"Welcome to the Migrant Fleet, Ambassador Goyle. I am honored that you have chosen our humble fleet as the destination for your diplomatic visit."

Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema surveyed the small conference room aboard the refitted turian frigate. The room, formerly the captain's cabin, had been hastily rearranged to accommodate the human delegation. A table now occupied the center of the room, with the sofas reconfigured to provide seating for eight. Han took his place alongside Captain Ysin, while the human ambassadors sat across from them. Rael'Zorah's hologram flickered at the end of the table, the Admiral having chosen to participate via commlink rather than in person.

Ambassador Goyle cleared her throat. "Thank you, Admiral. It is a pleasure to meet you in person."

Han nodded. "The pleasure is mine, Ambassador Goyle. I have studied the history of your people... your journey here has been quite eventful."

Goyle gave a brief chuckle. "It certainly has. We are glad to finally find ourselves settled among friends once again."

Ysin leaned forward. "What do you hope to accomplish through these diplomatic talks?"

"We wish to establish formal relations," she stated simply. "The plight of the quarian people over the past three centuries is well known throughout the galaxy. The human race is appalled at your treatment at the hands of the Citadel Council, and we are willing to aid you in any way possible."

Han nodded slowly. "I understand that. But we must begin somewhere. Perhaps we could start by outlining our respective positions on the issue at hand?"

"That seems like a good place to start," Goyle agreed. "For starters, the Alliance is engaged in a large-scale initiative to upgrade and augment its technological base with element-zero technology. This is an open and long-term effort, with the aim of eventually bringing our species' tech base up to the standards of the rest of the galactic community. We would greatly value quarian input in this process."

Han's mind raced as he sought to discern the underlying motivations behind the Ambassador's words. "A handful of advisors in exchange for three super-capital sized ships is not exactly an even exchange, Ambassador."

Goyle smiled. "The Alliance is a large economic powerhouse, Admiral. Admittedly, we are still rebuilding and recovering from the shadows that have been our history, but we have come far enough to begin taking steps forward into the greater community. As a species that has been through its own share of dark times and hopeless causes, we believe we understand somewhat how it is for you. The Migrant Fleet's technological expertise and knowledge base are legendary among the galaxy's inhabitants, and we will not squeeze such talents from you cheaply when we can afford to pay a fair price."

"I see..." Han leaned back, steepling his fingers together. "The Alliance is willing to give the Migrant Fleet three super-sized colony ships, in exchange for a team of advisors. That is correct, yes?"

"Yes," she confirmed. "We would not have it any other way."

Han looked up at the ceiling, weighing the offer carefully. It was too good. Too perfect. There had to be a catch. He could hear his father's voice ringing in his ear, telling him to walk away. To not be swayed by the temptation that was being presented to him.

But, on the other hand...

If they weren't a trap... if these weren't some elaborate tricks and lies concocted by the humans, if they were genuinely as benevolent and altruistic as they seemed, then it would be an unmitigated disaster for the Migrant Fleet to pass up on the offer. He would personally rather take a plasma cannon blast to the gut than pass up the opportunity for the entire quarian species.

Han sighed. "I would need to convene with the Admiralty Board before accepting the terms you have presented."

Goyle smiled, as if expecting him to say that. "We understand. However, may I propose a second deal, if you're willing to listen?"

Han leaned forward. "Go ahead."

"Our technology may seem advanced and impressive on the surface, but anyone with significant technical expertise will know that they are at least decades behind that of the Citadel. This is a gap that we are working to narrow as quickly as possible, but we are hampered by a lack of experienced specialists in Citadel-standard technology. We believe such an undertaking will be a lot faster, and easier, if the civilian, government, and industrial sectors had quarian advisors and engineers at their disposal."

Han mulled the proposal over in his head. "The scale of such an undertaking is a daunting one... it would require millions, if not tens of millions, of quarians. How would this work? Where would they go?"

"We are aware of this," Goyle replied. "There are exchange programs in place to permit foreign workers entry into our space, which you would be allowed to make use of. Quarian engineers are extremely highly valued, and many companies would gladly part with substantial sums of money to acquire their services. The wages would definitely be higher than what most quarians may expect in other parts of the galaxy, significantly helping your economy."

Han sat silently for several seconds, letting everything sink in. Finally, he spoke again. "...are you sure about this?"

Goyle nodded firmly. "Absolutely."

"What will we get in return?"

Goyle removed a small holoprojector and set it up on the table. "This is the Gemini Sigma cluster, home to many dozens of newly-colonized worlds such as Shanxi, Guanxi, and New Fuji. Despite being a newly settled cluster, however, its abundance in uninhabitable worlds, yet rich in natural resources, have made it a major industrial hub for the rebuilding Alliance."

Han watched the hologram intently as Goyle continued.

"The few habitable planets that are settled are home to large and vast industrial complexes, ranging from simple vehicle foundries to large shipyards and repair docks. We will offer you full access to these shipyards, with or without their human crew, if the Migrant Fleet agrees to assist us in our modernization endeavors."

Rael's hologram flickered as the Admiral thought the proposal over in his head. "We will take it to the Admiralty Board."

They met in secret, at undisclosed, hidden locations, arriving in unmarked air-cars that were packed with the best stealth technology STG had to offer. They traveled alone, their faces hidden behind masks, their voices masked by commlinks. Their identities were unknown, their actions untraceable, their location cloaked by a network of encrypted security protocols. And every time they arrived at a new meeting point, they entered under cover of darkness, moving unseen along empty streets until they reached a nondescript building where they'd gather to discuss the plan.

The project lead waited until the last member entered the room before speaking. "Speak."

One masked official answered. "Ten days ago, on the fifth day of our shakedown cruise. Our sensors detected an anomaly when patrolling an empty sector of space. It was a rogue dreadnought-sized vessel, drifting in space near the edge of the Hawking Eta."

Another responded. "How did you discover its origin?"

The first speaker tapped a command into his slate, accessing the data feed. "At 02:18, sensors detected an anomaly in the interdimensional realm consistent with a drifting derelict in the vicinity. I ordered a probe launched to investigate the contact."

He paused as he read the results off screen. "Derelict matches no known profile in databases. Initial observations reveal that the ship had suffered catastrophic battle damage before being left adrift. Its hull is badly scarred and damaged. No power signature. Internal systems nonresponsive."

"Any clues as to who might have built it?"

"No. Initially, we suspected Prothean, but the designs do not match, the ship itself seemingly predates the Protheans themselves. Current estimates place the ship's age at upwards of thirty-seven million years, perhaps even more. Preliminary scans also indicate that there are traces of organic material inside the ship, though nothing resembling life signs."

"Anything else?"

"A strange signal, one that cast an interference field on the interdimensional telemetry links. Analysis reveals it to exhibit properties comparable to slave-control chips in the Terminus sector, but more refined and subtle. It is completely undetectable on normal scanners."

The group remained silent for several moments, digesting all that was said.

Finally, another one spoke. His voice came out low and quiet. "Who owns this thing?"

Silence greeted the question.

Eventually, someone spoke again. "Unknown."

Someone asked a different question instead. "Do you think whoever owned it survived?"

All eyes turned toward the lead member. He didn't answer immediately, choosing to stare into the middle distance for several minutes as he contemplated the situation.

"How many have come into contact with the derelict?"

The first one replied. "Only me and my crew. I have ordered them to stay put at a secure location. If anything happens, we'll know soon enough."

More silence followed until the lead spoke again.

"You've done well so far. Now let us proceed with caution," he began. "Closely monitor the derelict. Report any anomalies to your superiors. We must remain vigilant. There may be something in there that we don't want to wake up."

Macen Arterius watched as PFS Enforcer left the dock and lit it's engines, thrusting itself forwards on it's first shake-down cruise following it's refit.

The engineers at Palaven Arsenal had done well. It took a mere two years for them to develop, prototype, and integrate the resulting technologies into the Vulture-class dreadnought, giving it a brand-new lease of life after becoming obsolete when humans were introduced to the galaxy.

It wasn't quite a carbon copy of the original design—not anymore. The reactor was upgraded, allowing for increased power output while maintaining acceptable safety levels. The ship's armoring was overhauled. The hull was widened, and the armor moved out. Extra plating had been added, encasing the ship's upper hull in a thick shell of ablative, sloped to protect against incoming, flanking fire. The GARDIAN lasers were revamped with the latest cooling systems and firing nodes available. Extra racks of missile launchers were added to the side.

The ship's main gun remained, but it's secondary armaments were expanded. Four extra cruiser-caliber mass accelerators were mounted to the sides of the hull, and another four frigate-grade guns were installed on the wing leading edges to complement the spinal mass accelerator. The broadside mass accelerators were replaced with rapid-firing ones similar to human autocannon systems, capable of firing either explosive shells at low velocities, and a high rate of fire for point-defense, or armor-piercing shells at lethal velocities to strike targets at medium range.

The hull was enlarged and lengthened, the wings moved further aft, and the ventral side extended downwards to provide additional space for the refit. The ship was now longer than it's old self by a good 400m, making for a formidable opponent to face in the line-of-battle. It won't be able to engage a human battleship in a straight fight, but it's mixed-caliber secondary battery and single main gun could still outgun an Alliance heavy cruiser and tear it apart.

A wing of three light cruisers formed up around the dreadnought, keeping pace with it as it accelerated towards the interstellar void.

Macen watched the cruisers from beyond the bridge's viewports as his crew continued with their tasks. Three Condor-class cruisers formed a perfect triangle in front of them, engines casting distant twinkles amongst the stars. Originally, they were line cruisers, meant to form a line-of-battle and overwhelm enemy ships with their superior firepower and armor, in conjunction with armored support from dreadnoughts.

The arrival of humans with their far larger cruisers rendered the class all but obsolete for their assigned purpose. But Palaven Armory was able to give the Condor-class a new lease on life as light cruisers, serving now as a dedicated torpedo combatant, as opposed to the offensive, gunnery duels of before. The ships now boasted newer and more powerful engines to give them extremely fast accelerations, improved mass accelerators, and amped-up broadsides, allowing them to tear through any opponent in a close-quarters brawl. Expanded torpedo banks were mounted, giving them an extremely lethal bite against larger targets, which was a perfect force multiplier for their oversized engines.

Admittedly, the short elapse of time meant that only the Enforcer and a handful of other ships had been refitted for their shakedown cruises, but it was still a testament to turian engineering, nonetheless. Frigates glided by on their patrol routes, their running lights twinkling almost gracefully in the distance. Enforcer's group glided by, leaving trails of fusion torches in their wake.

"Legate's air wings are passing by us. ETA five minutes, six seconds."

From the distance, three dart-shaped fighters emerged, formed in a neat triangle as they approached the Enforcer and the three cruisers around it. Engines glowed brightly in the void as they propelled the small craft forwards, their sharp lines contrasting starkly against the blackness surrounding them.

Macen watched them pass by en route. Carriers. A class of ship that he never thought would be relevant in space combat.

The salarians had been building carriers ever since First Contact, after reviewing footage of human space combat, and of their carriers in action. That appeared to be enough for them, for less than two years later, they unveiled their own renditions of the human ones. One Noestros-class carrier was already undergoing trials with the Salarian Union Fleet, and another two were under construction, stuffed to the gills with the latest advancements in fighter technology the Union had to offer.

The concept, admittedly, stuck with many officers of the Navy of the Hierarchy. The ship was an unfinished Palaven-class dreadnought, still halfway through being built when the Admiralty halted construction after it was rendered obsolete before it even left the dockyard. Originally, it was destined to be scrapped at the shipyard and forgotten ever after. But after Admiral Karandis's recommendations and political maneuvering, the ship now had a new career as the Hierarchy's first-ever carrier. PFS Legate cruised on in the distance as it's hangar bays readied another flight of interceptors for launching, escorts surrounding it to form a protective sphere.

It wasn't to say the other Citadel races were idle. The asari were building pocket dreadnoughts out of their old ships, giving them bigger engines for better mobility and faster-firing guns for maximum effect during close-quarters combat, as well as a new breed of fast-attacking frigates that eschewed the old screening doctrine for rapid, offensive firepower. Some even had their famed silaris armor as testbeds. The latest generation of fire-control and maneuvering VIs gave them mobility and firepower well above their weight class, and their cooling system was massively revamped, atop all of that. Their distinct spoked-ring design contrasted perfectly with the robust, angular designs of their turian counterparts, as they accelerated nonetheless on their own courses and paths.

The salarians were the most along on their modernization programs, not surprisingly. Three of their new Rikashi-class line cruisers were already undergoing trials with their famed plasma lances and other assorted directed-energy weapons. Out of the three Council races, they had the most intelligence penetration into human space, and had put that information to good use. The target dummy ships that were subject to the plasma lances were torn apart in mere instants, the searing hot plasma boiling through ablative armor and hull plating. It took exactly one hit to completely and utterly destroy a dummy cruiser, tearing it in half and turning the middle section into a cloud of vaporized metal.

There were even rumors of a stealth dreadnought under construction at one of the Union's many black shipyards, although no details have surfaced about it's specs yet. Macen doubted anyone outside of the highest echelons knew much more than him...and perhaps a few others who had access to classified data.

The shipyards nearby bustled with activity as the ships they held were being constructed. Nanofabricators welded prefabricated sections of ship together like puzzle pieces, assembling plates of metal together to form larger, shaped sections of the outer hull, assembling smaller components and attaching them to the hull to complete each vessel. The ships inside them were slowly, but surely, taking shape. Cruisers the size of the previous generation of dreadnoughts, and perhaps, even bigger. Dreadnoughts the size of the asari superdreadnought Destiny Ascension, and bigger, bristling with armaments and the latest technological breakthroughs Citadel engineers could come up with. More modern and faster frigates, newer and better weapons. VIs and computer technology like the galaxy had never seen before.

Simulations by S-Com had been…bleak. The Citadel's combined might could most likely win against the humans in a total war of attrition, leveraging their superior industry and numbers to overwhelm the entrenched humans, wearing them down slowly but surely. But at what cost? Even with the fleet-wide upgrades and refits, S-Com's estimations predicted a 2:1 numerical superiority for any Citadel fleet to defeat a human fleet, and even then, emerge with 50% casualties. Yes, they would win, but the casualties would be horrendous, needless to say the fighting. And what to say of the Abyssals they fought? STG and Hierarchy Intelligence had pieced together every rumor, video, article, and book they could find on the subject to get a glimpse at what the Abyssals could truly bring to war, and the results…were…not good.

Conservatives and critics denounced the buildups. Humans were peaceful, they said. The cost was too much, they said. Money that could've been put to better use was being instead wasted on vast shipbuilding programs and military buildup, preparing for a war that would never come. Look at how peacefully they have traded with the rest of the galaxy, they said. The buildups were unnecessary, an overreaction.

But Macen, Karandis, and many others, were realists. If the worst came to pass, the cost would be beyond astronomical. It would be a price paid for not in credits. But in burning worlds, burning ships. In rivers of blood, in millions of good turians dying. There were two things out there that could challenge galactic stability as the galaxy knew it: humans, and the Abyssals they fought. To fight either, they needed to be prepared. And that meant dreadnoughts. New dreadnoughts, bigger dreadnoughts, equipped with the best equipment turian engineers could ever develop.

The battle was a constant one. Political capital was spent like water to lobby liberals and nationalists in backing the cause, create party coalitions, and sway public opinion. Many saw the need to prepare, while some didn't want to see their taxes raised so the government can spend money on something they believed was frivolous.

And yet here they were, watching the work unfold, seeing their investment pay off. Seeing the fruits of their labor take shape, ready for deployment. Ready for whatever lay ahead.

Yoshida Ayumi moved a pointer on the screen, highlighting the map of the galaxy.

"To the galactic north of us lies the Attican Transverse, and up north of that, is the Terminus Systems. As we all know, the Transverse is home to many systems rich in natural resources, especially eezo, and habitable worlds. It is also sparsely populated, making it game-ground for colonization."

The assembled Cabinet watched as she continued. "There are two major polities making grabs in the Transverse: the Citadel, and the Batarian Hegemony. The Citadel region is currently on the opposite side of the Transverse as ours, making them irrelevant. What we must worry about is the batarians."

Her pointer tapped twice against the screen, causing it to switch from displaying a single map, to two. "The one on the right is the galactic map as of First Contact, July 2457. The one on the left is the map of today, April 20th, 2461."

The Minister of Exploration, Amul Shastri, blinked. "They're expanding too quickly. Citadel law prohibits activation of relays unless the other side has been completely surveyed first. FTL probes can only travel so fast, and need to routinely stop to do static core discharges lest they destroy themselves."

"Yes, that's right," Yoshida confirmed. "The batarians abused a legal loophole and had pirates activate the relays in their stead as deniable assets. If the pirates are caught, then it is the actions of third-party criminals unrelated to the Hegemony; if they aren't caught, then the Hegemony can claim to have surveyed both sides of the relay and have activated them legally. Should the former happen, Citadel law does not explicitly prohibit transiting an active relay, regardless of whether it was activated legally or not, leaving the batarians free to claim the systems beyond the relay as their own."

Prime Minister Fitzroy glanced at the display. "What can we do? We can't levy accusations against them without solid evidence that the Hegemony directly sanctioned the activations and ordered those ships through. And even if we could prove such things, how would we ever get any support out there?"

Amul nodded slowly. "We don't have enough data yet to make a call either way, but I think our best bet is probably just to keep quiet until we gather more information."

Fitzroy glanced at the map. "We'll need an evaluation of the batarians, and the threat they pose. How strong are they? How much of a threat can they pose to us?"

Rajenda Khatri, Minister of Defense, sipped away at his cup of tea. "They're a significant threat, and while we can probably beat them in a straight-up fight, it's going to be very brutal, either way. The batarian economy's foundations are cheap manufacturing and natural resources, sourced from cheap slave labor and strips of systems rich in natural resources. Despite sanctions and embargoes, the Hegemony's industry and resource exports are still extremely profitable and economical, and their low-quality, but cheap, exports, like raw materials, weapons, foodstuffs, etcetera, continue to flow into the Citadel markets.

"Military wise, they pose to us a direct threat, and can hold their own against the turians. Their ships, while inferior to ours, are still lethal. They focus on close-quarters combat and boarding actions, taking the fight directly to the crews of individual ships, fighting them hand-to-hand. While close-quarters combat is something we are no strangers to, the batarians take it to the next level. Their fleets have entire packs of dedicated boarding-ships which specialize in this type of warfare, and employ tactics and strategies that leave little room for mercy. Even with superior technology, we cannot simply run these people over, nor can we allow ourselves to become complacent. Our forces will have to be prepared for every eventuality."

Fitzroy tapped his finger against the table. "What courses of action are available for us to take?"

The screen flickered as Yoshida tapped it. "The Attican Transverse is a vast expanse of uncharted, unclaimed systems, many of which are rich in potentially valuable resources such as element zero. Upgrading our technology has not been cheap, and what limited eezo reserves we have—imported from the batarians, ironically—are being spent like water to the demand of our industry. Our best bet is to expand into the Transverse as fast as we can, claiming the resource-rich sectors for ourselves before they can. The sooner we get our hands on the resources, and end our dependency on batarian eezo, the better."

Shastri nodded. "The bottleneck of relay activations other races suffer from when colonizing new space does not apply to us. Our FTL drives are not limited to the relays, permitting us to simply bypass them and colonize at our leisure, activating relays later as they are needed. We can expand at a brisk pace, focusing on the systems that contain the resources we need. Secure the resource-rich sectors for ourselves before the batarians can."

"Assuming that goes well," Fitzroy nodded. "And we secure the resource-rich clusters for ourselves. What will we do when ours and the batarians' expanding borders meet?"

Khatri smiled thinly. "We will inevitably clash, one way or the other. There is no avoiding it. The Hegemony will most likely start sponsoring pirates and raiders to harass our trade routes, and we should prepare ourselves accordingly. Backing abolitionist movements to get them off our backs might be necessary. In the long term, though..."

He shrugged. "It depends on who wins the conflict."

The heart of the Batarian Hegemony, the city of Seshat, was abuzz with activity as wealthy slave-owners showed off their goods to others, markets rang out with merchants proclaiming their wares out for sale, and slaves toiling away at their tasks, with the watchful eye of their handlers gazing over their shoulders. The streets were packed, a sea of people moving from one place to another in an endless flow that seemed like it would never end. There wasn't enough room on many occasions—especially during the height of day when so much foot traffic flowed through the streets—to walk more than a few steps before having to move aside.

The Great State Council building in the center of the city had been constructed along similar lines as other structures throughout all of the Hegemony's major cities. It was massive, made up mostly of stone and marble, built in the likeness of ancient temples that had been scattered across Khar'Shan. Massive columns rose high above it's facade while arches soared toward the heavens. Statues stood tall atop each column, depicting some long lost hero or deity of old who'd helped create this world thousands of years ago.

Inside it, the assembled members of the Great State Council watched as the Hegemon lowered himself down into the council chambers on his throne, mass-effect fields lowering him gently onto an elevated dais where he would usually be. "Report."

"We are proceeding according to plan," the first Councilor spoke, her voice echoing around them. She wore the black robes of the Hegemony, though she looked no different than any other citizen of Seshat. "Our attempts at infiltrating human territory have so far been met with limited success. We've managed to establish ourselves within various groups and factions without drawing attention, but we're still waiting for our chance to strike against the humans directly."

The next Councilor shifted slightly in his robes as the Hegemon looked at him with all four of his eyes. "Modernization projects are going well so far, but have been hampered by several slave revolts over the past year. We have the situation under control, however, and the upgrades will go as planned, with only minor delays and rescheduling necessary."

The Hegemon turned to the third Councilor, a young batarian who appeared almost giddy about being present. His headdress was colored yellow, signifying his status as an honored member of the ruling class. As such, he bore the title of 'Tahni.'

"Tahna Gashtok. Explain the situation."

"As you wish, Your Excellency. Several groups of weapons smugglers have infiltrated several worlds involved in the extraction of resources needed by our industry, and have proceeded to arm the slaves with numerous types of weaponry, mostly small arms. The revolts have been significant, but are under control. I am confident that we the Special Intervention Unit can deal with these situations quickly and efficiently if they continue to occur."

The Hegemon looked at him carefully. "Keep an eye on the smugglers and report back anything unusual. Do not let your guard down, Tahna. If there is trouble brewing between us and the humans, it may come from sources we cannot predict right now. Continue with the program as originally outlined, but do what must be done should the need arise. Is that understood?"

Gashtok nodded. "Yes, Your Excellency."

The Hegemon returned his focus to the fourth Councilor. A female batarian, wearing the same robes as those worn by her fellows, sat beside the Tahni, holding a staff which had been decorated with red ribbons. The look suited her perfectly.

She spoke softly, "Your Excellency, my reports indicate that the Humans have begun preparations for war again. They appear ready to launch another attack soon...but this time, the threat appears even greater."

The Hegemon stared at her intently. "Explain yourself further, Tahna."

The Councilor leaned forward slightly in her chair, careful not to strain herself too hard. "Their fleet has grown exponentially since first contact, and they have been integrating eezo into their own technology, aided by the quarians. This does not bode well for us."

"What do you suggest we do? How can we prepare for this new assault?"

Councilor Sushil glanced over at her fellow Councilors. Each wore their robes proudly, showing off their power and authority in the eyes of everyone else in the chamber. The Hegemony's leaders were revered, respected, feared, and envied among all of the batarian kind, save perhaps for the most elite members of society. All knew that a seat here could lead to great riches, fame, and glory, but also meant accepting certain responsibilities.

Sushil took a deep breath before speaking. "I believe we must send forces to the human to ensure the safety of our citizens and colonies. Perhaps this action will serve as a warning to the humans that any attempt to interfere with us will result in dire consequences..."

There was silence in the chamber. None dared speak until the Hegemon raised his hand once more. "We are already expanding and consolidating our gains in the Attican Transverse, and the humans are likely to do the same. Inevitably, we will meet. But we will face them together. A show of force will be in order then. But in order to accomplish that, we must have the force in question first."

He paused briefly, allowing his words to sink in. "You will get me results, Councilors. You will see to it that we remain victorious in the coming conflict."

The lone figure's four glowing eyes looked carefully at the batarian eyes that stared it back. It's armor glistened with a dull, dark gray finish, the body beneath a similar shade of dull gray. The creature walked slowly towards him, stopping just outside the range of his energy shield.

It sniffed at him cautiously, taking in every scent and sound with sharp precision. Its claws clicked upon the ground as it moved closer. When it reached the edge of his field of view, it stopped.

Prasvan Dres'costar watched the Collector as it's companions set down a few large crates onto the ground nearby. One of them removed a panel from inside the crate, revealing rows of weapons and equipment.

They waited patiently as he approached, the aliens standing motionless. He looked closely at each item in turn before nodding, glancing at the Collectors, as they glanced back at him. "These are good equipment . Thank you."

One of the creatures stepped forward, its claw extended. It placed something cold and metallic in front of Prasvan's face. It was a weapon, a pistol. It was larger than the ones used by the soldiers in the Hegemony.

"Twenty pistols, ten particle rifles, and numerous other equipment items," the alien said, watching as he examined each piece. "All yours."

Prasvan studied the gun, turning it around in his hands. It was a particle-beam weapon, not the mass-effect guns the rest of the galaxy used (with the notable exception of the humans, who used slugthrowers). Extremely exotic gear, extremely advanced technology. Even the batarians weren't sure how to make use of it properly.

This would change everything.

He slid the pistol into the holster on his left side, fastening the belt clip firmly into place. "Thank you."

The Collector simply made a gesture of acknowledgement. "As agreed. This cache, in exchange for a dozen human slaves, and two left-handed salarians. Both males."

Prasvan nodded, sliding his gaze back to the others. They had taken care of loading the cargo, securing it tightly into place with ropes. Now they were waiting, silent, staring straight ahead. "You. Deliver the goods."

The other batarians complied, dragging forth their quarry forwards, bound hand and foot. Their heads drooped low, exhausted from hours spent in captivity. Two of them carried the bodies of a male and female, both dead due to dehydration.

A few of the creatures began examining the captives, checking vital signs and noting physical details. Some of the men had cuts and bruises, evidence of beatings and torture. The females were stripped naked, displaying their pale, white skin for inspection. Most didn't seem bothered by the exposure, though one of them shivered uncontrollably as she stood there in nothing but her underwear.

The Collector stepped forward, raising a thin device in it's claws. "These are good beings, both healthy and strong."

Prasvan nodded absently. "Good."

Two of the Collectors took hold of the restraints as they began to take the two salarians and ten humans towards their own ship. They lifted the prisoners easily despite their size and weight, carrying them like sacks of grain. Others followed behind, climbing aboard as the coast was clear for them to depart.

The lead Collector looked at Prasvan before he left. "Next time: Five human AI constructs, with their bodies."

Prasvan smiled politely. "Acknowledged."

I don't really think this is how a trade deal between organics and Collectors should go, but wiki-walks turned me up with nothing. Can you guys enlighten me btw? Thanks in advance.

Next up: Time-skips and interludes : p