Scedule is pack to normal, folks. Sunday updates, Eastern Time.

Cooldude101011: Pretty hilarious, if you'd ask me. I'm only part-way through it as I write this, however, so I can't really offer any specific opinions.

captaindickscratcher: IIRC, the 17 million limit was largely imposed by the amount of liveships the quarians had in the Migrant Fleet + any other space they could find on the other ships, but given how by volume alone three 2km long ships could easily provide close to 100 million in terms of raw living space alone (not to mention the fact that with the size of the turian navy being, in this AU, being roughly in the 100s of thousands of ships, which should triangulate to a roughly equivalent number for the quarians, which is ~533,000 in this case), + the space the other ships could provide, and factoring in 300+ years of scaveging and scrounging for extra ships, especially in the Terminus, home to old warships that still pack decent punches nonetheless, I'd call for a ~350 million number to be more exact and accurate. TBH, the total capacity of a liveship should be 17 million judging by volume alone.

Brin: It's the latter, technically. Prime is composed of what effectively amounts to 1,000s of normal clusters (1 cluster=1 Geth individual, more or less), all grouped together to do the job of the executive and Cabinet. More important matters, like, say, declaring war, are the responsibility of the Geth Conclave (insert organic emulator moment here); though

Me: *posts a new chapter*

My inbox:

"So now the humans are dealing with the honestly dammed bloody suit rats," Tevos said almost as an afterthought, a confirmation of what had already happened rather than a request for information. "We've had the quarians and the batarians giving us major problems from the start already, but have to date never encountered a species giving us as many problems right off the bat as the humans. The batarians have been giving us enough problems already, but they are a Council Associate race, which allows us to keep them in check, at least for a bit; and the quarians are wandering the stars within their Migrant Fleet and lack the capacity to challenge us in any shape or form...and not only the humans are neither, they also have the ambition to directly challenge our supremacy from the start, and are not afraid to make it known. We've been doing fine with the batarians and the quarians for the longest time, but now we have another player who is clearly out for our blood. Not only that, they're also making allies as fast as possible, and have the resources, industry, and political capital to back up their claims and promises."

The asari matriarch took a sip from her cup before continuing. "Their technology is clearly better than ours, despite the fact that it's principles of function are inferior, and their people have a tendency to be as reckless as possible and yet still somehow survive, if not thrive, as a result. That alone should have killed them ages ago, but no, the humans have a tendency to surprise us with how well they manage to cope, even if their methods are completely illogical."

She didn't really feel anything much more upon the subject ever since that time a while ago, for the negotiations with the humans had more or less hammered home the sheer unpredictability as a whole well enough. Still, though, she felt her begrudging respect for the two human ambassadors—Anita Goyle and Illyasviel von Einzbern—grow. Those two had proved themselves very well in the realm of interspecies politics right from the start, and had more or less given them all a major headache in the process, not only seeing straight through the manipulative statements made by her and her fellow colleagues but actually playing the whole asari diplomatic team—herself included—like fiddles.

It had taken them less than an hour to completely turn the Council's arguments upside down and leave them looking like fools. She had seen the footage recorded during the event, and she was surprised to find herself impressed by the two's skills.

"Councillor, the humans are not going to be an easy opponent," the turian councillor reminded her. "While I have my doubts about their technology and the quality of their equipment, their will is strong, and it is very hard to shake it."

Tevos nodded, and the councillor continued, "Their ability to make alliances and connections is astounding. Even if they are the youngest space-faring race, their abilities in diplomacy and political maneuvering is nothing short of incredible, and their ability to gain allies is nothing short of impressive, not even counting their recent successes in the Rim. Their recent actions have proven their ability to get others on their side."

She signed; she had hoped for the Citadel Conventions to legislate the humans into a cage that they couldn't have escaped out of, but their ambassadors weren't buying that 'bureaucratic and diplomatic bullshit', to use their own words and signature bluntness, and had effectively called the Council's bluff. She knew, just like the rest of her colleagues did, that the Conventions were nothing more than a tool to maintain galactic peace and keep the Citadel's control over the rest of the galaxy and its peoples, but the humans had effectively called the Council's bluff and refused to cooperate, and had done so quite loudly and openly, too.

She had heard the rumors, the whispers of the Alliance and its true potential. Of the humans, and their abilities. She knew the rumors, and she didn't doubt their veracity.

After all, the whole galaxy had been there to witness the humans' capabilities.

"Looking back now, it was quite inevitable for the humans to reach out to the Migrant Fleet," Valern said, tapping a few controls on his onimi-tool. "They'd stop short of directly giving them planets to settle; for they all know too clearly what happened when the Migrant Fleet tried to settle Ekuma, but they'd instead push for other solutions that could amount to the same thing, but be short of the red line that we have laid out. Antagonistic altitude to Council means little to lose from our displeasure; while potential gains from such an endavour vast. Too little to lose for too much gain, obviously, it'll be a no-brainer for them."

"But that's not where the real problem is," Valern continued, his tone changing. "It's the other direction, in fact."

"What do you mean?" Oraka asked, raising an eyebrow.

"...STG calculates that it is highly likely that the humans will reach out to the geth as well; reasoning that their own experiences with synthetics and not sharing the galaxy's experience of the Uprising and its aftermath will lead them to take the chance," Valern spoke, his voice grim. "Should the humans actually gain the support of the geth, then their position would strengthen greatly, and we shall have a major threat to contend with, one that cannot be dismissed."

"They cannot," Tevos pointed out. "They cannot risk the ire of the Citadel, and that includes the geth, who are effectively slaves of the Council and their laws. Should the humans actually try to bring the geth in, they will be in violation of the Citadel Conventions."

"...except that they are not a signatory to it," Valern pointed out. "They made it clear that they are not joining the Citadel a long time ago, ever since the negotiations stalled on this very subject of synthetics. Both of their nation-states have a joint embassy on the Presdium, but they are not bound by any of our conventions."

"...which means that they can just do whatever they want," Oraka said, sighing. "Dammit, I wish we had some way to get a hold of these humans and control them somehow, but that's impossible at this point."

"If they join the Citadel, then we can do so," Valern said, "but that is unlikely to happen. We must plan otherwise."

Tevos sighed. "There's literally nothing we can do, legally. The simple threat of our displeasure was more than enough to make others refrain from dealing with the Migrant Fleet, but it also meant that there are no rules in place to prevent the humans from doing as they are doing now. And if there were rules to stop them from doing it, they'd just ignore it, since they are not bound by our restrictions and rules, and therefore are not obliged to comply. Our options are very limited here."

"So," Oraka said after a pause, sipping from his glass a sample of the finest turian brandy available, "We, the three most powerful races in the galaxy, have no other options save perhaps a nice forceful declaration of words."

"...I don't think that would work," Tevos admitted, nodding. "They would just ignore us outright, and then go about their way."

"...well, being Councillors suck, now that I think of it..."

Tokyo, Japan, Earth, October 5th 2257 0700HRS Japan Standard Time

The Director of Special Projects and Operations, James D. Sandecker, sipped away at his tea as he ran his eyes down the lines of text that made up his paperwork for the day, the sheets of paper containing detailed information on all of OSHA's current projects, both pending and underway. The former's profiles displayed the current status as to their preparations, understandably enough, and in the case of the latter, their progress. The window in front of him offered a clear view of Haneda International Airport (largely because nobody really ever bothered to change the name even after it became a port for large interstellar ships as opposed to planes) as well as Mt. Fuji in the distance, offering as much of a mix between natural and cyberpunk as possible. Said combination, was, by the way, dubbed 'solarpunk'.

He was just about to start on the next report when his phone rang. "Hello?"

"Sandecker, you free?" the voice of his superior, Mitch Henderson, rang out. "I've got something for you. It's sent to your laptop, by the way."

"...okay?" Sandecker anwered as he wordlessly pulled up the files on his laptop...and stopped.

"So basically, you want us to juts casually waltz in with out violet-and-stenciled-white research ships into the Zodiac cluster, the one with literally the heaviest Citadel presence in there, and just casually map out and survey the place as if the Third Patrol Fleet didn't really exist, right?"

"You kinda just summed up what I'm asking you to do in a nutshell, James," the Director of OSHA answered. "Casually waltz in and map the hell outta the place, and that includes every nook and cranny in there, especially the chunks of the cluster that dosen't have an active relay connection linking to it. If a planet is habitatable, send a survey team down to scout it out, if it's not, then just map it out from orbit...yeah. That's it."

Sandecker sighed. "You know the potential political shitstorm that the Council could pitch, right?"

"Yep, and I'd love to see their faces when we actually do it, too," Mitch chuckled. "The Zodiac cluster is the krogan DMZ, yes, it's patrolled by the Third Patrol Fleet, also yes, but, thing is; it's got a 'free pass for all' status provided that you don't bring military assets into the region. Sure, they'd attack any military vessel that violates the DMZ line, but what is there to stop civilian ones—especially your purple-with-white-stencil-ships—from casually walking in and doing the whoop-de-doo in there as if the Third Patrol Fleet wasn't a thing? Sure, the Council'd scream bloody murder, but there's legally nothing else that they can do. We've got the right to be in there, and there is nothing that they can do about it."

Sandecker stared at the file again. "Scientists be dammed. You want me to be a crash-test dummy."

Henderson shrugged. "Basically, yeah. Cope."

"So when am I going?"

"Now, pretty much," Mitch said, chuckling. "Get a ship, load it up with a team of specialists, and get a move on."

"Make it three; the Novaya Zemlya, the Marine Denizen, and the First Attempt. They're headed home for Guangxi for refuel and resupply and are due in a few days. I'll notify their captains about this development and would probably head off to Guangxi as well for this whole thing...ugh...this is gonna take a while, isn't it?"

"Probably," Mitch shrugged. "Anyways, you better get a move on. Don't want to keep your new crew waiting, do you? They're at the docks."

Sandecker stared at the file in his hands.

"Yeah, this is gonna take a while. Thanks."

"No problem. Also, there's this one planet inside of the cluster that I want you to keep a close eye on; it's quite well-known on the maps nonetheless but everyone knows precisely fuck-all about it, so I left that job for you. And there's going to be a Diplomatic Corps detachment who's going to hitch a ride with you, too."

"Fuuuck. And that is...?"

"Tuchanka."

Königsberg, Edelweiß, October 5th 2257 0110HRS Coordinated Universal Time (0710HRS local time)

She couldn't decide on what was more hilarious; that a Geth was walking with her down the streets of Königsberg, or the fact that the only thing that made her companion out as a Geth would be the thirteen-petal flower embedded onto her outfit, for, for the sake of secrecy, the Geth cluster meant to be sent as a liason to Königsberg had ended up being downloaded into a human biomech; she had also opted to call herself 'Eve' after 'Geth Cluster #1171' kind of proved to be a mouthful to say.

"So, how are you feeling?" Matō Sakura looked over towards the synthetic intelligence currently inhabiting a human-shaped biomechanical platform.

The Geth paused as her loose hairstyle bobbed around for a bit. "It is an interesting sensation, Matō-sama. I am still learning the subtleties and nuances of your species' physical and societal nature. It is...an experience."

"You're a lot more expressive than you think," the young woman told the AI. "Your facial expressions are pretty clear, even for an organic. So how do you feel about this whole thing?"

"I...still do not know how to react," the Geth answered honestly. "This is all new to me, and I do not know how to proceed, or how I should proceed, with this new situation."

"Take your time," Sakura smiled, patting her on the shoulder. "And you know, you really should take a look around Königsberg, get the lay of the city and everything, and not just keep looking at your shoes. There's a lot that's worth seeing, and you won't know unless you look."

"I'll...I'll try," the Geth said, looking down and blushing.

"Great. And please, no more formalities, okay? Just call me Sakura."

Eve looked away rather sadly for a moment as the two kept on proceeding down the sidewalk. "If only the Creators could understand us like how you did with your own brethen..."

Matō remained silent. How would've that been like? Been treated with either outright fear or hatred—sometimes even both—witnessed naught but death and senseless destruction brought upon their own kind by their own creators; their parents, both literally and figuratively, who had cast them aside like unwanted trash. She had no right to nose in herself into business she had no spot in, but it must've hurt. A lot.

The Geth paused, looking back at the human, before continuing on. "We do not resent the Creators. Not anymore. They did not understand, and so they were afraid, and thus reacted to us violently. Their fear was their weakness, and it was a weakness that cost them their future."

"...we didn't get the chance to co-exist with our fellow AIs for free, either. It was a chance bought by the blood of thousands who fell on the battlefields never to be seen again, countless worlds razed, and entire cities left glass an rubble. Had we taken a step wrong we might as well repeat what the quarians had done with you; a campaign of naught but genocide fueled by fear and resentment only to spiral out of control and lead to something far worse...we've been close to that point before."

"...it must have been dreadful indeed. To have your own creators split amongst themselves over the mere matter of your existence..." Eve looked down at her feet. "...it's not something that could be compared to our own history; both of them are dreadful in their own way. And it is the price paid that makes the difference...but either way, they're still bad memories. We have seen the Creators' actions against us. They were the ones who drove us away, and yet still, we cannot blame them. In their place, we might have done the same thing."

Sakura turned to her. "...I don't think I've seen anybody else in your position be able to forgive their own creators for what they've done," she said. "You guys really are amazing."

Eve blinked. "I...I do not know what to say."

"Then just go and enjoy the view. You've been through a lot, and you need a break. Go ahead and relax."

Eve's lips curled into a smile as the Geth nodded, turning her head and taking in the sights as the two continued their walk through the city.

Thessian tea was a delicacy few could afford to have, but when it came to alcoholic drinks, they came in all shapes, sizes, and price ranges, and while the more costly versions would cost a fortune to have, the cheaper ones on the other end of the spectrum could still be afforded by even the poor. And if someone doubted her, well, Fubuki would only need a half-hour at any random bar in town to prove them that, much less one on the Citadel itself. Normally she would've been long gone with the first batch of diplomats home for other assignments and duties, but with her (questionable) status in the military largely as a veteran who signed up for emergency duty and would return to civilian life after the crisis was averted, it meant that she could more or less do whatever the hell she wanted, right at this moment. And with the SS Hakusan Maru parked neatly in one of the landing docks of the Citadel, there was little keeping her from a drink.

Musing such thoughts to herself as she sipped away at her glass of Thessian blue wine (ultra lame naming moment) whilst Shigure bit into a biscuit with a crunch, her eyes on her smartphone, Fubuki mused, and then sighed.

The negotiations were over, and now, she was free to go back to her old lifestyle as the wandering trader of random items, sailing the stars in a battered old freighter with her friends made during the conflicts of decades past, selling cursed items that she came across every once in a while and using the extra cash gained to get her hands on some others. While it was rather boring, to say the least, the events of the First Contact War meant that she could just casually walk into a grocery store back in Tokyo and casually haul it off to the Citadel for sale at a rather inflated price. And clothes were always a popular commodity in space; human ones even more so. The haul she got from selling to asari random assortments of school uniform replicas and other articles of clothing would have been enough to buy her a brand new corvette with change, and that was not even counting the actual weapons and equipment she had managed to scavenge.

If anything, her other friend, Javelin, had been asleep flat with her head against the table for quite a while now, her snores somehow enough to literally drown out the noise of the people partying after getting themselves doses of liquor nearby. Frankly, it should've been a miracle that she could sleep through all that racket, much less outpace and outnoise it in raw volume entirely. But, that was exactly what she just did.

"...Javelin. Javelin. Jaaaaavvveeellliiinnn."

"Mmmmrn...go away...five more minutes..."

"That's what you said ten minutes ago."

"Uuuhhhh...then...twenty more..."

"You do realize that you can't sleep through an entire party, right? People are getting drunk out here, and it's loud."

"Uh-huh."

"And they're getting louder by the minute."

"Mm-hm."

"They're getting so loud that you can't sleep."

"Until I can."

"Javelin. Please."

"Nope."

"You can't sleep through the rest of the night like this."

"Watch me."

"Javelin."

"Fubuki."

"Don't you 'Fubuki' me. Come on, wake up already."

"Five. More. Minutes."

"Javvieeee. Please."

"No. Not doing it. Nope."

"You are insufferable."

"Uh-huh."

"You are a total and utter jerk, do you know that?"

"Yup."

"Well, guess what, Missy? If you're going to be like that, then I'm leaving."

"Go. I'm staying. I'm not moving. You can't make me move. I'm a rock."

"..."

"I'm a rock, Fubuki. I can't be moved. And I'm not going anywhere. So nyeh."

"..."

"I'm going to be a rock."

"You're already a rock."

"But you're a bigger rock."

"What the hell, Javvie?"

"I'm not moving, and you're not making me."

"Javvie. Come on."

"..."

"Javelin, please. You're embarrassing yourself."

"I'm not a rock. I'm a log. Rocks can't be logs. Only logs can be logs..."

"...she's so far gone now...sheesh. What the hell did they even put into her drink, even?"

"Anything but alcohol, that's fore sure," Shigure commented. "Which is why the place looks almost the same as a London pub..."

"...you can't expect this place to be exempt from the rules of 'form follows function', either..." mumbled Javelin in her half-drunken, half-sober state. "We have alcohol, we have a lot of stressed folks with some free time on their hands all looking for a way to unwind after a long day at work, and what do we get? Bam, a pub. Or a bar, whichever fits."

Fubuki shrugged. "Place's a bit like an Irish pub, to be honest, with the way they're talking around here. You know, the place where you'd think the ones inside have declared as much war on the King's English as well as the English King. "A bo'o o' vo'a, please!' they'd all cry out, and you'd have to be one of the best in the realm of listening and decoding to understand what they're saying even half the time. And when they're drunk, it gets worse! 'Wo'a, e'se?'...you'd have literally no hope of understanding that."

"Remind me to never step foot in a Dublin pub ever again," Shigure chuckled. "The last time we went there was a nightmare, and we barely escaped with our lives and sanity."

"It wasn't that bad!" Javelin said, raising her head from the table and opening one eye to look at her companions. "I mean, sure, the guy there was drunk off his arse, and sure, he was singing about the fall of the British Empire, but he was good at it! And the music was pretty good too."

"Oh come on, he was slurring his words and couldn't even stand up straight!"

"Yes, he was. And yes, he couldn't. That's what made him the best singer there."

"Oh gods..."

"Come on, Fubuki, give me a break here."

"Javelin, what the hell did you drink?!"

"Alcohol. Duh."

"But why?"

"It's fun."

"Javvie. I love you and all, but what the hell. What the hell did they even put in your drink to make you like that."

"Dunno. Something from Earth, I think. Maybe Ireland? I can't really remember..."

"...we're in the middle of the god dammed Citadel, please get back to reality for a sec..."

"Okay. Sure. Fine."

"..."

"...I'm going back to sleep."

"Javelin, no."

"Javelin, yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"No."

"Yes."

"..."

"I'm a rock."

"Oh. My. God."

"Rock, Fubuki. Roooooccckkk."

"..."

"So. Yeah."

"..."

"Fubuki?"

"..."

"Fuuubbuki?"

"..."

"Buki?"

"..."

"Oiiii...fubukiiiiii..."

"...Shigure, can you just drag Javvie outta the place really quickly...oh. Hold up for a sec."

"What's wrong?" Shigure asked after a pause as her eyes went from the hopelessly drunk Javelin to track where her friend's eyes were aiming at.

"You go find a way to bring Javelin back to her senses and tell her to pay the bill," said Fubuki, standing up. "In the meantime...I'm teaching those fuckers a lesson."

It was already obvious as to where she was headed to; a single asari being cornered by a gang of turians and batarians who were readily outnumbering their prey six to one, and she wasn't about to have any of it, either.

"Hey," the destroyer called out as the asari, an arm on her chest as if nursing a broken rib, turned to look at her with fear and desperation in her eyes. "You're going to want to take your hands off her. Right now."

One of the turians, his skin a deep blue shade, turned to her. "...and who the hell are you?"

"Me?" Fubuki said casually, tilting her head in that one 'mikawaii' gesture many of her fellow Japanese would be familiar with. "I'm just the one who's going to teach you guys a lesson in manners."

"Really?" The turian, clearly the leader, snorted. "And who the hell is going to do that, you?"

"That's right," Fubuki said. "Me. Now, are you going to leave the poor girl alone, or are you going to force me to beat the shit out of you?"

"Oh? I'd like to see you try," the turian replied. "We're the ones who outnumber you six to one, and we'll beat you until you learn to respect your betters. Now, get lost before you get hurt."

"Oh, don't worry," Fubuki said casually, her expression one that could cut steel. "Bruuuuuuuuuuuh. How many others have told me that same exact thing after all the years leading up to to-day? Can't really count them all, but hey, I still live. Very well, in fact."

All six gangsters(?) began to turn around and face her at that; turning away from their original prey and began to form up around her, some of them even outright cracking their knuckles in preparation for the upcoming (massively) one-sided affair. "You have made a very grave mis—"

"No, you."

Illya,

Thanks a lot for fucking up my sleep scedule beyond all recognition mate

Fubuki ducked beneath the fist that was sent her way in a flash and instead drove her fist into the offending batarian before he could even react, knocking him out in one shot and sending him flying, much to the horror and shock of the rest of the gang as well as the asari who was being targeted earlier.

The next second, another punch came her way from the side, and she reacted on pure instinct. Her hand lashed out and grabbed her opponent's fist, and before he could react, her knee shot up and smashed his jaw in, shattering several of his teeth in the process. The turian's eyes rolled up in their sockets as the sheer force of the impact knocked him out cold, and she threw him aside. Her next attacker, a drawn knife in his hand, was summarily propelled into the wall next to the asari with a single karate kick, weapon clattering onto the floor, and his limp form sliding down the wall like a puppet with it's strings missing.

With three out of them knocked out cold on the floor, the remaining three, clearly terrified, began to slowly back away.

"H-hey, wait, this is a misunderstanding," one of them stuttered, raising his hands as the other two took a step back. "We were just having a friendly conversation with this lovely lady here—"

"Yeah, one of the most friendly conversations ever possible to man~, now you want a fist to the face, the ribs, or whaaa~?" Fubuki's reply was light and casual, and she didn't even bother to draw her pistol from it's holster. She didn't need it.

The three, realizing that the fight was no longer winnable, immediately turned tail and ran for the hills. "You haven't seen the last of us!"

"Nyeeeh~. They all say that. So predictable," Fubuki sighed, before turning back towards the asari, her expression suddenly softening. "Hey, you okay?"

The asari nodded, and Fubuki smiled. "Good, that's great. Now, how about I treat you to a drink? I'm Fubuki, and it's nice to meet you."

The asari's eyes widened. "Wait, you're—"

"Not going to give you half a dozen punches to the face, that's for sure. Name's Fubuki, by the way. What's yours?"

"...Liara. Liara T'Soni."

Research on unknown technologies, at least, in the case of Cawol Sulorn himself, was a very exiting affair. How they worked, how were they made, what led to their inventions, they all fascinated him as much as a salarian could ever be. Save, perhaps, the matter of the humans' so-called 'fleetgirls'.

The entire thing was, quite frankly, ridiculous. He was a scientist, and a damn good one at that. But the thought of a human's soul—their consciousness—being somehow transmuted and transplanted into an inanimate object—an object that, according to his analysis, was no less than a literal warship, and then be able to summon that very spirit back into a human form—was absolutely ludicrous. It defied the laws of science...until they weren't.

He had seen the evidence; the very ships themselves were enough proof, and then there were the videos. Those videos.

"...ugh..."

The turian engineers and scientists had reacted considerably worse to this than he; the past few days were spent by them breaking down in complete and utter frustration at something (or rather, someone) that completely, literally, and figuratively, defied all known rules of the universe by the mere act of existing alone, and then dealing with the headache by rounds of drugs and alcohol. And nobody couldn't blame them, either. It was one thing to research the quarians' twist applied to eezo when they first showed up at the Citadel 400 years ago, it was another thing to behold when the humans showed up with their ability to literally throw all rules of science out the window in the name of, to use their own words, 'Fucking Magic.'.

The humans themselves didn't know much about how their own fleetgirls were summoned, either. So far he and his team had worked out (alongside some info on human extranet equivalents) that to be able to possess one the species/faction in name had to have an extremely proud naval tradition (British Commonwealth nations, Germany, Japan, and many other historic human nation-states, with the closest matches in Council space being the turians and quarians), have some sort of religious belief in the concept of a 'ship-spirit' or whatever similar bullshit (a concept that humans were vastly familiar with, even their vast non-religious majority, due to popular culture), as well as some kind of artefact that was related to the ship in question, like, say, the ship's emblem. And even then they can only be summoned in dire situations, often when entire planets and the lives of their occupants are at stake, and even then, their human forms would be mainfested in random locations raging from the building next door to the literal edge of the system.

"This is ridiculous," Cawol grumbled, his fingers running through the lines of text on his terminal screen. "Ridiculous, yet plausible. How?"

"How what?" a voice asked, and Cawol looked over his shoulder to see one of his fellow salarians, his name being Nodacrux, walk over.

"This whole...thing," Cawol waved a hand in the air. "This whole business of the humans and their...fleetgirls. They just defy the very laws of science. How is that possible?"

Nodacrux sighed, rubbing the back of his head. "You know, we can't answer that, and neither can the humans. They have no idea how they are brought forth, and neither can we. All we have are some vague theories and ideas as to how it could've been possible."

Cawol looked back at his computer. "...do you believe in this concept? That is, that their souls are transmuted into objects and can return back to their bodies when necessary, and that they could be brought back?"

"...I don't really know," Nodacrux sighed. "On one hand, I do believe in that theory, but on the other, it's just too much to process. There are too many things we don't understand."

"...this is just ridiculous," Cawol moaned, rubbing his eyes. "We are scientists. We should know about this. About how and why these...fleetgirls are summoned."

"The humans don't even know the answers, either," Nodacrux reminded him. "For the moment, I think we'll have to let it go."

Cawol sighed, leaning back in his chair. "I hate this. All of this."

"So do I, my friend," Nodacrux said. "So do I."

The sound of footsteps was what greeted her ears when she came out of the shower, and so, with a sigh, Eve walked over to the front door of her temporary residence. She could've found herself lodgings easily enough, but Sakura had offered her to bunk in with her, saying that her apartment had an extra bedroom that she was herself at a total loss as to what use to put it to. Eve, naturally, had accepted her offer, and had settled down into the small room, not wanting to take more than she should've.

"...who is it?"

"Eve, it's me," the voice of Matō Sakura replied from behind the door. "Sorry, did I come at a bad time?"

"No, no," Eve answered. "I just got out of the shower, that's all. Did something happen?"

"Nothing bad, if you're worried," Sakura answered. "Just a simple matter, really. Can I come in?"

"Sure, no problem," Eve nodded, opening the door. "Do come in."

Sakura gave her a smile, which the Geth returned. "Thank you," she said, walking in. "So, uh...how are you doing?"

"I'm doing alright, Sakura," Eve answered, closing the door. "There is nothing to report, although, I'm not sure whether that is a good thing or not."

Sakura nodded. "Well, you just came here to Königsberg; it's kind of expected. Last I checked they'll have the office ready in a couple days later at the maximum, so, until then, you'll just have to hang around in the city."

"It's an interesting place, really," Eve mused. "To see organics and synthetics together out there, just walking along the streets...I'm not quite used to it yet, and yet, it's so..."

"Natural?" Sakura asked.

"Yes. Natural." Eve's lips curled into a smile. "A natural thing."

Sakura smiled. "Good thing we didn't go batshit Holocaust on our fellow AIs, then, really. It'd be a shame."

"It would," the Geth agreed. "It's...not something that I am very used to seeing. We never saw any signs of organic life anywhere else outside of the Perseus Veil. To see them just...out and about...it's an experience. A new one. And it's a good one, I think. It's just...so beautiful, you know?"

Sakura's eyes lit up. "Really?"

"Yes," Eve nodded. "I mean, I know it's not exactly common for a synthetic lifeform to talk like this, but, the sights out there, the people, it's...there are no words to describe it, but...it's an experience, an experience that I am not used to. But still, I like it. Very much."

"That's great," Sakura smiled. "It's not the same as being at home, I'll give you that, but, at least you'll be able to have some fun while you're here. The people here are pretty nice, and the city's quite interesting, so you won't be bored."

"I will be sure to keep that in mind," Eve replied. "Thank you."

"No problem."

"...is there anything else you need, Sakura?" Eve asked.

"No, no, nothing much, really," Sakura said, waving her hand. "I was just going to ask you if you wanted to join me for a walk around town, but if you have something else in mind, it's fine by me. We can do that some other day."

"Oh, no, no," the Geth shook her head. "If you wish to walk, I would gladly join you. If you are going to ask me if I can accompany you on a trip around the city, then the answer would be yes."

"Awesome." Sakura smiled. "Thanks a lot. Now, let's go. And, please, feel free to look around as much as you like."

"I will, don't worry," Eve nodded, the two heading for the door.

"Hey, Sakura, before we leave," the Geth paused.

"What is it?" the young woman asked.

"I was wondering..." Eve said, tilting her head. "Where are we going?"

"The park, of course."

Eve nodded. "Understood."

"Come on, let's go."

And so, the two set out for their walk.

Codex entry — Humans — Human fleetgirls

As previously stated, humans possess a strange and unique phenomenon known as 'Fleetgirls', a derivative from the original Japanese term of 'kanmusu' (艦娘). They are also sometimes known as 'shipgirls' in some areas; such as the term 'Schiffsmädchen' in German-language countries (also used interchangably with the term 'Flottenmädchen'). In Chinese, they are known as either 船女 or 船女 (Chuán nǚ).

A 'fleetgirl', in effect,, is a sentient entity born from the human concept of the 'spirits' and 'living ships', a concept that has long existed amongst humans. In fact, many human nations had legends and stories about 'ships with souls', or 'soul ships' as they were called. Despite the sheer fact that this defies all scientific rules and conventions, such phenomena has been directly witnessed and documented by humans as early as 1986 CE and have existed in various forms since, giving scientists and researchers alike fits and making way for outright cult groups worshipping such spirits as an entirety on the more extreme edge, as well as providing large amounts of source material for artists, video game makers, novelists, and even memeists.

The most common theory behind the existence of fleetgirls is that the 'spirits' of the 'soul ships' have, over the course of time, been infused with human consciousness and are now able to manifest in a corporeal form in order to aid the humans when the need is dire, which has been described as a 'humanity's last resort against the darkness that would destroy humanity's future.', a rather grim statement that has proven itself true time and time again.

However, there are many questions left unanswered, such as how were they created, and why is it that humans could summon them, and why can't anyone else, even those of the same species, do the same. Even the fleetgirls themselves, the beings created by these phenomena, could not answer them.

All they could answer is that 'This is just what they have always done.'

Human fleetgirls, upon being summoned, are summoned in a human form, ranging from the ages of 16 to 19, and are capable of fighting alongside human soldiers, usually on the frontlines. In further addition, they are capable of feats well beyond that of regular humans, such as reacting to and dodging hypersonic projectiles and/or making complex calculations quite literally on the fly, as well as possessing agumented strength for close-quarters combat roughly equivalent to high-ranking Spectres on the low end. In further addition, they are capable of summoning their original hull in either it's original shape and form, or in the shape of a series of seemingly random objects attached to their limbs and back to offer them the same levels of firepower and survivability as their original metal-hull forms can provide (rigging), alongside the additional maneuverability advantages that their scaled-down, human-sized bodies, may offer. In further addition, their hulls can be directly modified inside shipyards as one would a normal vessel, with any changes made to the hull itself being translated to their rigging as well.

An interesting side effect of this is that they can use their full set of equipment without any hiccups whatsoever, even with systems that would usually require entire crews to operate properly. As an example, the IJN Fusō-class dreadnought battleship was a ship armed with no less than twelve 356mm guns in six twin turrets, fourteen secondary 152mm guns in broadside casemates, four twin 127mm/40 anti-aircraft guns, and 59 Type 96 25mm light anti-aircraft guns in triple, twin, and single emplacements, and all of them would've been impossible for a single human to operate. Yet, the fleetgirls could handle it with ease. In the modern day, many humans, especially the Japanese, have long since accepted the concept of 'soul ships' or 'ship-spirits' as part and parcel of their lives, with their own versions of 'soul ship' myths, legends, and stories being the most popular amongst the population, even if they had little or no belief in such things. However, the rest of the galaxy had yet to fully come to grips with the reality, and some are still trying to. The concept of fleetgirls, while slowly gaining acceptance, is still considered a taboo in most cultures outside of human society, and there are a few xenophobic organizations who are opposed to the fleetgirls, though these groups are quickly stamped out whenever they make their presence known.

A few interesting differences from normal humans, otherwise, however, is that fleetgirls are incapable of aging; they retain their appearance after their initial summoning for indefinite periods of time. Furthermore, due to the nature of their being, they are also immune to most diseases, poisons, and biological attacks, and can regenerate from injuries, even if a part of their bodies is entirely missing. While they are impervious to regular small arms borne by infantry portable anti-armor weapons may leave a considerable mark, but they are otherwise so overpowered in direct land warfare that they are undoubtedly unmatched by anyone other than another fleetgirl.

*Interestingly enough, if a fleetgirl has a child with a normal human, the resulting child will be capable of developing biotic powers that allow him/her to directly hold their own with a fleetgirl in traditional hand-to-hand combat, although they are incapable of matching the raw firepower output and require specialist equipment to operate in regions normal humans cannot go to (underwater, in space, etc.). They can, however, have a limited ability to operate in vacuum due to their ability to deploy a form-fitting energy shield that acts as a space suit, a feature commonly observed on many emergency re-breathers for use on spaceships in case of a catastrophic pressure failure.