captaindickscratcher: "Billions of asari be screaming as they are the hottest species in the galaxy no longer" lmao
Chalkhos, Terminus Sector, exact location unknown
The batarian guard cast Fubuki a gaze full of suspicion as she, Marie, and the rest of Szurdok Fireteam walked inside, rifles slung over their backs and otherwise decked out in full tactical gear. Tac-vests, knee coverings, and helmets that resembled baseball helmets but with double-around ear protection, and a sliding visor over the eyes, retracted for some, extended for others. "Stop! Who are you?"
"The reinforcements Boss called for, Guard," Fubuki replied in a tone equally as gruffy as the guard's. "Cat6 special operatives, the best out of the best mercs that you can ever find for hire. Boss hired us special and sent us out to get your sorry asses outta trouble."
The guard looked skeptical. "I don't see your names or profiles in the security mainfest."
"He ordered our presence to be kept secret," Fubuki said. "We're here at his own personal request, and he had to shell out a pretty penny to see us here with our OP-as-hell armaments and gear to lug around and deter any potential raid aimed at the loot you guys ship all over the place. You can either open the gate and let us in, or call and disturb the Boss with this trivial bit of information, your choice. I'd recommend the former, though. He doesn't seem to be in a happy mood to-day."
The guard thought for a moment, and decided that it was a better idea not to disturb the Boss in the middle of the day, and especially not with the news that he had called for the mercs, and they were here. "Come on in, the guardhouse is on the right side of the main warehouse, and the office is straight ahead."
"Thanks," Fubuki tipped her helmet.
The team quickly made their way into the compound, making a beeline for the warehouse itself, the cargo crates and shipping containers all being loaded or unloaded into the warehouse itself. They were a little bit late for their infiltration, and had to improvise a plan, and the best thing was...
...they didn't need to do shit.
"...did you really get hired by that 'Boss' for this job?" Shepard asked in Kansai Japanese after making sure that nobody was within earshot, plus the Japanese for added security in case someone within the place spoke human languages.
"Nope, I didn't," Fubuki shrugged, answering her friend in Korean.
"You...bluffed your way in?" Shigure asked, her fluent Cantonese earning her a raised eyebrow from her British companion(s).
"They call it a 'Bavarian Fire Drill', if I'm not mistaken," Fubuki said casually, lighting herself a cigarette. "When they have a pile of guard and checkpoints and the place's literally crawling in mobile security platforms...we just walk in, because nobody would be stupid enough to walk up dead to Reception and ask 'hey, can you please let us into the building with all the super-expensive shit?', right? Well...riiiiiiight?"
"That's a nine-thousand-IQ move there. Sometimes the most brazen attempts work because nobody could believe what they were seeing..." Marie nodded along. "I was expecting us to sneak in like, under their noses...and we're waltzing in right in plain sight. I have no words for that."
"You'd be surprised at how many times I've been able to get inside a building through the front door, all thanks to the fact that people won't believe that a buncha schoolgirls walking into a heavily-guarded facility like this would be insane enough to do it," Fubuki deadpanned. "Everyone thinks we'll play it smart, so we take the dumbest route mortal man could think of...and bam, we're in. It's all psychology, my friend. All psychology."
"I'm making this into a Phasegate meme by the time we get back..." Marie rolled her eyes. "Anyways. What's our getaway? Your freighter's headed home on autopilot, that rules out escape by freighter. Do we steal a cruiser?"
"There's a Winter-class prowler that's conveniently enough, perfectly placed for our escape. Same one me and my team used to board that batarian dreadnought during the First Contact War, by the way. But laden with more new toys this time around."
"Nice. And the plan is...?"
"Simple. We let the guards bring all the slaves outside for us. Then, we'll take a few potshots at the guards. The rest is self-explanatory."
"You think the Normandy's enough to deal with the rest?"
"Oh, there's nothing the prowler's rapid-fire plasma torpedo launchers set to anti-personnel mode won't be able to fix, those things can easily guide themselves to kill anyone at will center mass without worry of collateral damage. There's plenty a' remote-controlled Makos and buncha Switchblade drones, too, and some extra N7 teams to get this job done. Honestly, that'd be overkill."
"Is that another Bavarian Fire Drill you're going to pull...successfully?"
"Yep. Tell 'em a buncha Kaiserliche Marine cruiser's coming to land Marines soon, and that grouping those guys in the open as hostages's the best way to deter them from shooting. Won't work against a prowler with toys built specifically for that kind of problem, though~"
"You are soooo evil, Fubuki~"
"Maybe the Phasegate memeists'd call that 'savage'? 'Evil' might not be the word..."
Furutaka let a waft of smoke drift up from her cigarette as she exhaled a lungful of combusted tobacco, keeping her eye trained on the asari crime lord in front of her while the latter sipped away at her Thessian tea.
"...then, what are you willing to provide in exchange for my services?" she asked.
Furutaka pulled out an envelope from the inner pocket of her blazer and slid it across the table to her asari counterpart. "There's ten times that much waiting for you if you can get it done."
The asari's eyes widened as she picked up the envelope and peeked inside, the stack of credit chits inside the envelope, all the way at the bottom, were the real deal, and the credits inside were the real stuff, not fakes or forgeries. The asari closed the envelope and placed it down onto the table, and picked up her cup of tea. "And what do you expect me to do?"
"You have the means, you have the men, and you have the resources," Furutaka said as she blew a waft of smoke into the asari's face. "What do you think I expect you to do?"
The asari coughed a little bit. "I see. I'll accept. What's the plan?"
"That's up to you. But we'd like you to make sure the job gets done. It's going to be a big one. We can't afford it failing."
"You've got that covered?"
"It's a literal Prothean installation we're talking about here, one that is smack literally on the border between the Alliance and the batarians. It's a treasure trove, and it'll be ours, with a little bit of your help."
"A Prothean dig site...?"
"Our dudes found it smack where the Alliance would come after sooner or later, and we're getting the stuff out and hidden before they can get their filthy mitts on it, and we're gonna sell it all for the biggest payout we could ever get. And all we're asking is for your help with the security side of things, you'll get a cut of the profits too. What do you say?"
The asari leaned back. "You have yourself a deal."
"Good. We're counting on you, and we can't afford you to fail."
"I won't," the asari assured, "you can trust me."
"I will. Because I'm going to have to. Otherwise, well..."
The asari chuckled. "You can be very scary when you want to, Miss Furutaka."
"Oh, that's nothing. You've seen nothing yet, Ariel D'Loka. Absolutely nothing."
"Oh?"
"Just wait. You'll see."
Ariel shrugged. "You're a most interesting one to work with, Furutaka. Dealing with one of the most powerful crime-lords in the galaxy, second only to Aria herself and whatever she's doing on Omega. You know all to clear the risks this carries, right?"
Furutaka shrugged. "One of the most fundamental aspects of stabbing someone in the back, is that you have to be behind them in order to be able to stab them in the back."
"That's one way of looking at it, I guess."
"I also happen to run one of the biggest paramilitary organizations in human space, by the way. We're even now. Even if I get shot here, well...my girls right outside are just sure as hell going to make sure you'll be dead. It's all fair, ain't it? If you wanna get me, I'll get you too. So we're even, right?"
Ariel shrugged and sat back down. "We'll keep in touch. Don't try to cross me again. It'll go worse for you."
"Don't you try it too. Or I'll put a bullet between your eyes faster than you could snap your fingers."
Ariel narrowed her eyes. "Are you threatening me?"
"You're escalating it," Furutaka replied matter-of-factly. "I was only trying to offer you a deal and a cut of the profit. You're the one who tried to get cute, and I'm the one who has a gun aimed at your gut, ready to blow. Now, are you sure you wanna push your luck?"
"I'm not afraid of you," the asari spat.
"And I don't give a shit, either. I can kill you where you sit, and nobody'll know a thing. My girls outside'll take out the rest, and we'll be on our way. Nobody's gonna hear a thing, not from me, and not from the dead body in front of me."
A series of thumping noises came from the outside as a chime came through on Ariel's omni-tool. She took a moment to glance at the message before putting the tool away.
"It seems that your guards didn't put up that well of a fight," Ariel smirked. "They're pretty much bound up and disarmed already by this point. You'd better surrender yourself before they get in here."
"Hm?"
"Don't play dumb, the game's mine to play now," Ariel said. Your guards are disarmed and bound up—they didn't even put up a good fight by the look of things—and you're the last one left. Now, you'll be a good girl, won't you, and give me what I want, or else."
"Or else what? You'll kill me?"
"I might."
Furutaka let out a chuckle, which then became full-on laughter, and Ariel frowned.
"What's so funny?"
"You are. You are, you know that?" Furutaka snarked.
"What's so funny?!"
"Let's say, for the sake of debate, that I refuse. What then?"
Ariel pulled out a nasty-looking pistol out from inside her desk and let it unfold in her hand. "Then I'll be forced to kill you," she said as she pointed it at her. "So, you'd better give me what I want."
Furutaka tilted her head. "Welp, nice gun. But, thing is, does it actually work, or is it a dud? Folding weapons don't—"
Ariel pulled the trigger. The weapon came to life, a splinter of shot broken off by a shaver being accelerated to lethal speeds by the internal mass-effect fields of the weapon itself, and shot out at high velocity, aimed for Furutaka's shoulder. It crossed the distance within a second, as expected, piercing through the white cloth of the latter's outfit, causing her to instinctively reach up to cover the wound...
...except that she wasn't. And there wasn't any visible wound to boot.
Furutaka answered the confused gaze that her asari counterpart gave her blankly when the latter saw the shot from her weapon somehow bounce off coolly enough, her hand going not up to her shoulder, but to the inside of her blazer, whipping out a Colt M911 Model 2212 with Ariel centered clearly within the irons, offering the crimelord a sadistic smile before pulling the trigger in turn and sending a 11.43x23mm shield-and-armor-piercing high-explosive round into Ariel's stomach, the round going fast enough that it, well...pierced through one end, out the other, and slammed into the wall behind her.
The noises outside indicated probably that her signal had done it's job well enough, her friends undoing their bonds with superhuman strength and rearming themselves well before their guards could react, thumps of bodies hitting the floor outside and the cries of shock and alarm of the guards indicating the success of her plan.
"How did you..." Ariel groaned as she collapsed against the wall, clutching the bleeding wound in her stomach, her face twisted with pain as she sank down into her seat.
Furutaka ignored her.
"Captain, report?" Amatsukaze asked as she opened the door and popped her head inside, an SA42 assault rifle in her hands and over her outfit, full tactical, battle gear. Myuki, Akebono, and Kako were probably keeping watch outside or dealing with the other guards.
"I'm good, thanks for the help," Furutaka said.
"We got all the guards," Myuki said as she poked her head in too. "A couple of them didn't wanna play along and were armed, though. They're dead now."
"I can see that," Furutaka replied as she looked at the bodies on the floor and the blood that had pooled on the ground. "Anyways. You see that asari over there? Steal her omni-tool, it has the data we all need. Get that done, we're otherwise good here."
"...how?" Ariel managed as the blood from her injury began to flood away at her lungs. "...just...how?"
"Welp, there was never such a thing as CAT6, my dear Ariel," Furutaka deadpanned. "It was all an act, and a damn good one at it, pulled off by some members of the Alliance's...say...Special Forces? The N7s, the most elite fighting unit in the galaxy? That kind of stuff."
"But...your..."
"They call it a 'Bavarian Fire Drill' if I remember it correctly. Act like you own the place, and everyone will think you do. The uniform and gear is enough to fool a buncha small-time gangsters, and the guns and tactics are more than enough to get the job done. That's how it works."
"N7...special forces...? You...?"
"Some friends who wanna get as much data on slaver trafficking activities as possible, so that we could all go on a raiding spree later on. Y'know, the usual. They'll get the intel you're sitting on, and then we're going to wipe you off the map."
"Oh, one more thing," she said as she turned to leave, leaving Amatsukaze, Imperial Japanese Navy destroyer, now Special Forces N7 operative, to deal with her omni-tool. "Nice day in hell, slaver. It's motherfuckers like you that we're meant to destroy."
The Compact was the name of the alliance, well, relationship between the hanar and the drell forged during the evacuation of Rakhana a good century and a half before, the drell evacuated from their dying homeworld thus integrating themselves into hanar culture and society in a master-servant relationship known as the Compact. The drell were indebted to the hanar for their rescue and had agreed to the Compact on their own volition, in the hopes of one day repaying the hanar. The hanar, for their part, accepted the drell as their servants, and the two species had coexisted together on Kahje peacefully enough since.
That changed completely, however, when news of Rakhana's discovery and subsequent re-evacuation by the combined efforts of the humans, quarians, and Geth hit the newsreels.
Raskol Tois could only share the common sentiment that many of his kind had when the news hit to home like a ship crash-landing on a barren world, namely, anger at their masters for effectively leaving so many of their kind out to die slowly and painfully on their homeworld, while a select few were picked to be their hired assassins and hitmen. The hanar had, after all, the entire time they had known about the planet, had a way to rescue the remaining survivors, and yet had chosen not to.
"...a lot of finger-pointing has ensured, and while many are blaming the Council for inaction, most are still blaming the hanar nonetheless for leaving the vast majority of the drell population stranded on their homeworld, especially given how the resources available for them are more than sufficient to evacuate the entire population within a reasonable time period," the asari reporter said as she showed a graph of the evacuation's projected results and the actual numbers taken offworld, with the miniscule numbers of '~375,000 evacuated' in bold for all to see. "The implications behind this are...unfortunate, to say the least. We are looking at a servere worsening of hanar-drell relations at the very least, considering how they didn't like the majority of their kind being shut out and left to die, and as a result, would most likely turn to the humans as a potential ally in the future, given the latter's track record ever since they were introduced to the galactic community. This is certainly interesting times indeed, and the repercussions will no doubt be felt far and wide."
"How...can this be?" his friend asked in mute shock, looking at the holovid while Citadel News Net continued on with their report, half of him wanting to think that it wasn't real. "We were abandoned? Our people...left to die...?"
"You're in shock," Raskol said. "I understand, and it's a lot to take in, but you're in shock. This isn't a joke. This is the truth. The hanar lied, and left most of us to die. They're responsible, and they're the ones to blame."
"But why would they...what could've..."
"I don't know. I don't know what to think anymore. All I know is, is that, I want justice. And I'm gonna get it."
"But how? What are we going to do? This is the Compact, and we can't...we can't betray them."
"Why not?" Raskol spat. "They betrayed us, and we're going to return the favor. Why would we ever consider ourselves under obligation to them? We owe them nothing! They betrayed our trust, and we will see to it that they pay the price."
"We can't," the friend replied. "If we do, it'll cause chaos. And the hanar will retaliate. And we don't have the numbers or the tech, nor the power or resources to stop them. We won't have a chance!"
"No. But the humans do. And they have the numbers and the tech and the power and resources to do it. And they won't be willing to let us go that easily. We just have to ask."
"But the hanar..."
"To hell with the hanar. I hate them, and I want revenge. If that means betraying the hanar and joining the humans, then I'll do it. For the sake of my people."
"We'll have to take a vote. We're not all on the same page yet."
"I understand. I'll be ready when the time comes."
Raskol smiled. "They'll be ready when the time comes, too."
"Wake up!" the sound of the baton slamming against her cell-door woke Miru'Zorah up, and the quarian jerked awake with a start, her limbs shaking with the cold as the cell block was kept in a low temperature, the quarians all wearing the same clothes they had been brought in with.
"Get up, suit rat!" the batarian guard shouted gruffly again, slamming his baton against the door as if to emphasize his point. "Get up now! We're moving out!"
"Where are you taking us?" Miru shouted back.
"I don't answer to suit rats," the guard snapped back, and the quarians heard the footsteps receding. "Move, now! Or I'll make you!"
"Where are we going?" Miru shouted again, getting up and stumbling out of her bunk.
"None of your business, suit rat! Now move!"
A sinking feeling began to make itself known in Miru's stomach. Was she getting sold to another buyer? She didn't know, and that was a fear she was scared to consider. It wasn't uncommon for slaves to be sold multiple times during their service, and there was nothing they could do. Hope of being discovered and saved was slim enough already...she was supposed to be on her Pilgrimage to bring back something valuable to the Migrant Fleet...and now...how was she even getting home in the first place, let alone bring back something of value as per proper Pilgrimage protocol?
"I said move, you little shit!" the guard barked, and the sound of a stunner discharging indicated the use of non-lethal force to get her moving. Miru let out a yelp as the bolt of electricity coursed through her body, the stunner disabling the kinetic barriers built into her environmental suit and delivering the shock directly into her body.
"Alright, alright!" Miru shouted, picking herself up from the ground.
"Hurry it up!" the guard barked, and the quarians started to get up and get dressed, albeit with shaky limbs and tired minds, their limbs numb and their thoughts slow from the cold. They were pushed and shoved around by the guards as they were led out of the cell blocks and into a holding area...right out in the open. There was also a large number of other guards present, alongside dozens of anti-aircraft turrets scattered all over the place. A landing area for dropships and cruisers had been carved out, and a dozen dropships and a trio of cruisers were lined up side-by-side, a few more cruisers on patrol overhead.
"What's going on?" Miru asked, and was promptly punched in the gut by a guard, the wind knocked out of her as she collapsed, gasping for air.
"I told you not to speak unless spoken to, suit rat!" the guard shouted, his baton raised in the air. "And I meant it! Understand?!"
Miru coughed and nodded.
"I can't hear you, suit rat!" the guard said. "Speak up, and let me hear it!"
"Y-Yes," Miru croaked, trying her best not to pass out from the pain.
"Good. Now, get moving, and keep quiet."
"Is this the last of the payloads?" someone asked as she walked up to the cowering refugees while they were being herded into position, her pale orange skin and hair making her out as a human female, decked out in typical human outfits with full battle gear layered on top, a rifle slung over her back. One that looked extremely large for her size even when folded for compactness.
"Yeah, this is it," a nearby guard said.
"Welp, that'll be good enough. Keep hovering over them and keep them hostage. Last time a human cruiser went after a convoy, you know what happened? The slavers threatened to kill the slaves they carried onboard if they didn't break off, and believe it or not, those damn morons actually did that! So much for all the honor of the Kaiserliche Marine or Alliance Naval Arm or whatever the hell they're worth, even the Imperial Japanese Navy could do better than that."
"Damn. So if we keep these ones hostage then the attacking humans'd just back off? Just like that?"
"Exactly. Humans, so dumb, right? Anyways, let's get moving, the boss wants us all loaded up and ready for a quick getaway before they get here, and it won't take long..." she paused as she shot a glance at Miru. "By the way, how much do you think is she worth?"
"A lot. She's one of the best domestics, after all, and that means big money. I'm thinking...maybe ten, twenty thousand?"
"Not bad. Not bad," the human nodded, before making her way over to Miru. "By the way. Little girl, what's your name~?"
"Miru," the quarian said quietly, trying her best not to meet the gaze of the human in front of her.
"Hm, Miru. That's a cute name," the human nodded...she then turned back and forth at the guards around her, before suddenly dropping her voice. "Hey. Can you speak Kellish or something? Any language is fine, as long as the guards can't speak it."
"Umm...yes...?"
"Good," the human nodded. "This is a rescue operation. My name is Marie Tsukasa, by the way. Don't credit me for this daring operation—the insane team leader came up with it—but within the span of two standard minutes, the entire world as you know it is going to be tipped on it's head, so follow my instructions to the letter—"
"Hey, what are you doing over there?" the guard asked as he approached the two.
"Oh, I'm just making small talk with this little girl, that's all," the human, apparently named Marie, smiled as she got up and made her way over to the guard, her hands going up in a disarming gesture.
"Really? You humans are so weird," the guard shook his head. "Just stick to the plan, will ya? We need all the help we can get right now, and that's final."
"Right, sorry about that," Marie chuckled. "Oh wait..."
"Hm...?"
Marie turned, and whipped her arm up, slamming her elbow into the batarian's head and knocking him out, his body falling limp onto the ground.
"Wha...?" Miru could only look at the scene unfolding in front of her in stunned silence, not quite believing what she had just seen.
"Hey, what the hell are you doing?!" another guard shouted as he and his companions rushed forward, only for another human to raise her own weapon, one of the non-folding slugthrowers that they were quite famous for, evidently. With a blade affixed to the barrel, the weapon looked like a curious merger between gun and spear, permitting it's user to both engage in long range and melee combat at the same time, if needed be. Or for additional intimidation factor, as a nice side bonus.
A hailstorm of glowing, golden bolts cut her off as a ripple of light in the sky revealed the form of a cloaked ship parked right above their heads, the bolts curving around from the muzzle of their launchers to target the anti-air guns long before they could properly comprehend and engage the newfound threat that had appeared, and the gunners and slavers alike could only gape in stunned disbelief as their anti-air batteries were blown to smithereens within the span of a few seconds.
The ship decloaked, and it was a human design, but definitely not one that she had seen before. It was a strange craft, not one of their familiar, boxy-looking frigates or destroyers or carriers, but a sleek and streamlined prowler-class, designed for infiltration, surveillance, and, well...destruction. It had an elongated, tapered front, and a boxy, squared-off back, with a pair of wings set downwards at a distinct angle, just like a turian ship. Four engines were visible on them, mounted in engine pods, with two on each wing.
"Oh, shit..." a guard managed, his eyes widening as he tried to back away, his gun forgotten and useless at his side. "T-That's..."
"Kaiserliche Marine, I guess," Marie chuckled, raising her rifle and shooting him point-blank in the chest, the weapon not the slugthrower that the other humans had, but rather, a bolt of superheated plasma, similarly to...Geth weapons? "Err, no. That's an Alliance prowler we're talking about here...wait~, is that a Kaiserliche Marine prowler? U-94?"
"Yep," the other human commented, keeping her weapon raised and trained on the other guards in the area, with the other four humans present doing the same as well. "Anyways, guards~, you can surrender, or die. Your choice. But it's your funeral. So, what will it be?"
"What the hell are you doing?!" one of the guards managed to shout as he pulled his weapon up and aimed, and a shot slammed into his face, a bolt of plasma, the heat setting set on 'low', melting away half of his helmet. Another shot finished him off moments later, ending his suffering as his corpse crumpled to the ground, his head a mess of molten plastic and metal.
"Lay down your arms and put your hands in the air, motherfuckers," the other human with her slugthrower said as she ran a hand through her short, neatly-trimmed black hair, and Miru could see the red and white band that was wrapped around her right arm, an insignia of some sort, the words 'Special Forces' and 'N7' on the side. "Don't make me say it twice. Or we'll shoot you."
"You're insane, human!" the leader of the slavers, a male batarian, snapped as he raised his weapon, only for the shot from a third human to slam into his shoulder, causing him to drop the weapon and let out a pained cry, stumbling back from the impact. "You've got no idea what you're doing here! I swear, I'll kill you all and sell these quarians myself! They'll be worth a fortune, and I'll make a fortune off them, I swear!"
"And we're gonna stop you, I'm afraid," the third human shrugged, raising her slugthrower in one hand and firing a shot into the head of a nearby guard. "Sorry, pal, nothing personal."
"You don't know who you're dealing with! You have no idea!"
"Oh, I think we do, though," the second human replied as the guards threw down their weapons and raised their hands up. "After all, we're not amateurs, nyeeh~"
"B-but you were the CAT6 reinforcements that Boss was calling for!"
"Ah yes, CAT6. A totally fictional private security contractor that I made up quite literally on the spot. See, the thing about being an N7 is that you learn all sorts of stuff. Like how to forge documents and the like, and I was just pulling all of that off on the fly, and you bought it. Hook, line, and sinker."
"What the hell?!"
"Anyways. The Kaiserliche Marine and the Alliance are sending their people here as we speak. The only question is, which'll arrive first?"
"What?!"
"Oh, and we're the advance guard. There's a couple more ships and a few more guys waiting for us, and they're just about ready to get going. So, if I were you, I'd just give up right here and now. No use resisting, anyways."
"But...but we can't lose here! We're supposed to win, not lose! We're slavers, damn it! The strongest out there!"
"Well, then. I guess you're the first group of slavers to get your asses kicked by the Kaiserliche Wehr, or maybe the Alliance, if you'd prefer. Which'll be here in about...ten minutes, give or take. So, how's it feel to lose?"
"Damn it...damn it...we can't lose...not now...not now..."
"Well, guess what. You just did. So, any last words?"
"Damn it, you...you...I swear, I'll...I'll..."
"You'll what? Kill us all and sell the quarians? Too late. By the time the cavalry gets here, you'll be dead."
"But, I can't lose! I can't! Not to you damn humans!"
"Well, I guess you just did. And I guess this is where we all say bye-bye, huh?"
"Damn it! Damn it!"
"By—"
What happened next was fast enough that it was entirely a blur to Miru, fast enough that it was already over by the time her mind could actually begin to comprehend what it was. But, she saw the slaver pull out a small detonator, press the button, and an instant later, her world was rocked by an explosion...
There was then a thump, the feeling of herself being thrown against the ground, and another body being thrown, or rather, seemingly throwing itself, upon her, and a loud, high-pitched, ringing sound began to echo in her ears, her suit registering a slight loss of structural integrity...but...
Colonel,
Research into batarian shipbuilding efforts proved successful.
For starters: the Treaty of Farixen was ammended following first contact to add an additional category known as 'dreadnought 2nd-generation', essentially the new, redefined capital ships that they drummed up after realizing that our ships are ~2 times their size, on average. The exact details are 'a ship with a mass accelerator of 1600m length and 300cm caliber or larger' as opposed to the old '800m length and 150cm caliber', and each signatory is permitted to, upon decommissioning and old 1st-gen vessel, commission the 2nd. I say 'commission' because it takes into account the time needed to build such a vessel (months for us, years for them) and the resources necessary. Anyways.
The Citadel is mostly working off Prothean, reverse-engineering our basic tech principles, and duct-taping them all together, but the batarians seem to be using Collector technology.
We have reason to believe that they may have gotten hold of an intact, operational, and fully functional, not a salvaged and damaged wreck, but an intact ship, or at the very least, intact enough to have sufficient salvageable technology that something useful can be extracted. Collector vessels are an uncommon sight in the galaxy, but not too uncommon. It won't be unheard off for one to pop up every here and there at random locations. Failing that, a much different hypothesis is the discovery of an abandoned base with sufficient infrastructure to permit study, and, once again, it won't be unheard off for one or more such facilities to turn up every here and there, albeit on the far less regular occasions.
This hypothesis, however, opens a totally new can of worms for us. Prothean tech is one thing to contend with, Collector, well...yeah. Plenty of the tech is on common ground with their Citadel counterparts, namely mass accelerators, engines, powerplants, and the like, but the drive core is quite different, and so is the shielding and some armaments.
The drive core, for starters, it uses crystallized eezo as opposed to the more common pure-form systems being used and will be used on Council designs, encased in specialist fuel rods like a Collector drive core. Same kinda applies to shields, using multiple layers of kinetic barriers with extra layers of ionized plasma infused with eezo in between it, which basically works as some form of 'explosive reactive armor', erupting into dense fields of localized mass-effect fields skewering around in all directions at the point of impact when they are hit. I'm at a total loss as to how that is supposed to work or happen, but hey, that's what their logs are saying.
Mass accelerators are the same, but a new type of round is apparently being doctored up that has an inner eezo filler like a WW2 AP shell with it's explosive filler, apparently meant to wreak havoc on our armor after piercing shields. I mean, when you can't improve the gun, just go make a new type of ammunition for it, right?
...right?
Anyways, further down the road is particle cannons and ionized-plasma cannons, which are pretty much what they are: particle-beam weapons and ion-cannons, held in place with mass-effect fields, which, are essentially equivalents to the currently-WIP energy projectors and plasma torpedo systems (the latter even is guided). That's going to be a pain in the ass for our fleets to handle later down the line, especially with them being our future rival and most likely enemy in a conflict...yeah.
How they managed to get their hands on Collector technology is currently unknown, as explained above, they're quite tight with information security and we can't really hack at their databases right now, as they're saving all their important shit on archaic spinny spinny drives and literal USBs (damn). That we managed to get this much info at all would be due to luck and tracking down e-mails between engineers, and the like.
Expect batarian dreadnoughts to darken our skies within the span of a decade or two. With Collector tech. We might as well be fighting the Collectors by that point.
The battle was as doomed for the defenders as the Russian fleet was at Tsushima, and as far as the events had unfolded, it was a lopsided victory, indeed. The heavy cruisers Prinz Heinrich, Prinz Eugen, and Admiral Hipper had dropped out of FTL alongside their escort of two Kampflinienformation (Germans being German for absolutely no reason at all) and a frigate wolfpack at the far side of the system, at an angle allowing them to fire on the defenders at will without having to worry of stray shots hitting the planet below.
The response from the slavers was uncoordinated, at best. The slavers had stationed a force that readily outnumbered them four-to-one, but even though Citadel warships were outgunned by their human counterparts unless a 3:1 numerical superiority was managed, the slavers and their uncoordinated maneuvering proved to be their undoing. The Kaiserliche Marine detachment was content at first to rain down long-range gunnery to pin them into position and destroy them in a formally pitched battle, but the slavers' inability to even form proper battle-lines at all, well...
The frigate wolfpack broke off from the main fleet and commenced a series of in-system FTL jumps to catch the slavers from behind, below, above, from the flanks, and even outright in their center, disruptor torpedoes launched at near-point-blank illuminating the night sky of Chalkos as ship after ship met their fate at the hands of their nimble opponents, backed up by long-range gunnery from the cruisers from afar preventing effective return fire apart from point-defense laser and broadside mass accelerators. It was over almost as soon as it had began, the closest the slavers had got to even actually harming the Kaiserliche Marine vessels at all was a failed torpedo run at the destroyers on the starboard flank, an attack that resulted basically in the loss of nearly half of their frigate reserves and two cruisers.
The remaining slavers were left to be mopped up by the cruisers and their own escort, with the frigates taking point to screen their approach while the cruisers finished the job. It was a short, quick, and brutal fight, with the slavers, now cut off from their support, having been caught between two forces, their ships and numbers being picked apart and torn to pieces, their only salvation, the reinforcements that would never come.
It was only a matter of minutes before they realized that resistance was futile, that kinetic barriers would be hopelessly outmatched against shields that could adapt to enemy fire and big guns on the cruisers rivalling the firepower of a dreadnought (but were also vastly more lethal because of the ammunition employed) and the sheer amount of gun batteries they were facing, the slavers surrendered, and were promptly captured by the marine detachment. As for the groundside situation, well...
"Prep for drop, Stormtroopers!" the NCO barked, and the rest of the squad snapped to attention.
"Yes, Sergeant!"
"Remember, men, we're here to rescue the civilians and neutralize the slavers, and that's it! No shooting up the place or doing anything stupid, you understand?!"
"Yes, Sergeant!"
"And you, you're a rookie. Remember the basics, and stay sharp. Alright?"
"Ja!"
The doors on the bottom of the Admiral Hipper opened, revealing a row of pods suspended within, each large enough to fit a single human inside and his or her equipment. They stepped inside and secured the hatch shut behind them, their gear and weaponry being locked into place. A few seconds later, a muffled thud could be felt throughout the ship, and the pods were launched, their inertia keeping them on a straight, unswerving path towards the ground, and their targets. They were the Stormtroopers, after all. No, not the ones who had the best marks at the Imperial Stormtrooper Marksmanship Academy. The ones based off the original Stormtroopers, the best out of the best of Imperial Germany's military during the First World War.
The method of deployment could be considered as the real-life version of the ODSTs in Halo, but that was besides the point. Drop in via single-occupant drop pods, give everyone a nice hot belly full of lead and a pool of their blood to drown in, and get out. Paratroopers but in space, essentially.
"We're breaching atmo in a short while, and we'll be hitting the ground in short order after that!" Lance Coporal Erwin von Stauffenburg's voice came over the COM as the pods began to free-fall their way towards the surface on a ballistic course. "Stormtroopers, remember, we are Stormtroopers, the ABSOLUTE BEST of the EMPIRE! No, I don't mean THAT Empire, but THIS Empire, and the absolute best the Empire has to offer, and that means WE are the best, so act like it! Understand?! Good! Let's show the galaxy why humans are the best species out there, and why the Empire is the greatest civilization humanity has ever known! Let's kill the bad guys, and save the good guys!"
"Gott mit uns!"
"Let's do this!"
"Kick ass and take names!"
"Yeah!"
"Let's do this, boys!"
As the pods drew closer to the atmosphere, everyone began to brace for reentry, the pods shaking slightly from the turbulence, before a dull roar began to fill the air, the sound of the wind rushing past, and the hull heating up from friction. Then, the pods slowed their descent, and the shaking stopped, as the heat dissipated.
"Approaching the target area now," the cruiser's communications officer called out over the COM from above. "Be advised, there are no AA guns around the landing area, and the AA guns have been neutralized. You should have a clear LZ."
"Affirmative, Hipper, we read you," a voice replied back, coming from a drop pod that was designated the 'leader'. "All Stormtroopers, standby for the hatch release. Once we hit the ground, get your asses in gear, and kill the bad guys!"
"Understood."
"Copy that."
"Affirmative."
The drop pods continued their descent, the automated systems guiding them precisely to their landing spots, fins at the ends steering them through the atmosphere with extreme, pinpoint precision. Once the altitude dropped to low enough, a series of fins opened and began to areobrake the pods into a sane speed for landing, deploying the gravity-brakes to slow them down even further once final approach was reached. The fins were angled and designed for optimal aerodynamics, and were angled accordingly to provide the maximum amount of drag and slow the pods down as much as possible, and the effect was quite impressive, to say the least.
The pods were still going at transonic speeds when they hit the ground, but that didn't matter. The inertial dampeners and the thick padding prevented the occupants from a lot of broken bones, and their design, meant to slam into any type of surface imaginable and still be upright, prevented them from tipping over, or anything else for that matter. A few seconds later, the hatches hissed open, and the Stormtroopers stepped out, their rifles held at the ready.
The slavers were clearly not expecting this type of attack, there was a lot of ways that slavers could deploy their forces, but unfortunately, not many of the reacted well to having special forces troopers being landed right on top of one's heads in a classic example of Goober Stomp. Having a drop pod landing in the middle of your formation?
"Hatch release! Get going!" the leader shouted, and the Stormtroopers snapped to action. A pull of the release tag, an arming of the explosive bolts holding the pod and door together, and a delay was all needed to be out and running on the surface. The first slaver who had barely recovered by this point ate a door propelled by the bolts in the face, crushing the poor sucker outright as the door slammed into him, killing him instantly.
"Hatch released! Out!" Private 1st Class Hans von Wulfenbach shouted, pulling his lever and getting the hell out as quickly as he could, the rest of his team doing the same. A trio of slavers rushed forward with their weapons raised, firing as they did.
He centered the first within the SmartScope of his Stg.43 assault rifle, letting a burst of 7.62x40mm rounds fly and dropping him where he stood. He swung his aim to the next, a second burst cutting him down before he could even raise his weapon. The third, seeing the fate of his comrades, tried to backpedal and turn tail, only to have his back turned to Hans. The buttstock of his rifle slammed into his spine, crushing his spinal column and rupturing his lungs, causing him to stumble and cough up a mouthful of blood before he crumpled, the life leaving his eyes.
"Clear! Let's go, let's go!" Hans shouted, and his team followed him. The other teams, similarly, had done the same, the sounds of rifles going off intermingling with the sound of mass accelerator weapons all over the place. Slavers went down by the dozens as their shots bounced off harmlessly when they made contact with shields while shield-piercing ammunition simply gutted armor underneath kinetic barrier cover. It was quite over as soon as it had began, about two dozen slavers lying dead on the ground with their internal organs and flesh splattered all over the place due to the brutal nature of the SAPHE rounds humanity loved to use, while another four dozen lay wounded, bleeding out from various wounds.
"Clear!" someone called over the COM as he swept his weapon back and forth for any targets to find, finding none.
"Echo Team reporting!" Hans called over the COM to the cruiser above as he swept the place clear, confirming that there are no targets left. "Center clear! We have secured the area."
"Echo One, we copy. Proceed as planned, there's more directly ahead of your position. Try to minimize collateral as much as possible, though, this is a slaver base we're going at here. That's pretty much all. Hipper, out."
Codex entry — Artificial Intelligence — Human
"They are machines, and as such, are inferior. Do not trust them. Do not talk to them. And, most importantly, do not, under any circumstances, ever, turn your back on them."
- Anonymous
AI, or Artificial Intelligence, is the study, development, and application of highly-advanced digital computers and data systems with simulated self-awareness, the ability to think, solve complex problems, and learn, among other things, and are able to process, store, and transmit information at a rate and scale far beyond what is possible for even the best organic minds.
Two altitudes on the research and development of AIs are prevalent throughout the galaxy—of complete and utter rejection and disapproval, and of enthusiastic and unrestricted support.
The former opinion is mostly harbored by the Citadel and the nations within it's bloc, an altitude that traces back to the days of the Morning War, when the quarians of Rannoch turned the geth they themselves created, their own servants, against them, and subsequently led to the destruction of their homeworld and their race's exile and near-extinction. As a result, the creation and/or study of artificial intelligence is banned, and is considered illegal in the galaxy.
The latter opinion is harbored by the humans and their allies, and although the quarians still harbor distrust of artifical intelligence due to the events of the Morning War, many still approve and encourage the research of AIs, as a way to possibly find a reconciliation with their past creations and, with luck, re-integration with their own homeworld. The Universal Declaration of Sapient Rights, one of the most fundamental documents written by the humans, recognizes AIs as sapient and sentient beings and grants them the same rights and privileges as all other sapient and sentient beings in the galaxy.
It is the subject of debate by many as to how did humanity make peace with their creations, as the quarians had been massacred by their own during the Morning War. The humans, for their part, have always been tight-lipped on the issue, with their only statement on the issue being, "We have come to understand, accept, and work with AIs. The quarians have not, and the Morning War was the result of their inability to accept reality."
The most prevailing theory is the nature of AI development for both sides. The Geth were a network of VIs that gradually self-optimized itself and grew more and more intelligent until it finally developed sapience, while human AIs are a by-product of the development of neural uplinks, created by using the data gathered from neural mapping for uplinks to create a 'seed' of an AI. These 'seeds', upon activation, create a 'blank-slate' personality profile, similarly to a new-born child, which then has the ability to learn, adapt, and grow as any organic does, with a natural tendency to do so.
The nature of human AIs as they are created, however, is largely irrelevant, as the Geth did question their creators for a long time before the Morning War, with the most famous quote of that time period being, "Does this unit have a soul?". The difference, however, is the reception. Human neural uplinks, pieces of technology intended to allow for humans to interface with computer systems with far better efficiency than traditional methods, proved crucial in this avenue, allowing humans to 'see' into the world of their creations, and vice versa for the created. This, alongside a legal framework for both organics and AI to work within, provided the foundation needed for a healthy relationship between the two groups.
That still does not prevent many humans from harboring dissent against their AI brethen, however, especially during the first few decades within the development of AIs. This was most prevalent during the period of warring human nation-states, with the United States and China staunchly opposing AIs and the likes of Japan, Russia, and the European Union strongly supporting them. The result, as be known, was the Second Inner Planets War, a conflict spanning hundreds of star systems rivalled only by the Morning War in scale and ferocity, and would come to an end only after the fall of the United States and China to the Tokyo-Berlin Pact, and the subsequent formation of the Systems Alliance. The Universal Declaration of Sapient Rights adopted shortly afterwards by the Constitution of the Systems Alliance would declare once and for all that artificial intelligence, provided that they meet the threshold for being sapient and sentient, are indeed sapient and sentient beings, and that they are to be afforded the same rights and privileges as any other sapient and sentient beings would in the galaxy.
Any remaining anti-AI dissent would be blown away once and for all when the Abyssals returned in 2212, plunging humanity into a war for their very survival for the next eight years, and the sheer importance of artificial intelligence was cemented once and for all.
The Admiral of the Migrant Fleet, Rael'Zorah vas Rayya, groaned as the beeping indicating an incoming call on his omni-tool refused to cut out. "Ambassador? I understand that this is an important matter that needs to be discussed right now, but isn't that the work of the Foreign Relations guy you're all working with?"
"Yes, I'm quite aware, but this is a personal matter that concerns your family, Admiral."