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Espacole and Spork
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Anderson woke up to a quiet, chiming alarm that echoed across the empty apartment. Standing, he sighed and flicked a finger across the hoo-display by his headstand to dismiss the alarm. His uniform was waiting on a rolling sort of hangar, pressed and cleaned by an assistant of his and rolled into his room just before dawn. It even had a simple little scented hanger on it, safely away from the uniform to avoid any problems of course, that filled his room with a pleasant, airy sort of scent. One he knew the cleaners knew he loved and he turned, smiling.
"Vi?"
"Yes, Admiral?" The synthesised, feminine voice of his personal VI answered, echoing quietly out of the speakers in his walls.
"Add a tip to last night's cleaning bill." He grunted, "Fifty credits."
"Acknowledged, Admiral." Vi answered quietly, "Shall I begin your morning routine?"
"Yes, thank you." He nodded, turning and heading for the stairs.
The blinds were drawn across the long windows of the apartment, but even so he could see the heavy gunship hovering outside, its turret-mounted lights slowly panning across the open air. And, from the side, he could see bright beams of camera-lights filming it doing its work. Why, he didn't know - it had been there for the legally required week and a half since the announcement of the preliminary status of the Disciplinary Action, and wasn't liable to do much else than keep an eye out.
Unless gun-ship scaled bullets started flying, in which case…
Who would want to be in that mess for footage?
By the time he got downstairs, his automated brewer was already waiting with two cups worth of coffee and the oven was warming up. Fifteen minutes later and he had biscuits and ham, straight from Earth herself, and was dressed to the role for the coming day. And, while he ate, he read his overnight net-mails, frowning into his coffee and sighing as he sat the cup aside.
"So…" He murmured, "It's time."
Ten minutes more and he had washed his face and he stepped through his door, flanked by a pair of black-armored Alliance reporters cordoned off by C-Sec officers with riot shields and batons hanging off their waists saw him immediately and started flashing photographs and screaming questions, as they had for the last week and a half. And, for some, as they did every single morning regardless of what was going on. Unlike any of those times, though, he stopped near enough to the center of the semi-circle and looked around. A handful of reporters, confused, went quiet and, when he raised his hand for silence, the rest steadily followed suit over half a minute.
Finally, in the silence that followed, he cleared his throat and spoke up, "Given where we are, I think I'll skip the formalities of introducing myself and get right to the point. As of precisely one standard week, five standard days, two standard hours, and six standard minutes ago, the Batarian Hegemony received a preliminary declaration of a Disciplinary Intervention."
"This week was, as most if not all of you may know, a last chance for the Hegemony to come to the table. To compromise. However as you all may know as well, Batarians are as like to compromise as Krogan are to form a knitting circle." That earned a few laughs from the crowd, most of them staged and polite, but his analysts - and experience - told him it would play well to portraying confidence on the feeds. And that was needed for what he said next. "In this failing, it is my sorrow and duty to report per Council decision as the aggrieved party most directly, " which was lawyer speak for 'They shot at a Human representative, "the Council has officially mobilized the Turian Fleet to action in a direct Disciplinary Intervention Action."
"Further," he shouted as the crowd began to murmur and fell silent, listening with rapt attention to what, for some in the crowd, would be a career defining scoop, "as of forty-eight hours ago, the governing body, in totality, of the Systems Alliance has officially declared war due to numerous raids, slaver assaults and mercenary oriented actions our intelligence community has successfully tied to Batarian special forces movements."
"The Council as a whole will hold a press conference this afternoon." He finished, waving them off as if he could simply dismiss them. "That is all."
It took a heartbeat for them to process what he'd said, but he supposed a declaration of war like that was bound to have that affect. Regardless, he used the chance to slip through the opening in the cordon and was just sitting down when the stun wore off and the crowd erupted.
As the door closed and his air-car lifted off and turned away, he sighed, "Thank god for sound proofing…"
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M'noch was a dark, blueish world orbiting a gas giant five times its size on a trans-polar transit, orbiting closer at the southern pole of the green gas world, and closer to the sun, too. Right now, though, it was the height of winter on the planet. The Normandy was in its spring horizon, orbiting close to the planet where the gravity well and the gases filtering away from the planet would obscure them from all but the most ardent visual observers on the planet - and their active stealth systems would, of course, keep them hidden from the small defensive satellite in the gas giant's orbit.
"Nothing yet?" She asked, leaning on the back of Joker's chair and frowning as she watched the three light frigates the Batarians had defending the world slowly orbit it.
"Nope." He sighed, "Just the totally not Hegemony related, Batarian only, light frigates and the governor's transmissions from the station. Apparently the weather in M'noch is nice."
"Oh?"
"Mhm." He nodded, "Nice, cold, dry, and windy as hell."
"I'll make sure we're all suited up." She chuckled dryly, "Any word from High-Com?"
"We're green to land." He nodded, sighing quietly, "What I heard, Anderson just put the word out, war's hot and ready to serve."
"And the distress call?" Any colony, privateer or otherwise, would have one after all. "We can't handle a fleet coming down on us."
"Even a Batarian one?"
"Just because half their cannons will blow when they fire doesn't mean all will." She joked back, shaking her head. "EDI, countermeasures are in place?"
"Affirmative." She answered, "A Salarian spy-sat in orbit around the sun is set to jam all outgoing signals on our word, and they have an asset that will answer any inquiries based on intel."
"Good." She nodded. The STG were excellent to have at your back, and she looked forward to throwing whatever wrenches they had cooked up right into the Hegemony's operations in the area. "Open comms to the ground teams and issue the standing brief."
"As you wish, Commander." The AI answered simply, cuing into comms across the two teams that had been prepared for the operation and speaking cleanly, "Second Officer Lawson is standing by with the Dragoon unit we picked up on Omega, and will deploy to the station to disable it. While she does, you will land and assault the primary fortification on the planet. In both instances, the STG asset and I will be assisting in data extraction."
"Dragoon-1 standing by." Miranda spoke up, voice quite over the comm-line. Disciplined.
"Dispatch." Shepard ordered and, a moment later, she watched their Kodiak shuttle slip by and shoot off in front of the Normandy's curved nose, pulsing to max speed and then letting the engine die as they banked around toward the station with the aid of the planet's gravitational field and inertia.
Five minutes passed before Miranda reported, "We've breached the station near the barracks. Moving to neutralize and take the command section. Alarm is raised."
"EDI?"
"No signals are escaping." She reported, "Once connected, I will override the alarms and spread counter-reports to assist in your infiltration."
"Acknowledged."
With their success, Shepard turned, marching off as she tugged her helmet on and spoke over the comm-line, "Dragoon-2, we're deploying in ten minutes."
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"Less than a minute, Battlemaster." Grunt rumbled beside her, his heavy shotgun braced across his knees. Pyrrha nodded, looking across the squad bay at the Geth and, right beside them, Penny. Taking a breath and sighing, she nodded and the Krogan rumbled, like he was trying to comfort her somehow, "Vengeance. Or a start on it, at least."
"I suppose…" She'd never thought herself as the type to be inclined to it but… The thought comforted her now, and she sat up straighter. Perhaps the darker inclination was simply an effect of her patron? Or perhaps it was simply exposure to the galaxy?
She couldn't begin to feel certain either way…
"Over the roof now." The pilot reported as inertia suddenly pitched them forward before the internal dampeners kicked in and cancelled it out. The doors hissed open and snow and rain splashed in as they rose and the pilot grunted, "Dragoon-2 deploy. Dragoon-3?"
"Already down." Shepard reported, gunfire crackling mutedly over the comm-line. "Engaged. Krios is infiltrating off of us to deal with internal measures. Dragoon-2, this is your chance."
"You heard her." Pyrrha said, standing as the shuttle came to a final stop. "Clear the roof. Legion, find an entrance and get it open. Grunt, you and Za-" She bit her words off, scowled and sighed, "Grunt, you and Penny keep a look out. You see anyone, you clear them out. I'll cover Legion."
"Battlemaster."
"Yep!"
"Acknowledged."
Outside the wind was howling across a wide roof, dotted by ventilation points and boxy air conditioning units to either side of a doorway with a roof that cut down and sloped toward the roof proper a couple feet in. Which told Pyrrha the door let in straight onto a staircase rather than a landing of any kind. They'd landed on a raised, rectangular landing that only barely fit the Kodiak, built very obviously for a differently shaped Batarian equivalent - or perhaps even a skycar, Pyrrha could see a small city a few miles away - rather than the Alliance-built Kodiak.
Regardless, beyond the building was a stretch of barely-wooded land enclosed by a weathered looking old stone wall, dotted by metal sections she assumed had been affixed to reinforce weakening spots. One of those metal sections exploded suddenly and Pyrrha flinched, watching it fall and scatter stone across the ground, crushing a nearby tree. A moment later she could see long arcs of rifle fire from the walls arcing down into the spot, and return fire coming up.
Dragoon-3 it had to be…
"The longer we take," Legion offered from their place at the door, working to bypass a card-reader lock beside the door, "the more danger they face."
"I know." She sighed, "I just… Don't like it."
"We'll go fast."
"Yeah!" Penny agreed, "In and out, quick as a whistle! Are whistles quick?"
"Technically, they exist at the speed of sound." Legion offered as the door whirred open and they stood, "So yes. Whistles are quick."
Inside, the stairs were old, some caving in just a bit. And more than one gave even further as Legion and Grunt descended in front of Pyrrha and Penny. But they made their way down regardless, as silent as they could manage. And, after less than a minute, breached into an…
Office? Or at least, that's what it looked like.
Two dozen cubicles filled most of the floor, it seemed, with thin slits for windows all along the wall and private offices sequestered in one of the corners behind heavy looking metal doors. Pyrrha waved her hand toward it and grunted, "That's the target."
"Moving." Grunt rumbled lowly, making his way across the room with his head cocked so he could watch the office doors and the opening that lead out to a landing and more stairs down right beside the private offices' corner.
They were maybe ten steps away when the door opened and a pair of armored Batarians stepped out, flanking a man in a suit while he glared at a tablet. The two soldiers - or Pyrrha assumed they were soldiers, mercenary styling aside - froze when they saw them and the office man walked right into them, scowled, and opened his mouth to say something that died when he, too, saw them.
After a heartbeat, he started to shout, "Get the-"
The guards moved quicker than his words, backing up and raising their blocky rifles, but Grunt launched forward with a push of Pyrrha's Semblance for speed and crushed one between his armored shoulder and the wall. The wall gave a bit, but Grunt gave nothing, and the man between was crushed with a spurt of brackish blood while Penny spun and tossed her legs up, spinning on the palm of a hand and sweeping Floating Array through the air in a pattern like fingers that carved deep furrows across the second soldier's body just as his first rounds cracked the air, sparking off Penny's Aura.
The last man scrambled back and turned, trying to get into his office, but a pair of Carnifex rounds ripped into his back as he did.
"Targets terminated." Legion grunted as they lowered the heavy pistol and stepped over the bodies to look into the room. "Terminals located - likely a security room."
"Get in there and get access." She ordered, waving Grunt towards the other offices, "Clear them."
"Survivors?"
She bit the inside of her cheek until it bled, frowned, and shook her head, "We… Have Shepard's orders."
The Krogan met her gaze for a long moment but, finally, he nodded and moved away, into the first of the offices. Sighing, she turned and waved Legion inside.
The office was, as they had suggested, gull of terminals and screens that filled the walls. Rows of screens, three at a time as wide as Pyrrha could stride out her arm, with boxy computer terminals between them, lined it with seats and chairs scattered around a desk in the center, covered in paperwork written in a language she didn't understand and more than a dozen data-pads in the same that she had Penny gather up while she watched the door. While the gynoid worked, Pyrrha flicked a look over the monitors themselves and frowned.
Most were views outside, ranging from random seeming stretches of wood to walls and paths all the way to where she could see Shepard's team cutting apart the local security force.
The others, though…
Work done, Legion spoke, "Data confirmed - numerous Alliance colonists abducted over the last three hundred and sixty standard Earth days. Over four thousand. However-"
"There's not that many here." She frowned, pursing her lips and nodding at the three monitors showing what she hoped was not most of the prison zones below. A hundred wide, open cages lined long, grated walkways and were filled by scattered groups of five or six Humans at a time, broken up by sex and age. Shaking her head, she said, "Pass the word to Shepard. We have a hundred or so survivors on-site and need orders."
"Connecting." Legion answered simply, eye flicking for a moment before they said, "Relaying her to you, Pyrrha."
"Focus on the objective." Shepard ordered over the muted sound of gunfire, "Once the site is secure, we'll bring the Normandy herself down and get them all loaded up."
"Understood." She nodded, grateful the Commander hadn't simply ordered her to ignore them, "Legion?"
"Programs infiltrating systems." They said, "All Batarian communications, alarms and relay systems identified… Now. Disabling."
Almost at once, the distant drone of the base alarm died and Pyrrha nodded, turning for the door, "Good work. Penny, stay here with Legion while they finish data-mining their security protocols for EDI to use. Grunt?"
"Yes, Battlemaster?" The alien rumbled, large head sticking through the door at her call. She gave it a pat and nudged it back so she cold step out and said, over her shoulder, "We're clearing the base. Standing orders remain. Understood?"
"Hehe." The Krogan rumbled, "I do, yeah."
She hated how easily ordering that kind of death came to her, even if it made her stomach churn painfully to consider it, but… She had to have faith that Anderson and the rest knew what they were doing. She was too inexperienced, thankfully, in war to know any better. And besides-
The Batarians had shown no mercy or kindness - so why should she?
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The Illusive Man sat back in his chair as he read over the summary of a hundred after action reports, from all across the Alliance-Hegemony border and throughout the Terminus itself as well. Around eighty percent of them had been total successes - and ninety had been successes at all - but the data gained had been invaluable. Strategic information on current-gen weapons, ships, patrol routes and more. Much of which would be unable to be altered before the first shots of the proper war were fired in the coming days. But more intriguingly came data from a small planet of Arc'ha.
"Particle weapons…" He mused, looking at the breakdown of the recovered instances. "And a very organic design."
Troublesome, for now, but…
Interesting for the future.
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Charn, like every Batarian able to without literally killing themselves, sat in his quarters as the staticy feed from Khar'Shan came through on his monitor. It was hard to see, as far away as they were, but he recognized the deep baritone of one of the higher ranking generals speaking, "The Alliance finally gets their seat on the Council, our seat I should say, and this is their first goal? Their first decision? The first thing they point the feral Turian dogs at is us? And we are supposed to be surprised?"
"No." The general rumbled, laugh booming out of Charn's speakers so loud he wanted to turn them down. "No, the Alliance showed their hand long ago. When they stole our space, our place, and dared to act against us. So let them bring war. The Batarian Hegemony will answer their weakness with strength! Their cowardice with unity! We are the apex of all societies, and as they have incited us, we shall bring that apex to their very worlds and allow them the majesty of serving it!"
It was a simple, short speech, but it hit all the right notes and the stock audience applauded it before going dutifully silent, "Now, our fleet is mobilizing to-"
Charn sighed and cut the feed - he didn't need to hear the logistical claims about their fleet and army, after all. Instead, he busied himself with a systems error in the comm-relay, so that no one could fault him for tuning out of the broadcast. Or rather, they could…
But who would risk losing a veteran against the Alliance now, when war was on them?
"Fools." He murmured, "The lot of them…"
And whether he meant the Batarians or the Hegemony… Who could say?
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Genshin21 :
Yeah a lot of that is pretty much how I go about it, though I'm personally a fan of Arkos in a very 'it's a nice, tragic vanilla ship I like' lol.
The Prime Cronos :
War were declared, but that is no excuse to skip out on writing fluffy bits! Life, uh, finds a way like that.
Lea :
Grunt with Aura is just cheating…
*makes a note*
Fat Quacker :
That was the goal of the chapter. A moment for everyone to breathe, before the next plunge.
Also a good chance for some more characterization!
CHimp Thrown Out a Plane :
Nooooo. Neveeeeeer.
