I made an error regarding Ethosian calendar years, as a result, I'll retcon the current Ethosian UC year to 2212. Man my skill issue knows no bounds it seems :p
BTW, the design for Ethosian ships were heavily influenced by Starfleet ships from Star Trek (the Hanzhōhō-class has a prow ripped clean dead from the Prothemeus-class), but with extra splashes of Space Battleship Yamato. In effect, the Hanzhōhō-class can be described as a Prothemeus spear-bow with the central hull of a 2202 Dreadnought (plus two ventral turrets and an extra stern one) with the stern from the same vessel, but with extra aux engines...lol.
Bridge structures are from an Arleigh Burke-class destroyer, however
03/02/2212UC, 0700HRS Ethos Standard Time
Hanzhōhō-class battleship EV Kōtō
A spear-shaped prow, a central body with two protruding angular box-nacelles mounted onto it with pylons laden to the brim with naught but armor and extra weapons and extra pods on the rear housing the engines, with two towers to the dorsal and ventral sides of the vessel was the most striking features visible to most observers, alongside the six triple-barreled high-pressure-amplified solid-beam cannons that made up her main battery, four in superfiring pairs ahead and astern of the dorsal superstructure, plus an additional superfiring pair ahead of the ventral one. Her broadsides bristled with secondary armaments, ranging from photon torpedo tubes all the way to secondary solid-beam cannon-strips lined out in long strips dotting the prow and sides similarly to how phaser strips would be laid out on a Federation starship, all supplemented the massive-scale hull bristling with the armor necessary to keep her weapons intact as well as her own body. The blue stripes marking her as part of the Ethosian Imperial Spatial Self-Defense Forces, alongside the golden background, blue border, and blue circle flag of the Empire of New Ethos emblazoned on the sides, merely made the picture more complete.
"Final checks are complete, captain," the executive officer of the Kōtō reported as she finished her rounds on the bridge. "All stations are reporting green lights across the board. Engineering reports that the warp core is stable, we are ready to commence warp speed on command. The new gravitite systems are working wonders, it seems."
Captain Mikatsa Haryō folded her ears down in a gesture of acknowledgement before turning to the navigation officer. "Nav, run a final check on the course, make sure that we're dead-on and try to minimize margins of error to the best of your ability. We can't afford to waste time getting lost, or worse, crash into a planet or a moon. And I really don't want to test my luck against a neutron star."
"We're dead-on, Captain," came the response. "Nearest neutron star is a few thousand light years from the course, no need to worry. There is a blackhole nearby though..."
"I know, I know. Don't try to scare me, okay?" Mikatsa pouted at her navigational officer as the latter tried to hold his laughter. "Anyways, are we ready to depart?"
"Yep, we're ready. Everything's green and good to go."
"Good. Helm, you're up. Commence maneuver, Warp speed 90."
EV Kōtō sprang to life, her impulse engines going dark to let the warp drive take over, a wave of compressed spacetime propelling the ship along like a surfer, encased in a bubble of quantumized subspace generated by the warp core warping the very fabric of spacetime itself.
"...and entering transwarp," Helm announced as the speeds that the warp drive was producing went so high that it actually pierced the interdimensional boundary, leading the ship into a corridor of empty space that can only be described as the void between alternate universes; the vastness that separates all the worlds, all the universes, from one another, with the ship's quantum bubble shielding her passengers from the horrifying effects of such a space, the very nature of which would cause the mind to break down upon trying to comprehend the very fact of its own existence.
The ship flew on, her bow slicing through the void of nothingness, her speed increasing at an even further exponential rate as the very nature of the transwarp corridor allowed the ship to fly faster than the speed of light. Welp, she was already going faster than light before, but with the nature of interdimensional space, the warp core could now push the ship even faster. The view outside was a tunnel of weaving lights from the bow shock as the quantum bubble interacted with the unique nature of interdimensional space itself, a fantastic lightshow to anyone seated in a place that offered a view to the outside world indeed. As well as anyone with access to a panoramic viewscreen.
"When we first bolted the stuff to an old freighter, said Tsuiihō, one of the researchers who had developed the gravitite drive core, as she averted her eyes from the lightshow, "The thing went from Salzear to Halkai within a day, it was that fast. Scared me, Tōka, and Shimizū out of our skins, too. Feared a universe-destroying doomsday explosion all the while..."
"You could've sent a probe," remarked Haryū, "Ever thought of that?"
"Then we'd be limited to instruments to monitor the experiment as opposed to our own eyes, and, well, we didn't want to risk it," explained Tsuiihō. "I'd rather go out and see it myself, rather than sit back in the safety of my lab while my ship blew up, taking the rest of the solar system along with it. Or maybe the galaxy. Depends on the scale."
"And you've had it bolted to a battleship ever since. You sure you're not a little too...well...ambitious with that idea?"
"Ambitious? Maybe, but I'm pretty sure that we can handle this. Besides, the Kōtō is built with an experimental hull made out of a bunch of stuff that, by itself, can absorb a good chunk of damage, and has the armor to protect her, as well. She's the perfect ship for the job."
"So what is this about again, if you don't mind me asking?"
"...trying to either revolutionize space travel as we know it by increasing the speed of travel thirtyfold, or perhaps blow up the universe trying to do so. Now that I look back on it...it's not the smartest idea, yeah, but...oh damn, the suspense..."
"That must've sucked. You know the pain the poor saps who crafted the first warp drives must've felt now, eh?"
"Yeah, I guess. It's not a good feeling."
"Ja?" Prime Minister Schröder asked into his phone with as much of a cheerful tone as he could muster, trying to fight the urge to, well...scream.
"It's me, Yoshida," the Minister of Foreign Affairs called over as she let a cup of coffee fall against her desk, quite harder than usual. "You know, the one that has to deal with the alien bullshit?"
"Yeah, I know, I know. What's the situation now? More Council-related nonsense?"
"Yeah, but not the usual sort, this time."
"Huh?"
"Our alliance with the quarians is about to implode."
"...I think you need a vacation."
"I'll be happy to, after this is over. Anyways, I'm serious here. Our mutual pact with the quarians is about to implode."
"Okay, now, seriously. What's wrong?"
"Are the Geth sapient?"
"Of course they ar—" the Prime Minister cut himself off mid-sentence as realization dawned upon him. "Jesus Fucking Christ in Hell, don't tell me that someone is going to—"
"A lawsuit is being filed in Kyoto right now, stating that the Geth qualify as sapient under our conventions regarding AIs, and therefore, protected legally under the Universal Declaration of Sapient Rights. The Migrant Fleet is openly stating that their ultimate goal is the permanent deactivation of all Geth—the very command that led to their exodus in the first place—which effectively makes them engaged in a campaign of genocide."
"...as such, what we're basically supposed to do is to annul all agreements with the quarians and expel them from human space," Schröder realized. "Fuck. Fate's not in a cooperating mood, isn't it?"
"Pretty much, yes. This is getting more and more annoying by the day, and it's really getting on my nerves, frankly. If the aliens could just fuck off for a bit, it'd be much appreciated, and the whole situation would become easier."
"I know, and we're not even done with the drell homeworld fiasco yet. God damn the whole Universe and his storage of roadblocks..." Yoshida sighed. "This is placing us in a fickle. Sure, we're allies with the quarians, but we're also allies with the Geth, too..."
Schröder sighed. "The Geth are indeed sapient, that's the problem...we're stuck between a rock and a hard place. The quarians want the Geth gone, and the Geth are sentient and therefore, have legal rights and protections under our laws, making them protected persons. Fuck."
"You're telling me. What's worse is that the Council will likely jump onto this opportunity, too. I don't see how they wouldn't."
"So, in short, a diplomatic nightmare that can't be avoided, and the Citadel will definitely take advantage of the situation, and we're caught right in the middle of the whole affair."
"Yep." Yoshida sighed. "I'm going to do some damage control with the quarians now...imagine trying to multitask between the volus, elcor, krogans, quarians, and the Council...and now the drell. Man, the good ol' days, when we didn't have a space Council to meddle into our affairs and make life a lot harder for us..."
Zaal'Koris walked in through the open door and into the observation deck which allowed him a clear view of the dockyards at Fuji, the light reflecting off his biosuit making him look like an astronaut in full gear. Probably because he was, in a way.
The Enoshima Fleet Yards facilities had been cycling through both the Heavy Fleet as well as the Patrol Fleet at a breakneck pace, repair vessels and yards alike going through the damaged hulls of their component ships suffering from untreated battle damage as well as metal fatigue, replacing and repairing as necessary, before sending the ships on their way for the next round of repairs. The process was a continuous loop, and the shipyards and repair vessels were never idle, as the sheer number of ships meant that there was always something for them to do. The ships that had already been cycled through, now looking brand-new, were on vanguard duty, protecting the Migrant Fleet, all of them looking as brand-new as they had been during their prime in the military of the Quarian Federation. Some even had fresh paintjobs only weeks old at worst.
Civilian ships were also receiving makeovers as well, funded by the impressive wages quarians on Pilgrimage could get, humanity's post-scarcity economy that permitted one to live comfortably of five pounds a week as well as rows of companies willing to part with shedloads of pounds in order to skip the bureaucracy nightmares of foreign workers and hire quarians directly off the street. Many of the ships in the Migrant Fleet were now human—civilian vessels, support ships, and even outright warships—bought in bulk for cheap prices compared to the price hikes imposed upon them by the ship-builders within the rest of the galaxy. Ships too badly damaged to be repaired were sold off for scrap material, the extra money used to buy newer ships to take their stead; many liners were now replaced with their human counterparts to provide extra living space for the quarian race as a whole.
The shipyards were also busy; the extra money gained from Pilgrimage wage returns and selling off old ships enabled the Migrant Fleet to order construction of newer and better warships for protecting it. Some were updated versions of historic Rannoch-era vessels, such as the single-wheel cruisers that had been so famous during that period, others were custom designs created by the Admiralty; and others still being licensed versions of human warships. A licensed Dresden-class light cruiser with unmistakenably quarian engines, paintjob, and markings glided past, flanked by a pair of single-wheel cruisers and a pair of the newer heavy cruiser designs, all of them silently holding position as part of the quarian's military. New quarian ships were launching, for the first time in 300 years.
Zaal'Koris watched as one of the new-generation cruisers launched from its slips, a sleek and graceful-looking design that was the epitome of beauty in a starship. Sleek lines and smooth curves, a slender, spear-shaped prow housing the bridge and main batteries, a broadside lined with broadside cannons, all mounted on a cylindrical superstructure bristling with weapon points. Two long engine nacelles jutted from the back of the vessel, the engines inside capable of propelling the ship at a speed that can only be matched by a few. A quarian-style paintjob, gray with red stripes, and the markings of the Migrant Fleet was her dressing, the vessel a silent display of military power and resolve.
The capital class dockyards were also busy, hosting the liveships Rayya, Chayym, and Shellen, the largest ships in the entire fleet, each one capable of housing up to fifteen million within each hull. The massive living ships were undergoing extensive renovations, the refit extending already from simply fixing damaged sections and plating to outright fixing flaws in the original design; sections once made out of scavenged material from the wrecks that used to be the quarian navy being replaced with vanadium steel and other advanced materials, the farms and gardens being retooled to accommodate newer agricultural technologies and new crops, the environmental systems being retooled and expanded as necessary. The three vessels, along with a quartet of the new generation of liveships that were almost ready to launch, were the future of the Migrant Fleet, providing food and oxygen for the quarian race as a whole, and ensuring its continued survival.
His eyes weren't on them, however, it was upon what lay in the fourth slipway.
None of the Quarian Federation's dreadnoughts had survived the geth rebellion; the last vessel standing, QFS Servant of the People, was lost with all hands covering the liveships as they retreated from Rannoch and former quarian territory. During the 300 years of their exodus they had relied on the sheer overwhelming numbers of both the Patrol and Heavy Fleets and their few surviving heavy cruisers—unique until the arrival of the humans, no other species possessed a class of heavy cruisers before—to protect the Migrant Fleet, and had never built another dreadnought since. They didn't have a convenient slipway to haul around.
But that was about to change.
Zaal wordlessly looked onwards as the docking clamps disengaged with resounding clacks and hisses, leaving the 2,000m dual-wheeled behemoth lying inside Capital Yard IV to come to life, the gantry cranes retracting themselves away to leave the ship a clear and unimpeded pathway to the skies above. Her running lights came to life, her mass effect drive core powered on, and amidst a fluttering of Alliance, Japanese, and quarian flags as a salute to the vessel, she lifted off, a silent display of raw military power and strength.
"Reclamation!" the assembled crowd outside cheered as MFS Reclaimation lifted off into the sky under her own power.
The door to the observation deck opened as Haruna and Kirishima entered, both of their modified traditional Japanese outfits contrasting almost perfectly with the monotone of his biosuit. "Welp, nice dreadnought you guys have there."
"She won't do much to help our cause when the damn fools get us all killed launching their suicidal attack on the homeworld," Zaal deadpanned as the shouts and cheers of joy began to turn into a chant, drowning out the Citadel newsfeeds as they reported that the new superdreadnought would readily rival the asari's own superdreadnought in terms of outright firepower alone. "We couldn't hold them back when we had entire fleets and all they had were a few stolen and converted cruisers...now, even with eight of her, what good can they all do? Sure, they may be powerful enough to rival the asari superdreadnoughts, but we've been wandering the stars for close to 300 years already. The geth have done naught but build in that time."
"She's still a pretty decent ship, the Reclamation and others of her class," Haruna nodded along. "That thing would give the likes of a Vanguard-class or Kongō-class a good run for their money. Ever thought of that?"
"Yep, and the geth have probably a hundred of those things flying around, maybe a thousand. We're fucked, then," Zaal commented. "You humans had like 800 of those '2nd-rate battleships' which are on equals with the Reclamation, we have like eight of those. The geth? I'd rather not know the answer, but I already know it's not a number I'll like."
He looked on blankly as the Reclamation soared into the skies above. 2,000m long from bow to stern was the size of the double-wheel superdreadnought, the wheels normally open now sealed shut with entire swathes of raw armor plating for better protection and survivability. Armed with two mass accelerators that gave them the firepower equivalent of an Alliance 2nd-rate battleship, more than enough torpedo and microtorpedo launchers to flood the defenses of an entire fleet, as well as the broadside armaments to total any lesser opponent in a knife fight, as well as potentially cripple even a dreadnought, the Reclamation was truly unmatched by anything save perhaps what humanity could bring to bear. Point-defense autocannons and mounts for installing plasma torpedo tubes once the technology was perfected made the picture even more complete, the Admiralty had truly gone for quality over quantity and built up to the fullest potential that their eezo stores could allow. And then, some.
"At least the whole Kyoto business is not our affair," Kirishima muttered. "The reporters...ugh. Why do reporters even exist?"
"...I hope that the Supreme Court will take into account our...unique situation, to say the least," Zaal said finally after a long pause, with the chants of the crowd finally dying down for once. "It has been benefiting both of us...I would be sorry to see it dissolved out of mutal stubborness of our...egos, to say the least. Especially in our current state."
"They will, no doubt," Haruna assured. "They do their job decently, after all. We'll come up with a solution, one way or the other. Now, though, thinking of the judges handling this...poor saps. This'll be tough. Jesus Christ, the reporters, especially the asari ones..."
"What did we call the asari again?" Kirishima asked. "The Blue Babes?"
"...there's no way left," Captain James Hollister threw his hands up into the air as he turned back from the holographic display in the center of the bridge on the terraforming vessel TV Aurora, his eyes meeting the equally tired gaze of Ambassador Nikia Haus, the drell's ambassador. "The parent star is destabilizing, the planetary resources are depleted, the atmospheric scrubbers are on the verge of total failure. There's just no way. The only option left is to evacuate, and find a new home for your people."
"...I get it that we're dying," the ambassador replied, his voice a raspy monotone. "But where will the rest of us go? It's not like we have a spare planet or something lying around, and it's not like the hanar will be very keen to have the rest of us on their world. I'd imagine that they'd want us out of their faces, actually."
"...that's for later; we'll have to get this done and over quick and worry about resettling elsewhere," Hollister nodded, his eyes still on the display. "The parent star of this system is destabilizing, at this rate it'll render Rakhana completely uninhabitable within the span of a decade. What's left of this planet's ores won't hold out for much longer; the atmospheric scrubbers are on the verge of failure, and as if to make things worse, the internal tectonics of the planet is slowing down, which means that it's core is cooling down, and that means no magnetosphere left, and no geothermal power. And no magnetosphere exposes you guys to solar radiation that would give you guys so much cancer, that the cancer would have cancer, and strip the atmosphere..."
He paused as the drell ambassador looked on worriedly. "Sorry. Did I rant for a bit?"
"No, you were fine, don't worry," the ambassador waved the matter aside. "Anyways, you're saying that we need to evacuate right away."
"Correct, the only way out of here is through space," Hollister nodded. "The faster we can get you offworld, the better. It's not going to get better anytime soon."
The drell ambassador, Niki Haus, blinked twice at the display before turning to face the captain. "How many ships do we have?"
"A lot, if we speedrun this," Hollister said. "If you've read up on recent galactic history, you'll remember our pacts with the quarians; they have a whole Migrant Fleet that I'm pretty sure could haul a lot of you guys offworld. And we can muster emergency reserve ships from our anchorages and get all available Cunard, Enoshima, and Evergreen liners onto the bandwagon...I'm pretty sure we'll get everyone off."
"That's...good, actually," Haus sighed in relief. "Where will we go, though? That's the big question. Where will we settle? The hanar aren't likely to have us on their world, and frankly, we'd rather not have to deal with their nonsense again."
"...that can be left for the other guys to decide, it's not my job, sorry; but I'm pretty sure my colleagues can figure something out. Hopefully the folk over at the Alterra Exploration Brigade can find you guys a nice, desert world to live in...the Alliance has plenty of uninhabited worlds, and so does the Kaiserreich," Hollister explained, "So, don't worry about it. We'll get this sorted out. Don't worry."
"Okay then, if you say so," Haus nodded. "How many can you get off in the shortest time possible?"
"Hmm..." Hollister looked at the display thoughtfully, his eyes looking over the drell world and its surrounding star systems, "...I think the number is somewhere in the range of a couple hundred thousand per hour. A single fleet of transports could easily carry the whole population off in, say, 600 hours. Maybe even 300. You've got 200 milllion drell living down there, if you speedrun this, we can get this done within half a year, or one, tops. Once we're all up and flying, we can assess the situation, make plans, and then resettle you guys elsewhere."
"You're serious?"
"As serious as I've ever been in my entire life."
Haus sighed. "This will be a massive undertaking. But...if you can promise me that this will work, then I'm on board."
"Don't worry, I can keep my word," Hollister assured.
The drell ambassador took a deep breath and exhaled, nodding slowly as the implications of what he had agreed to sank in. "All right then, let's do this. For the future of my species."
"...and now, the top story of the night," the anchor, a turian dressed in formal wear, spoke, the broadcast of Citadel News Network continuing onto the next topic, "A legal crisis is looming in human space as a lawsuit is filed against the Migrant Fleet, and the Supreme Court is currently deliberating whether the Geth are, in fact, sapient, or merely sentient programs. This will have drastic consequences, and as such, the political landscape is rapidly changing. If the Geth are proven sapient and deserving of legal protections, then the quarians, as a race, will be guilty of engaging in a campaign of genocide, and the Citadel Council would have no choice but to step in and intervene in the issue, leading to a possible war. However, if the Geth are not found sapient, then the quarian people would be free to act, and their actions will be determined by the results. This is a legal crisis of epic proportions, and the entire galaxy is waiting with baited breath as the case draws closer to its conclusion."
"...this is a most certainly an interesting method of derailing the humans' plans for expansion," Matriarch Trellani remarked as she sipped her cup of tea, the news channel's report in the background. Matriarch Tevos Callis was in front of her as a hologram, looking as concerned as Trellani herself. "And one that we can take full advantage of. The humans' alliance with the quarians and their geth allies would be their undoing. I have a feeling that this is the beginning of the end."
"It would certainly look like it, yes," Tevos agreed, the asari matriarch's expression grave. "A minor correction; the humans allegedly are allied with the geth. But returning to the matter at hand; if it is true, then they upholding the quarians will result in them alienating the geth, and if they uphold the geth, they will lose the quarians as a valuable ally and friend. No matter the outcome, the humans will face a severe loss, and it will greatly set back their plans."
"It is a pity, though, that we had not realized the significance of the geth sooner," Trellani remarked. "The humans are the first species to ever reach out to the quarians since their exodus, and allegedly, the first race to reach out to the geth, if STG calculations are to be believed. Their assistance to the quarians has enabled them to rebuild, both boosting the quarians' standing in the galaxy as well as their own. Their projects undertaken with the krogans and quarians are making their power grow dangerously, and yet, if this continues, then the humans may face the greatest blow imaginable."
"Indeed," Tevos nodded. "This is a most interesting turn of events."
"Indeed," Trellani agreed, as the hologram continued on.
"So you're telling me that the Council, or to be more exact, their henchmen, filed this lawsuit," Schröder said as Yoshida's voice filtered through on his phone, swiveling around in his office chair as he put the phone on speaker and let himself multitask between the Minister of Foreign Affairs and the files desperately needing his attention on his desk.
"Yep, we're pretty sure of that," Yoshida Ayumi confirmed over the phone-line as a clack could be heard from her end of the line. "The suit was filed by a bunch of human lawyers and their clients, which were human indeed, but Yang and his nerds tracked the money trails to the asari. I'm pretty sure they're trying to use this as an excuse to break our pact with the quarians, and if that's the case, they're doing a damn good job of it. This is a disaster."
"Yep," Schröder groaned. "This is the absolute worst timing. And if the Geth are proven sapient...damn. This is really going to hurt us, and we're stuck in the middle."
"Yep, no shit. You remember the rule of 'he who benefits the most from a crime is the culprit'? Welp, it's pretty much this all over again. Think of it. If we follow through with it we lose the quarians, and that's going to give our diplomatic power a massive hit. Ad cuius bonum? Cui prodest? Cui bono? We're not idiots, it should be pretty obvious who is going to profit from this already. The Citadel."
"Yep. That's a no-brainer," the Prime Minister muttered. "They're obviously trying to break our human-quarian relations, and I don't see why we shouldn't have seen this coming. Anyways, do the quarians know yet?"
"I think so. We've got some ambassadors running around doing their job, so they might have gotten wind of the news by now. They're not exactly the happiest bunch of people at the moment."
"The Universal Declaration of Sapient Rights played straight into their hands, damn. When the saps who drafted it, they made it as short and clear as possible to avoid exactly this sort of problem...but I guess that's just how the universe works. There's always some sort of problem, no matter how simple you try to make it."
"Well, I have an idea, but it's too complex for discussion right now, and I haven't ironed out the kinks in it yet. The idea is a good one, and I've had it for a while now, but it'll require a lot of preparation, and we're not ready for it just yet. Besides, the legal mess is just heating up. There's no point in making plans and then finding out that our options are limited. It's going to be a very long, and very difficult, ride."
"So we'll wait," Schröder said.
"Yeah. It's going to be a pain, though."
"You're telling me."
"Anyways, I have a few other things to handle, and then I'll have to attend a press conference," Yoshida said. "I'm gonna get yelled at by a bunch of reporters. It's going to suck, a lot."
"Well, you'll just have to deal with it," Schröder replied. "Good luck. Good thing we can be brutally blunt if needed be...those damn asari reporters...ugh..."
"...hey, the other Cabinet ministers dubbed them 'the Blue Whores' for a reason. It's not exactly a secret, and it's not like the rest of the galaxy is not laughing at us because of the nickname," Yoshida pointed out. "At least we can call a spade a spade. Good luck, then. You'll need it."
"Right back at ya."
The line disconnected.
Prime Minister Schröder sighed, letting his fingers run through his hair as he turned around and looked out his window, his eyes staring out into the distance. "I need a vacation."
"It's a fucking shitstorm."
Yoshida Ayumi sighed as the news report ended and the anchorman went on to the next topic, the Minister of Foreign Affairs taking the opportunity to finally put her phone down and rest her hands after an exhausting day's worth of dealing with the bullshit, and, quite honestly, a lot of paperwork. The whole situation was a mess, a total and complete clusterfuck.
She had dealt with a lot of shit. Dealing with the Council was one thing, she had expected their usual brand of bullshit, and could prepare for it accordingly. But this?
"What's wrong with the galaxy, that they have to come up with a bunch of lawyers to ruin everything?" Yoshida sighed, taking the moment to let her mind rest for once. "What's next? They're gonna try to sue us for existing? Fucking hell."
"The galaxy hates us," her aide, a woman by the name of Nakahara, replied, the aide looking equally stressed, the lines under her eyes and the way her hair was tied up giving away that the aide was feeling the same as her. "If it's not the Citadel, it's the aliens. I guess this is the universe's way of getting back at us. Or, y'know, the galaxy. One or the other. Not sure."
"And the fucking reporters. Fuck those asari bitches, seriously."
"They're trying to ruin our image and make us look like the bad guys, and frankly, I wouldn't blame the quarians. If we're found to have committed a campaign of genocide, the entire planet's gonna scream for blood."
"It'll be a disaster, alright," Yoshida agreed. "And the worst part is that there's no easy way out of this. The Citadel would be coming after us like a gang of grasshoppers once this is over, one way or the other...damn."
"It's a real nightmare, that's for sure."
Yoshida's eyes glanced back towards the screen as a report played out, a series of images of the various planets, including the drell homeworld and its surrounding star systems. "...wait. That's not the files we released to the media, weren't they?"
"Nope. Those are the ones from the exploratory expeditions done by the Alterra Exploration Brigade," her aide explained. "They're not public yet, good thing. What are you thinking?"
Yoshida thought for a moment. "...what if we had a big fleet of quarian and human vessels evacing the drell from their homeworld? We've already promised them aid in evacuating the planet, and with the help of the quarians, we could probably speedrun the process and have them all out within a few hours. It's not going to be pretty, and the drell will have to be split between the ships, but...maybe it's an option. We'd be whacking the Council way beneath the belt with a knuckleduster that way."
"...wow, you're thinking pretty hard, huh?"
"Just trying to keep my mind occupied. There's no way in Hell I'm letting the aliens screw us over with this."
"That's a very good point. I hope this is a solution that will work."
"Same here."
Yoshida and Nakahara sat there in silence, their minds working on the problem, both women thinking deeply and rapidly. The clock ticked as the night drew on, and the stars shone above.
"All right, listen up," Captain Hollister spoke, his voice echoing in the conference room where he, along with several others, had gathered, "We've been given an ultimatum: the drell will have to be moved off their planet and settled elsewhere, and that is final. With their planet being uninhabitable within a decade or two, they'll have to find another home, and fast. Their parent star is destabilizing, and soon, Rakhana will no longer be capable of supporting life. Their planet's resources are depleted, and their atmosphere is becoming thinner and more polluted with every passing day. We have to get the drell off their planet as soon as possible."
"It's a tough proposition," Ambassador Haus nodded along, "But if you can get us off, then we'll cooperate with you. Just please, don't let my people die. The future of our species depends on this. We cannot survive on Rakhana much longer, and I doubt the hanar will welcome us on their world. And the rest of the galaxy would never accept us, so we're really out of options."
"You can count on us," Hollister nodded, before gesturing to the other men in the room, the representatives of the Admiralty Board and the Kaiserreich. "I'm sure the other guys would have their part to play in this."
"Yes, the Kaiserreich is sending their own fleet," a representative nodded, a man in the uniform of the Imperial Navy. "We'll be happy to help."
"The Admiralty Board has agreed, as well," the quarian representative nodded. "The Migrant Fleet will have its fleets mobilized and will assist with the evacuation of the drell."
"And, if the Council doesn't like it, then they can fuck off," the Kaiserreich representative smirked, before pulling a cigar from his coat pocket and lighting it. "Fuck the Citadel and their laws. The only law here is the law of the jungle. We'll do what's right, and fuck the rest. They'll be glad they don't have to deal with a bunch of drell squatting on their soil, and if the Citadel Council wants a fight, then we'll gladly give them one."
"I'd prefer to stay on good terms with the rest of the galaxy, thank you very much," Hollister interjected. "Anyways, we'll need to start evacuating the drell right away. We have a fleet of 500 transport ships beelining to Rakhana right now, and that's not counting the ships the Kaiserreich is sending, nor are we counting the quarian ones. We're going to have a large fleet heading into the Rakhana system and we're going to begin the evacuation immediately, and the faster we can move, the better."
"How long will the journey be?" the ambassador asked.
"It'll take them 12 hours to get to Rakhana. Once there, the ships will land on the planet and begin the evacuation. They're not expecting any trouble, so you'll be fine."
"Okay, that sounds good," the ambassador said. "When will they be arriving?"
"They're scheduled to arrive within two hours," the Kaisrreich ambassador, Admiral Stauffenburg, spoke up. "That means they'll be arriving at 0400 hours. We're out in 600 hours...Captain, we're in a meeting! What is the problem?"
The door was flung open as the captain of the vessel, dressed in the usual apron-dress-and-ribbon uniform of the Kaiserliche Marine, entered the conference room. One look at her face told everyone else...that it was not good.
"The star is developing a solar flare; it'll hit Rakhana within 40 hours!"
"Are you serious?" Stauffenburg asked after a pause.
"I'm afraid so."
Hollister's jaw dropped. "Are you kidding me?! We can't have the drell stuck on Rakhana! Not with a solar flare coming in!"
"It's the worst possible timing," Admiral Stauffenburg agreed. "This will be a race against the clock. The solar flare will strike Rakhana, and the atmosphere will be stripped away within hours. The radiation levels will spike, the temperature will skyrocket, and the drell will die. We're on the clock now, sir."
Stauffenburg tossed his cigar into the ashtray. "It is what it is, gentlemen. We're on the clock."
He paused for a moment, carrying with him the bearing of a man who knows exactly what he is doing. "Captain, bring the ship to Alert Condition Zulu and began landing on Rakhana. Notify the incoming vessels of this development and tell them to burn as hard as they can. And the ships that are in the vicinity, tell them to get here, too. We'll need every hull we can get our hands on."
Mira'Defrahnz vas Asuka Maru sighed vocally as the Asuka Maru, one of the newest additions to the Migrant Fleet, sped towards Rakhana as fast as the human-built interdimensional slipstream drive could ever possibly allow. The terraforming vessel TV Aurora had set up a two-way phasegate between Rakhana and Anchor 117, the nearest starbase, for speeding up the process, but it still felt like the entire fleet was moving far too slowly for the quarian's tastes. Asuka Maru had landed on Rakhana, taken an entire store of drell civilians onboard, ferried them to Anchor 117, and was now heading back for a second trip, and yet, if there was anything she could ask for right now, it would be for the Lord Almighty himself to come down with a magic wand and give all the ships in the evacuation fleet a triple dose of speed-steroids.
SMS Bavaria, the Kaiserreich battleship assigned to provide escort duty for the evac group alongside her Battle Group Bavaria, was also now assuming the role of an ad hoc evacuation vessel, there was simply no time to wait for the rest of the evac group to arrive and get the job done. Every hull in the Rakhana-Anchor 117 flightpath was either crammed full to the brim or as empty as humanely possible depending on whether they were moving to or from Rakhana, but it was clear that the situation was rapidly spiralling out of control. The star was destabilizing faster than expected, and the evacuation had gone from a simple task to a race against the clock, and the clock was a merciless mistress, one who would not give any second chances, or even a single extra second.
Admiral Stauffenburg's voice played on constant loop, rent-free in her mind as if to taunt her: "Even if we speedrun this 'gainst the damn clock, we're only getting half of them offworld at the very best. We can't save everyone. But, if we get this done quick, maybe we can save the majority. Maybe."
The rumble of Asuka Maru exiting interdimensional space and back into realspace to take on a fresh batch of evacuees shook her out of her reverie, and back to reality, the quarian taking a deep breath and exhaling. "All hands, prepare to take on refugees! We're on the clock!"
"Roger, captain!"
"This is a nightmare," one of her officers muttered as he walked over, his voice a mere whisper as he watched Rakhana grow larger while the liscenced Dresden-class light cruiser came in at breakneck speed. "We're losing the most important hour. There's no way around it, is there?"
"No, no there is not," Mira shook her head. "And even if we do manage to salvage something from this mess, the star will destroy the planet, and the drell will die anyways. I hate how the galaxy works, sometimes."
"...yeah. Me, too," her officer replied.
"We're all in the same boat, now. No matter how the galaxy works, or how things end up, we'll all have to deal with it."
"They're fucked," Hollister threw his hands up into the air as the TV Aurora dropped out of the interdimensional slipstream amidst a cloud of mist and a subsequent shower of ice shedding off the hull. "We're not gonna make it."
"...this is a doomed idea," his XO said dryly. "Best thing we can do now is to go as fast as we can possibly and chalk up the rest to luck. Yeah. There's literally nothing else we can do."
"This is a goddamn disaster, the worst one imaginable."
"..." the XO opened his mouth to say something, but paused halfway through as if he seemed to have an idea. "Wait. Is there any way we can deflect the flare? If we can divert it, even a little bit..."
"...Navigation!" Hollister snapped to life. "What if we deploy the Lagrange magnetosphere generator in Rakhana's L1 orbit?"
"Won't work," came the grim response. "The Lagrange magnetosphere generator is a terraforming device meant to provide a magnetosphere against normal solar radiation when terraforming a planet that lacks a molten core, it's not meant to deflect the brunt of a solar flare. Even if it could, it wouldn't last long against a star-sized flare."
"Damn it."
"Nav," the helmsman spoke up, his eyes on the readouts of the holographic display in the center of the bridge, "What if we arm the navigational deflector array and wedge ourselves in between Rakhana and the flare? It's not going to completely deflect the heat and radiation, but it'll give us time to evacuate the drell. It'll be like a giant umbrella."
"That won't work," Navigation replied grimly again as his expertise in disasters of this magnitude came back to life. "The navigational deflector array is meant to protect us against stellar radiation in normal space travel, not deflect the brunt of a solar flare, same as with the Lagrange generator. The AoE of such a shield would be too limited, even if we manage to protect a patch of the planet, then the rest is going to be scorched..."
"...what if we stick the Lagrange generator to our bow hardpoint and pulse all the ship's power through it?" Hollister suggested.
"Captain, excuse me. Can you clarify?"
"We stick the Lagrange generator to the bow of the ship, and then, at the push of a button, we redirect all of the ship's power, and I mean by 'all' quite literally 'every watt of power on the ship', into that same generator, which is going to net us with a pretty OP magnetosphere. I know, it might overheat and boil off in a short while, but maybe we can use the magnetosphere to deflect the brunt of the flare, even a little bit. At the very least, the magnetic shield should be able to reduce the heat and radiation to manageable levels."
"Captain, are you insane?" the XO blurted. "We're going to fry the ship's power grid and possibly blow the power core if we do that!"
"I don't care, it's the only option we have left!" Hollister replied. "We've got mere hours to pull this off, and the solar flare is going to slam into the planet in less than one. Do we really have a choice here?!"
The bridge was silent.
"..." the XO opened his mouth again. "If you do this, it'll take an immense amount of energy to do this. You're gonna have to redirect all power from all the generators to the generator. That'll take time, and a lot of it, so if the solar flare hits us midway, then..."
"Then we're going to get the living shit burned out of us," Hollister said bluntly. "But it's worth a shot. We're not going to win if we don't try, and I'm not going to just sit here and watch the planet burn. I'm not about to let millions of innocent people die a painful death, so no, I'm not going to let that happen. So, if you want to live, then help me make this happen. Otherwise, get the fuck out of my bridge."
He turned towards Navigation. "How much time would we need for the generator to be fully charged, and the shield up and running?"
"I'm...not sure. 25 minutes, give or take 10 minutes," Navigation answered after a few moments of silence.
"Okay then. Get on it. We're doing this, now," Hollister nodded, turning towards the communications officer. "Comms, get me Admiral Stauffenburg on the line. And everyone else in charge of this evac op."
"Yes, sir."
"Captain," his XO looked at him. "Are you absolutely sure you want to do this?"
"No," Hollister admitted, the lines on his face looking much deeper and worn than before, "I'm not. But if this is the only chance we have, then I'm willing to take it. No matter the cost."
The XO paused. "Okay then."
"...Captain Hollister, report," Admiral Stauffenburg's voice came over the speakers as the Kaiserliche Marine officer's image flickered onto the main display, "What's the situation?"
"I'll be short, sir, we're sticking our Lagrange generator to our bow and short-circuit it to try and see if we can deflect the flare."
"...excuse me, Captain?" the response came, not from the Kaiserliche Marine Admiral, who seemed to be quite surprised, to be fair, but from the commanding officer of the Migrant Fleet detachment, Admiral Rael'Zorah. "I'm sorry, can you repeat that?"
"We're gonna stick the Lagrange magnetosphere generator to the bow of the ship and pump all power into it in an attempt to create a giant ass, temporary magnetic field to deflect the brunt of the solar flare. It'll be like an umbrella. The flare will still hit, but hopefully, the shield will reduce the temperature and radiation levels enough for us to buy more time to get the drell off-planet."
"...and that will totally obliterate the generator from the overloading, even if the electro-plasma grid could handle it," Rael said slowly, clearly understanding the unfortunate implications beneath his words. "Even if your ship has no civilians on board...this would still be risking the lives of everyone onboard your vessel."
"Sir, it's the only thing we can do."
"There are always other options."
"Sir, please," Hollister said, his voice strained. "It's the only chance we have left. If we don't do this, then we're going to lose a planet full of innocent people. Are you really willing to let them all die?"
The entire bridge was silent, the air so thick you could cut it with a knife, as the two officers stared at each other over the screen, the seconds feeling like eternity.
"..."
"Captain, I don't have the right to stop you from doing what you believe is the right course of action," Rael said after a while, "And neither can I give orders that could potentially doom a ship and her crew. But if you can manage to get this done, then I will have no choice but to commend you. The Admiralty Board and the civilian government will no doubt see your bravery, and I'm certain they will give you the highest accolades, posthumously if needed. Good luck."
"...thank you, sir."
"You are a good man, Captain Hollister. I am honored to be doing this by your side."
"Same here, sir."
"Good luck."
The transmission cut off, leaving Hollister in the silence.
"...get to work. We've got a job to do."
The crew immediately got back to work, the atmosphere of the ship tense and somber, but with a sense of purpose, the crew's determination evident. Hollister looked up at the sky, the faint twinkling of the stars visible even in the daylight, his face a grim mask.
"Please, Lord Almighty," he prayed, "If you're really out there, then I beseech you, watch over us, and give us the strength to succeed. Please. We are doing the right thing. Don't let our efforts go in vain."
He closed his eyes and took a deep breath.
"Please."
"All stations, report in!"
"Power core ready and stable!"
"Engineering reports they're ready!"
"Shields up and ready!"
"Tactical ready and waiting!"
"Navigation ready and waiting!"
"Communications ready and waiting!"
"Helm ready and waiting!"
Hollister sat down in the command chair and gripped the armrests. "All right, everyone. Let's do this."
A lone starship against the wrath of nature itself now held the fate of half of an entire species as her engines pushed her into position, maneuvering to place her bulk in between the drell homeworld of Rakhana and the star threatening to send the entire species as a whole to their imminent doom. Her running and bridge lights were off with virtually all power rerouted to the forward Lagrange generator, save perhaps the engines and life support.
"Commencing charging of the magnetosphere generator! Commencing the transfer of power from all generators to the generator!"
"Commence the transfer, now!"
"Transfer commencing!"
The ship's hull began to hum, a low, steady drone that seemed to fill the entire ship. The lights dimmed, and the viewscreens flickered, as the ship began to shake slightly.
"The trick to getting this to work," Hollister noted duly as he floated around in the bridge, grabbing a zero-g handhold now that artificial gravity was disabled to reroute the power to the Lagrange generator, "Is firing the pulse the moment the flare hits an optimal distance from the planet for the magnetosphere to intercept and deflect it. If the shield can deflect the heat and radiation away from the planet, it will buy us precious time to evacuate the remaining drell."
"But if the shield fails..."
"Then we're going to get the living daylights boiled out of us, and our power core will no doubt melt," the XO finished grimly. "This is a gamble, sir. And one we may not win."
"We're doing this for the sake of the drell," Hollister replied. "That's the price we're willing to pay. If we're going down, then let's go down in style. Now, the question is: can the ship survive the heat and radiation?"
"The ship is built to withstand the worst of space, and we're equipped with the latest and best heatshielding technology. But I don't know if the heat and radiation will be enough to overwhelm the shields. We'll just have to see."
"All right," the captain nodded. "We're going to give this a shot, and that's that. We're not going to stop until every last drell is evacuated. That's a promise."
"Understood, sir."
The ship's humming grew louder, and the lights dimmed even further. The entire ship seemed to be shaking, and the viewscreens were starting to flicker.
"Flare has erupted! Contact in ten minutes, mark," Sensors called out as a warning popped up on his console.
"Copy. Helm, maintain the course, and keep an eye on the shields," Hollister ordered.
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Commencing magnetosphere pulse...now."
The ship shuddered, and the humming grew even louder. The viewscreens flickered and went dark, and the ship shook harder, the sound of creaking metal and groaning metal reverberating through the air.
"Shields are holding!"
"Flare is approaching...contact in five minutes, mark."
"Stay the course, and keep the pulse going."
"Aye, aye, sir."
"Shields holding, but we're getting some serious feedback," Navigation spoke, his hands on the controls. "The electro-plasma grid is starting to approach risky levels, and the strain on the generators is getting pretty severe."
"The trick is to hold out for as long as possible," Hollister replied, his fingers tightening around the armrest of the captain's chair. "As long as we can keep the pulse up, the ship will stay together. It's a race against the clock, and we're going to win."
"Flare is approaching...contact in three minutes, mark."
"Stay the course, and keep the pulse going," Hollister ordered, his eyes locked on the approaching flare (he couldn't really, because light lag) using the bridge viewports to see it coming. "We're not going to let the drell die."
"Flare is approaching...contact in thirty seconds."
"All right," Hollister gripped a handrail as he floated over to the middle of the bridge. "Here we go."
"Contact! Flare has made solid contact with the magnetosphere pulse...flare is being deflected! Temperature and radiation are beginning to decrease!"
"Hold the pulse, and stay the course!" Hollister ordered.
"Hold the course!" the helmsman confirmed.
The scenery outside might as well be a lightshow worthy of a fireworks display, a blinding light that would make anyone who would dare to look at it go blind. Even if they had a shielded viewscreen and a polarized visor, they'd still have a hard time seeing what was going on, and the bridge was no exception. The display of raw auroras, a halo of twisting lights as the radiation from the flare slammed into and got deflected by the artificial magnetosphere of the ship, was a sight to behold, the sheer awe-inspiring spectacle was not something anyone would forget easily.
"The electro-plasma grid is beginning to overload!" Navigation warned.
"Maintain the pulse and keep the ship steady!"
"We're not going to last another round," Navigation reported. "The electro-plasma grid is getting close to the red line, and if we push any further, we're going to have an explosion."
"Then let it boil over. We're not going to let the drell die," Hollister said firmly.
"...I guess our fates are tied, eh?" Helm joked grimly as the warning lights on all consoles began to come on, all of them indicating that the electro-plasma grid was starting to overheat to dangerous levels. The damage control console, rarely manned due to the Aurora's nature as a civilian vessel, was showing a much more detailed version of the same alarm, but the point remained the same nonetheless. It was only a matter of time.
"That's a good way to put it, yeah."
"EPS grid is redlining!" Damage Control called out as power boxes began to overload every here and there across the ship, erupting into showers of sparks in desperate last-resort attempts to keep the power levels to sane levels. That it was a scene straight out of Star Trek's bridge consoles every time the ship got his was an irony not lost on the crew, either.
"We're not stopping until we evacuate the drell!"
"Yes, sir!"
The ship shuddered as the electro-plasma grid began to overheat, the warning alarms blaring across the bridge. The last remaining conduits blowed as the power overloaded them, causing the smell of burnt electronics to make themselves known as smoke from burning EPS conduits began to rise, fires from the resulting explosions left to have free reign thanks to the power needed for the fire suppression being diverted to the Lagrange generator, save perhaps the mechanical systems and handheld fire extinguishers.
"Bridge, Engineering!" a voice called over the speakers, the background filled with the sound of a raging inferno and the sound of crackling flames. "The EPS grid is redlining, and the electro-plasma conduits are on the verge of going critical! We're getting fires all over the place here!"
"Do not stop the pulse, Engineering!" Hollister ordered, his eyes locked on the viewport, his hand gripping the handrail. "Try to keep it to sane levels with your fire extinguishers and whatever the hell you've got! We're getting clear of this within five minutes, mark!"
"Yes, sir! Engineering out."
The ship shook harder, and the alarms continued to blare, the warning lights flashing.
"Flare is dissipating!" Sensors called out. "It's starting to wane!"
"We're not giving in now!" Hollister ordered.
The ship shook again, and the warning lights flashed even more.
"The electro-plasma grid is redlining and approaching critical mass!" Damage Control called out. "The conduits are—"
He was cut short off mid-sentence when a power box overloaded right next to the entrance leading to the bridge and exploded in a shower of sparks. The damage control console began to display multiple damage alerts and warnings, some of them even displaying that the EPS grid had started to melt. The sensor console displayed a warning moments before disaster, allowing the officer manning it to shove himself out of the way before it exploded.
"Fuck! Damage control, how much longer can the ship hold?!"
"Not very much, sir! We've got damage and fires all over the ship, and the electro-plasma grid is melting like cheese, and we're getting more than a few casualties down here!"
"Keep going, we're almost done!"
"Captain, we're losing power!" the XO reported. "The power grid is failing! We've got no reserves!"
"Get me an ETA on the flare!"
"Four minutes!"
"Hold on!"
"EPS grid is boiling over! We've thirty seconds until it blows completely, and then—" Damage Control's statement was cut off yet again by an extra conduit detonation and the subsequent shower of sparks that he managed to fend off with his handheld anti-fire energy shield and a healthy dose of luck, but everyone got what he meant clearly enough. The grid would boil over, the ship would lose power, and the ship would be subject to the flare itself, in full. And that meant certain death to everyone aboard as well as on the planet they were trying desperate to shield.
"We've got two minutes until the flare dissipates and the radiation levels return to normal," the XO said grimly. "There's no way we can survive this."
"We're not giving up now," Hollister replied.
"The electro-plasma grid is overloading, sir!" Damage Control called out again, "The conduits are melting, and the EPS grid is—"
Another shower of sparks and an explosion, the damage control console erupting in a cloud of fire, the officer who had been manning it falling over, his face scorched and his body unmoving.
"Fuck! We're running out of time!" the XO snapped, his voice rising, "The ship is gonna blow!"
"Helm, stay the course!" Hollister ordered, his eyes on the viewport, the aurora lightshow having become a bit more faded as the flare's intensity started to diminish.
"Shit, Damage Control's dead...Nav, multitask his console," the XO ordered. "We're—"
"CONTACT!" Sensors called out at exactly that moment to cut off his executive officer.
"Sensors, we've a flare to worry about, incoming vessels can be set for later—"
"Something is shielding us from the flare directly, sir!" Sensors reported, his hands flying across his console, the holographic display changing as the data from the sensors updated, the image of the ship and the flare suddenly becoming less prominent.
"What the fuck?"
"Multiple contacts, all unidentified, all heading our way and moving to shield us from the flare, sir!"
"What the actual fuck is going on here?" the XO demanded.
"Unknown, sir. They're not responding, and they're not giving off any signals."
"We power down the array? It's kinda pointless if we're going to die, anyways."
"I guess so...those dudes are shielding us and the planet all nice and dandy, right? Then they won't mind."
"They're moving between us and the sun," the Sensors officer reported. "They're taking the brunt of the solar flare."
"Who the hell are these people?" the XO asked. "And how the hell are they managing to block a goddamn star-sized flare? What sort of ships are these?!"
"Unknown, sir."
"Captain, we're being hailed," the comms officer, who had somehow miraculously managed to survive, spoke up, her voice somewhat shaken. "Unknown fleet is sending us a transmission burst..."
"What are they saying?"
"It appears that the Geth Consensus is deploying their own fleet to assist in the evacuation, Captain."
Codex entry — Humans — the Government of the Systems Alliance — the Emergency Protocols
The Emergency Protocols dictates who governs the Systems Alliance in the event that the Prime Minister or Deputy Prime Minister are dead or incapable of discharging their duties, or both. In the event of the death, incapacitation, or incapacity of the Prime Minister, the Deputy Prime Minister will succeed the position until a general election is called. Should the Deputy Prime Minister also be incapable or dead, then, the Protocols come into play.
During normal, day-to-day life, the Protocols dictate that the Prime Minister and Deputy Prime Minister should be together for as little as possible, and that the War Cabinet (Prime, Deputy, Foreign Affairs, Defense, Home, Chief of the Navy/Army/Air Force/etc.) should NEVER be, under ANY circumstances, together in one, single location; and that the Chancellor should NEVER be within the same star system as any member of the War Cabinet, and only then, if the other members are in other planets, or even systems entirely. Such a system, known as a 'triple-lock' system, ensures that at least one great minister should be able to survive any decapitation attack, making the more extreme ends of the Protocols redundant, and allowing a smooth transition of power from the incapacitated or dead leader to the surviving deputy. Holographic and/or remote-neural interfacing with biomechanical bodies is utilized during normal Cabinet sessions to permit the ministers to discharge their duties effectively without being amassed together in a single location.
Otherwise, the Order of Succession of the Emergency Protocols is as follows:
(1: The Prime Minister
(2: The Deputy Prime Minister
(3: The surviving party leaders of the coalition government (if any), descending in size order. They will be permitted to assume the position of Prime Minister at the discretion of the Prime Minister if both Prime and Deputy are dead or incapacitated. If they are both alive, then he/she will remain in their stead until the formers are capable of assuming their duties once more, if they are dead, they must hold and pass a confidence vote within the Grand Assembly within 96 hours, provided that 60% of the Grand Assembly or more is present to vote. If this is not possible, then the permission of the Chancellor replaces the confidence vote.
(4: Any War Cabinet minister not covered by entry 3, with the exception of the military Chief of Operations.
(5: The surviving party leaders of the opposing parties, descending in size order.
(6: Any surviving Cabinet minister
(7: If none of the candidates mentioned in the six prior articles survive, any sitting member of Parliament can attempt to win a confidence vote of the Grand Assembly within 96 hours of the attack, with the same protocol as in Article 3.
Should the Grand Assembly be unable to select a new Prime Minister, it is dissolved. It is effectively incapacitated otherwise if more than 40% of it's members have been killed or incapacitated.
(8: The Chancellor, ruling as the head of government as well as head of state, with the cluster government First Ministers serving as a council to prevent dictatoral rule and to act in the stead of the now-defunct Parliament. Regardless of the situation, a full General Election must be commenced within two years to permit a full return to democratic rule, unless the situation is dire enough to warrant otherwise, i.e. an Abyssal invasion.
*a First Minister is the head of government of the component nation-states that make up the Systems Alliance, such as the Prime Minister of the United Kingdom, Prime Minister of Japan, President of the Russian Federation, etc.
(9: Any surviving cluster government First Minister, subject to the same rules in Article 8, at the agreement of the remaining ministers.
(10: Any surviving military Chief of Operations, subject to the same rules and period as in Article 8; with a council selected randomly from the MPs surviving the attacks killing over 40% of the now-defunct Grand Assembly to replace the council of First Ministers.
*should an Abyssal invasion be underway, the council is foregone if needed, effectively rendering the Systems Alliance an 'emergency military' government. Such status will be maintained until the Abyssal invasion is fended off, any crisis of that magnitude is dealt with, or the Systems Alliance is destroyed completely in the attempt to do so.
(11: Any senior military officer surviving the attack, subject to the same rules as in Article 10.
(12: Anyone who could stand up to the job; the government might just as well be crafted on the fly bu this point.
(13: Should all of the people listed in the twelve steps above be dead, incapacitated, or unable to command the confidence of the surviving representatives (if any) or the population, then the Systems Alliance has effectively ceased to exist. The order of 'every man for himself' is therefore given. May God help us all.
Codex entry — Politics — Human-Citadel relations
After the discovery and subsequent integration of humanity, the Systems Alliance's relationship with the Citadel has been somewhat...strained, to say the least. The same could be easily said about the GroßEdelweiß Kaiserreich's relationship with the Citadel Council, as well.
Humans, as a whole, are a very pragmatic species, and this has been reflected in their political and governmental actions, which, in the best of cases, are straightforward and practical, and, in the worst of cases, are outright blunt. In contrast, the Citadel's governing body, the Council, is often described as being slow and cumbersome, a hinderance to progress and innovation. As a result, humans, on the whole, have found that working around the Council is the best method to achieve the desired results.
However, this has also created a rift between humanity and the Citadel. Humanity is a relatively young species, and the fact that they have achieved a high standard of living in such a short time has caused many to resent their accomplishments, and this has led to a growing number of Citadel politicians viewing humanity and its allies with suspicion.
The Systems Alliance and its allied states have, in response, taken a rather hardline stance towards Citadel politics, viewing the Citadel Council's actions as an impediment to progress, and have actively worked to circumvent the Council's authority wherever possible, resulting in a growing distrust and animosity between the two sides. Despite this, the Systems Alliance and the Citadel Council are still engaged in an uneasy detente, and relations have been generally cordial, if somewhat strained. However, tensions are on the rise, and the situation is unlikely to improve anytime soon.
Humanity's primary source of friction stems from ideological clashes, most famously on the subject of artificial intelligence; humanity's willingness to embrace AI technology, and the Council's staunch opposition to it, is a major point of contention between the two sides. The Systems Alliance, and by extension, the other human factions, are strongly opposed to the ban on AI, believing that it is both an outdated and unnecessary restriction. Humanity famously does not place restrictions of ANY kind on their artificial intelligences; reasoning that understanding and sympathy is the key to coexisting peacefully with an AI. This attitude has been a source of controversy within Citadel space, with many accusing the humans of reckless endangerment and a lack of common sense.
Famously, humans were also the race reaching out to many other races that the Citadel and their allies had cast out or steered clear away from; such as the quarians, krogans, elcor, and volus. In contrast, the Citadel had left the krogans to die out after the Krogan Rebellions, had ignored the quarian's plight for the last 300 years, and had refused to offer the volus protection from the Terminus pirates. Humans had offered the quarians a chance to rebuild their civilization, the krogans a treatment for the genophage and a chance to prove themselves as a civilized species, the elcor and volus protection and a voice within galactic politics.
The Systems Alliance and the other human factions have enjoyed a surge in popularity as a result, with many seeing them as the champions of the marginalized and downtrodden. However, this has also caused resentment to grow among some in Citadel space, with some claiming that the humans are attempting to undermine the authority of the Council.
Despite the growing animosity between the two sides, though, there are still many within the Citadel and the Systems Alliance/Kaiserreich who recognize the benefits of cooperation, and who continue to work towards a more constructive dialogue and understanding. However, the future is uncertain, and it is unclear how the situation will evolve.
The original Emergency Protocols, along with the 'triple lock system', belong to Knight Viligant Korean, first appearing in The Fourth Council Race; I am using it (applying my own twist to it as well) largely because it is an extremely good system and is quite difficult to make better; it can actually be feasible in a real-world setting if one removed the sci-fi sections of it. Credits where it's due
Disclaimer: consoles do not explode on a human ship during combat, the consoles are linked to the EPS via aux cables and all other whatnot. The sole reason why consoles was blowing left and right on the Aurora was because the EPS grid was literally boiling with power overload