Well, here I am with another chapter! Sorry its taken so long, busy with lots of extra hours at work and trying to enjoy summer when I can! Don't have much to go over aside from my life only getting busier for the coming fall haha.
Anyway, thank you all for reading!
Chapter Twenty One: Campaign Season
Blaze System 19th of Storm, 426 A.E.
Burning light from the binary stars bathed across the system, casting their heat across the orbital path of the second planet. Past the dry, but still viable world a colony ship hung over the equator, the substantially large vessel surrounded by numerous construction ships and a minor escort of Destroyers and a duo of Cruisers. Angular and boxy with sharp edges, the construction ships were fed by the mining efforts of the third and fourth planets, their fabrication factories and workers churning out H.O.D. satellites to provide needed defenses for the war torn colony.
While only six had been completed, the Hammer of Dawn platforms were heavily shielded, armored, and wielded the strength to burn holes through nearly any type of vessel that dared to attack any Seran world.
Reddish sunlight reflected off passing landing craft as they descended past narrow bands of clouds and minor rain storms, the landing of new colonists, supplies, and equipment concentrating around the capital of Porra and nearby destroyed settlements and cities ravaged by the Toad onslaught five years prior.
While by no means approaching the former population of two million, the first wave of resettlement and reconstruction would bring the colony past one hundred thousand.
Swirling dust and grit flared among the new wave of colonists, some returning refugees and others seeking a chance among the fertile banks of the few rivers to grow high valued sugar cane, wheat, or to rebuild the salt mining and glass industries the colony was once known for. Echoes of construction work filled the moist air, the nearby Porran Sea bringing much needed moisture inland as a minor rain storm doused the spaceport in a brief rainstorm of fifteen minutes.
Ending as rapidly as it began, the clouds spread, letting the twin stars of Blaze create a steaming mist in the early afternoon.
Several ships lifted off from the spaceport, the scars of harsh fighting from the early days of the war still visible not only among the dry, desert styled buildings, but the surrounding ruins of Porra as well. Skeletal faces of numerous, taller buildings still loomed, howling with sorrow as the desert suns baked the naked steel and crumbling concrete. Whole residential and commercial sectors were silent, the bombardment and extermination campaign of the Toads a fresh wound to reconstruction efforts.
A booming explosion rocked the former administration center, the ten story structure unfit for anything except demolition. Crumbling to the desolate avenue of the capital, dust and debris fell among the charred vehicles and rubble of countless other structures awaiting demolition, the dry heat making it harsher.
Watching the structure fall from her hotel room, Chairman Diaz lamented the horrific loss of life and industry…of homes and families.
Curling a light fist, she snatched up the lone glass of whiskey, the amber burning and soothing at the same time. "Damn fucking Toads" Snarling the curse, she drank while casting her gaze to the nearby coast.
Wreckage of fishing boats and a few trawlers were half sunk in the harbor, the wreckage rusting as several crews worked diligently to bring the desalination plant to full operation. It currently worked…at thirty two percent efficiency, but hardly pre-war standards.
Setting down the glass, Izabel knew she should be happy. She had won the nomination for the Naval-Industrialists, easily defeating Charles Wiess and the other contenders, not that she was terribly worried about them. Most could have been capable in the big office, but Wiess had worried her for a few months as he campaigned and sought support.
"He may be popular on Belpharus, but the rest of the Coalition has no stomach for his boasting and insanity to subjugate the Terrans. We have no need for a new war" Finishing the drink, Izabel balked as the air conditioning whirred…then sputtered, the hotel obviously dealing with its own repairs and issues. Luckily it balanced out, pushing more cooler air into the sealed room at the top of the twenty story tower.
Having once fed the budding tourism industry with its sand surfing racing, entwining cave systems of subterranean crystals, and beaches of white sand, the hotel now served as the temporary government administration for the colony, along with housing for hundreds of work crews trying to get Porra back on its legs.
Casting her gaze westward along the green banks of the sprawling river, Diaz felt a surging pride from the hardy families retaking this world. They may be simple farmers taking fresh claims against those marshy banks and newly dug irrigation, but those were the types of Serans this world needed.
A knock came from her door, the sound deft and rapt.
"Come in"
A head poked in, revealing a clean shaven young man holding a glowing tablet in his hand. With rampant silver hair, he no doubt had parents who lightly dabbled in his genetic code before birth.
"Chairman, we should make our way to the plaza for your speech"
"Very well" Checking her image in the mirror, her hair was lightly parted, the dark bangs framing her face. Dressed in a dark dress that fell to her knees, the outlaying trim was gold, matching the dress uniform of the military forces.
Giving one last adjustment of the hem along her hips, she turned and left the room, falling in with several Onyx guard's and her campaign advisor going over last minute details for the coming speech among the ruins of Porra.
Sunlight blazed down on the plaza, bathing battle ravaged structures in shafts of light. Skeletal buildings stood around the large square, casting shadows across the gathered crowd retaking the city one street and neighborhood at a time.
Dusty and dirty, the colonists and workers that were bringing the city of Porra to new life had gathered, their gazes studying the Chairman as she stood on a short platform with large flags fluttering behind her. Numerous cameras watched and recorded, the data catching every moment to pass onto every Coalition colony…and the greater galaxy no doubt curious about the current events.
A dry breeze blew past Izabel, sprinkling her clean dress in particles of dust, but she ignored it before stepping forward, her brow already slicking with a light sheen of sweat.
"Over five years ago, this very world became the first to fall under the genocidal bootheel of the Klor'vian war machine…nor was it the last. Barely a year into my term as chairman, and our species faced a new, deadly threat. We were outnumbered, system after system falling to their war of extermination" Slamming her fist on the podium, the surface rattled, picked up by the microphones.
"But we fought back! We built more ships! Bigger ships! We waged war across the stars to push those bastards back across the border to their own worlds! Then we took them, as they did to us!" Taking a pause, she looked out at her fellow Serans, their attention rapt.
"Some of you here were there then…during those horribly dark months when I had to make the call…to fall back and bring about the Fortification Act. To sacrifice space, territory and lives for time as we built up our war machine. Some of you may resent me for that…probably hate me. But that is the mantle of responsibility the office of Chairman holds…to ensure the survival of our species" Griping the sides, she leaned forward, the dark bangs dripping with beads of sweat. "But we emerged victorious! I kept all my promises to every one of you! To expand the fleet! To ensure victory! Not only that, but we have taken five…FIVE new garden worlds under my leadership! Our territory is secured from hostile species! Our military on par with the galactic powers of this galaxy!" Pausing, she dared not wipe her brow, letting the droplets rivulet down her forehead.
"Dorren Ghenhurst of the C.E. Party wants to immediately increase trade with the galaxy. To continue to expand our territory and create new markets while lowering our border defenses. He even wants to halt the production and replacement of the newly developed Strand Class Destroyers our navy so desperately needs to maintain a modern, viable fighting force! Then has the foolish notion to end reparations with the Asari…to give them a free pass for bringing those slavers to Reach! And Governor Avren Tilmston of the Green party has the gall…the gall! To say he could have run the war better while limiting the resettlement and development of our new territories! To preserve the natural balance of those worlds we recently acquired! To prevent hard working, loyal serans from reclaiming all that we lost and gained!" Laughing lowly, Diaz breathed in deep, letting the dry, salty air fill her lungs. "While I do believe in the balance of industry and nature, Tilmston would increase that…his mandate to limit all development of every Seran colony to a mere fifty percent! The Planetary Protection Act of Two thirty five A.E. is more than enough to achieve Coalition settlement and growth goals while maintaining a foresight of conservation!" Pausing, Izabel shook her head in rue disappointment. "Just think about that. A full half of every world unable to be settled…to be set aside. Or in the case of Blaze and other desert worlds, no terraforming efforts despite Blaze Four being an ice covered planet that could bring about a more temperate environment for you all" Laughing once more, her voice was rich and mirthful. "Listen to me, I practically sound like a member of the C.E. Party"
Earning a hearty laugh from the crowd, many knew that Diaz heavily supported colonial efforts along with a strong military stance.
"Of course, some of you will vote for them as is your right under the laws of our government. But when that time comes on the thirty third of Bounty, remember your brave Gears…the navy crews that secured victory through a storm of steel and blood! It was under my leadership that victory and security was obtained while our enemies lay broken and defeated at our feet! FOR THE COALITION AND ALL SERANS!" Hitting the podium once more, the speech ended, cutting off the visual feeds as Chairman Diaz stepped down to meet with the colonists under the beating sun of Blaze.
Three days passed for the Chairman as she toured the colony, meeting with the workers and colonists that were resettling this world as they cleared land, rubble, or in the case of construction crews, destroyed building and structures unfit for repair. Answering questions from a wide range of fellow citizens, she answered truthfully to the best of her abilities. Luckily, most dealt with maintaining a strong military, planetary defenses, and reconstruction efforts across the northern Coalition, something she was more than happy to discuss.
But like all politicians seeking re-election, she had to move on.
Settling down on the couch in her quarters of the Blowback, one of the escorting Cruisers, Izabel immediately kicked off her boots, the relief palpable.
"Chairman" Passing her a chilled drink of Vectes Cherry Rum, the red drink sloshed as she took a quick gulp.
"Thanks, Natan" Leaning her head back against the bulkhead behind the couch, she looked at her campaign manager for a moment, then took another small sip. "How do you think it went?"
Tapping the datapad cradled in his left hand, the silver haired man gave a curt nod. "Decent. But you need to step away from politically attacking your opponents. The Seran people want results and effective leaders, not somebody trashing the ideals of fellow citizen's"
Diaz gave a weary sigh, taking another sip as the humming of recycled air flowed. Looking out the nearby window at the blanket of stars, the Blowback and the escorting vessels fell in line, aiming for the void between worlds and the coming jump to slipspace.
While during the war such usage of military assets would be criminal, the conflict was over and having an escort could be argued. Of course, there were civilian ships she could have used, luxurious vessels with every amenity she could dream of.
Izabel had scoffed at the idea. Not only would it be easy for her political opponents to mock her, but Diaz could easily see the STG trying to wipe her out by taking such a vessel. Yes, the B.S.A. was in full effect and any illegal border crossing would be countered, but those aliens were sneaky and known for assassinations.
Finding her mind wandering, she returned her attention to Natan. "You're right. The entirety of the COG deserves a leader with drive, intelligence and a strong mandate. Simply pointing fingers and name calling is something Terrans do to destroy their political rivals. Strong values that support the military, security and our industry are what is needed along with support for reconstruction"
"And that's what the people need to know" Tapping his datapad, Natan stroked a few keys as the Blowback finally entered slipspace. Swirls and streaks of blues and purples slid past the window, painting the room in a light dance of colors. "Your next stop will be the Prescott system, then CG Seven Four. It's a backwater mining colony halfway to Anvengad, but you can't just stop at our garden worlds. The Coalition has hundreds of systems with minor military or industrial colonies on moons, asteroids, or in orbits of dead world's"
"I'm well aware of the minor settlements. They fed our naval yards and factories…the unsung heroes of the war effort. How could I forget those men and women braving the harshest frontiers?"
"Of course, Chairman. But some of them hate you for abandoning them during the war. It will be quite difficult to secure their votes and support"
"Something I'm sure Ghenhurst will use to his advantage. We do share some common ideas about colonization, but he's far too willing to open up the COG to the galaxy in terms of border travel and trade"
"And that's why you need to have an effective plan for this new era of peace. Like you said, our enemies have been broken and defeated" Typing a few more keystrokes, Natan pursed his lips as he read the itinerary for the scheduled tour of the Coalition.
Izabel wasn't about to ask what had annoyed the campaign manager. She was exhausted from the stop at Blaze and before too long, she would be at the tundra world of Prescott, visiting some of the heavy foundries and touring the numerous battle sites that dotted the surface of that brutalized world.
Finishing her drink, Diaz simply watched the passage of the slipstream with its swirling colors and streaks of light.
Borra Borea, 18th of Gale, 426. A.E.
Mataki was small for a planetary capital, barely housing fifty thousand Serans out of a planetary population that was slowly climbing past two million. Nestled among the thick forest and its deep foliage of blue's and purple leaves, Mataki was nestled along the curvature of a bay near the planetary equator. Settled along the banks of a large river and the Eastern coast of the lone supercontinent, the sprawling city seemed to wilt under the onslaught of an early spring storm of razor hail and chilled rain. Dousing the wide boulevards and mid level apartment buildings in a light coating of ice, traffic crawled along the streets while air travel remained grounded until the passage of the storm.
Dorren Ghenhurst ignored the harsh weather falling upon the city as he stood behind the podium, the large hall of the administration center playing host to his stop along the edge of the Coalition. Drumming rain and impacts of razor hail hammered the heavy security windows, the sound reminiscent of falling nails. But, modern fabrication of glass was more than enough to withstand the drumming of hail falling on Mataki.
A robust, bald man at fifty years of age with an average Tyran skintone, his face was clean shaven and smooth, not showing the slightest strand of blue hair. Hating the choice his parents made for him with the light genetic modification, he had simply maintained a bare head through his adult life. Of course, he knew that without those modifications he underwent in the womb, he would have been born blind according to the medical records.
Still, to this day he couldn't fathom why his mother had elected to change his future hair coloration from blonde to blue.
Looking out at the crowd, a vast majority seemed to be the average citizens, supporters of the C.E. Party and his bid for chairman.
Several hundred had gathered, including numerous reporters from across the colony. Obviously, their report and interviews would spread across the COG, viewed by millions of Serans.
Receiving the signal to begin his speech, Dorren smiled as the floating cameras recorded his image across the stars and numerous worlds of the Coalition.
"My fellow Serans and citizens of the COG. I am here today to ask for your support in the coming election. Support to bring a new era of peace and growth to our species. Of new trade and investments with our galactic neighbors. Of healing our devastated worlds and to bring fresh waves of colonists to our smaller colonies. To end the high costs of constantly building up our military for perceived threats" Holding up a hand, he could sense the discontent coming from several veterans in the hall.
"Make no mistake, I support our Navy and Gears. To give them the tools and weapons to get the job done. But how long are we going to jump at shadows? To allow the Diaz administration to build more and more warships while we are at peace?" Pausing, he remained calm, his voice a rich baritone of civility. "Chairman Diaz was an excellent war leader. Her leadership during the contact wars brought us victory, territory and respect among the galactic community. But we don't need to prepare for war. What we need is growth, new markets and industries. Investments from the Asari Republics, the Turians, and the whole of galactic civilization. To continue our efforts to repopulate, to settle new cities and colonies" Waving his arm to the window under razorhail bombardment, his face went stern. "Borra Borea is a border world right next to the Asari, yet not a single trade vessel from Council space is allowed to enter this system. I will change that. I will ensure a new system of trade licenses with our neighbors, to ensure security and the protection of our borders while still bringing new opportunities to this world!" Having raised his voice, Dorren slammed a palm against the podium. "Harvest! Gulan! New Vectes! Ephyra and Beta Sarfuth! All our settled systems could reap the benefits of galactic trade! So when it comes time to vote, ask yourself if we need more warships? Or more opportunities to export Seran goods?" Stepping away from the podium, Ghenhurst gave another warm smile as over half the crowd gave a resounding clap of support.
But some…some Serans in the hall held nothing but contempt for his mandate. One woman approached, her blonde hair flowing before stopping at the edge of the stage, her image transmitted across the cosmos. Dressed in black boots and brown worker pants, she wore a winter jacket lined with furs at the collar. Hanging open, a blue shirt was seen, but any further decals were hidden as she pointed with a fury of opinion at Dorren Ghenhurst still waving at the crowd.
"Traitor! You want to open the colonies to galactic trade while ignoring the fact the Salarians breached our borders over a year ago! They don't respect us, but seek to steal every advantage we hold! I fought for the COG during the war, yet you want to just throw it all away for trade and commerce!" Flipping the politician off, the woman spat the next words with harsh vitrol. "You don't command respect, only the stench of wealth and weakness" Turning, she shook her head, marching toward the double doors of the hall among a small chorus of claps and cheers.
"I'll count on all your continued support" Giving the last, hasty sentence before more interruptions arose, Ghenhurst left in a light haste.
Exiting toward a side door, several armed agents stood ready before falling in and escorting him to the underground parking lot. Climbing into the blocky, but very secure ground vehicle, Dorren settled into the spacious back seat as two agents took the front seats, one intent on driving to the hotel. Facing him from her rearward facing seat, his advisor had somehow beaten him to the garage by a full minute.
"I'm sorry Dorren, but it was a public event. Any citizen could enter and unfortunately, some have fought and bled for the Coalition during the war. Most see any future dealings with the galaxy as a surrender of some sort"
"Unfortunately, they do have that right. Winning over the military so recently after that damned conflict will be extremely difficult. The funding and expansion of the fleet, the infantry…Diaz did keep her promise's"
"That's why you need a strong mandate for trade and opportunity after years of conflict. I believe the average civilian is far more willing to vote for economic and colonial ventures over new Dreadnaughts. You just have to stay the course and present them with a worthwhile plan for the Coalitions future" Smiling, the slim, attractive blue haired manager hit her data pad, checking the current weather which was still battering the city of Mataki.
A native of Azura Prime, Danielle Brenheimer was sharp and an excellent organizer, helping to push Dorren for the party nomination with some excellent advice and speeches.
"That's the thing about the Colonial Economist party, we're right in the middle. I want a strong military, but not to the point of unnecessary waste and spending. The war hurt us and was financially draining. Trade with the wider galaxy can only be beneficial, and I'm damn positive the Council isn't going to launch an invasion the moment we look the other way" Pausing, he cupped his chin as razor hail hammered the roof of the car, the vehicle moving into traffic with numerous escorts. "Well…the Salarians might try something again, but our navy is better than what they can muster"
"We do have a warm relationship with the Turian's. I doubt they would support an illegal invasion conducted by a member race"
"That's the assessment" Frowning, he stared out the window, the weather a dour mood of sorrow and misery. "When I'm elected, I'm ending the reparations from the Asari. They suffered along side our own species and lost millions themselves. Countless more were enslaved by those four eyed brutes and making them pay for a mistake doesn't sit well with me"
Dani narrowed her gaze, crossing her legs as she set down the data pad. "You'll lose the vote of Reach, and that's a big planet with a heavy naval presence too. You cut the Asari reparations and you're handing that entire system to Chairman Diaz"
Dorren waved his hand as the vehicle turned down a new boulevard, the settling gloom of coming night making the lights of the colonial capital burn with electricity. "Reach was a long shot for me anyway. Commander Strand is a damn hero there and in the N.I. Party. Even if I promised to increase Asari payments, I doubt I'd make a dent except in some of the trade unions and orbital factories. But Pandora? I probably could win that system"
"A likely assessment, but hardly an equal trade for Reach"
"True. But then, Reach isn't the only large colony in the Coalition. Azura and New Vectes could benefit from tourism lines from the Council. I mean, the Asari would practically trip over themselves to invest in resorts, entertainment districts, all that for those systems. And from what I understand, they just love that Vectes Rum"
Danielle nodded, agreeing with the assessment. "Azura Prime suffered heavy financial losses during the war and under the Fortification Act. Namely in the luxury and tourism sectors. While by no means comparable to the lost lives and devastation endured by the northern colonies, the needs of the war were felt by all. Recovery is slow, mainly simply due to the needs of reconstruction across the COG. Opening tourism to the Asari alone would be viewed quite favorably. I believe you should include that in your next speech when we arrive at Gulan next month"
"Yeah. Draw up a speech. Of course, I still need to make a tour of those lumber factories around Bernadette City tomorrow. Showing support for those men and women working the mills of this world. I just hope the weather clears up by then" Dourly listening to the falling razor hail and heavy rain, the convoy of ground vehicles finally reached the hotel as thunder cracked, giving the falling night of Mataki a fresh onslaught of early spring precipitation.
System CG-135-E (18ly East of Ephyra System)
A dim, red dwarf star sat at the center of the system, its ruddy red light pushing stellar winds and radiation outward. Three barren and lifeless worlds populated the planetary system along with a thin line of an asteroid belt along the outer edges. Practically hugging the barrier to interstellar space, the floating rocks of an unformed planet circled and tumbled.
Home to approximately thirteen thousand Serans, the asteroid colony had been carved into the broken shard of an iron rich piece of space rock twenty miles long and five wide. Dotted with surface installations interconnected via trams and artificial tunnels, the colony was an oasis of civilization in a very dead star system.
Hollowed out greenhouses for crops, security, water filtration…everything a colony needed was available for the population…including defensive laser batteries and shields to surround the habitat. Primarily for destroying tumbling rocks that strayed too close to the locally named Regolith City, the batteries and shield could work in a pinch against hostiles.
But since the entire system was deep inside the Coalition, that fear was minimal at best.
Mining ships returning from the belt laden with tungsten, water ice, and other minerals were a constant flow of commerce, the miners feeding the factories and fabrication plants that were the primary source of industry for the system.
Obviously, visiting cargo vessels were a constant sight, the docked ships lined along the minor dockyard jutting out of the upper portion of the asteroid despite its natural spin.
The Coalition Trade Vessel, Irondust slid slowly toward Regolith City, its blocky, dull gray containers attached to a central spine by secured clamps capable of withstanding the rigors of slip space. Located above and behind the main ship and its ebbing engines of blue light, the spinal length was a ridged construct of chromium steel meant to keep the cargo secured with a length of running lights.
Ugly and utilitarian like all Seran vessels, the civilian ship was no different in terms of aesthetics or function.
Simply put, it was a wide shoe box with a single slip drive and the bare minimum of comforts for the lone pilot.
Flaring thrusters ebbed and sparked, pushing the long cargo vessel to the waiting docks that slowly spun in the void of space.
"Come on, baby…just a little more" Having already cut the main drive, Dani Strassland gripped the control stick with practiced care as the nearby console burned a harsh blue with constant updates from the control tower.
"Slow it down, Irondust" A disembodied voice ordered over the comms, the man's tone dull and tired.
"Yeah, I got it control" Snapping a bit, Dani cut thrusters by another fifty percent, the lengthy vessel matched the rotation of the spanning docking clamps rapidly approaching. Taking a quick glance at the visual display flashing across a nearby screen to the left, the color went from yellow to green, indicating acceptable margins.
Giving one last burst of the starboard thruster for rotation adjustment, Dani felt the familiar relief when her ship gave a slight rumble, the docking arms securing Irondust.
Exhaling from the held breath, Dani unleashed the stick and began powering down according to procedure.
"Another successful run" Smiling with a stretch, the white haired thirty year old with pink bangs stood up, her ass killing her from the last few leg of the journey from her homeworld of Avengad. Taking nearly two weeks, the trade run had been silent and boring, just the way she liked it. Yawning while taking another look out the spanning window of her ship, the stars sprinkled among the warning lights of jutting spires and supports and blinking lights of distant mining ships.
Giving one more stretch, her brown shirt rose, exposing a small portion of her slim midriff as her moderate bosom strained against the webbing support over the fabric. Adjusting her hauler hat decorated with an anvil a moment later, she always saw the need to support her favorite Thrashball team, The
Augustus Anvils.
Grabbing the manifest datapad, she knew the cargo wasn't that amazing. Just a mixture of medical supplies, heavy liquors, and civilian consumables for the small asteroid.
She would be heading to the Ephyra colony next, laden down with freshly smelted girders for some planned housing block on the lightly populated planet.
"But first, a sweet fifty two hour pass. Gotta unwind and recharge the mental batteries" Smiling at the planned jaunt of relaxation, the woman gave another yawn.
Walking past the single bed recessed in the left wall, the bathroom and kitchenette with a couch for lounging, Dani made her way to the airlock.
The light was already green, meaning the connection to Regolith City had already extended and secured itself. Opening the door with a small hiss, she walked down the short rectangular tube to the main dock dug into a rising cliff of the tumbling asteroid.
"Manifest" a worker demanded as soon as she stepped onto the steel plating of the habitat.
"Here" Holding it up, Dani didn't really care to study the man. His dour and tired body language spoke of a long day. Rapidly scanned, the datapad gave a small ding of approval, indicating all was well.
"We'll start unloading tomorrow, you're the last scheduled arrival for the day"
"That's fine. Take your time" Waving as she walked toward the nearest tram station with a light sway of her hips, she really didn't care what the workers did at this point.
A few men looked her way, her slim frame and relative attractiveness catching, but the blue overalls, dark brown shirt, and webbing supports weren't exactly fashionable.
Stepping onto the next available tram, Dani was bound for the commercial district….which happened to be nearly twelve miles away at the far end of Regolith City.
"No way I'm walking that" taking a seat along one of the windows, the maglev transport hummed as it took off, shooting along the tracks through carved tunnels.
Cutting through the bowels of the asteroid, the tram line was the arteries of the station, passing the industrial, residential, farming, utilities, and civil districts in mere minutes of blinding speeds.
Reaching the end of the line, Dani exited the tram with a dozen others, each going their own way.
Lights blazed from neon signs under domed roofs deep beneath the rock, advertising bars, eateries, shops, clubs and theaters among a few bursts of steam coming from nearby vents. Soft, easy light illuminated the district, bathing the numerous levels of walkways and side paths that practically stretched to the ceiling.
Walking past a club that pulsed with light and music, Dani veered away, the thumping beat annoying at best, aggravating at worst.
"Fuck that" Rapidly walking away, she passed a group of security personnel, the men and women trying to calm down a few drunks that rapidly escalated into a few thrown punches and shouts.
"No matter the society or species…always a few dumbasses who can't hold their liquor" Smirking as she walked away from the drunks getting their asses beat by the law enforcement officers, she turned down a side street, the foot traffic lightening away from the main drag.
A burning, neon sign of a beer bottle flickered on her left, the bar simply called Moe's. Finding a booth in the corner, she saw a few familiar cargo haulers like herself, men and women that had fed the hungry industries during the war by keeping the trade lanes going.
Sure, it was unglamourous and overlooked, but she was damn proud of doing her part…even if it was simply hauling bullets and shells from Avengad to Tri-Ostri. Now it was going back to civilian needs and reconstruction, which was perfectly fine with her.
Brushing away a few errant strands of pink hair among the heavy silver locks hidden beneath her hauler hat, she ordered a beer and bacon cheese burger, the thought of the meat and cheese making her salivate.
"No freeze dried meals for this girl. Time for a real dinner" Easing back against the padded booth, her attention was pulled toward one of the large flat screens playing a political ad for Governor Tilmston that hung above the main bar.
Standing regal and tall behind a fluttering flag of the Coalition, the red haired man stood erect with a fine suit as patriotic music played for the advertisement.
"My fellow Serans, the Green Party needs your vote. A vote to maintain a healthy balance between military spending, reconstruction, trade, and safeguarding all our worlds. But not just our own. The Terran homeworld is overpopulated, dirty, and struggling with atmospheric and oceanic pollution from centuries of neglect. When I am chairman, I will ensure strong borders, fair trade, and the dedication to heal Terra…the help our poor cousins who simply don't know any better. Some of you may scoff at the idea, but our two species share a bond, and it is our duty to help those misguided children. Thank you for your vote!" Waving, more music played as the commercial ended on a high note and the familiar symbol of the COG.
Her beer arrived, the mug frothing with foam as Dani eagerly picked it up to slake her thirst.
"What a load of crap. Help the Terrans? We have our own shit to deal with" Downing a good gulp, Dani had no desire to see the COG helping the S.A. pick up their own trash from their backwater world. Sure, she didn't hate them, but why should the Coalition even help them?
"Fuck, if my ancestors could see it now" Shaking her head, Dani knew she was far removed from the Struass family line, the branching tree spread across the galaxy at this point. Hell, her last name barely had any connection to those long dead Gears, the centuries of couples, children, and new generations traversing into other families across nearly every damn world.
But it didn't really matter.
She simply hauled cargo and goods to places all over the Coalition. A simple job for a woman that enjoyed a simple life of solitude among the star lanes.
Another political ad burned across the same hanging, flatscreen, this time showing Ghenhurst as he talked with some construction workers among the ruined cities of the planet, Prescott.
"Ghenhurst doesn't seem too bad. I like the idea of new trade routes with the Citadel species, even if they ended in Asari space" Sure, there were reparations still, but Dani didn't really care about that. As far as she was concerned, the galaxy had helped them out. Plus, the Asari had to deal with those awful Batarians enslaving thousands for years and years.
"Maybe I will vote for him. Diaz won the war, but continuing to build up our fleets seems wasteful. I'd rather see our colonies getting the full support of reconstruction along with new trade with the wider galaxy"
Obviously, more trade meant more credits, which meant Dani might be able to upgrade her ship from the cramped little box it was to something bigger and more comfortable.
Slowly convincing herself, Dani found the idea of voting for Ghenhurst appealing. After all, it's not like he wanted to gut the military, only a fool would do that.
The burger arrived, stacked with bacon, sauce and steaming meat and cheese. Forgetting the idea of politics for the moment, Dani eagerly bit into the burger, savoring the taste of meat after nearly two weeks alone in her ship.
K.S.R. Tarn System 23rd of Gale, 426 A.E.
Tarn had suffered during the war, the scars of bombardment a pockmarked hellscape of fallen cities, ruined towns and slowly recovering vegetation across the planet. Rubble choked urban centers of ash decorated the planet, the frozen pillars of Klor'vian's standing among the silent streets and crumbling ruins of countless cities.
But most Serans didn't care about the planet side devastation. Instead, they concentrated on naval affairs among the numerous dead worlds and burgeoning mining instillations finally operating once more.
Under the watchful eye of the 2nd squadron of the 3rd fleet, the collection of ships was dutiful in scanning each Toad vessel that entered the system with vigilance. Patrols were constant in the local sector, the naval officers operating on a rotation out of the Tarn fleetyard.
Now repaired from the damage sustained during the closing days of the war, the massive construct in orbit of the ruddy brown gas giant was home to a sizable garrison of naval personnel, Klor'vian workers, and a garrison of Gears.
But in the last few weeks, a mixed force of Toad destroyers and frigates had mustered near the station, the sale of surplus vessels to Lorek, the democratic system of Batarians eager to purchase the vessels for their civil war against the shattered empire across the southern galaxy.
Of course, the sale wasn't official until every vessel was checked, each weapon scrutinized. While they were smaller ships incapable of standing up to the full force of a C.O.G. or Council fleet, neither power was going to take the risk. Hell, some thought it was a mistake, but the prevailing idea was to have the Toads sell extra war vessels instead of risking them falling into fanatical hands.
Saran Arterius had been thrilled to achieve Spectre status, his military record and service more than enough to get him into the training program. Having been granted the honor just two months prior, he had been ecstatic to prove his worth to the Council.
Then they gave him this as his first assignment. A task to inspect every warship for illegal weapons or upgrades before being flown to the Lorek System and the government in exile.
While he didn't complain, Saren would have vastly preferred to hunt down smugglers, or some pirates…something that didn't require him looking through obsolete vessels.
Stepping through the airlock with a female Seran, the two agents avoided a few Klor'vian maintenance workers inspecting a removed panel in the wall.
Ignoring the amphibian aliens, she pocketed the security datapad, ruefully shaking her head as the two marched down the corridor.
"For a first assignment, this is a great misuse of my skills and training. Any inspector could board those worn out vessels and write up a report for the Council" Giving a Turian nod to a few others of his species, Seren and Agent Kirra turned down an adjoining hallway, heading toward a low key bar and eatery.
Geared toward the small population of citadel species that worked alongside the Serans in overseeing the war torn system, the establishment was moderately filled with a mixing of aliens.
Taking a booth in the corner, Kirra finally seemed to relax, the unassuming woman with brunette hair easing into the seat across from the Turian. A D.N.I. agent, the woman was very unassuming, her relative plain traits allowing for an easy blending in case of future undercover work.
"Spirits, she could blend in with the Terrans and they wouldn't be the wiser"
Fortunately for Saren, the Coalition had been forthcoming with this joint inspection with the D.N.I.
But he held no disillusions, his current partner was a public agent, drawing attention to herself while others made no ripples. Something the Salarian's were known to do as well.
"If it was up to me, I'd use those ships for target practice. Nothing but floating scrap heaps"
Slowly agreeing, Saren added to the minimal conversation. "Explains why the Batarians are buying them. Even before the war, they were behind us"
"Boggles my mind why my government, or yours is even allowing this sale to go through. But, I guess having a civil war to the south is better than a resurging Batarian empire under the bootheel of some pirate slavemaster" Ordering some food and a drink from the touch screen menu on the table, Kirra gave a weary sigh.
"What?"
"The Toads aren't even trying to smuggle anything extra. Following our directions to the letter. No plasma bombs or torpedoes, no corvettes smuggled into the storage bays of some frigates…just…everything according to our guideline's. None of the other teams have found anything at all, either"
Ordering something himself, Saren could understand the…boredom. "Well, they do fear a renewed war against the might of our combined fleets. Any conflict would be rapid and decisive in our favor"
"True. Not like we would have to find their core worlds this time" Pausing as their meals and drinks arrived, the two ate in silence for a few moments.
"Tell me Kirra, what's your opinion of the current election cycle for your species?"
The D.N.I. agent finished chewing, setting down her utensils a few moments later. "I'd prefer Diaz for her strong stance on security and support of the military. Just because there is peace right now doesn't mean a future threat can't arise. It's a good position to maintain" Sipping her drink, she quickly continued. "Ghenhurst isn't bad either. His mandate to maintain a strong defense of the borders is critical, but I'm really unsure of his idea to open up more trade. But since both candidates want to push heavy reconstruction and resettlement of the northern Coalition, they'll be popular among the civilians and military. Avren Tilmston though…" Shaking her head, Kirra's features scrunched in disapproval. "He's from Ephyra, you know, one of our planets that was completely terraformed. Nothing wrong with that, and he passed all the requirements to enter public office…but his proposed mandate to assist the Terrans is foolhardy and expensive. Don't get me wrong, I don't mind the S.A. for the most part, but my species needs to think of our needs first, not bringing a new wave of environmental policies to Terra halfway across the galaxy. He'll probably take a few of the smaller systems, but winning? I don't see it happening"
"You seem quite informed" Arterius commented with a wry chuckle as a few Klor'vians sat in the next booth, the fleetyard workers probably thankful for employment. Luckily, they kept to themselves, neither risking an incident among a sea of victors in the bar.
"Well, I am an agent. But seriously It's important for every Seran to learn the basics of our society and government. The COG may have this odd balance of democracy and fascism, but it's been stable for centurie's"
Saren gave a curt chuckle. "Can't argue with that" Checking his omnitool, the Turian scowled as their lunch break neared the end of allotted time. "I believe we must return to our assignment soon"
"Great. Sounds like a blast of fun" Standing up, the duo left to inspect the next ship floating in the void beyond the walls of the Tarn fleetyard.
Democratic System of Lorek, 4th of Heat, 426 A.E. (Fathar System)
Pulsing waves of starlight burned across the system, casting its warmth on Lorek and the airless, dead worlds of the outer system.
Located in the same cluster as Omega and the linking relay to the rest of the galaxy, Lorek spun lazily around the reddish dwarf star at the center of the system.
Warship engines pulsed and flared hard and fast, the mixture of green's and blues indicating a mixed force of Batarian and Klor'vian vessels surging into position over the vital world. Having just arrived three days prior, the force of two hundred surplus destroyers and frigates were eagerly absorbed into the D.S.L navy, bringing the total close to three hundred forty ships, including a dreadnaught, a battleship and two cruisers.
Numerous supply vessels had also arrived, jammed to the brim with Toad infantry armor, rifles and assorted weapons along with supply stocks. While considered old and obsolete for most of the galaxy due to the continued use of gunpowder, D.S.L. forces were glad to have something instead of nothing. Essentially copied from the Serans at the beginning of the war, the lancer rifle was still damn efficient.
Plus, if the COG could win a war with those brutal rifles, the freedom seeking Batarians of Lorek could do the same.
So, for the last three days, the arriving warships and military supplies had been rapidly implemented, the training in their use overseen by a few hundred Klor'vian's who had volunteered to stay.
But, pirates, scavengers and a local warlord from the Pylos Nebula had surged through the Omega relay and made a beeline for the Fathar system.
Breeching the systems edge a mere hour before, an assorted motley of one hundred vessels surged toward the waiting flotilla in orbit of Lorek.
Akroy Pod'neb sat in his old command chair, the dreadnaught First Shan surrounded by the few capital ships and a heavy screen of destroyers and frigates. Having taken a position behind the lone, single moon of Lorek, Pod'neb had elected to spring a trap, using the celestial body as a way to block enemy sensors. Splitting his forces, he had left the most expendable vessels in full sensor sight of the approaching pirates, a collection of sixty five destroyers and light frigates maintaining a high orbit over the colony. Taking the rest behind the moon, the Batarian's simply waited with weapons and shields primed for combat.
Of course, his advisers and guards were furious with him, but Pod'neb had spent years in the navy. He'd rather fight and die doing what he loved over cowering in his office while some sub par warlord raided his government in exile.
Plus, he had already been on the ship, an impromptu tour of his former flagship and crew.
To leave now would simply offer an easy target in the form of a shuttle.
No, the best bet was to lead the battle, ensuring victory.
The enemy craft slewed closer, cutting across the velvet night toward the inner system on flaring drives of sublight.
"Damn fools" Approaching the tactical display, the icons burned red and blue near the planet as the minutes ticked downward.
He may have numerical superiority now with the newly acquired warships, but that didn't mean he had to throw them away to meet a headlong charge. "Let them come to me and our guns" Clasping his hands behind his back, Pod'neb watched the red icons of pirate ships drift closer and closer to Lorek, their desire for wealth and slaves pushing them hard.
The pirate's engaged the secondary force hanging above Lorek two minutes later, prompting the Batarian to give a swift nod.
"Destroy them all. Let us see how our new ships fare against our fallen brothers" Growling, he hated…no, despised the fact he had to go through the COG to even make the trade with the K.S.R.
The Serans had butchered millions of his species, and he had been forced to ask permission to buy surplus warships and infantry equipment for the coming taking of systems.
It was insulting, but the Council had barely lifted a finger in an effort to help, merely overseeing the sale with the COG with inspectors and reports.
He felt like a Quarian scrounging for scraps.
The main fleet moved quickly with brightly burning engines, slinging close to the moon's feeble atmosphere in a rapid maneuver toward the pirate forces. Emerging around the curvature, Pod'neb's fleet spread out in a sharp wedge among the vacuum, their targeting systems tracking the vile enemy as the first M.A.C. shells were loaded for battle.
"Admiral, they're fully engaged with Grin'tak's destroyer forces" tactical relayed with a clipped tone as battle station lights flooded the bridge.
"Then target and fire!" Slamming down his fist on the railing guarding the tac table, Pod'neb felt an immense satisfaction as his flagship fired a thirty kilogram slug, the tungsten tipped shell flung across the void at two percent light speed. Burning as a streak of bluish light, the heavy munition tore into the flank of a pirate frigate, ripping away the light shields before blowing through the hull a midships. Leaking gas vapor and bodies, the enemy vessel staggered with wounds before a follow-up shell ripped through the bridge, ending the warship in an expanding ball of flotsam and floating plating.
Klor'vian destroyer's maintained range, supporting the few capital ships with a heavy barrage of twelve kilogram shells that ripped across the void into the flanks of the pirate force. Streaking toward the rapidly jinking and evading pirates that were suddenly between two minor fleets, the heavy barrage did wreak havoc.
Shields flared and rippled, the kinetic strikes overloading the capacitors or simply slagging the jury rigged systems that were years past obsolete. Follow up bombardment ripped past those failing shields, rendering patchworked hulls and armor into splintered, bleeding wounds that spilt air and vapor.
Horrendous crossfire from commander Grin'tak ripped into the desperately turning pirates, his destroyers having weathered the first minutes with some damage ships and three destroyed. Supported by Pod'neb and the heavy vessels, the split forces bombarded the enemy without mercy.
Nearly two dozen vessels died under that horrendous fire of M.A.C. shells in mere minutes, their inner decks exposed to the harshness of space as they bled vapor among the heated ruin of devasted hull plating. Mercenaries and slavers were sucked into space, the Batarian's dying in struggling gasps as the battle continued among streaks of devastating firepower.
Several pirate destroyers and frigates arced upwards past the glowing blue curve of Lorek, their main guns firing in a broken, undisciplined line at the D.S.L vessels maintaining their distance near the moon. They made some hits on Grand Shan, the Dreadnaught's shields rippling from impacts.
The counter fire ripped apart the lead destroyer, the old vessel barely useful for scrap as the drive core went critical in a flare of blue light. Taking a nearby air bleeding wreck with it, both crews died in an instant, leaving dancing embers of wreckage among the ebbing battle above the colony.
Captain Gre'vil snarled, the easy prey of Lorek turning into a trap and fanged enemy. Watching as one of his slave frigates was picked apart by no less than six cruiser sized shells, the dead ship flickered and died among a spreading field of pirate corpses and twisted hull plating. Finished off by several Klor'vian built vessels, the slave frigate broke in half, spilling the last of the survivors into the void.
Alarms blared on his bridge, the pirate thrown from his command chair as a heavy impact blew a station nearby, burning a crewman with heavy electrical burns as the screams filled the bridge.
"IT'S A TRAP! RETREAT!" Trying to pick himself up as another heavy round tore into his vessel, the gravity generator died, letting the pirate and his crew to start drifting in all directions.
"COMMS ARE DOWN! I CAN'T CONTACT THE OTHER SHIPS!" Screamed another male, the crewman gripping to his station as his body tried to float toward the ceiling among spreading smoke.
"THEN THEY DIE! RETREAT NOW!" Spraying spittle from the bellow, Gre'vil really didn't care what happened to the other crews at this point…only saving his own skin.
The pilot desperately input commands, the lit up display flickering before dying in a slew of sparks. "Pilot console is dead! I ne—"
A rippled salvo of no less than a dozen shells ripped along the length of Gre'vil's ship, opening the vessel along several cargo bays and weapons ports. Following impacts from the newly acquired Toad vessels finished the job, cutting the pirate flagship in half as the two ends spun away, spilling the dead and dying.
Twenty three broken, bleeding survivors tried to make the jump to FTL, but only sixteen survived long enough to escape the overwhelming firepower of the D.S.L navy.
The rest were reduced to dead, broken vessels littering the orbital path of Lorek and her moon.
Sitting comfortably in his chair, Pod'neb was quite pleased with the outcome of the fleet action. He lost only three ships, and while the crews of the former Klor'vian ships were novices, they did well against the pirates.
"Orders, sir?" a lower officer inquired, the Batarian standing to the side as the ebbing light of battle stations faded.
"Resume the training of the fleet. We won today, but victory against pirates with obsolete ships is nothing to brag about. And make sure to get some salvage vessels out here. Anything that can be used or repaired is to be seized"
"And if we find survivors inside the wrecks?"
"They're pirates. Kill them" Leaning back, the leader of Lorek allowed a small grin as he envisioned the first steps to expanding the D.S.L into the Adekkan Free States. "The pirates will be the easiest, and whoever launched this attack will be the first to fall to the power of democracy" Picturing the coming conquest, Pod'neb knew it would be bloody, but when the time came, his forces would take the fight to the surrounding systems and bring about a new age of civilization to the shattered Batarian species.
Sera, Old Gerrenhalt, 6th of Heat, 426 A.E.
Stars filled the night sky over the dig site, a velvet tapestry only enhanced by the moons of Sera. Ebbing heat from the summer day was finally manageable, mixing with the rushing echoes of nearby streams that cut through the old streets.
Animalistic cries echoed through the darkness, a mixture of howls and hoots that bounced off the numerous ruins beyond the pulsing light of the energy shields.
Bustling with activity, the Citadel research camp was lit up like a burning oasis. Floodlights illuminated all the approaches while numerous generators kept the security fence humming, the fields uninterrupted as the few Turian soldiers walked the perimeter, their rifles held at the ready for hostile fauna.
Occasionally glancing toward the prefab laboratories and the waiting emergency aircraft, the Council had taken increased precautions since the deaths of numerous scientists in the locust ruins. Increased numbers of Turian soldiers, deployed energy barriers in the first subterranean chamber…even seismic and bio sensors to keep tabs on possible hostiles.
But even then, nobody had returned to the locust city. The underground highway had been lined with a heavy energy barrier, a forcefield to keep the deadly Serapede's and Heart Leeches among the monster ruins.
No, the current research was centered on geology and biology, limited to the first large chamber below the ruined streets of Gerrenhalt.
The cage pulley groaned with weight, pulling up the new batch of scientists from the large sinkhole, their research done for the day.
Jae Pi'tol watched the disembarking group from her position a few streets away beyond the security shield, the Asari unconsciously gripping the sidearm holstered on her hip. Standing near the crumbling ruins of an appliance store, the gaping wound of the front wall spilled past her feet, landing near the rusted frame of a ground car.
Of course, the Council had sent replacements. Men and women from across the galaxy willing to risk the research and find out the hidden secrets of the Inner Hollow below this worlds crust.
But Pi'tol knew she would never set foot in that locust city again. Not because of some rule or law forbidding her continued research, but…the fear.
She was probably the only Asari alive that could even come close to understanding the Seran mindset…of that instinctual avoidance the species displayed toward the home of the Locust Horde.
"And those creatures were normal" Suppressing a small shudder, Jae tried to reorient herself, the female standing under the sagging remains of a city street lamp. Obviously long dead and without power, the archeologist relied on some portable lamps, the beams of illumination bathing the shop and surrounding structures in swaths of light.
Stepping through the ruined doorway of the store, her work boots crunched the shattered stone and ancient glass. Passing the old sale counter overgrown with moss and plants covered in light bugs, she moved to the first aisle, cataloguing a few ancient kitchen appliances and glassware.
It wasn't groundbreaking or the find of the century, but it was a view into the average Seran's life prior to the Locust.
"Doctor Jea Pi'tol"
The male, rough voice came from the far corner, near a crumbling hallway that led to the storeroom and employee lounge. Several light bugs fluttered near the source, but their bioluminescence was dismal compared to the sense of secrecy coming from the corner of the store.
Snapping up her sidearm, Jea pointed at the darkened corner filled with shadow, willing her eyes to identify the threat.
"Who's there! I'll call for help!" Threatening, she showed her omni-tool, the piece of technology a rampant orange as the hard light gave low pulses. "One push of the alarm and those Turians will be here in seconds!"
A shadow shifted, but remained unseen, staying virtually invisible despite the pooling light from the portable lamps stabbing through the gaping wound of the store front.
"Did you know out of the entire advanced party that found the locust city, you're the only one still on Sera? Doctor Grissik packed up within two days, same with Doctor Lellek. Sergeant Trantius was reassigned somewhere and Doctor Garren took a posting on Feros to study the Prothean ruins"
Jae held the pistol tightly, her hands giving a light shake as the voice stopped, letting silence reign. "What do you want?"
The voice took a few seconds before replying. "Visual data and recordings of that day are minimal. Specifically of the events leading up to your unfortunate incident. What were you doing during that time?"
"I…I made my report with the Asari Embassy"
"What were you doing during that time?"
The man wanted an answer, and the archeologist had a sinking suspicion that this Seran…for who else would be here, would get them one way or another.
Slowly lowering the weapon, Jae pointed it at the cracked and pitted floor of the store, her face illuminated by the floodlights pouring down the aisle. "I was helping Doctor La'croix investigate a slave pen. We were only down there for a few minutes before he was attacked and killed by some Heart Leeches. The…the blood. I've never seen so much red before. And the screams coming from him…as they…they tore open his chest" Her voice cracked, a shudder of a violent memory.
The man shifted, his shadow barely visible in the darkened gloom. "Do you know what Doctor Grissik and the Salarians were doing?"
"I was down below, but when I started running under Trantius's orders, they were lagging behind near a few locust skeletons. What they were doing, I couldn't tell you, but they were the last to flee"
"Gathering samples?"
"Maybe? I really don't know" Answering the simple question, Jae Pi'tol waited for another question, but none came. Getting frustrated at the pause, she lifted her omni-tool, activating the flashlight. Light poured into the recessed corner, but nobody stood there. Waving it over the leaning doorway that led to the back of the store and the connecting alleyway of rampant overgrowth, nothing moved except the orbiting flights of the light bugs, their waving glow a dance among the ancient Seran artifacts.
"A seran? But why an interest in our scientific endeavor after all these months?" Glancing toward the overgrown street of the city beyond, Jae gave a light shudder, her mind catching up. She had heard of the D.N.I. But if that man had been part of the intelligence agency, why would a dig site matter to them? Especially with a focus on history and archeology?
"Doctor?"
The new voice came from the street, the source two Turian's who cradled their rifles in professional readiness.
Jumping slightly at the new voice, she turned, recognizing the males. "Yes?"
"It's getting late and some of the bigger predators will be coming out soon to hunt. We'll get you back to camp and you can continue tomorrow"
Running a hand over her forehead and near her rising crest, Jae nodded while re-holstering her weapon. "Right. Of course. The Seran nocturnal predators"
Gathering her tools and portable lights, she followed the duo of Turian's back to the main camp, the roars of several large predator cats echoing from deeper in the city as the spin of stars circled above.
Azura Prime, Bryneton, 20th of Heat, 426 A.E.
Tropical sunlight from the binary suns bathed the sprawling city of five million settled along the curved bay, the outer islands connected by bridges of steel and pavement. Spanning nearly seven islands hugging the coast of the Jorra Continent along the equator, the first Seran city ever established on another world was a tropical paradise.
Founded at the sprawling delta of the Samrath river, the rushing water flowed from the distant highlands and mountains deep in the interior of the continent. Along the left bank of the river among towering high-rises of glass and steel, the statue of one Blaire Dragneel stood among a plaza of park grass and palm trees that oversaw the churning rush of water. A nearby history museum of the colonial age added to the plaza, a draw of tourism for the capital for those interested in.
Clean, glimmering water of the bay, sandy white beaches and roadways lined with local tropical trees only added to the alure, along with numerous hotels along beach front properties.
The large spaceport on the mainland bustled with incoming ships and craft, their blocky hulls dull, but efficient as local avians hunted for easy meals along the coastal lowlands. Most traffic came from the twin planet of Corva, the tropical marble of greens and blues hanging in the sky like a living moon. Currently, Corva's face was cast in night, the pinpricks of cities and civilization glowing among the coastlines and settled islands of the twin world rotating above.
Sammol Island along the western bay held the local Thrashball stadium, the domed structure nestled among nightclubs, hotels, and casinos to feed the recovering tourist industries. But Sammol Island also hosted a large convention center, the structure rented out for fairs, commercial ventures, or in this case, the first debate between the contesting politicians for office of chairman.
Stretching the length of several city blocks, the building was a low, squat rectangle overshadowed by luxurious condos and nearby hotels that lit up at night with blazing, neon colors.
Built with security in mind…like countless Seran structures across numerous worlds, the convention center was built with thick walls of stone and steel. Windows were set high near the angular roof, allowing for the spillage of light.
Thousands of locals had gathered inside the air conditioned structure, some deeply involved in politics, others simply locals wishing to give their support, no matter which party they affiliated with.
Three podiums lined the stage, a wide banner of the Coalition draped against the far wall as rays of sunlight poured inside the convention hall. Reporters and their camera crews had already set up, each taking a moment to watch the three politicians approach their assigned positions.
Before the stage a moderator sat behind a clear, glass table, his job simply to regulate time and prevent any major disruptions. Behind him a row of Gears stood, the men and women fully prepared to take down any possible threat as the crowded auditorium ebbed with crowded citizens.
While no assassin had tried in several centuries, that didn't give the security forces a reason to slack off. They had a job to protect the candidates, and they would fulfill that role.
Moderator Jimm Serrath cleared his throat, the blonde man with moderate chiseled looks almost bursting from his suit due to his hard muscles hidden beneath the clothing. While he didn't serve in the military, the man of forty two years displayed excellent youth and fitness, a personal staple from his upbringing. Encouraged to participate in minimal politics by his wife, the man found himself presiding over the coming debate.
Several floating camera's turned to him, centering on his features as he clasped his hands across the table of hardened glass.
"The first debate for Chairman will now commence. Every participant will be given a chance to speak and answer questions. Any fighting or threats will result in a warning, then expulsion on a second offense. Does every party understand this?"
"Of course" Chairman Diaz replied, the current leader calm and collected as she stood tall on the far right of the platform.
"Good. We will start with Governor Alvren Tilmston of the Ephrya colony. Governor, please explain your mandate and what you desire to bring to the Coalition if elected?" Clasping his hands, Serrath waited at his impromptu desk.
Tilmston cleared his throat, the red headed man gripping the sides of the podium as bathing light from several skylights fell upon him.
"Thank you for asking that, Mr. Serrath" Smiling, he displayed perfect teeth set among a face of average complexion and short cropped red hair. "My mandate is relatively easy to understand. Firstly, to stop the illegal terraforming of Ter'sha by Diaz's administration. That planet has not been properly surveyed and the Chairman has already allowed the terraforming of the recently acquired desert planet. Secondly, to hold off the settlement of Delta Sigmus, Halo, and Hammer Ridge until our environmental engineers fully assess the environmental damage caused by the war. This will be coupled by a healthy balance of trade with the known galaxy and military expenditures to safeguard all Coalition colonies. But, that is not all for my ambition. As previously stated, I wish to assist the Terrans in healing their polluted homeworld. To scrub their atmosphere of pollutants…to clean their oceans of garbage and regrow their forests and fauna species. It is our responsibility to help those less fortunate than us, and that poor planet of our backwards cousins needs every hand of assistance" Pausing for a deep breath, Tilmston continued. "Our two species are linked…we share appearances, sensibilities, and numerous values. Perhaps the Protheans had a hand in the development of the Terrans, taking our ancient ancestors from our homeworld to populate Terra. But whatever the reason, we must safeguard our species from extinction, even if we grew on different world's"
Chairman Izabel Diaz rolled her eyes, the brunette's facial features showing her disbelief, but remained silent.
Cameras flashed as the man stepped back, his smile projected across the Coalition for millions to see.
"Thank you, governor Tilmston. Dorren Ghenhurst, same question" Serrath said with a rich tone, the blonde man turning his attention to the bald man in a striped suit of dark blues.
"Of course" Smiling, his appearance was more subdued, but practical. "My plans for the Coalition are entirely practical. A mandate to increase trade with our neighbors, to increase economic opportunities along with the development and reconstruction of numerous colonies. To end reparations with the Asari, victims themselves of hostile aggression" Blinking rapidly as the sunlight filtered through the skylights above, he pushed on. "Of course, I will support our armed forces, even continuing the replacement of our obsolete destroyers with the new Strand class coming off the line. But how much more do we need to spend on the navy? How many more ships must we build? The costs of training, maintenance and supply? I believe keeping a viable navy at its current levels is more than enough to meet any threat, especially under the leadership of battle tested crews and officers. So let me be clear!" Slamming his fist on the podium, the material shook, a slight vibration as the bald man grinned. "Trade! Economic prosperity for all our people! New markets with our galactic neighbors and the rebuilding of our shattered worlds! Only by opening ourselves up will the Coalition prosper!" Gaining a rather loud roar of approval and clapping from portions of the crowd, Dorren raised his hands in the sign for victory.
Diaz turned her gaze to Ghenhurst, her left brow raised. "Are you done grandstanding?" Not waiting for a response, she dove in, ignoring the C.E. party candidate as she leaned forward over her own podium, her raven hair taking on a sheen from dousing Azuran sunlight.
"When I took office, my promise was to create a viable carrier arm for our navy. I fulfilled that promise. When we were attacked by a hostile species intent on our destruction, I made the hard choices. Choices to abandon systems and worlds, to use the Fortification Act to ensure a full support of the war effort. Those first months were terrible…the civilian and military losses not seen since the Locust war"
Slamming her fist down, Diaz's eyes blazed like steel. "BUT WE WERE VICTORIOUS!" Pointing out at the crowd, a few strands of her brunette hair fell out of place, but she ignored it. "Miners and farmers! Engineers and smelters! Workers in munition factories feeding the war effort as our scientists and naval yards developed new ships! New weapons to safeguard our species! Then! We defeated the Toads! We beat down the Batarians so badly they fell into civil war!" Waving her hand toward Tilmston and Ghenhurst, Izabel went on. "Yet my political opponents have already forgotten those sacrifices! Of over one hundred and forty million war dead! They want to use Coalition resources to heal Terra, pulling away from the recovery of Oceania, Blaze, and Convel! They want to open our borders to galactic trade which is just begging for theft of our prized technologies, notably our military secrets!" Pausing, she calmed, taking a deep breath while returning to a nominal state. "Don't misunderstand, I believe some trade with the Citadel is acceptable, that is why Pandora became an open world of trade and settlement…within reason. For those that wish to live along side other species, to learn from them. I even consented to a minor posting of Council forces on that planet, a dual oversight for security"
Casting a gaze toward the bald Ghenhurst, Diaz quickly turned toward the crowd beyond the stage. "Under my leadership, the Coalition has nearly doubled in size and territory. We've acquired five new garden worlds, hundreds of light years of territory. Our military power is on par with the Asari, perhaps even the Turians"
Stabbing a pointed finger against the smooth wood surface of her podium near the small microphone, Izabel gave a small smile, her beauty seemingly enhanced by the Azuran daylight falling upon her station.
"My mandate for the next six years is simple. A strong, efficient naval force to safeguard all Coalition territory. Fleets comprised of the best ships Seran industry can construct. Not only that, but continued repopulation and reconstruction efforts for worlds devastated by war, and those secured by our brave men and women in uniform. To use our planetary engineering companies to assess possible candidate's for habitability. To establish new deep space colonies to feed our industry and commerce on their path to recovery after our horrendous losses" Raising her palms, she remained stoic, her stance at relative ease.
"I do support some trade with the Council and Terrans. But too much will only lead to dependence on foreign finances. Perhaps in the coming years trade and tourism will naturally bloom along the northern border…commerce with Rion Glacia on the Asari side. But that day is years in the future. Right now, we must work and concentrate on the Seran species…not throw wealth toward our Terran cousins. So, allow me to earn your votes once more and pursue the strength of our species!"
A dull roar erupted, the crowded auditorium nearly bursting at the electric excitement coursing through the citizens.
Ghenhurst gave a derisive laugh, turning to face Diaz. "May I remind the Chairman, and our fellow Seran's that her administration approved the sale of Klor'vian warships to the Batarians. Allowing our two recent enemies to trade military technologies is a recipe for disaster, yet not only did you allow it, but encouraged that sale"
Moderator Serrath kept silent, waiting for an outburst or insult, but none came.
Leaning with one elbow propped against the podium, Izabel grinned back. "I don't deny it. What better way to keep those slaving pirates weak then feeding their political enemies with weapons and ships. Or are you worried that the Toad's will actually strike back? We crushed them to the point of ineptitude and mass surrenders thanks to our military might. Then when the Hegemony failed to pay reparations for the war, we took Tar'sha as payment. But if some four eyed asshead warlord thinks to try their hand at attacking the COG, I'll make damn sure they get stomped out"
This only encouraged another round of cheers, the masses having no love for Batarians or the K.S.R. Anything to keep them weak and woefully understrength was a win for the COG.
"Very well, next question. Mr. Ghenhurst, you have pledged to end Asari reparation payments to the Coalition. What is your reasoning for that proposal?"
Dorren smiled, trying to dazzle and win support. "Ending those reparations will only benefit relations between Sera and Thessia. Not only that, but the Asari Republics would be far more willing to increase trade with Reach, pushing the re-establishment of industries, communities, and commerce. And let us not forget that they too suffered under the hands of the Batarians. Punishing them for the actions of a single colonial fleet is hardly enlightened. But if our citizens wish to caste blame, blame those attacking Hegemony ships that day…those…monsters that butchered millions of our people" Casting his gaze over the crowd, he tired to mimic the steel that Diaz could bring naturally. "I for one, do not blame those Asari for fleeing slavery, many of whom have now settled on Nueva Thessa or even Pandora. They wish to live among us, to share culture and I for one will not let that opportunity slip through our grasp"
Another round of applause erupted, the enthusiasm not on the same level of Diaz's fervor, but close.
"Thank you, Mr. Ghenhurst. Now, Alvren Tilmston, it is rumored that your party wishes to increase planetary conservation laws from thirty five percent to fifty percent of every colony's surface area. This increase of mandated nature protection could potentially displace millions, especially among our core worlds, including Azura Prime. How do you respond to this?"
Tilmston fervently shook his head, the crimson bangs rustling. "That's completely ridiculous and an obvious ploy by the competing political parties. The Planetary Protection Act pushed by Chairman Akina Aoki nearly two hundred years ago is perfectly viable to ensure a proper balance between the natural world and biomes of our colonies, and our species. To increase that policy to fifty percent coverage would be lunacy!" Barking, he slapped his open palm, creating a sound of slapping flesh. "No! I seek to protect that act of conservation and ensure that all Seran colonies are healthy, viable worlds for countless generations to come! But that balance can only be achieved within all manners of Seran society! Not just by the might of our fleets, or the wealth of trade, but responsibility!"
His tone ebbed among a polite response from the private citizen's, but it was hardly on par with the other two candidates.
"Thank you, Governor Tilmston. Now for the next question…" Serrath droned on, the moderator giving the next speaking point to Chairman Diaz as the falling sunlight doused the city of Bryneton. Falling to night, the pale blue illumination of Corva hung above as the twin worlds slowly spun.
61 Ursae Majoris System, Sirona. 21st of Heat, 426 A.E. (The Local Cluster)
Lush forests, teeming oceans, and pristine grasslands made Sirona a paradise for the growing population from Earth.
Settled in the years before first contact, the teeming garden world of small cities, farm belts and geothermal plants glittered like a gem among the stars. Already surpassing three million inhabitants, the colonists braved the risks of the worlds numerous supervolcano's, using the abundant geothermal energy to siphon off the risk for a clean and renewable energy source.
Traveri City was small, but clean and prosperous with white spires, modern homes, and the utilities needed to support its urban population. Sprawled out along the curving shores of a large lake and nearby forest, the sunlight glittered off the tumbling waves.
Ashley Williams sat at her desk, the thirteen year old trying very hard to ignore the beautiful weather beyond the walls of the local school. With raven black hair and some light freckles, the young woman was wearing a modest outfit of blue pants and a white shirt, the material locally made. Looking outside once more through the spanning window of the classroom Ashley practically wanted to run across the nearby field to the large lake dotted with small fishing boats.
"Why can't they just let us go?"
Something some of the other young teens had a difficult time with as well as low mutters rippled among the rows of seats and embedded study terminals.
"Ugh…this sucks. I just wish they'd cancel school today" a boy muttered, him and his friends slowly nodding as the teacher strode in.
"I know. I could go play" Ashley thought to herself, but knew it wasn't to be as Miss Clark stood at the front of the room, smiling at her students.
"Alright class, settle down. I know it's near the end of the day, but we all have to be here" Deftly walking to the side of the clear data board, the blonde, slender woman held an electronic stylus.
The majority of students groaned anyway, showing their disappointment.
"Your complaints won't make the school day end faster" Saying the words with a slight tease, Miss Clark began to write, the glowing words scrawling across the electronic glass. "Now, we've been studying galactic events and the assorted races of the galaxy over the last two months. And for the next two weeks, we'll be studying the Seran's" Highlighting the races name, Miss Clark turned to the young teenagers. "Now, who can tell me anything about the Seran's?"
A dark haired boy raised his hand, getting permission to speak. "My parents say the Seran's are nothing but genocidal fascists like the Nazi's of old Germany"
Ashley scoffed, looking back at the boy. "If they were fascists, then they wouldn't be holding election's"
"Correct Ashley. By definition, they are not like the ancient nazi's or other totalitarian regimes, but they have adopted several points of ideology that many Alliance citizens would consider fascist in nature. Anybody else?"
An Asian girl raised her hand, her pink dress rustling with the movement. "They were almost exterminated by the Locust"
"Correct Miiko. The Seran's experienced one of the worst genocides in galactic history against the Locust Horde. By Earth comparison, it would be like having the entire population perish with the exception of Taiwan or perhaps Venezuela. Now, what else do we know about them?"
Ashley raised her hand, getting a nod from Miss Clark. "My grandpa lives on Pandora, and says the Seran's believe in burning their dead, even away from their homeworld. And that they keep their promises"
"Very good! Yes, the Seran's don't bury their dead underground like the humans of Earth, but instead burn them. To bury a fallen Gear or a family member below ground is one of the greatest signs of disrespect toward the deceased" Turning, Miss Clark erased the electronic words with a swipe, then began to write some more. "Now who are some notable Serans of history?"
Ashley raised her hand again, almost jumping out of her seat before the teacher called on her again.
"Anya Stroud! She was a Gear and helped re-establish the Coalition after the war ended!"
Ashley didn't know much about Seran history figures, but she found Anya Stroud to be very…cool.
"Very good. Anybody else?"
A blonde boy raised his hand, his face showing a callous smirk. "Can we see some videos of the locust destroying Sera. I bet it's cool seeing those people run for their lives against monster's"
Miss Clark pursed her lips, her smile disappearing as she stared at the student. "Those images are too advanced for your age. Also, Ben, there is nothing fun or entertaining about war images, no matter the species or conflict"
"Why should we care? They're just Seran's. They only way they win wars is by dying by the millions…or billions"Guffawing, a few other kids snickered nearby at the joke.
Ashley didn't realize she was moving between the rows of desks until after she slapped the laughing boy across the face. "Show respect, Ben! Especially to a stellar empire that could conquer the Alliance in mere months if they decided to! Stupid boy" Returning to her seat, Ben started to sniffle as Miss Clark marched between the two teens.
"Ashley. Ben. I'll be taking you to the principal's office"
"Why!? I didn't do anything!" The boy wailed, a few snot bubbles forming.
"You were disrespectful to my lesson. Now gather your belongings. You too, Ashley"
The thirteen year old sighed, knowing she was in trouble as she gathered her school bag. "Obnoxious brat deserved a punch, not a slap" Waiting at the classroom door, Ben stood behind the teen girl as Miss Clark stepped into the hall, her shoes making a sharp 'click' against the smooth, sheening floors of white.
"Bitch"
This time, Ashley Williams closed her fist against Ben's face.
Pandora, Sinno Bay. 32nd of Heat, 426 A.E.
Sinno Bay glistened like a half moon, the clear waters revealing numerous reefs of coral below the ocean. Hugging the heavily forested mainland of jungles and vibrant greens, the coastal city was an oasis of civilization.
Sounds of construction ebbed across the city of fifteen thousand, mixing with the hum of ground vehicles and the few aircraft.
A minor spaceport had been carved out of the jungle to the north of the city, the main road stretching to numerous farms and villages further inland. Eventually connecting with the Krogan settlement of Kur to the south, the span of ribbon rumbled with ground traffic.
Ebbing with heavy thrusters, a transport holding several hundred new arrivals landed near the terminal building, its blocky and angular shape a Seran standard of utility. Engine's cutting off, the door opened as a mixed manifest of Terran, Asari, Seran, and a few Krogan with a dozen Turians disembarked.
Slinging her pack over her shoulder, Lea Kaliso soon left the craft, heading toward the terminal across the tarmac and sweltering humidity that reminded her of Convel and her grandparent's home.
There were kids with some of the Terrans, probably with siblings that had served in the C.A.G. Bounding with excitement, the children seemed to point at everything with wide open eyes.
Reaching the terminal, the group of several hundred entered, feeling relief from the blast of chilled air against the jungle humidity.
"Spirits. Is it this humid outside all the time?" A nearby Turian asked, his bluish-silver plates decorated with several markings. Joined by a somewhat smaller Turian female and an obvious child, the family of three was trying to get their bearings inside the terminal.
"You get used to it" Lea told them in passing, the former Gear moving to the exit.
Hailing down a taxi, she had contemplated walking, but decided against traversing the length of the city to her established homestead.
The drive was fast, barely fifteen minutes before the ground car pulled up. Giving a few extra credits for a tip, Lea exited, standing before the two story building that she had purchased a month prior before her emigration to the jungle planet.
It was a drab concrete square with a few windows while a side gate blocked the private alleyway on the right hand side. A secondary personnel entrance was constructed within the gate, allowing easy access if needed.
The bars on the lower windows had already been installed on her request, eliminating one more task for herself. Looking upward, an overhanging balcony and small patio provided shade over the sidewalk while brand new rain gutters ran the length of the roof, wrapping around to the side and rear of the structure.
But Lea could check out her place of business later. She was more concerned if her apartment was actually furnished or not.
Unlocking the gate for her private alleyway with a rapid punch of her keycode, the path split as the gate slid shut once more. On her immediate left an enclosed staircase of concrete rose to the apartment, the upper door still locked and painted a dull blue with a heavy look of security. To the right along the neighboring wall of the next second story home, the path extended to the backyard.
Walking swiftly with her duffle slung over her shoulder, Lea studied the backyard, the small plot of green covered in wild grass and a few stretching trees that rose above the privacy wall that cut off the rectangular piece of nature from the rear alleyway.
Eyeing another side gate, Lea unlocked it, finding it leading to a parking awning and the small loading dock for her up and coming security business.
"Right…I still need to pick up my new truck" Mentally reminding herself to get across the city to the transport dealership either later today or tomorrow, she knew it was paid for, just needed to be picked up.
Backpedaling to her apartment, Lea used the more archaic, but unhackable physical keys to unlock the blue door of heavy metal. While she was certain no lock was fullproof, at least nobody could use a computer to get this chunk of steel open.
Pushing it closed behind her with a barely a squeal of noise, Kaliso found herself nodding in approval.
The living room was adequate and furnished, with a three seat couch stretching along the exterior wall. Across the open space was a wall screen, the electronic device currently turned off.
Dropping her duffle, Lea approached the patio door and slid it open, her gaze falling to the street below.
Several bars and restaurants lined the opposite side of the street, the signs blazing despite the mid day sunlight bathing the city and the heavy hint of humidity.
"Might have to check one of them out later" Muttering to herself, she continued to check out her new living arrangements after stepping back inside.
The kitchen and dining room were fine, if a little small. But then, compared to the army it was a luxury of space. A sliding door and balcony were beyond the kitchen with a set of exterior stairs leading down to the overgrown back yard.
"Still nothing compared to grandma's kitchen. Could roast a boar in that oven" Grinning at the fact she had provided said boar on occasion, Lea left the modern appliances and blue tinted countertops.
The bathroom and bedroom weren't that special, a standard of comfort and furniture that could be found in probably a million homes across the Coalition.
A second room was an obvious office space or den, the wooden desk, table top computer, and bare shelves just waiting to be filled with whatever she desired.
Taking a seat at the computer, the piece of technology was soon powered up, the thin monitor dancing with a screen saver.
Rapidly typing out a letter to her immediate family, Lea wanted to let them know she had finally arrived…even if they had decided to make another attempt at Convel at the start of the year.
She wished them all the best, but for her, it was just another battlefield of ash and graves. Plus, Lea had no doubt if she had gone with them, her mother would have continued to meddle, trying to get her to produce babies with the first prospective male encountered.
"Like hell I'm getting tied down with children right now. I have decades to decide when and where" Scowling, they had fought a lot about it, which had only pushed Lea into pursing a minor education in business management and taking Wrex's advice. Would she get rich making it big guarding colonists while they planted crops or built their homes? Doubtful. But at least she now had the knowledge to run this security firm herself instead of stumbling around like a damn fool.
Sending the communication across CoGnet, Lea really didn't expect to get a response for a day or so. The distances and time differences alone would see to that.
Standing up, Lea headed to the kitchen and poured herself a glass of crisp, cold water from the tap.
Refreshing, she leaned against the countertop, knowing that she needed to get groceries too. Taking another deep gulp to slake her thirst, she paused, setting the half empty glass on the nearby counter.
"Right, I should let him know I'm here" Raising the omni tool on her right wrist, Lea had to admit, it was a practical piece of tech. Finding the proper info, she called Wrex.
The big alien answered after a few chimes, his reptilian mug showing on the small screen as a tiny holographic projection.
"Kaliso. This is a surprise"
"Yeah. Well, I emigrated. Just arrived in Sinno Bay a mere hour ago. Took your advice, setting up a security gig. Even bought a building with an upper unit"
"Smart" Grinning to himself, the Krogan looked away for a minute. "A visit will have to wait. Harvesting more of my java beans this week. I swear it turns Salarians into addicts…which is fine by me" Chuckling darkly on his end, Lea returned the grin herself, knowing that most Krogan would love to see the slender aliens freaking out over coffee and caffeine.
The fact that it was perfectly legal was just icing on the cake for Wrex.
"Don't worry about it. I haven't even unpacked yet. But I'll send my address. Drop by whenever you feel the need to shoot the shit, or grab a drink"
"Yeah yeah. I'll see ya around, Kaliso" Ending the call abruptly, neither considered it rude, just the way the two were.
Sending the address link in a packet email to her wartime friend, Lea went to unpack her few spare outfits and rifle, leaving the weapon of war leaning in the corner next to her bed and nightstand.
Lea's war medals had been framed, a simply wooden case and glass, a small gift from her grandfather.
"Maybe I'll hang them downstairs. But not today"
She didn't hold shame or sorrow for surviving, not anymore. Just the pride for her accomplishments during war and conflict. Of being recognized as a warrior.
Giving them one last look, she set the framed case on the nightstand and rapidly left her apartment, grabbing her duffle on the way downstairs.
Unlocking the security system and deadbolt was just a manner of seconds, Lea imputing her personal code as several Terrans and a few Asari walked past, none really concerned with what she was doing. Swinging inward, Lea stepped into the place of work, shutting the door behind her with a click.
Sunlight poured through the barred windows, the scent of humidity and foliage greatly diminished inside.
It was utilitarian with nothing but drab, gray concrete, overhead lights, and minimal furniture. To the far right was a desk and a few seats for potential clients, the chairs attempting to be comfortable. In the middle of the back wall was a small hallway, leading toward a small restroom, the supply room and the rear delivery door and her personal parking space out back.
Craning her head left, the left wall was lined with weapon hooks, protected by a security cage. There was a security shield as an added layer of protection, but it was currently powered down.
Past the weapon cage was a place to put her armor in the corner, so Kaliso did that, knowing full well it would get used in time. Satisfied, she headed toward the back supply room, pushing the door open with eagerness.
The crate was there, sealed with the stylized symbol of the Coalition Gear stamped on the metallic sides.
"Better all be here otherwise heads will roll" Popping the seals of the top, she pushed the panel off, revealing two Lancer Mk III's, a Longshot, Boomshot, Scorcher, Gnasher, two Snubtok's, several fragmentation and thermite grenades, and a few thousand rounds of ammunition, along with a variation of ammo types developed by the arms dealer.
"Yeah, now this is what I like to see" Grinning happily, she set the first rifle on a nearby workbench, the flat surface unmarred or stained by use while tools hung in pristine condition.
Checking the lancer's condition was second nature to Kaliso, the former Sergeant walking through the steps with barely a thought.
Finding a local radio station through her omni tool, somber music soon filled the workshop, allowing Lea Kaliso to lose herself in the task of double checking the weapons before hanging them on the wall of the armory cage up front.
Several hours passed for her, the Seran taking inventory of every bullet, grenade, and Boomshot shell that had arrived.
Placing the last box of thermite shells in a storage bay below the wall of guns, Lea was slightly surprised that everything she ordered had been accounted for. In all honesty, she had expected to be missing some ammunition stocks, but she had double checked and found nothing missing.
Even the packs of Kelto Gel were there, the medical salve a lifesaver for any soldier on the battlefield.
Stomach rumbling and with a slight rumble of an incoming storm, Lea locked up and headed across the street to get something to eat as the first rain drops fell.
The Jungle Hut was closest, the building a narrow hall with an exterior patio right along the sidewalk. Stepping inside, Lea brushed a few bangs away before heading toward the bar, the strings of multi-colored lights hanging across the ceiling a mixture of illumination.
Several flatscreens hung above the bar or near some booths, most showing some entertainment programs, or in the case of one, the continuing political campaign of Ghenhurst.
"Galactic trade and supporting our colonial reconstruction efforts is the path forward! Financial gain and security for all Serans is sorely needed! A wealth of tourism and new trade routes with the galactic community will only benefit the Coalition! So if you value a financially secure future, limited military spending, and to see our war ravaged worlds healed, vote for Ghenhurst! Thank you!"
Lea ignored the flickering images of the man as she sat, the combat vet already deciding on who would get her vote months ago.
Speaking of Diaz, her own commercial ran just after Ghenhursts, the political advertisement showing the infamous war leader standing in front of a fluttering Coalition banner as patriotic music played.
Lea barely listened, the chairman already earning her vote as a few nearby Asari and Terrans listened to the commercial along the bar, the patron's interest piqued.
The commercial ended after barely a minute, going to some television program.
The bar itself was a large 'L' wrapping to the kitchen along the left wall past a single billiard table being played be two Asari, the alien females quite enamored by the game of accuracy and mathematics.
Slowly assessing the other patrons around the establishment, Lea found most to be Terran's with an odd Krogan thrown in the mix.
"What can I get ya?" a burly, black bearded bartender asked, his nose suggesting a former break. Built like a trunk with a brown t-shirt showing off impressive biceps and partially hidden tattoos, his demeanor suggested military service.
"Beer. And something with bacon on it. Doesn't matter what" Waving her hand dismissively, the bartender poured a glass, the beer a pale yellow as he slid it across the polished bar.
"Leinenkugel. From Wisconsin"
"Never heard of that planet. Somewhere in Alliance space?" Lea asked as she took a sip, taking a taste test. "Not as strong as Seran beer, but not bad" Shrugging, she took a deeper sip.
"It's a region in North America on Earth. I'm from Milwaukee myself. But that beer? Been brewed since eighteen sixty seven. Damn better than those big name brands too" Leaning against the top of the bar, he stared at Lea, his eyes tracing the swirling tattoos across her face and neck. "You're a Seran, what do you think?"
Taking another deep drink of the frothing mug, Kaliso gave a slow nod. "It's not bad. A little light compared to what I drink, but not bad"
A ghost of a grin passed the man's lips. "I knew you would like it" Refilling the now drained mug, he gave a respectful nod. "I fought with the 2nd C.A.G. on Le'hak. You?"
"Convel, Bo'link and Le'hak. I ended the war with the 9th Tri-Ostrians. I remember the 2nd C.A.G on our flanks on a few occasions. We could've just been a few miles apart"
"Something to think about" Retrieving a pork sandwich dripping with sauce and bacon, along with steaming fries from the kitchen shelf behind him, the bartender slid it toward Lea. "On the house. I've heard of Convel. Nasty shit went down there. Plus, being neighborly and all that"
"Thanks"
Stepping away to attend some other patrons at the far end of the bar, namely a trio of Asari that had walked in, the burly man left Lea alone to eat and drink.
Rain pummeled like a sieve beyond the bar door a minute later, the sound like falling nails. But for Lea, the beer was cold and the sandwich filling.
"Not bad for my first day on Pandora"
Codex Update: Seran Holidays
1st of Storm: The Seran new year. Similar in celebration among numerous civilizations to the beginning of a new year. Primarily celebrated on the Seran homeworld due to the simple fact that each colony has their own native year. For example, The planet of New Vectes has a year length of 366 days, nearly matching Terra in terms of seasonal lapse and daily rotation. As a result of numerous planetary orbits, the local governments have established their own yearly celebration.
20th of Gale: Day of planting. Focuses on the planting of crops and the coming summer. There is also a slight increase in pregnancies due to the celebration. However, as stated above, each planet ensures a difference in seasonal temperament and environment, meaning that the 'Day of Planting' is tied to local calendar dates.
29th of Bloom: V-L day. Victory over the Locust Horde. A celebration over the hated locust and ending of the Emergence War. This holiday is celebrated across every world and colony with frivolity, drinking of spirits, and rampant joy and cheer. Even with the vast differences and length of local years, the holiday is firmly established across the entire Coalition. On Pandora, numerous races witnessed the celebration first hand and noted that numerous Seran's were 'Quite Open' about sharing in the festivities.
1st of Reap: Thrashball season open's. Viewed with high physical bodily assault, injuries, endurance, and accuracy, alien viewpoints of the sport range from entertaining to down right brutal due to the possibility of torn muscles, head injuries and even broken bones. However, the sport is proving to be popular among Krogan and Turians while several Terrans lament the loss of 'American Football' from their own society.
5th of Reap: Discovery Day. The anniversary of the 'Pheonix' reaching the first planetary system of Azura via slip space drive. A crowning achievement of science and exploration.
8th of Bounty: Emergence Day. A somber day of remembrance and sorrow. There are no celebrations with most of Seran society shutting down to remember the darkest day of history. It is fully expected that one is to spend time with family and loved ones to reflect on the sacrifices of the past.
33rd of Bounty: Election Day. A national holiday that requires every Seran to vote. Be it for Chairman every six years, Governor every four, or just local administration every two years, the Coalition has ensured that the day is open to participate in a valuable function of civilized society.
So think I'll end the chapter here. I know it's another low key affair, but I like showing off the different points in the galaxy, especially with some civilians just going about their lives.
Also, I've decided to just limit all dates to the Seran calendar. I realize the S.A. and Council have their own timelines and dates for measuring years, but planning out the proper day and time for three different modes of timeline is problematic. Then considering the length of years for each society and etc, makes it impractical for me. So I'll just be listing the Seran calendar from now on. And whenever I write a portion with a mention of Dragneel's distant ancestors, just deal with it. Basically, just a homage to my very first story despite all the mistakes and poor plot. If it bugs you, skip it or go read something else.
Also, sorry it took so long. My summer has basically been boiled down to more work, extra hours, overtime and more work. It's frustrating watching all those nice days fly by and I'm stuck working another 12 hour shift or some crap.
Anyway, I hope you all enjoy this low key chapter!
