A/N: This is the final chapter for Mass Effect: Intelligence. Sorry it took so long! Like most of my hobbies, my desire to write comes and goes. Please check out Mass Effect: Resilience, which is the sequel to ME: Intelligence that is set 17 years in the future. By the time you finish reading this, the prologue to ME: Resilience should be posted for you to read.

Chapter 18

Tuchanka was a hellhole of a planet. Covered in bombardment craters, the desert world had soaring temperatures and multiple radiation zones that still existed thousands of years after the nuclear wars the krogans had waged against each other in the centuries before they were uplifted by the salarians. When they had discovered the world, the salarians had built multiple towers on the planet to help repair the atmosphere destroyed during those nuclear wars. If the krogan were to be the warrior caste of their expanding galactic community, the least they could do was rebuild their homeworld.

After the krogan had helped win against the rachni and then used their prolific birth rates to start taking over worlds, including using force to take over those that were already colonized by other species, in a series of conflicts called the Krogan Rebellions, the salarians had introduced the genophage. After the ramifications of such a thing had dawned on the krogan, being who they were and not trusting the salarians, or their earlier good will anymore, the krogan had destroyed all but one of those towers; damn their homeworld and its atmosphere.

Retired Master Gunnery Sergeant of the Systems Alliance Marines Corps Michael Duncan thought he would be uncomfortable putting the armor on again but despite the three years since he had last been on active duty, it still felt like a second skin. He had retired from active duty right after the First Contact War had ended, at thirty-eight, and had moved into a different role for the government, in politics. He had started as a secretary to the Governor of Demeter, humanity's first extrasolar colony; though they had expanded to eight others since its founding, before the First Contact War put a stop to colonization. He had decided to retire to Demeter, moving his family there from Earth, because it didn't have the pollution and crowded population of Earth, and after twenty years in the military he could afford such a move.

After three years he had campaigned heavily for the mayor's reelection and for his loyalty had been awarded the position as Demeter's Senator in the new Systems Alliance Senate after the new government had been formed. That was barely a few months ago and is what led to his current position.

While technically he had volunteered for this assignment, it was more apt to say he was ordered for the diplomatic mission to Tuchanka because of his role as a politician and as a former soldier. Though it had been explained to him it was mostly because he was six and a half feet tall and still built like a brick shithouse. He had flown to the planet aboard a quarian ship and was forced to wear way too tight quarian armor, so that the Council Demilitarization Enforcement Mission, who monitored the planet and inspected all inbound and outbound ships, wouldn't know a human was visiting the planet. The CDEM was supposed to scan the occupants of the ships as well, to prevent unwanted guests from arriving on the planet, but the captain of the ship he was on had enough experience with the CDEM that he knew their agents wouldn't perform any such scans. It was good to see that government employee complacency was a cross species issue.

Once they had touched down he had been able to change into his old armor, complete with dents and scratches from his last combat tour. The belief was the krogan would respect him more if he showed that not only was he closer in size to them than most, but that he had been in combat before. A quarian diplomat also accompanied him, Captain Hito'Xifor vas Xepan, and they were escorted by four heavily armed quarian space marines. Michael also had his trusty rifle strapped across his back and a pistol at his hip, just to be on the safe side.

He had been instructed on what he could offer in these negotiations and what he needed from the krogans as a bare minimum. If the krogan let them even start the negotiations and didn't just start shooting right off the bat. The clan they were negotiating with was, at least according to old quarian documents, a more peaceful clan than many of the others. Of course peaceful was a relative term when it came to the krogan.

The first thing Michael noticed when he stepped out of the ship and onto Tuchanka was the various warnings his armor gave him about the heat, the radiation levels, and how the atmosphere barely counted as breathable. First order of business if he made it back home was a health check because this was definitely going to have a negative effect on his body.

Second thing he noticed was that krogans were huge. Most of them were over a foot taller than him, and likely weighed a couple hundred pounds more. There were about a dozen of them, each one seemingly larger than the next. It was rare for Michael to feel small but for once in his life he felt absolutely tiny.

The quarian diplomat sent an updated translation software to the omni-tools of the krogans who happened to own one, so they'd be able to understand what Michael was saying. Michael already had software updated with the krogan language and its various dialects, so he was good to go on that front.

"So this is a human," one of the largest of the krogans said, stepping forward from the pack. Michael assumed this was the clan leader the quarians had been speaking with, Kariss Trurark. "You don't look like much."

"Bunch of turians thought the same thing before I killed them," Michael replied.

"Ha! Dead turians are always nice but you be dumb as a pyjak to think one of them compares to a krogan."

"No one doubts the krogan prowess in war," Hito said, trying to make sure the talks didn't turn into a pissing contest, or worse, a shooting one.

Hito was large for a quarian. Not quite Michael's size but larger than any other quarian Michael had seen in his life, though to be fair that wasn't many. Like the Systems Alliance the Migrant Fleet was likely going for size for this meeting as well, if the height of the four Migrant Marines who accompanied them were anything to go by.

"Rumor has it you humans are finding yourselves up against the batarians. You softer races always come crying to us krogan when someone stronger starts pushing you around."

"We heard you guys like to fight," Michael responded with a shrug he wasn't sure would translate well.

"We fight our own battles," Trurark growled out.

"From what I heard, a third of your males have left the planet to act as meat shields for various mercenary groups and crime bosses after the salarians and turians neutered you. Doesn't sound like fighting your own battles to me."

Every single krogan growled at his words, even those who didn't have the omnitools to translate what he said. A few of them took threatening steps forward, causing the Migrant Marine escorts to raise their guns. Michael didn't make a move for either of his guns. He kept his gaze steady and on the clan leader.

"You got a quad on you human," Trurark finally stated, his voice filled with anger, "but don't push your luck. Any one of my men will gladly kill you."

"Of that I have no doubt."

The rest of the krogans reluctantly took a step backwards and the Migrant Marines slowly lowered their guns. Hito let out a soft sigh of relief.

Michael was just glad he didn't get pumped full of bullets. The Systems Alliance wanted a partnership with at least one krogan clan to provide some extra muscle for their ground forces. At a minimum they wanted young krogan to serve a minimum of twelve years in the Systems Alliance marines, barely one percent of their average lifespan. The quarians would look to hire krogans who completed their SA service as security and a source of manual labor based on negotiated rates. In return the Systems Alliance would offer the krogan clan their own world; one with no radiation, an actual functioning atmosphere, and enough large and dangerous fauna for the krogan to test themselves against, as the quarians said they liked to do. The Systems Alliance would also have scientists work on a cure to the genophage.

Like with the quarians, the Systems Alliance was willing to give at least one of the krogan clans what they wanted most in order to secure a partnership. For the quarians it was a place to call their own. For the krogan, it was a chance to fix the genetic mutations introduced by the salarians that significantly increased the rate of krogan stillborns, like a 5000% increase.

"Tell me quarian, why is your kind helping the humans?" Trurark asked.

"They accepted us when the rest of the races wouldn't."

Trurark grunted at that answer. Nothing of it screamed of strength or power, which is what the krogan respected. How could he ask his clan to follow him in joining with these humans who appeared so weak and fragile?

"What would you give us for our help human?"

"Like the quarians, you'd get a new world to live on. I can give you the file on the one we think you'd like, including plenty of vids of the large and deadly predators that live on the planet that turians would flee from." That brought out combinations of smirks at the inferred weakness of turians, and curiosity at what these predators looked like. "We'd also have teams of scientists and doctors look into curing the genophage."

"You would cure the genophage?" one of the other krogans said in surprise.

"We'd work on curing it," Michael said, knowing not to make a promise. "We don't know how it works or what it looks like so we can't make any promises. And you can be part of that process."

If you have any krogan smart enough to understand even the basics of it, he thought to himself. Even the layman's terms of it all would go above the head of anyone who didn't have years of study and knowledge in the field, and Michael didn't think any of the krogans were one for school and study.

The Systems Alliance military was expanding, thanks in large part to the batarians. Enlistment had been spiking for months, bringing in tens of thousands of fresh and eager faces who were looking to defend not only their homes, but their entire race, against alien threats. Alliance Command had decided to not only expand its navy but also the marines, army, and various special forces. Of course they were still way behind the Batarian Hegemony when it came to military strength but that was more due to their lack of ships than anything else.

The creation of the drop pods had created a new branch of marines called Orbital Drop Shock Trooper, or Heljumpers as they were taking to calling themselves. The launch pods for the drop pods were becoming standard on all carriers and dreadnoughts, and the ranks had exploded.

Owuo was a new branch of Special Forces whose core specializations were sabotage, destruction of material, assassinations, detaining/kidnapping, interrogation (with and without the use of torture), infiltration/exfiltration of persons into/from hostile territory, and hostage rescue. Unlike the other Special Forces, like Jaeger Teams and Ares Squads, they worked directly for the Systems Alliance Intelligence Services and only SAIS.

There were Special Intelligence Officers, who were field agents attached to ships to basically act as the eyes and ears of the SAIS. Praetorians were special military police who served on the dreadnoughts and carriers, more in line with Soviet Union political commissars than any modern organization.

Tens of thousands had joined the ranks of the Systems Alliance military in the span of five months. The Board of SAIS:D3 couldn't have been happier with the results, not with the Systems Alliance expanding military. Now if only they could hold off the batarians long enough for their AI to reverse engineer all of the alien technology they were acquiring and to give their factories enough time to produce everything, that would be great.

Which was what Admiral Kremer was tasked with. Or rather the larger goal of what she was tasked with. The information on the three batarians pirate bases had given the Systems Alliance the perfect opportunity with a quartet of benefits: weakening batarian capabilities, capturing potential prisoners for interrogation, acquiring intel on batarian military targets, and acquiring enemy ships. The latter was particularly tempting. A captured ship—intact or minimally damaged—could provide invaluable insights into batarian technology and tactics, giving the Systems Alliance an edge in future conflicts.

Beyond that Admiral Kremer knew this operation was more than a tactical engagement; it was a calculated strike meant to deliver results on multiple levels. The Systems Alliance needed this win, not only for strategic reasons but for morale. Victory over batarian forces, even those unofficially tied to their military, would ripple through the ranks of the Alliance Navy and the citizens of Earth and its colonies. It was a chance to remind everyone that humanity could stand tall in the face of adversity.

She sat in the captain's chair on the SSV Nairobi, the heavy cruiser that was the flagship of the 9th Assault Task Force, and a ship she had taken temporary command of. The Nairobi floated by itself in the dark space between star systems, between human space, batarian space and the Terminus Systems. The dimly lit bridge was a hive of quiet but intense activity. Officers moved between terminals, speaking in terse but efficient tones. On the main display, three clusters of tactical data represented the teams deployed against the batarian bases. Each cluster, a precise arrangement of friendly ships, enemy installations, and point-defense markers, moved ever so slightly, indicating that the battles were well underway.

Despite her distance from each of them, she was coordinating all three attacks. Each one of the Task Forces had dropped a FTL comm buoy upon entering the system they were operating in, and though there was a few hour delay, she was able to keep track of the battles. The FTL communication buoys used by every single alien race had been a blessing to be introduced to. It decreased communication between star systems from days to hours, and human AI had decreased it even further. The artificial intelligences had discovered in the matter of days slight adjustments that improved the design; something that would take even salarian engineers and scientists years to discover. It was not perfect over such distances, but it was leagues beyond what humanity had been capable of even five years ago.

She adjusted her position and brought up additional details on her terminal. The three strike task forces, each consisting of thirty ships with at least one cruiser, had been positioned for maximum efficiency. Task Force Alpha had the task of assaulting the largest pirate base, a heavily fortified asteroid installation that doubled as a resource hub for smuggling operations. Task Force Beta was targeting a hidden base embedded in a rogue moon. Task Force Gamma faced a smaller but mobile outpost, built on a cluster of salvaged ships tethered together in deep space.

"Status updates?" she asked, her tone crisp.

"Task Force Alpha reports the initial assault is proceeding as planned. They've breached the outer defenses and deployed marines to secure key areas of the asteroid," replied Lieutenant Commander Reese, her communications officer.

"Task Force Beta has encountered unexpected resistance," added Reese, after pausing to interpret the latest data burst. "Looks like the base deployed hidden weapon platforms. Captain Hargrove is adjusting tactics, using one of the corvettes as bait to draw fire while the cruisers take them out from a distance."

Kremer nodded. That sounded like Hargrove's style—direct and audacious, but effective. She trusted him to see it through.

"And Gamma?"

Reese glanced at her screen. "Gamma reports that the mobile base attempted to scatter, a lot of the tethered ships disengaged and are attempting to flee to FTL. Commander Nyla ordered pursuit and disabled two of the largest vessels. They've boarded and are clearing them now."

So far, so good. The batarian forces were putting up the resistance they had expected, but everything appeared to be going off without a hitch. Her crews were executing their plans with precision. Still, the unexpected weapon platforms near Beta's target troubled her. The batarians might have been pirates, but they weren't fools. Where did those platforms come from?

"Flag comm to all commanders," she said. "Remind them to be on alert for additional traps or surprises."

"Yes, Admiral," Reese said, immediately relaying the message.

Her thoughts were interrupted by a sudden flurry of activity on the bridge. A junior officer's voice broke through the ambient hum. "Admiral, Task Force Beta reports an unexpected spike in heat signatures—additional ships just exited FTL near the rogue moon. They appear to be batarian reinforcements."

Kremer's jaw tightened, but her voice remained calm. "Numbers and class?"

"Six ships, ma'am. Four frigates, a destroyer and a cruiser."

Task Force Beta outnumbered the initial batarian ships in system thirty-one to eight. Even with these reinforcements they would still have the numerical advantage. The only issue was how quickly Captain Hargrove was able to deal with the hidden weapon platforms.

The information from Beta had been sent almost three hours ago. There was no telling what had happened since then. "Remind Captain Hargrove that ally reinforcements are not an option. If he feels they have lost the advantage then he is to exit the system at full speed."

"Understood." Reese transmitted the message.

Kremer's eyes flicked to the other battles. Gamma was progressing well, with several prisoners already reported. Alpha had yet to encounter reinforcements, which left their situation stable. For now, she would need to rely on Hargrove's expertise and adaptability.

As the tension on the bridge grew, Kremer's voice cut through like a blade. "Steady yourselves, people. Focus on your tasks. This is what we trained for."

The crew settled, professionalism returning to their expressions and movements. For all the chaos unfolding across light-years of space, Kremer knew one thing: a win here would resonate far beyond these battles, sending a clear message to allies and enemies alike. Humanity would not cower like a beaten dog when struck, they would strike back even harder.