms winked out. The Councilors stared in silence. Wordlessly, Shepard left.

He was halfway through the hallway before he was stopped by a most unexpected source: Inquisitor Valorn. The black-hooded woman was waiting for him. As he walked, she joined him, matching him stride for stride. Shepard glanced down nervously, wondering what she wanted.

"Commander Shepard," she began. Her voice sounded more tired, more human than it had in the meeting room. "You are… an interesting specimen." He glanced down. What was that supposed to mean? Valorn chuckled. "No offense meant. I'm sure you, the Lord General, and the various Chapter Masters will get along famously. You are all so very much alike: military men to the core. Honest. Blunt. Rather unlike the people I meet in my business."

"Do you have a reason for wanting to talk to me?" asked Shepard bluntly and honestly. Valorn laughed.

"Ah, yes. Forgive my ramblings." Their walk continued even as they passed through doorways leading to the hangar of the Ascension. "But my point is you are a military man, and a good one. I've heard you are likely to be put in charge of what Citadel forces there are; a go-between for the Council to the lower ranks, and a go-between between us and the Citadel." She looked up at him. "Therefore, I thought you might like someone who could help with knowledge of Imperial customs and history to better serve our alliance." Shepard considered. Someone who had deeper knowledge of the Imperium would be a boon. However, this was coming from someone whose title was literally Inquisitor. Whoever it was would likely be a spy.

"Who… precisely are you thinking of?" he asked cautiously. Valorn laughed again.

"I'm sure you don't want any spies or sneaking diplomats," she replied. "The purpose of this is so you can learn more about us, and therefore help with the war. To do that, I will be sending a military man. An Inquisitorial Stormtrooper named Carnius Kevral. Stormtroopers are the ground forces of the Inquisition. You need not fear; you'll not be caught up in any of our plots. You're more valuable as a military leader." Valorn smiled. "Besides, once you meet Kevral, I'm sure you'll be satisfied with his integrity."

"I'll… think about it." Valorn nodded.

"Of course. Farewell, Commander. May we meet again under better circumstances." So saying she turned and walked away, black cloak swirling. Shepard sighed. Too much politics. Too many opportunities to be ensured. He would go back to the Normandy to consult with people he could trust.

oOo

The halls of the Olympus Mons were unlike anything anyone of this galaxy had seen. There was certainly no beauty here; far from it. The hallways were twisted, with stalactites and stalagmites growing from the ceilings and floors. Some dripped blood, others oil or strange, daemonically-infused fluids. Weird creatures crawled the corridors. While the creations of the Mechanicus might be seen as monstrous, these were an entirely different breed. The soldiers and servants of the Machine God were indeed inhuman, but they were simply human beings with mechanical upgrades. These beings were monsters, pure and simple, with pulsating flesh and rotting cybernetics.

Some chittered, cackling maniacally, while others let out inhuman screams. Some were eerily silent, creeping about on ceilings with legs made of human limbs. Still others were quite literally turned inside-out, their organs exposed to the elements while their skin was put in their interiors. Some were skeletons, organs oozing in rib cages, muscles long gone and bones animated by daemonic power or cybernetic alterations.

Such creatures were the discarded remnants of the Dark Priests' terrifying experiments. No one save the experimenter who created the particular abomination in question knew what it was for. Indeed, sometimes the Tech-Priests of the Dark Mechanicus would simply create horrifying monstrosities simply for the fun of it.

The monsters that crawled the twisting, sometimes changing, ever pitch-black halls would break out into fights at times. Such things left a horrible gruel of blood, organs, oil, and slime on the floors of the starship. It only added to the mess that was already there. Of course, the creatures would not harm the Tech-Priests; they knew better than that. The Priests were the masters. Besides, each individual Tech-Priest was more powerful and even more a monster than anything that prowled the halls.

In the dark heart of the Olympus was the central chapel. Once a monument to the glory of the Omnissiah, it was now a desecrated remnant of its former magnificence. The walls dripped with warp-infused blood; the cogwheel hanging on the wall had been turned into an eight-pointed star. Within the blackened interior, lit by an eerie red glow coming from the walls and stalactites, the high command of Lord Kelbor-Hal met.

The monstrous form of the treacherous Fabricator General took up the entirety of one side of the room. Draped in a terrible, almost sewer-like black, with his myriads of rusting and rotting metal tentacles swaying, Hal looked down on his subordinates. His sickly green oculars winked in the red glow of the room, standing out against the darkness of his massive form.

"Well…" his voice, heavy and dark, rasped through the chamber. Those beneath him looked up at the form of their master. All were monsters in their own ways, from horrid and twisted spider-like beings to individuals who were far too large with twisted tentacles consuming nearly the entirety of their bodies. "Everything is going according to plan. Both Terra and Mars will belong to us shortly."

Glowing ocular turned down to a massive Priest. This one was still humanoid, but possessed a body around eleven feet tall with massive shoulders and a broad chest. A mass of tentacles sprouted from beneath his hood, and dozens of severed heads were impaled on the mechadendrites on his back.

"Lord Chrom, you are in command of the forces on Earth. Do with the naive servants of this… Alliance as you will." Lukas Chrom, once the Master of Mondus Gamma, one of Mars's largest forges, nodded in reply. Oh, there were so many things he could do… so many experiments he could concoct… Perhaps he could bring back the Kaban Machine? So many opportunities…

"My lord-" came a new voice, this one more feminine in nature. But, like most Priests of the Dark Mechanicum, it wasn't anything close to being human. Instead it was twisted and distorted, terrible and warbling. A horrific spider-like mass, with spindly metal tentacles and warped flesh asked the question. Human arms were grafted onto human arms, the fingers twirling throughout the horrible tentacle-like organic appendages that complimented the mechanical. "I thought that, as-"

"I know you are my ambassador, Lady Nul, and that position shall not be usurped from you." Sota-Nul, Ambassador of Kelbor-Hal, nodded her bloated head atop her round spider body. "Lord Chrom shall have military command over Earth. Meanwhile, you shall stay by my side abard the Olympus to carry out further orders." Nul nodded, satisfied.

"What of Princeps Turnet, my lord?" piped up another Priest.

"Princeps Turnet may do as he pleases, so long as he follows our commands and the overall strategy. Lord Protos, you shall join him." Protos was the resident Titan expert and an unparalleled specialist in daemon-possessed machines. In fact, he was the creator of the first Banelord Titan, a feat unrivaled by any Priest since the Age of Technology. "Lord Malevous shall have command over the Turian campaign," Hal invested the name of the alien race with scorn, "And Lord Tre command of the Tikkun campaign. As for myself, I am taking the Olympus to Ilos."

The ex-Fabricator General preened his hood with a mechadendrite as a chorus of protests and questions erupted. Chrom and Nul remained quiet, pacified by the information he had already shared.

"But… why leave Terra?" asked another Priest. "The Olympus is one of our greatest assets. And why go to this… Ilos place?" If Kelbor-Hal still possessed anything close to a normal human face, he would have been giving a horrific grin.

"This Illos place is a planet, one held by the Prothean. You all know who they are." The rest of the Priests nodded. Multitudes of information had been given by the Reapers. It was all so simple once you were in control. "The Protheans held a last resort based upon Ilos. With the information we have gleaned from the Reapers and the Mars archives, we must now unlock the full power of the ancient secrets of the Protheans. Knowledge is power. It is something the followers of the Corpse Emperor and Omnissiah do not understand. Remember that well."

In truth, there was more, far more to Hal's plan. The Reapers had knowledge of an ancient race, their creators, known as the Leviathans. This was the first sapient race of this galaxy. Hal smiled to himself. While the secrets of the Necron Infinite Empire and the Old Ones of his own universe were lost to him, the equivalents in this new reality would suffice. Reapers and Leviathans. With the power and ability to create life as he saw fit, Fabricator General Kelbor-Hal would become more powerful than the Corpse Emperor, more powerful than any Primarch.

More powerful than the Dark Gods.

Kelbor-Hal would become omniscient and nearly omnipotent. His domains would not be restricted to within the Warp, as the Dark Gods and Traitor Legions were. He would rule this galaxy, then return to his own universe to rule there too. Kelbor-Hal would become the most powerful being ever known.

"Worry not," said Hal, his reverie of future glory broken. "I have the utmost trust in all of you. You shall command these campaigns well as we go on. We shall also strike further territories as we go… But for now, that can wait. You are all dismissed." The Dark Priests nodded and made for the exit. Beneath his hood and twisting metal faceplate, Kelbor-Hal smiled. There was a war to be won, and gods to be overthrown.

oOo

Commander John Shepard stood on the bridge of the Normandy. It was three days after the signing of the Treaty. Three days of unbearable anxiety and work, of increasingly dire news and reports, of wondering what would happen to the galaxy and loved ones. Solana was worried about Garrus and Palaven, Tali about Rannoch and the Quarians, and all the humans were despairing over Earth. The only ones seemingly unaffected were Zaeed, who remained his grumpy self, and Kasumi, who strove to be even more cheerful to compensate for dark times.

Earth had been overrun, but Anderson sounded hopeful. The resistance against the Reapers was still alive, and there were many people still left throughout the beleaguered planet. Palaven was still under siege, the full power of the Turian military fighting desperately to ensure the safety of their homeworld. Garrus was less optimistic: the Hierarchy was losing ground to the overwhelming numbers and firepower of the Reapers. At least no traitor Mechanicus forces had been sighted in Turian space. Yet.

The Quarians and the forge on Adas were huddling close, reading their forces and preparing for a siege of epic proportions. Tali got reports from her father daily. The Asari and Salarians were still infuriatingly complacent, unwilling to lend any military aid to the Alliance or Hierarchy. Hopefully today would change that.

Standing next to Shepard were Kelly Chambers, Tali, and Carnius Kevral. Shepard had decided to take up Valorn's offer after all; having someone who knew the Imperium, especially the various arriving military forces, would be a godsend. He had been hesitant, and his crew had warned him about having an Imperial spy aboard, but eventually Shepard had decided to take a gamble.

Fortunately, that gamble seemed to have paid off. Kevral was a monster of a man, standing six foot seven and seemingly made of solid muscle. His hair was as close-cut as Shepard's, his face marred with scars from countless campaigns. Taking one good look at the man had everyone convinced he was military through and through, with little regard for politicians and their games.

But looks were in some cases deceiving. Despite having the build and face of a mindless brute, Kevral was soft spoken, polite, and wickedly intelligent. Valorn had chosen well: Kevral got along warily with the aliens, politely agreed to disagree about differences in religion and politics, and, by far the most important, was a font of information about Imperial customs and military.

The only thing Shepard was worried about was Kevral finding out that he and Chambers were married to aliens. While the Imperium and Mechanicus did tolerate aliens (for now), he was certain the wider Imperium, especially the Inquisition, would take a dim and perhaps violent view on xenophilia. So far they were careful; Kevral didn't know. But on a ship everything was close, and he was bound to find out sooner or later through random happenstance or his own investigations. That would not do.

But such questions would have to wait. The beleaguered forces of the Citadel, though nervous they might be of the help coming, would indeed receive aid as promised.

Kevral stood silently on the Normandy's bridge, hands clasped neatly behind his back. He wore a simple shirt of black, marked with the symbol of the Inquisition. Next to him was Chambers, then Shepard, then Tali. Joker sat in his usual place: the pilot's chair. Everyone was silent. Watching. Waiting.

They were above the Citadel, the mighty arms of the space station stretching out beneath them. Around them, hundreds of ships stretched out, clustered around the Citadel. The smaller civilian vessels huddled closer to the station itself. A few darted out, seeking to get a better view for what was to come. Only the daring or bold did so, for the full might of the Citadel Fleet was out in glorious parade. Silver military vessels lined the void, bodies gleaming and weapons jutting proudly.

The Citadel had signed the Treaty, and the Imperium would deliver. The Inquisitors and Cawl had kept in close contact with the incoming Imperial crusade, and had informed the Council it would arrive that day. The Council had prepared; the Imperium was a militaristic empire, and thus what better way to greet them than a showing of military force?

Privately, Shepard thought the Citadel Fleet was far too small to be impressive to the Imperium. The idea was confirmed when Kevral arrived. He took one look at the assembled ships and frowned. Oh, well. Some things couldn't be helped.

They waited on the bridge for an indeterminate amount of time. The Imperials were supposed to arrive any minute now, but the Inquisitors had warned Warp currents could throw the timing off. Shepard had no idea what those were; it didn't really matter. All that mattered was Tali and Chambers by his side and Joker sitting in front of him. Joker resisted making any comments or wisecracks, though whether that was because of the solemnity of the occasion or because of the hulking form of Kevral Shepard didn't know.

Finally, after what seemed to be both hours and mere seconds of waiting, a console in front of Joker started to beep. The pilot looked up.

"We're getting weird readings, Commander," he said. "Looks like the Imperials are arriving." It certainly looked like it. In the distance, beyond the Citadel Fleet, Warp portals began to open. The crew of the Normandy looked away, wincing. Shepard could never get used to the horrible unreality that were the portals. Interestingly, as Shepard turned away, he caught Kevral in the corner of his eye making a strange movement with his hands and muttering what sounded like a prayer. Apparently the Imperials didn't like it either.

The first ship out of transition was so magnificent, so unbelievably glorious that Shepard forgot how to breathe for a moment. As big as the Serendipity, Cawl's flagship, it was nearly fifteen kilometers from front to end. The details of its architecture were so intricate that it put quite literally everything else Shepard had ever seen to shame. Angkor Wat, the Sistine Chapel, Cawl's flagship… nothing, nothing could even come close to comparing with this. It was alternatively the dark brown of most Imperial battleships and a beautiful blood red, the comparison between the two colors serving to make the vessel only that much more magnificent. Statues, murals, and stained glass windows adorned the sides, so large that Shepard could actually begin to make out some of the details from kilometers away. Painted on the side, so large that it was unmistakable, was a black winged teardrop on a background of deep red.

"That's the Covenant of Baal," said Kevral. The Stormtrooper's voice held a note of awe in it. Shepard could feel Tali hyperventilating at his side. Kelly and Joker's eyes were the size of saucers. "Flagship of the Blood Angels. Lord Dante will be aboard, I'm sure." Kevral pointed out another vessel. "That one over there is the Ignis, another one of the Blood Angel's battleships. Quite the fleet they've got." Shepard nodded wordlessly. It was quite the fleet.

Dozens… actually, scratch that, hundreds of Warp portals were opening now. Clusters of massive vessels, all bearing the same ornate gothic architecture as the Covenant of Baal and bearing the symbol of the Blood Angels clustered around Dante's flagship. To the left of the Blood Angels, another grouping of similar-looking vessels were convening. None were as large as the Covenant or Ignis, but all had a similar style to the Angel's smaller starships. Shepard held back a sigh. Yes, as if ten or twelve kilometers was small.

All of these were jet black, blending into the void around them. None were as richly ornamented or decorated as the vessels of the Blood Angels. Instead, they were more subdued, more plain and utilitarian. On the side of each, much in the same spot as all identifying Imperial heraldry, was a simple white bird of prey, wings outstretched on a black background. Shepard had the sudden thought that the symbol looked very similar to the flag of Albania, if the Albanian bird had one head instead of two. He pushed the thought aside.

"And that over there is the chapter fleet of the Raven Guard," said Kavral, pointing to the black ships. "The one in front is the Avenger, flagship of the fleet and command of Lord Shrike, Master of Shadows."

There were more ships coming every moment. Thousands of vessels, bearing hundreds of identifying marks. By far the most numerous were the proud vessels of the Imperial Navy, with their massive broadside cannons, intricate crenellations, and ram-like prows. Shepard and his friends stood, nearly slack-jawed at the sight of a kilometer high statue of a golden eagle mounted above a battleship's bridge. What sort of people put that on a starship?

The countless plain and boxy transport ships of the Imperial Guard made up a hefty number. They were farther towards the back, surrounded by a protective screen of Naval warships. Shepard could pick out the familiar forms of the massive Titan transports, encircled by the Mechanicus fleets. Their numbers seemed infinitely greater than what they were during the Dawn War, and yet the ships looked so tiny, so utterly insignificant compared to the overwhelming numbers of the incoming Imperials.

The full transport fleets of House Taranis and Krast looked miniscule, their proud heraldry swallowed up by the sheer amount of starships. The Imperial armada seemed to be some living thing; a mighty wave crashing against the shore that was the Citadel. Their bulk and might blocked out the stars themselves.

Joker's computer console beeped, interrupting Kevral. The Stormtrooper looked down from where he was pointing out important vessels. Joker pressed a button, and a holographic square appeared, hovering over the cockpit controls.

On it was an interesting sight. A beautiful golden death mask, so intricate as to deserve a place of great importance at any of the galaxy's museums, glared down from the screen. Its mouth was set in a hard line, radiating calm serenity, harsh disapproval, and an infinite sorrow at the same time. Upon the mask's forehead was a jeweled teardrop of blood red. The entire visage was crowned with a golden halo. Kevral made the same strange sign with his hands, thumbs interlocked and palms flattened inward against his chest.

"In the name of His Majesty, the Emperor of Mankind, and in the name of His Imperium, I greet you." The man's voice was an extraordinarily powerful baritone, deep and gravely, yet carrying a solemn and serene power. It demanded instant respect, and commanded the attention of every person aboard every starship around the Citadel. "I am Chapter Master Dante, Lord of the Angels and Lord Commander of this Crusade. We have heard your plea for aid and we have answered. Let us sweep away these vile monstrosities that threaten you together; let our bonds be forged eternal in blood. Our power is yours, and yours is ours. Let the beasts that threaten you rue the day they crossed our united paths. They shall have naught but death. For the Emperor and Sanguinius!" The feed cut out. Shepard simply stared into the distance, Tali by his side, as Kevral explained Imperial history to an enraptured Kelly and Joker.

oOo

Codex:

Lukas Chrom:

Lukas Chrom was a Tech-Priest of the ancient Mechanicum during the days of the Great Crusade. The Master of Mondus Gamma, one of Mars's largest forges, Chrom was a member of Fabricator-General Kelbor-Hal's inner circle and a founding member of the Dark Mechanicum. When Hal, lured by Horus's dark promises, turned to Chaos, Chrom followed his master willingly into damnation. During, the Heresy, he constructed an advanced robot called the Kaban Machine and imbued it with an ancient A.I., despite the Emperor's ban on such technologies. Chrom was also a key anti-Imperial commander during the Schism of Mars, with his Kaban Machine launching the opening shots of the war by attacking Adept Ipluvien Maximal's reactor forge at Gigas Fossae.

Suta-Nul:

The highest ranked of the Nine Disciples of Kelbor-Hal, Suta-Nul was a Tech-Priest during the Great Crusade and subsequent Horus Heresy. In the aftermath of Ambassador Melgator's death during the Schism of Mars to the Knights of House Taranis, Nul became Hal's ambassador. She became his premier emissary, and was dispatched to Tallarn to discover the truth behind the Primarch Perturabo's activities there. She later appeared in the Trisonian System, delivering Horus's terms of surrender to loyalist forces there, including a young Tech-Priest by the name of Belisarius Cawl. By this point, Sota-Nul had been corrupted into a horrifying spider-like creature. She would later help break the loyalist blockade of Mars and participate during the Siege of Terra as the Dark Mechanicum's surface commander.

oOo

There we have it! I hope I did everyone justice in the first part with the Treaty. The Treaty itself is (of course) biased towards the Imperium, but that makes sense. They are in the position of power in this situation. They get half the galaxy (the half the Citadel isn't using), they get the Citadel to pay the Imperial Tithe and basically become vassals of the Imperium. In return, the Citadel gets all the perks of vasselhood: not being killed and getting Imperial technology.

As for the arriving forces, I hope I did the scene justice. It should be utterly magnificent to see such a sight. The Raven Guard, Blood Angels, and many more Imperial forces will be showing up. The full details of everyone coming will be in the next chapter. I should also mention exactly how much I adore Dante's title. "Lord of the Angels." Every time I hear it I get minor chills. Absolutely wonderful. One last thing I should mention is that the Covenant of Baal, Ignis, and Avenger are all cannon ships of the Blood Angels and Raven Guard fleets. If it exists, I'll use it. If it doesn't, I'll make up a name for it myself.

Kevral is basically a character to teach Shepard and his crew about the Imperium and their galaxy. He's there to provide exposition and a not-insignificant amount of firepower.

I hope you liked the chapter! Next one will be even better. We get to see the entirety of everyone that showed up, what their war plans are, and how they interact with the Citadel. If you have any comments, criticisms, questions, or concerns please tell me! I always love to hear from you.