Relevant notes will be at the end of the chapter

-000-

Mobile Suit/Mass Effect

Episode 4:

Two Worlds, Two Tomorrows

-000-

I stood alone, ramrod straight, face as neutral as it could be, emotions controlled as much as I can. My ice blue eyes kept forward, careful not to dart left or right, staring right into the large, metallic Congressional Armed Forces coat of arms that decorated the stand that was directly facing me. Despite my appearance on the outside as a prim and proper Space Force officer standing at attention, I was a nervous wreck inside. It was all I could do to not start fidgeting with my academy ring like Bullow did a little over a week ago in the Risima. After all, anybody would be nervous when they stood in front of what amounts to a military tribunal.

"Lieutenant Kreusgluck, you said that the aliens made no attempts to contact the Risima and its two escort ships prior to the engagement. Is this correct?" The Space Force Admiral leading the current session, one Fleet Admiral Hauberk Meslam, spoke.

The man's speaking cadence was a bit slow, but his voice was clear and authoritative. It was honestly rather intimidating. This was at odds with his surprisingly small and slender frame. The admiral's hair was graying, though in another fascinating twist, he was actually the youngest of the three before her.

Meslam's small stature also hid that he was potentially one of the most powerful people in the sector right now, being head of the Space Forces active in the Greater Shanxi Region. Under his command were the many destroyers, cruisers, and battlecruisers that patrolled and kept the space around this region safe, be it from pirates, or from Separatist Factions like Golden Beacon.

Flanking the Admiral's right was head of the Greater Shanxi Region's Colonial Defense Forces, Chief of Security Shen Sujett. Where Admiral Meslam was small, slender, and topped with a side parted greying brown hair, Commander Sujett was almost the opposite. He was broad shouldered, muscular, and tall. He was taller than Verns, probably by a whole head. The man also sported a thick, luscious beard which was a vibrant shade of orange. Sujett was the oldest of the three, and had started painting his hair at the start of his term as Commander of the Greater Shanxi Region.

To Admiral Meslam's left was Field Marshall Enna Marigold, of the Congressional Terrestrial Forces. She was also tall, dwarfing the admiral like Chief Sujett did. Unlike Sujett, she was of a more moderate build, standing in between Meslam's tiny form and Sujett's shredded body. Her golden blonde hair was tied into a bun just like mine was right now, though hers was quite the smaller bun considering how much longer I had let my hair grow. She too had opted to start painting her own hair to retain its color. I quietly wondered if the people high up naturally began having ego problems before quietly quashing that thought. Now was not the time to be thinking about that!

Where Chief Sujett was concerned with the security and safety of day to day life for the civilians in the region, Marshall Marigold was much more concerned with... offensive operations, so to speak. CDF forces were mostly Police, Colony Militia, and other such less-than-professional security forces. Good for keeping things in order, terrible for taking the fight to the enemy. That was where the Congressional Army and Navy, both part of the Terrestrial Forces, came in. Equipped with land ships, maritime ships, armored columns, and mobile suit divisions of their own, the CTF was a true menace when it came to a land war. It wouldn't do to let my mind wander and think negative thoughts about the Marshall while she could very well send my career into the gutters.

I carefully thought of my response to the Admiral's question. I could've responded with a straight forward yes, but I felt that let him lead the conversation far too much. It would do for me to add a little bit of elaboration on my end.

"That is correct, Admiral." I began my explanation. "We recieved no attempts to contact us before, during, or after the engagement took place. Warrant Officer Malcolm was on station during the whole encounter, and he surely would have noticed any attempts to contact us."

I wasn't sure what kind of reaction I was expecting from the three. Surprise? Skepticism? Sympathy? Well... probably not that last one... I certainly got none of that.

What I got instead was... nerve wracking. Admiral Meslam looked to his colleagues, first to Chief Sujett, then to Marshall Marigold. There was a nod each time, as if what I told them merely confirmed some suspicion they had.

I felt a cold sweat form on my brow.

This wasn't good.

-000-

This was definitely not good, Magarius thought to himself. Once the Relay 314 incident -as many in the Turian Military have stated calling it- wound down, Magarius found himself summoned by the Military Council itself to Fort Zere, in the heart of Palaven itself, only a week after the disastrous engagement.

As a child, he could only dream of walking the storied, historic halls of Fort Zere, to be recognized by the Military Council for his bravery and diligence. He certainly did not expect to have been summoned here to be grilled and interrogated due to a military disaster occurring in his area of operations. Even more, he didn't expect to have to stand at attention while the Old Breed and Reformers argued and debated over his report to the Military Council.

"If the Captain's reports on the enemy capabilities are accurate, then we'll have to reconsider our whole modernization plan!" An Old Breed general all but yelled.

The two factions had somehow dragged the modernization plan into this whole debacle. The Old Breed insisted on the construction of more big gun capital ships, wheras the Reformers' plan on comissioning faster and more nimble ships to fit their peacekeeping role.

It was disagreements brought about by the changing times. The Old Breed held on to the old Turian philosophy of maintaining a large and powerful standing force, primarily to fight a major conflict like the Krogan Wars, or the Rachni War. There was even speculation that a Turian lead liberation effort to liberate Rannoch was once considered by the Old Breed, but was quickly shot down by the council... both the one in Fort Zere, and the one in the Citadel.

The Reformers, on the other hand, were more concerned with peacekeeping and policing Citadel Space. Big gun capital ships were fantastic for a shooting war against a clear, defined opponent. However, they were much less effective when it comes to patrol and counter-piracy operations. After all, one could get two or three Long Dagger Class Frigates for the price of one Exemplar Class Cruiser, and three frigates could cover more space than one cruiser could.

It wasn't just about shipbuilding though. These arguments have grown to cover doctrine, all the way from the strategic level, down to the tactical one. Everything from phasing out the more ship-on-ship focused flak guns in favor of more GARDIAN Lasers, to whether or not Turian grunts should start using CQC oriented short barreled rifles over conventional long barreled ones.

Magarius stifled a groan as the argument he had tuned out continued.

The Military Council's seating arrangements were never hard set, but it roughly followed factional lines. The Old Breed would sit on one side of the room, while Reformers sat on the other. Only a small cadre stood out from this whole factional rift, that being Castis Vakarian and his small circle... mostly consisting of Internal Security Bureau chiefs, but also a handful of Army and Navy officers as well. That small circle was perhaps the last truly moderate Turians left in this room, siding with whichever faction benefitted their agenda better, flipping between both sides depending on the subject at hand. Magarius liked that about them. They were true pragmatics, keeping a tight hold on their biases as they continued their service to the Turian people.

Magarius carefully watched Vakarian as the debate continued around them. Unlike the Captain, the ISB chief was a high ranking and respected man, having earned his reputation during his heavy handed campaign against a separatist cell in Indaris. With the gravitas that he carried, Vakarian needn't maintain a carefully crafted image of professionalism like Magarius. The ISB chief leaned back heavily into his chair, arms crossed, with one hand scratching his brow plates. He made no effort to show that the back and forth between the two factions was starting to frustrate him.

Eventually, even Vakarian's seemingly infinite patience for nonsense wore thin and he interrupted the two groups.

"Kindred, please." He cut in, not even trying to hide his disdain. "We're wasting precious time."

If Caius Lacinius -Primarch and head of state of the Turian Nation- felt slighted at Vakarian's interjection, he didn't show it. The old, grizzled Turian veteran simply sighed and nodded.

"Vakarian is right. We've gotten off track." The Primarch stated, his voice exuding raw authority unlike any other Turian Magarius has ever seen before. Not even Councilor Cassandor carried such weight in his words, and he was one of three in charge of the Citadel Coalition's overall policies.

"Captain, please continue." A Reformer spoke. Magarius recognized the Turian as General Argus Fedorian. The Captain knew the General very well for a variety of reasons. Most in the Officers Corps recognized Fedorian as Primarch Lacinius' once protégé, who was being groomed to take the Primarch's place whenever it was he retired. Due to reasons Magarius didn't know, the two had a falling out and Fedorian found himself drifting towards the Reformers.

That wasn't why the captain knew the general personally, however. Fedorian was one of a few officers who stood up and spoke in favor of Magarius when he had went off on Sector Command. The General had saved him from being dismissed entirely... or Spirits forbid, demoted to a desk job in some rural region here in Palaven.

With the General's permission, Magarius continued his presentation to the Military Council.

"As I was saying, the aliens' directed energy weapons do not appear to be conventional DEWs as we know it." The captain spoke as he moved the slideshow along using his omni-tool. "Unlike the lasers our GARDIAN turrets use, their energy weapons appears to be firing highly condensed, highly concentrated, highly energetic particles, held together into a projectile with some sort of magnetic field."

The slides moved again, this time to a video of the battle recovered from the Darius Aggripinax after its crew were forced to scuttle it. The video included various technical readouts and telemetry, including that from the kinetic barriers.

"We discovered this after we recovered footage from the blackbox of the Aggripinax. I had my crew analyze everything they possibly could to discover how their weapons functioned, and the results were... interesting." The captain explained. "Please pay attention to the telemetry from the kinetic barriers. Notice that the sensors meant to detect incoming kinetic projectiles, be they rogue asteroids, missiles, as well as enemy shells, was able to pick up the energy bolt."

He ran the video forward for a few seconds, from when the Turioid mobile weapon zipped through its air defense, up until the energy shot was deflected by the barrier. True to the captain's words, the sensors had marked the energy bolt as a kinetic attack, activating the strong Mass Effect field which was normally meant to repulse physical projectiles. Magarius paused right before the shot connected, making sure to highlight the moment when the energy bolt was dispersed by the barrier.

"We discovered that this was because of a quirk in the sensor's design. It mistook the strong magnetic field enveloping the energy bolt for some kind of kinetic projectile, causing it to activate. This might be the first time a programming bug in our weapons systems actually saved lives."

That minor quip elicited a few laughs from the Council members. Magarius continued after a short pause.

"The barrier disrupted the magnetic field holding the energy bolt together, which is then fortuitously deflected by the ship's mass effect field generators thinking that it was somehow caught in a cosmic flare. This is how the worst of the energy was dissipated, by the same systems normally used to ward off cosmic radiation storms. However, this only seems to work at an angle, like how conventional armor causes hits to ricochet. The anti-cosmic flare systems weren't designed to block hits to a specific, focused point, but to deflect the energy all around the ship. So if one of these energy shots came straight on, the field will be overwhelmed and the attack would break through."

Magarius took a long pause after the long winded explanation. He only had a few hours to memorize all of that information that his subordinates had written up for him. Thankfully the notes seemed to be convincing and left the Council quite satisfied. All in all, he felt proud for having learned all of that in the past few days.

"And you're certain of this analysis?" Someone from the Reformer side of the aisle suddenly questioned.

Okay, maybe not everyone was satisfied.

-000-

"I am certain, Sir." I answered. "Warrant Officer Malcolm detected no attempts to contact, and even if he missed something, the comms officers from the Monty or Gleiswick would've reported something."

The trio had continued to press me on this matter, though I can't quite understand why. I could only barely resist sighing in relief when the session ended and the aides lead me out of the room.

Outside of the conference room I was interrogated in, Verns and Bullow were waiting for me. The pilot was sitting behind his personal computer, engrossed in something. Bullow, on the otherhand, was equally engrossed in some kind of novel. An actual novel printed in real paper. An rare novelty in this day and age, but certainly nothing out of the ordinary. Going out of your way to get your hands on real paper books just meant you were a very dedicated bookworm.

Neither of them had noticed me so far. A sly smirk formed on my face. I decided to play annoy my friend to take the edge off from the recent hearing. Slowly I crept up to Verns' table, careful not to alert him. Then, when I was close enough, I invaded his personal space, throwing my arms around him from behind and resting my chin on his shoulder.

"Whatcha watchin'?" I asked.

Verns' reaction was exactly what I expected it to be. He recoiled forward with a yelp, bumping into the table and damn well nearly pushing his computer off of it. The man tried to glare at me, but I was still clinging onto him, so all he got was a face full of my smug expression.

"Stop doing that." He said, frowning.

When I didn't back off immediately, he resorted to pushing me off, gently applying pressure on my face with his hand until I had been sufficiently peeled off.

Pulling out a chair from the table and setting it down beside him, I made sure to lean into his space again, shit eating grin still present in my face.

"You haven't answered my question." I said, invading his space again to get a good view of his computer screen.

I could tell he was rolling his eyes, even behind his goggles.

"It's a documentary on the Solar War." He explained, turning the computer slightly so that I wouldn't have to sit so close to him to watch. "Unlike you, I try to spend my free time with more... productive pursuits."

It was all I could do to stifle a laugh. Verns always was a bit of a history nerd.

"Ancient history documentaries?" I prodded at him. "Really?"

"Excuse me, the Solar War is not ancient history!" He defended... rather passionately, I might add. Picking on the man's hobbies always lit a fire in him. "It hasn't even been 150 years since the war's start. Ancient history would be like... The One Year War, or the World Wars."

I laughed at his reaction. It was all too easy to prod him around... at least when he's not dead focused on our job.

"Oh come on, Verns!" I kept prodding him. "There's gotta be more fun things you can do to pass the time... even a history nerd like you could do with making the learning experience more entertaining!"

"Oh, please." He scoffed. Before I could answer, I saw his annoyed expression twist into one of smug defiance as he continued. "What good would making the learning experience entertaining, if you're just going to end up with nonsense like that Thunderbolt Wars drivel you read.

I felt my right eye twitch. That was a low blow! My mouth started talking before I could think of a proper response.

"Hey, leave Thunderbolt Wars out of this! There's nothing wrong with learning history through it!" I responded rather indignantly.

How dare Verns slander my favorite comic book series! He truly was a space age philistine with no appreciation for art.

"Nothing wrong?" Verns recoiled, his face twisting into what I could tell was disgust. "Why, where would I even sta-"

Before he could even go off on his rant about the historical authenticity and accuracy of Thunderbolt Wars, a soft loud slamming noise, like pillows being violently slammed against each other, caught our attention. Turning to our left, we saw that it was Bullow, who had slammed her book shut and was giving us an icy glare.

"Perhaps we should get going now." She rather harshly said. "Visitation hours will be over soon, and it wouldn't do to leave the Captain in the dark."

Was it that late already? I quickly checked the time on my watch, and sure enough it was nearing 1600, local time. Grissom Memorial's visitation hours ended at 1800, and getting there from the military district would be a half hour monorail ride.

"Oh shoot, she's right!" I nearly yelped. "Yeah, we gotta go now."

The three of us quickly hustled to the military compound's ground level, where the light rail station had been built. I found it annoying that my shorter stature meant I had to pick up the pace to keep up with Verns' and Bullow's naturally long strides. Verns, of course, noticed this... but instead of slowing down to accommodate, he gave off a smirk.

"Come now, Irena." He said, his voice dripping with barely hidden mirth. "Try and keep up. You wouldn't want to miss the tram, would you?"

Given that I was the one holding the group back, I couldn't really bite back. All I could do was sneer and grumble to myself, though all this accomplished was giving him a good reason to chuckle.

"I'll get you back for this..."

Thankfully, we arrived just in time for the 4PM car to leave the station. We took the Ring Line, which is connected directly to the military hospital. The monorail car left the enclosed station in the military base, leaving behind one kind if artificial lighting for another.

Exiting the station tunnel brought us out to Risima's surface. It was a state of the art, three armed O'Neill colony, with giant hyperglass dividers which served as both 'oceans' for the hab-arms it sits in between, and as 'skies" for hab-arms that stand parallel on the other side of the colony. Right behind the hyperglass walls, out in space, were the giant solar panels which both converted light into supplemental energy, easing the burden of the colony's Minovsky Fusion Reactors. It also served as reflectors which bounced light into the colony itself. This light worked in tandem with the giant rod in the middle of the colony, which stretched from one end of the tubular station to the other. It was both an artificial sun, and the enclosed station's atmospheric control system.

These features weren't what made Risima a state of the art colony. What did, were the advanced Mass Effect field generators on either end of the long cylindrical station. These fields kept the atmosphere without the need for a physical airlock. Supply ships coming in and out of the colony could pop into the docking bay, offload their cargo, and be on their without the need for an umbilical connection or massive airlock doors. This made Risima the perfect host for the Greater Shanxi Region's military center.

On the "north" end which faced the system's star was the colony's industrial sector. Massive foundries and factories produced weapons, ammunition, vehicles, spare parts, and even mobile suits every day. Most of the produced goods were then directly loaded into transport vessels, where they would be shipped to the rest of the star system.

The goods that weren't shipped immediately were instead taken on the Long Line, a massive railway track running the length of the colony, from the industrial "north end" leading to the military docks on the "south" end". On this section were shipyards and docking bays which could hold up to two dozen warships at once, maybe an extra dozen or two could also be serviced outside of the colony if umbilical connections were brought out. These main docks could house the rarer battleships and fleet-carriers of the Congressional Space Force.

In the distance, I could only barely make out the silhouette of the Chariot Class Cruiser I served in. As the first ship to be comissioned from the colony's shipyards, it was only fitting that they would share the name Risima. It was going through a quick overhaul, patches to the armor belt being made, extra armor platings mounted on, as well as replacing the damaged flight deck with a brand new one.

The monorail ride was quiet. Since it was still 4PM, most of the colony's residents were at work, or were still preparing for the night shift. The three of us agreed to hold off any discussion until we were with Captain Koda, do that he too could be kept in the loop.

We arrived in Iguazu Memorial Hospital shortly. The staff had somewhat come to recognize us, as we'd regularly visit the Captain whenever Regional Command wasn't busy grilling us about the incident. Though we'd memorized where to go, a nurse escorted us to the Captain's room. It was probably a formality thing. I certainly hoped it wasn't because they were worried we could start trouble.

When we arrived in the Captain's room, we saw his son was there, a man around our own age range... maybe a bit older. Healthcare technologies had advanced so much since the early days of Universal Century. Captain Koda himself was in his mid 50s, though he looked ten years younger thanks to modern medicine and youth treatments.

Koda's son knew we tended to discuss military matters that may or may not have been sensitive, so he kindly excused himself from the room.

"Call me back when you're done." He said to us as he left. His voice didn't show any signs of irritation, though I knew he didn't like having to leave his father during visitation hours. Frankly I wouldn't have minded if he stuck around. Verns was also ambivalent on the matter. For some reason it seemed to be Bullow that bugged him. If looks could kill, then the amount of venom he was shooting out would leave the XO dead many times over.

We bid him farewell, then turned to the man still in bed rest.

"Captain Koda, feeling better?" Verns greeted.

The man was still in bedrest. While the worst of his injuries had stabilized, his recovery was still a long way out. In particular, a nasty new scar now lined the side of the captain's head, where shrapnel had hit him. Luckily, all he got was a concussion and nothing worse. That being said, Bullow would have to remain in command of the Risima for a while longer.

"Well, I still feel like shit, but it's not as bad as yesterday." Koda said, morbidly laughing at his predicament before wincing at the pain it caused. "Anyways, you're not here to talk about me. What did the brass get up to today?"

"It seems they're zeroing in on Malcolm." My pilot colleague answered first, fitting since he had his session with the trio first.

"I concur." Bullow followed. "They questioned me in great lengths on Malcolm's performance during the incident."

"What did you tell them?" Was the captain's follow up question.

Dera sighed before answering. She seemed worried that her answer may lead to trouble for the Warrant Officer.

"I told them what I saw." She said. "Malcolm was nervous and agitated during the whole encounter, maybe a step short from panicking."

Koda nodded at her answer.

"Yes, he did seem... distracted, ever since he discovered the chatter echoes..."

This was news to Verns and I. We weren't at the bridge beyond the initial briefing, so neither of us got a good luck at the Warrant Officer... well, at least I didn't. I'm not quite sure about Verns, but he seemed to be as surprised as I was.

"Distracted?" My pilot friend echoed, brows furrowing as he began thinking. "Could it be... but no, surely... well I suppose it is possible... but surely Malcolm wouldn't..."

He was rambling off again. I snapped my fingers in front of his face to catch his attention and bring him back to the conversation.

"Hey, earth to Verns!" I called him. "What do you think is possible?"

As usual, the call yanked him out of his trance. I could see him shake his head a bit when he realized what he had done.

"Ah, my bad." He apologized. "I was just thinking... if Malcolm was as distracted as Bullow and the captain said he was... then it's not impossible that he missed the alien's attempts to communicate with us."

That wasn't a possibility that I had considered, but thinking it through now... it made some sort of sense.

"Yes, that's quite possible." Bullow spoke my thoughts for me. She brought up her hand to scratch her chin as she processed Verns' theory. "If the aliens aren't at all familiar with Minovsky Particles like we are, then their communications systems wouldn't be hardened to cut through it like ours are. It's not out of the question that he wouldn't have noticed their weak signals in the scanner because of all the Minovsky interference."

As I began processing the information myself, a knot started twisting in my gut. If Verns' theory was true, then in the aliens' point of view, we intentionally ignored all of their attempts at communication before they began taking more aggressive measures... but why would they see the need for such aggression? What did we do that had ticked them off so much, that they saw the need to assume an attack position right off the bat? My head began to spin as I ran through all the things we did while in the Fumitan System that could have warranted such actions... but as I thought, an question popped up in my head, begging to be answered.

"Even if Malcolm missed the alien attempts to hail us... why didn't the Comms Officers from the Monty and Gleiswick pick up anything either? The comm arrays on a Curran Class Destroyer is just as good and modern as the ones on a Chariot Class Cruiser."

That left the other three with much to consider. It took a while, but it was Captain Koda that finally broke the silence.

"It's possible that... the Monty and Gleiswick's crew thought we knew about the transmissions and assumed we were purposely ignoring it." The captain proposed. "It's rare that it ever happens, but that kind of judgement error isn't unheard of. It's why the New Cyrene Front was late to reinforce their main fleet, letting the Congressional Forces defeat them in detail during the Battle of Sola Dan. Rear Admiral Kost's Battleship had its comms array operating at reduced capacity and didn't pick up his superior's call for reinforcements until the captain of a nearby cruiser notified him about it."

Captain Koda went into a small coughing fit, interrupting his exposition. Us three lieutenants waited uncomfortably for it to end, knowing we really couldn't do much to help. Once our bedridden superior had finished, he took a glass of water and drank from it.

"So..." I finally spoke out, my face twisted due to a growing frown. "Assuming all of this... this theory is true... then, the whole situation and hostilities all happened because..."

I couldn't finish the sentence. It didn't sit right with me. Malcolm wasn't incompetent. He served well enough in the few years we served together. While I certainly wasn't the most familiar with him, I knew him well enough. The man had his quirks, but this shouldn't have happened at all.

"It's Malcolm's fault, yes." Verns finished for me. He didn't seem all too pleased with the outcome either. He had been closer to the Warrant Officer in question, and the thought that his friend may have inadvertently sparked an interstellar war definitely didn't sit well with him either.

The room was silent once more. Each of us mulled the thoughts in our head, though I'm sure all our thoughts centered around the Warrant Officer. Eventually, Bullow spoke broke the silence.

"Do you think... we should... bring this up to Regional Command?" She asked hesitantly. As the newest crew member between the four of us, she wasn't exactly well in tune with the crew's dynamics. Her hesitance likely came from fears that she may have slighted Verns somehow by suggesting they turn over his friend. Thankfully, he didn't seem hurt by the comment.

"No." He sighed out. He said the words I expected him to say, but the way he said it was not. It was a tone off... resignation? Acceptance? I wasn't quite sure until he explained further. "Regional Command has a much better overview of the situation than we do. I suspect the brass have already come to the same conclusion. I doubt we'd be telling them anything new."

-000-

Magarius leaned on the railings that stopped the Turians in Fort Zere from plumetting to their deaths from the rooftop landing pad. He had been dismissed from the meeting a few hours ago, after he delivered his full brief. It didn't seem like the Council was going to pin the blame on him, thankfully. However, he was still in the dark for what fate awaited him in the future. After all, they all but kicked him out of the conference room, citing the following discussions were beyond his paygrade and security clearance level. While it irked him at how casually he was dismissed, he was also thankful he wouldn't have to suffer through more of the Old Breed and Reformer's incessant bickering.

Now, he was just waiting. Not for a shuttle, no. He had been dismissed from the meeting, but he was not yet ordered to return to his post. He was up here because he felt like he needed the space and the quietness. The conference room had been loud, packed, and irritating. Magarius had earned this quiet respite.

The watchpoint captain blankly stared at the countryside surrounding Fort Zere. It had been built far away from Palaven's urban centers, directly into a mountain in the southern end of the Tinaion Province. Out there was wilderness, forests, rivers, and even a few farms. The top of the citadel afforded him quite the vantage point.

"Breathtaking, isn't it?" A voice suddenly spoke from behind, causing the captain to jump.

Magarius turned to see who the culprit was, scowl in face and ready to tell the Turian off... only to discover it had been none other than Castis Vakarian himself. Upon discovery, the Captain's expression turned to shock, which was quickly suppressed as Magarius readopted the posture of an officer and saluted the ISB Chief.

"Chief Vakarian, sir!" He greeted.

"It's just Castis right now, Herac." the Turian waved off. "We're both off duty right now."

Magarius' stance softened as Castis leaned onto the rooftop railing, back facing the ledge. The ISB chief fished into his uniform pocket, producing a stick of Dew and popping it in his mouth. That was surprising.

"I didn't realize you were a Dew user." The captain asked as he followed suit and leaned into the railing once more.

"Not after today." Castis laughed lightly, sucking in the exotic mix of spices, sweets, and herbs contained in the Dew stick's metallic chamber. He exhaled before speaking. "My wife's expecting. I have to set a better example for my firstborn."

Herac raised a brow at how casually Castis was talking to him. His instincts told him that something was up, but he wasn't sure. Vakarian being the unofficial head of the Pragmatists made him a bit of a wild card. While the Turian had a reputation for honor, he wasn't exactly above underhanded tricks.

"Congratulations." Was all Herac could say. He wasn't exactly sure where to take the conversation, or where Vakarian was going to lead it.

"Thank you." Castis said with what could only be described as a genuine a smile. He took another hit from his Dew stick before speaking again. "You have family of your own?"

Memories flashed in Magarius mind, much of them unpleasant.

"There was a girl I was sweet to back in Taetrus." He sighed, a wistful look gracing his features. "Haven't talked to her in a while. Heard she started dating an Asari."

"Tch, of course it's an Asari." Castis scoffed, voiced filled with contempt. Magarius could tell through the venom in the ISB Chief's voice that it wasn't directed to him, but instead to the aliens. "They're always out there trying to steal our best, you know? Would you believe me if I told you that I had to compete with an Asari for Portia's attention? Had to pull every known trick in the book... and then some more, to get the edge on that space harlot!"

Portia Vakarian, that was Castis' wife. She was a rather popular public figure, having come from a family of renown and wealth. After her service in the military, she turned to charity work and made quite the name for herself on that field. In a way, one could say she was destined for greatness. Castis' history on the other hand was much less certain. The Vakarians were nobody before he clawed his way up the meritocracy, and a social climber like him scoring with Portia was seen as an upset among the older names in Turian society.

"I can't imagine that was an easy fight!" Herac laughed. The image of Castis Vakarian, the Ryx Hound of Indaris, engaging in hijinks not unlike the ones on those romcom stories that were popular amongst the galactic youth was too humorous to not laugh at.

Evidently, Castis thought the same as he joined in laughter.

"Oh, it certainly wasn't!" The older Turian shook his head. "It was all worth it though. Everything that's good in life is worth fighting for. Our loved ones... our glories... our empire."

Herac started seeing where Castis was starting to lead the conversation.

"There's a storm brewing, Herac." Vakarian warned. "It's going to be a hard battle, maybe the hardest our people have fought in decades."

The ISB chief took one last hit from from the Dew stick before dropping it on the floor and crushing it with his boot.

"You're a good Turian, Herac." Vakarian continued. His voice had taken a more serious tone and his posture reflected that. Magarius followed suit and straightened himself as well. "I've read your file. You're smart, maybe a tiny bit temperamental, but also not shy about standing up for what's right. What Skyllian Sector Command did to you for pointing out their flaws was a travesty... and more importantly, you've been proven right."

The captain wasn't sure if he was supposed to shrink under all the expectations being piled on him, or to swell with pride at all the praise. Regardless of his reaction, Vakarian went on.

"The Old Breed won out. They want an expeditionary force to pacify the new contacts. Too large of a threat to be left to their own devices, Lacinius called them. I'm not sure I agree, Fedorian certainly didn't... but enough Reformers were swayed that the motion went through."

"What about the other Council? The one in the Presidium? The expedition will need their endorsement as well if it even wants to get a chance at starting."

"Lacinius said he'll brief Councilor Cassandor and Ambassador Sparatus before the end of the day. They'll take it up with the Citadel Council tomorrow."

"Do you think they'll agree?"

The ISB Chief paused. It seems even he wasn't sure whether or not the proposal would be thrown out, or entertained seriously.

"Councilor Tevos would be the hardest to convince, but with the Krogan Wars still in living memory among the Matron population, and the Rachni Wars remembered by the oldest Matriarchs, someone like Dilinaga may be able to apply enough pressure for the Councilor to concede." Vakarian explained. They were both staring out towards the wilderness now as they conversed. "Councilor Toraph would be an easier sell. His mentor's mentor was the one who authorized the Genophage and the Salarians still have regrets over the Krogan Mistake -as they call it- ingrained in their culture. I wouldn't be surprised if he bought into Lacinius' pitch that these contacts are too dangerous to be left alone. That being said, he's a cautious one. Making sure the Salarians don't make as big a blunder like they did with the Krogan Mistake could mean taking a more nuanced approach."

Magarius sighed at that info dump.

"So long story short, it could go either way." The captain said.

"Long story short, yes... it could go either way."

Silence fell between them as the captain processed everything the ISB chief had just relayed to him. The only missing piece now was why tell him... Magarius had his suspicions. Instead of skirting around the issue, he decided he'd rather be blunt and ask outright.

"So why tell me?" the captain asked.

"Because if things do end up escalating, I want you out there, in the tip of the spear, keeping our boys and girls safe." Vakarian answered bluntly.

The captain had expected that Vakarian wanted him to keep the expedition in check... but to take an active part in its leadership? That was surprising.

"You've proven yourself to be a very competent leader. When Trevanian failed, you cleaned up his mess and saved a lot of Turian lives. That's the kind of Turian our military needs in leadership roles... especially in volatile situations like this."

"But I'm just..."

"A watchpoint captain?" The older Turian cut off. It seems he had anticipated this. "Not after today. In light of your valorous conduct in the wake of the Relay 314 incident, I've managed to talk Fedorian and Lacinius into reverting your... punishment. Well, Fedorian was easier to convince. The Primarch took a bit more to get him to agree."

The surprise had turned into outright shock. This was completely overwhelming. Magarius had expected to face repercussions over Trevanian's failure while under his watch, not to be promoted because of it!

"I... thank you, sir." Was all Magarius could say. "I can't even begin to think how I could ever repay you!"

"Don't thank me, this was a long time coming." Vakarian said, turning to the captain and placing a reassuring hand on his back. "If you want to repay me... then make the most of what you have."

"Of course sir. I won't let you down!"

-000-

Relevant Notes:

Ship Naming Conventions: Like the US Navy, the CSF names its Destroyers after war heroes, and its Cruisers after cities/colonies. CSF Battleships and Carriers -on the other hand- follow along the lines of Halo's UNSC, getting unique names either based after SSC Presidents, battles of note, concepts/ideas, or just whatever name sounds cool to me. With the Turians, it's a bit trickier. I've resorted naming Frigates after Turian war heroes as well, since it would be easy to make up Turian names for the most numerous ship class in the fleet. Cruisers and Battleships were trickier. For this, I decided to take British Royal Navy ship names, and to bodge them into sounding vaguely Turian.

Beam Weapons Getting Blocked by Kinetic Barriers? I hope this chapter did an adequate explanation of why Mass Effect ship shields managed to deflect beam shots at certain angles. UC Gundam beam weapons have never been like lasers as we know it in real life, but instead are Minovsky Particles projected into the form of a beam, be it as a projectile, or as a melee weapon.

Why Couldn't Turians Contact CSF Ships? I also hope the discussion between Irena, Verns, Bullow, and Koda sheds some more light on why things turned out the way they did if the snippet from Ep 2 didn't make it clear.

WTF is Thunderbolt Wars? It's Gundam Thunderbolt. In the Mobile Suit/Mass Effect universe, the story of Gundam Thunderbolt is in universe fiction as opposed to an actual canon event. The actual Gundam Thunderbolt as we know it clashes wildly with UC lore beyond Bandit Flower, with wild shit like Mass Produced Gundam Mk-IIs in the early UC 80s, and the Zeta coming out years before it's actual debut in UC 0087. Despite this, I quite like Thunderbolt, so I decided this was the way to go so that I could still reference it.

-000-

THIS WORK IS CROSSPOSTED IN FFNET AND AO3