If you recognize it, I probably don't own it. Mass effect belongs to BioWare and Microsoft.
here are some important stuff.
"Speech"
'Thoughts'
~"AI"~
POV/Location/Time Change.
Please Review! I need All of the Reviews! I read all of them.
So as you can see, I'm back. I got into a teensy weensy accident on my holiday. Nothing major really. Then got a shit Ton of assignments dropped on my head, so I haven't been able to make time to write much. I'm fine now, and you should be getting another chapter, sometime in the next 24 hours.
Drinks and Diplomacy
April 16, 2305 ES
Presidium, Citadel, Serpent Nebula
Tevos stood by the panoramic window of her private chambers in the Citadel Tower, her gaze drifting lazily over the sprawling vista of the Presidium below. The artificial sunlight bathed the gardens, walkways, and shimmering waterways in a golden glow, casting a serene atmosphere over the bustling hub of galactic civilization. The people below—Asari, Salarians, Turians, and a smattering of other species—moved about their daily lives, blissfully unaware of the intricate web of political machinations, power struggles, and existential threats that loomed just beyond the edges of their perception. To them, the Citadel was a symbol of unity, progress, and safety. To Tevos, it was a fragile house of cards, perpetually on the verge of collapse.
Today, like most days, was filled with its usual array of headaches. Sparatus, the Turian Councillor, was once again rattling his saber about some perceived slight from the Terminus Systems, demanding a show of force to "remind the warlords of their place." The new Salarian Councillor was set to arrive in a matter of days, and while Tevos had no doubt the Salarians would send someone competent, the transition was always a delicate dance of diplomacy and power plays. Aria T'Loak, the self-proclaimed Queen of Omega, was expanding her influence in the Terminus Systems, and her rivals were scrambling to carve out their own territories, leading to a cascade of instability that threatened to spill over into Citadel space. And then there were the Matriarchs, the ancient and influential Asari leaders who never missed an opportunity to remind Tevos of their displeasure with the current state of affairs, particularly when it came to the humans.
Ah, the humans. The annoying humans. Tevos sighed, her eyes narrowing as they settled on the gleaming structure that dominated the skyline of the Presidium: the human embassy. It was impossible to ignore, a towering edifice of glass and light that seemed to defy the very laws of architecture and engineering. The embassy was not just a building; it was a statement, a declaration of human ingenuity, ambition, and audacity. And it was, Tevos had to admit, breathtakingly beautiful.
The structure was a marvel of design, a seamless fusion of form and function. Its exterior was composed entirely of a single, continuous panel of diamond-form glass, a material the humans had developed and perfected to an almost absurd degree. The glass was not just transparent; it was iridescent, catching the light in a way that made the entire building shimmer like a living thing. Vast gardens and hanging terraces cascaded down its sides, filled with lush vegetation and vibrant flowers that seemed to thrive in the controlled environment of the Presidium. The building's shape was organic, flowing, as if it had grown naturally from the ground rather than being constructed by human hands. It was a stark contrast to the rigid, utilitarian architecture of the rest of the Citadel, and it made everything around it look drab and outdated by comparison.
Tevos clenched her jaw. The humans had not just built an embassy; they had built a monument to their own superiority. And they had done it in a matter of days. The sheer audacity of it was staggering. When the humans had first proposed the idea of expanding the Citadel's superstructure to accommodate their embassy, Tevos had almost laughed in their faces. The Citadel was a Prothean relic, a technological marvel that even the most advanced species in the galaxy could barely comprehend, let alone modify. The idea of adding to its structure was preposterous, a fantasy born of human arrogance and overconfidence.
But the humans had not been deterred. They had presented detailed plans, complete with schematics and simulations, demonstrating how they could seamlessly integrate their new additions into the Citadel's existing framework. They had even offered to build additional sections for the other species, free of charge. Tevos had been stunned, not just by the offer itself, but by the implications of it. The technological prowess required to pull off such a feat was beyond anything the Citadel races had ever seen. It would have placed the humans on par with the Protheans, if not surpassed them entirely. The political ramifications of such a revelation would have been catastrophic, undermining the delicate balance of power that held the galaxy together.
Since the day of First Contact, Tevos and Bemort had worked tirelessly to suppress the information, ensuring that the humans' offers were quietly declined and their technological capabilities downplayed. They had spread rumors, planted misinformation, and used every tool at their disposal to ensure that the true extent of human advancement remained a mystery. It had been a delicate operation, one that had required all of Tevos' skill and cunning to pull off. And for a time, it had worked. The humans had been relegated to the status of a new but isolated species, powerful but ultimately insignificant in the grand scheme of galactic politics.
But then they had gone and built that embassy. In a matter of days. Without permission. Without assistance. And without any regard for the political fallout it would cause. When asked, the only reply was that the existing embassy that they were assigned wasn't big enough. The building was a slap in the face to Tevos' efforts, a glaring reminder of just how far the humans had everyone. It was impossible to ignore, impossible to downplay, and impossible to suppress. The embassy had become a symbol of human ingenuity and ambition, a beacon that drew the attention of every species on the Citadel. Everyone worth anything was now talking about the humans.
The corporations were salivating at the thought of getting their hands on human technology, and Tevos had no doubt that they were already scheming and plotting to do just that. The Shadow Broker, the enigmatic information broker who operated in the shadows of galactic society, had reportedly placed a massive bounty on functioning human tech, sparking a frenzy of activity among mercenaries, spies, and thieves. Even the Matriarchs, were beginning to take notice, their whispers growing louder and more insistent with each passing day, ordering her to decisively deal with the humans..
Tevos sighed again, her gaze lingering on the human embassy. It was a beautiful building, there was no denying that. But it was also a reminder of just how much the galaxy was changing, and how little control she had over it. The humans were a force to be reckoned with, a wildcard that could upend the delicate balance of power that had held the galaxy together for centuries. And Tevos had no idea what to do about it.
Suddenly she noticed a skycar. One of the New sleek ones, released by that human company Cheetah, A Black Mamba, if she remembered correctly, take off and start coming towards the presidium. It was a masterpiece of engineering, its aerodynamic curves and matte-black finish exuding an air of power and sophistication. The way it cut through the air, smooth and effortless, was a testament to human craftsmanship. She wanted to buy one herself a little while back.
But Tevos felt no admiration as she watched the skycar approach. Instead, a knot of unease tightened in her stomach. The humans had an uncanny habit of making unannounced appearances, and those appearances almost always heralded some kind of dramatic revelation—one that sent shockwaves through the galactic community. The last time they had arrived without warning, they had declared their intent to sell hyper-advanced vehicles to the wider market, leaving every other species scrambling to catch up. Before that, it had been the introduction of their quantum entanglement communication network, rendering traditional comm buoys obsolete overnight. And before that, the announcement of their awe-inspiring Gateway Station—an orbital construct so vast and advanced that it dwarfed the Citadel itself.
Each time, the humans had upended the status quo. Each time, the Council had struggled to manage the fallout. And each time, Tevos had found herself at the center of it all, attempting to maintain some semblance of control in the face of relentless human progress.
Sighing, she reached for a decanter of Elysian Rum—a human creation that had quickly become a personal favorite. The amber liquid shimmered under the soft glow of her office lights as she poured herself a glass, its rich, heady aroma filling the air. She took a measured sip, allowing the warmth to spread through her, dulling the sharp edges of her growing tension. She knew she would need it. Whatever the humans were about to announce, it was sure to be another ordeal—another moment where the Council was left scrambling in their wake.
A little while later, Tevos made her way to the Council chambers, her steps slow and deliberate. The grand, circular room stood as a monument to diplomacy, its walls adorned with intricate tapestries, holo-displays, and artistic depictions of the Citadel's long and storied history. At its center, the three Councilor podiums loomed over the floor below, their imposing presence a reminder of the power they wielded.
As Tevos entered, her gaze flickered to Bemort and Sparatus. The two Councilors were engaged in what appeared to be a rather animated exchange with an irate Hanar, the jellyfish-like alien pulsing with agitation, its bioluminescent tendrils flickering in complex patterns as it gesticulated wildly.
"…an unacceptable overreach by the Vol Protectorate! This one demands the Council intervene!" the Hanar was saying, its synthesized voice carrying a distinct edge of frustration.
Tevos, however, paid the scene little mind. Whatever diplomatic squabble the Hanar had brought forth, it paled in comparison to what was coming. She strode to her podium, her presence alone enough to shift the room's energy. Sparatus and Bemort both turned to her, their expressions tinged with curiosity and concern.
Leaning in slightly, Tevos kept her voice low, urgent. "Get ready. The humans are coming."
Sparatus stiffened, his mandibles flaring ever so slightly. The Turian Councillor had always viewed humanity with a mix of wariness and disdain, seeing them as reckless, unpredictable upstarts. Their rapid rise had unsettled him more than he cared to admit, and he had been vocal about his belief that the Council needed to rein them in before they became uncontrollable. "What do they want this time?" he muttered, irritation laced in his voice.
Bemort, by contrast, was more composed, though Tevos didn't miss the flicker of anxiety in his large, reflective eyes. The Salarian had always approached humanity with cautious intrigue, recognizing their potential while simultaneously acknowledging the threat they posed. Their technological advancements had, time and again, undermined the Salarians' own scientific edge—something that did not sit well with him.
Bemort turned to the Hanar, his tone calm but firm. "Your concerns are noted. This matter requires further consideration. We will reconvene tomorrow."
The Hanar hesitated, its tendrils rippling with subdued displeasure. But after a few moments, it relented, floating out of the chamber in a slow, deliberate motion, its bioluminescence dimming slightly.
As the doors sealed shut behind it, silence fell over the chamber. A charged, uneasy quiet.
Tevos exhaled slowly and took another sip of her rum. The holographic displays around the chamber flickered with shifting images—reminders of the countless civilizations that had risen and fallen over millennia. But the humans were different. They weren't just another species vying for influence. They were a force of nature, a storm that defied prediction or control. And Tevos had no idea how to contain them.
Sparatus finally broke the silence. "Drinking in the Council chambers? And a human drink at that?" He shot her a sharp look, his voice edged with disapproval. "Really, Tevos? I thought you knew decorum better than that."
Tevos smirked, swirling the amber liquid in her glass before raising it slightly in a half-toast. "Sparatus, please. We're all going to need a drink if history is anything to go by." She took another sip. "I suggest you pour one for yourself before the humans drive you to an aneurysm."
Bemort chuckled softly, gesturing toward a nearby attendant. Within moments, a glass filled with a pinkish-yellow liquid was placed in his hand.
Tevos arched an eyebrow. "Is that a Shibuya Blush, Bemort? I never took you for a connoisseur of human drinks."
The Salarian took a small sip, his expression unreadable for a moment before he nodded in quiet approval. "Yes. Quite fascinating. The flavor complexity is particularly pleasing to our palate. I must admit, I'm rather curious how humans came up with such a sophisticated blend."
Tevos hummed thoughtfully, resting her elbow on the podium. "I wonder the same."
Meanwhile, Sparatus let out a heavy sigh, his mandibles twitching in irritation before he signaled for an attendant of his own. "Just give me a damn Menae whisky," he grumbled. "None of that fancy human nonsense."
As the glass was placed before him, he took a slow sip, his expression remaining impassive. But Tevos didn't miss the way his shoulders relaxed just the tiniest bit.
The sound of footsteps echoed through the chamber, pulling Tevos from her thoughts. She turned to see a group of humans entering the room, their movements confident and purposeful. At the forefront was a woman, her sharp features and piercing gaze immediately commanding attention. She was dressed in a sleek, black suit that seemed to shimmer in the light, its design both elegant and utilitarian. Behind her were several Human diplomatic guards. Towering beings, clad in white and gold Armour, their faces obscured by the visors of their featureless helmets.
The woman stepped forward, her presence commanding despite the understated elegance of her attire. She was human, but there was something more—an air of certainty, of quiet power, that seemed to settle around her like a mantle. She met the eyes of each Councillor in turn before finally speaking, her voice calm yet resolute.
"Councillors," she began, her tone carrying the weight of what was to come, "thank you for seeing us on such short notice. We understand that unannounced visits can be… disruptive, but I assure you, the matter we bring before you is one of utmost importance."
She paused, letting the room settle, then continued.
"As of 12:00 hours, April 15, 2305 Earth Standard, the Sol Confederation has formally accepted and ratified the Perseus Accords. Under these accords, the Quarian State—including the Migrant Fleet and all their former territories currently unoccupied by any recognized species—shall now be considered a Protectorate under the Sol Confederation."
The chamber was silent for a moment, the weight of the words settling over the assembled officials like a physical force.
Tevos's fingers curled slightly around her glass, the warmth of the Elysian Rum suddenly distant compared to the cold realization that settled in her stomach. Protectorate. The word carried profound implications, ones that she, Bemort, and Sparatus all understood immediately. The Quarians, once a species adrift with no home to call their own, were now under the direct protection of humanity.
The woman continued, her voice steady and measured.
"As a Protectorate, the Quarians shall be recognized as a sovereign people under our aegis, yet remain non-members of the Citadel. Consequently, they are now immune from any overarching jurisdiction imposed by any Citadel member state, beyond legal matters concerning individuals. Furthermore, any attempt to collectively penalize, sanction, or otherwise harm the Quarian people for past transgressions—real or perceived—shall be considered a direct act of aggression against the Sol Confederation. And as I am sure you all understand, such an act would be tantamount to an act of war."
A ripple of tension spread through the chamber. Sparatus's mandibles twitched, his grip tightening around his untouched whisky. Bemort's large eyes blinked rapidly, his mind undoubtedly working through the ramifications with the rapid efficiency for which his species was known. Tevos, meanwhile, remained composed, though beneath her outward calm, her thoughts raced.
The humans had just declared a protective shield over the Quarians so absolute that any interference with them could escalate into outright war.
The woman pressed on, her words carrying a measured cadence, deliberate and clear.
"The Sol Confederation recognizes the plight of the Quarian people, a species that, for centuries, has endured exile, hardship, and systemic prejudice. This is no longer acceptable. Effective immediately, the Confederation has begun extensive humanitarian and logistical efforts to aid in their recovery. The following initiatives are already underway."
She lifted a hand, activating a holoprojector embedded in the floor. A large display materialized in the center of the chamber, detailing multiple initiatives in sharp, precise lettering.
"First, the Quarians shall be provided a designated planetary settlement—one suited to their biological needs and capable of sustaining a robust, long-term civilization. We have already identified a suitable world within the Perseus Veil, now named 'New Rannoch' by the Quarians themselves. Terraforming efforts have begun, and Quarian engineers are directly involved in the development of planetary infrastructure."
Bemort exhaled sharply. "Terraforming? That's an enormous undertaking," he murmured, though whether it was awe or concern in his voice was unclear.
"Second," the woman continued, "our medical teams, in coordination with leading Quarian scientists, have begun a comprehensive immunological restoration program. As you are aware, the Quarian immune system has been severely compromised over centuries of isolated, artificial environments. This program aims to revitalize their biology, strengthening their immune responses through controlled exposure therapies, genetic enhancements, and tailored medical treatments. Within a generation, Quarians will be able to exist on planetary surfaces without environmental suits."
Tevos's grip on her glass tightened. This was no minor aid package—this was a full biological recovery plan, something that could completely alter the Quarians' long-term survival prospects. The project plan of the Matriarchs to eliminate the Quarian threat to Asari Supremacy was now gone. Centuries of plotting and moves shattered in but a single moment.
The human representative pressed on.
"Third, we are aiding in the reformation of Quarian governance and social infrastructure. While the Quarian people will maintain self-rule, our diplomatic and logistical advisors are assisting in the establishment of a stable governmental framework, ensuring their transition from a nomadic fleet to a planetary civilization is as smooth as possible."
A new segment of the hologram shifted, displaying plans for cities, resource allocations, and government structures. There was no denying the meticulous planning that had gone into this.
"Fourth," the woman said, her gaze sweeping across the Council, "we are extending technological aid to the Quarians to assist in their recovery. However, we recognize the concerns that such assistance might lead to a technological imbalance within the galactic community. As such, we assure you that all technological support provided to the Quarians shall not exceed an advancement factor of 0.3 relative to the current Citadel technological standard. This measure ensures that while the Quarians will be uplifted to a position of stability, they will not gain an unfair advantage over any Citadel species."
Sparatus scoffed, his tone sharp. "How magnanimous of you to decide the limits of technological fairness for the rest of the galaxy."
The woman regarded him with a neutral expression. "Councilor, I believe you'll find that the Sol Confederation has been more than reasonable in this matter. We could have provided the Quarians with an unrestricted influx of our most advanced technology. Instead, we chose a measured approach that prioritizes balance. If you would prefer an alternative arrangement, we are, of course, willing to listen to constructive suggestions."
Sparatus's mandibles clicked shut, his irritation evident but his counterpoint absent.
The woman clasped her hands behind her back, her expression calm. "The Quarians are no longer alone. No longer stateless wanderers subject to the whims of an indifferent galaxy. They have a future now, and they will reclaim their dignity as a people. The Sol Confederation will see to it."
Tevos took a slow breath, setting down her glass with deliberate care. This was not just an announcement; it was a paradigm shift. Two of the greatest threats to Asari dominance were now allied. And it was the politicking of the Matriarch council that had pushed them to do so… if only they had not orchestrated the fall of the Quarians, they could have had an answer to the human problem by now…
The humans had, in one decisive stroke, changed the fate of an entire species—and, perhaps, the power balance of the galaxy itself.
Same Time
Location Unknown
In a dimly lit room, shrouded in shadows and illuminated only by the cold, flickering glow of dozens of large holographic screens, a figure sat at the center of it all. The air was thick with the hum of machinery and the faint, almost imperceptible whir of cooling systems. The room was a fortress of secrecy, its walls lined with advanced technology and its atmosphere heavy with the weight of hidden knowledge. The only illumination came from the cold glow of dozens of large holo-screens. The shifting blue and orange lights flickered against sleek metallic surfaces, casting elongated silhouettes across the space. Data scrolled endlessly across the screens—fleet movements, economic reports, intercepted transmissions. Here, in this private sanctum, the future of the galaxy was shaped with careful intent.
At the center of it all sat a woman—poised, deliberate, calculating. The pen in her fingers twirled in a slow, absent-minded rhythm, a subtle counterpoint to the sharp intelligence burning in her amber eyes. The soft blue light from the screens reflected off the metallic lining of her tailored suit, its pristine design betraying no sign of haste or disorder. She exhaled slowly, leaning back in her chair as she watched the Council chambers from one of the largest displays, their every reaction playing out in real-time.
A smirk ghosted across her lips as she tapped the pen once against her desk.
"This should be enough to get them to start rearming themselves, right?" Her voice was smooth, deliberate, laced with an undercurrent of amusement. "Maybe if we're lucky, they'll finally discard that farce of a treaty—The Treaty of Farce-ien." She let the name linger, rolling it over her tongue with thinly veiled disdain. "And if they don't…"
She leaned forward, resting her elbows on the desk, fingers steepling beneath her chin. Her gaze flicked over to another screen, where classified documents detailing the Sol Confederation's military assets remained locked behind layers of encryption. Her smirk widened.
"Well, I think it's time the galaxy learned of the Confederation's fleet numbers anyway. Don't you agree, Eva?"
From the shadows, a figure stepped forward, moving with the precision of someone who was both intimately familiar with the darkness and wholly unafraid of it.
"Yes, ma'am," Eva replied, her tone cool and unwavering. She walked into the dim light, her platinum blonde hair catching just enough of the holo-glow to shimmer briefly before she came to a stop at a respectful distance. Clad in a sleek black uniform adorned with only a single, unassuming insignia on her collar, she exuded the quiet confidence of someone who had no need for theatrics to assert her authority.
The Illusive Man—no, the Illusive Woman—watched her for a moment before turning her attention back to the screens. A simple command from her fingers caused the data on the largest display to shift, revealing a new set of projections. War game scenarios, potential reaction curves, contingency plans for every possible move the Council could make in response to the Perseus Accords.
"They're predictable," the Illusive Woman mused, tracing a finger along a star chart. "The Turians will grumble, the Salarians will strategize, the Asari will try to play mediator. But someone is going to push. The Hierarchy's been too comfortable for too long, and with dear Sparatus being so anti human, and unstable..." She leaned back again, eyes flicking toward another screen where classified footage played—a hidden orbital construction facility, its dry docks cradling something vast and monstrous beneath the scaffolding. "If the Hierarchy doesn't act, then... well." She chuckled softly, the sound devoid of warmth. "There's always the Wild Cards. The Hegemony will serve its purpose."
Eva stepped closer, clasping her hands behind her back. "The projected timeline?"
The Illusive Woman tapped her pen against the desk once more. "If the Citadel does what it always does? Within the next five to seven years, we'll see a steady increase in rearmament across all major powers. If they panic?" She glanced toward a secondary screen, where another dossier flickered to life—detailing key political figures, economic vulnerabilities, and projected military expenditures. "Two years. Maybe three, if the Asari drag their feet."
Eva nodded. "And if they do discard the treaty?"
The Illusive Woman's smirk widened. "Then we accelerate. Full fleet deployment goes public, strategic assets get repositioned, and our shipyards start running at full capacity. The coming threat will need all of it." She gestured toward a particular set of numbers on the screen—figures that, if revealed, would send shockwaves through the galactic community. "Let them see what's been sitting quietly in the dark all this time. Let them realize how badly they've miscalculated."
Eva's expression remained neutral, but the subtle shift in her posture betrayed her own quiet anticipation. "And the Quarians?"
A dismissive wave of the hand. "They were always the bait. They get their home, their people recover, and in exchange, they serve as the perfect catalyst. Whether they know it or not, they're playing their role perfectly. The Council can't just ignore them anymore."
A moment of silence stretched between them. The only sound was the faint hum of the holo-screens cycling through data.
Then, after a pause, Eva spoke again. "And the real objective?"
The Illusive Woman's eyes gleamed. "Simple," she murmured, leaning back in her chair once more. "Control the escalation. Nudge them toward the inevitable. And when the galaxy finally realizes just how vulnerable it's been all this time?"
She exhaled slowly, her smirk hardening into something colder, sharper.
"They'll have no choice but to adapt. And we'll have a disposable Army to throw at the Reapers to save our resources and buy us time. "
Her fingers tapped the armrest of her chair, the rhythm measured, deliberate. Outside the confines of this hidden chamber, the galaxy continued its slow, oblivious march toward its next great upheaval. And here, in the heart of the unseen, the architect of that change watched it all unfold with quiet satisfaction.
And as a Certain Indecisive Warp mollusc from another universe would say… All according to plan.
Lore Time!
Shibuya Blush: This a new drink, gaining traction among the youth. It was invented by a bartender from Shibuya. It is made from a mix of juices of exotic fruits from different planets. It's famous for its unique taste and the complex procedure of making it. Colours Vary from Pinkish yellow to reddish blue.
Cheetah Automobiles: Legally distinct Jaguar
Black Mamba: it is the latest line in the Toxin series of cars, which include both land based and flight based models. It's a high end luxury model that blends speed with comfort. Including both a manual and AI driving system, it provides the best value for money in the current line of sports cars.
Diplomatic Guard: A new branch of SoCon Security forces, whose primary objective is to protect diplomats in and from foreign polities. They are trained to function deep within enemy territory in case a war breaks out during diplomatic visits. They are equipped to quickly deal with threats while not heavy enough to be overly threatening. Their normal uniforms are White and Gold to ensure Visibility to foreign officials and to show non hostility. Their gear has active camouflage and can change colours as necessary to imitate patterns. Standard Gear includes; A primary weapon (usually an assault rifle), a Pistol, a sword, full body armour (unpowered).