July 12, 2856
The mining colony of Eden Prime (Formerly known as Ronson),
"Herr Einzberg is indisposed at the moment."
Answered the same old bulter with the same stern wrinkled face and dull blue eyes which Franziska began to have an easier time looking at after three botched interviews. The answer, not surprisingly, was the same as before, but this time, the unwelcoming had become more obvious.
Does he have a grudge against me or something?
To be fair, people often found the right and the wrong reasons to grudge against Franziska Schott of the Silberne Schwalbe. Her sister, lame Esther thought she stole her hairclips, an accusation which Esther herself also was guilty of. In the brown brick hallways of St. Martha's Girls' School, people talked of a black-haired witch making sweet love with Father Nils behind the Confession Room, an exaggeration cause the most blasphemous thing she had ever done was accidentally touching his arms when receiving Sacramental Bread and sometimes forgetting to wear her bra. However, even she wouldn't be shameless to the point of denying using her charm, her smiles and things only women could do on the sources so her colleagues had their careers cut short for falsified claims. It was nothing personal, of course. In the news industry, everyone stepped on other people's heads to become the first to deliver the breaking news, donning themselves in sewer oil so they could slip through the crack and have a 15-minute screen time of glory at 7:00 AM.
It was a brutal world, a world of cutthroat, liars, sycophants and as the Reich was slowly falling into another recession, Franziska simply did what she needed to survive it.
That perhaps could explain what she was doing now.
Pink never went well with her hair and the skirt of this business suit was too long for her taste. She also disliked these Marion earrings, boring and simplistic which when combined with the braided bun, another dressed-up farmgirl was born. However, this appearance might score some points on Eden Prime, formerly known as Ronso, a planet so far away and impoverished that Fatherland gave it up to Citadel for free and so little-know it became a penal colony for an exiled Einzberg. For good reasons, Franziska had no interest in politics and the reader of Silberne Schwalbe had long tired of hearing about the Reich's sorry stage. But Leonard von Einzberg was a different matter entirely. The house of Einzberg was a powerful house and the most discreet. Whatever happened inside their grand castle on Vorig remained within its white-stoned walls and hence most of what people were shallowing on the street were either rumours or straight-out lies.
And that would be where my talent comes into play.
Truth be told, seducing the youngest son of the Einzberg and becoming Baroness of Eden Prime did cross her mind but in the end, Franziska of Silberne Schwalbe decided it wasn't worth the effort. If Lucius von Einzberg was so heartless to the point of having his son exiled, annulling the marriage with a lowborn woman wasn't far-fetched and while becoming a noble always sounded nice and good, it also meant she would be stuck here, on a backwatered planet with lamest husband ever. From what several trusted sources had claimed, Leonard was bookish, timid and more of a lazy cat than a lion, not her favourite kind of man despite his Einzberg's attractiveness.
"Tell the Overseer I will come back another day."
With only that, she bowed, turned around and headed to the door. Outside the three-stories mansion, the air was swollen with rotten eggs as the sky remained the same dusty brownish colour it had since daybreak. The northern parts of the main continent were inhabitable due to violent volcanic activities and with the summer storms bringing ash and sulfur down to the flatland below thrice a year, it was no big wonder why the Prothean left nothing on this planet besides a monstrous fortress which was now reduced to giant barrows and piece of unrecognized stonework. From one of the high points where the overseer's residence/ office was located, Camp Adel, the biggest settlement of Eden Prime looked even uglier than it was supposed to be. A collection of shabby houses, digging sites and not-so-clean establishments raised between the broken stones like a wound manifested. To give this place the name "Eden" was a mockery to the spiritual Eden and the material ones but perhaps that was also the point.
"Still nothing, Fräulein Schott ?"
Asked Shiro, her Drell assistant, cameraman, driver and part-time bodyguard with his back leaning against the hovercar's door and an impassive expression haunting his alien face. Their partnership was born out of convenience. He was a freelancer who was sitting on his hands and in need of some Reichmarks while Franziska didn't have the confidence to stroll alone on this uncivilized planet. So far Shiro had proven to be a handy upgrade compared to her previous human partners. Like all other Drell, he was discreet and polite and somewhere in his life had been trained in the art of sneaking around and gathering intel. However, the best thing about having an alien partner was that, unlike her fellow human, Shiro had no reason nor intention to hit on Franziska.
"I need a drink." She sighed and opened the backseat door, "Something decent if you please."
"Hardly anything up to your standard in these parts."
"Just make sure the floor is clean and my beer doesn't taste like piss." Waving her hand in defeat, Franziska stepped inside and cursed as the chill crept up her neck." Didn't you take our car to the garage last night?" She grumbled, hand pulling her coat up, "Good God, don't tell me people here cannot fix a damn heater."
"They can," Admitted the Drell assistant softly as the engine was started, "They just refused to do so."
Franziska blinked, confused, "Why? I gave you more than enough to buy a new one, didn't I?"
Tiny waves of weariness danced on the dark pool of his eyes. Hesitantly, Shiro revealed the reason " Money wasn't the problem, it was just... Perhaps I have done something wrong, Fräulein Schott."
"What do you mean by that?"
"The owner of the garage, a grumpy old man they called Hernandez took offence to my presence in a very bad way. He yelled something about Xenos and how he would choose death over servitude before showing me the door. I really don't understand why." Shiro sighed, "Come to think of it, I didn't even speak a word to him but again, I'm not familiar with Earthling's subculture as you are well aware."
That's..unusual, even for Eden Prime. If it was a Turian or Asari who got the treatment, she didn't even bat an eye, but being a dick to a Drell? The humble lizard-humanoid race had stayed out of every confrontation in the last 300 years to preserve their already dwelling number and though everyone, even the Drell themselves knew they were taken advantage of by those annoying pathetic jellyfish Hannars for an old ass life-saving debt, served faithfully they still. Such decency was hard to come by in this galaxy and therefore, the Drell was the only aliens allowed in the Royal household. Growing up, she barely saw any discrimination the Drell suffered from her own kind. In fact, this perhaps was the first time she ever heard of it.
"Could be the weather." Said the female reporter with a shrug, "Their ancestors come from a land of vast jungle and sunshine but now they all get sucked on this barren rock. Trust me, if you were him, you would have a stick up your ass every single day too."
On the way down, like adding more load to an already miserable day, it started to rain. Not normal rain, of course, but Eden Prime's volcanic ash rain made your clothes smell like piss and the ground beneath your feet turned to mud. Franziska snorted and wondered how long she must endure this travesty. Two weeks after their arrival, the main interview she was looking for hadn't yet occurred, and with the way that Butler showed her the door, it likely would never occur. The budget that the Schwalbe had given her for a different interview on a different planet could only last for another week. Two if she agreed to live in the car as Shiro had suggested but that was as far as she could go.
What can I do now?
Nothing. If the von Einzberg interview wouldn't go through, she was doomed. Lying to her editor was one thing but misusing the money? They wouldn't let that slide unless she came back with something.
"Do you think he knows, Shiro?" Franziska asked quietly.
"I'm afraid you must be more specific, Fräulein Schott."
"Drop the formality when we're alone, please." She came here with a fake ID and a story of a poor but well-educated woman from Transition Sectors (The area located between Core Worlds and the Imperial heartland) who wanted to make a name in journalism so a certain amount of facade needed to be maintained. "Do you think the overseer knows why I'm here?"
The Drell chuckled, "He delayed, avoided but didn't refuse you outright. Perhaps there is a truth in it after all. He is indeed a busy man."
Be as it might, Franziska could not help but wonder how a man like him gets tangled in a place like Eden Prime. The old overseer had done nothing to improve his domain and by the look of it, so did the new. Von Einzberg barely left his condor these days from what Shiro had told her, and when he did, he only cared about a newly established mine which he was also the sole owner and investor. Santuario they called it and ever since then, Franziska assumed there was an inside joke she didn't understand here.
"Well, it is true this venture of yours is on a rough course but it doesn't totally deprive you of joy, Fräulein Schott," He continued causally, trying to lift the mood "At least for an alien like me, it proves very insightful."
"Insightful?" She raised an eyebrow, "If getting a kick to your butt just for the thing you can't change is insightful then I give up."
"Not the first time I got into trouble with the local. The Turian once chased me out of their system for they believed I was a spy and my compatriots warned me to stay away from the Vorcha. Some of them, unfortunately, believe Drell flesh can expand their lifespan so there is a fat chance they would greet me with a barbecue party." Chuckled the Drell harmlessly, " This time it's worth the trouble though. I once heard there was more than one race of human but I couldn't imagine what it was like. During my time within the Reich's territory, you all look alike to me. No offence. However, these Eden Prime habitants are truly from a different stock. Some of them are as much alien as I am to you."
As weird as it might sound, the Drell wasn't without a point. When she walked among these people, she couldn't help but feel like an alien. While Franziska was pale-skinned, tall and slender, the locals were tanned, short stature and sturdy build. Their hair was darker than hers, their eyes were all black instead of green, blue, red or purple and it was hard to ignore their flatter and wider noses. On top of that, aside from the standard German they spoke with a funny accent, they had another language called Spanish, sounding like machine gun fire and required hand signs to emphasize what they were trying to say in high spirits.
Of course, this could not be counted as a surprise, not really anyway cause she was taught about nine great branches of humanity in school and what happened during The Migration. Still, in the case of a somewhat naive and overcurious Drell like Shiro, it was without a doubt the discovery of the century. Several times she had stopped him from taking pictures of the townfolks after they clearly showed their distaste for that. He complied but unsurprisingly, continued his research behind her back with a smaller camera.
"I thought the novelty has died off by now."
"On the contrary, Fräulein. It renews my interest in Humanity." Shiro said with genuine excitement, "Now I am looking forward to meet the people whom you call 'Asian'. You know, I have looked into their culture, the Japanese in particular and found plenty of similarities between them and the Drell. We both seek harmony within our race, put a lot of effort into making others feel respected, and we all share a special fondness for seafood. Well, the last part is not entirely correct because we only started that tradition during our stay at Hanar's Homeworld. Anyway, they are just one subject of curiosity. Over there you have dark-burned men chasing and hunting animals with spears and arrows, red-skinned men with feathers on their head. I want to see all of them with my own eyes one day."
Your finance will disagree and the information you read is clearly outdated. They said the closer you were to Earth, the more diverse humanity became but there was another saying about a loaf of bread on Earth worth a fortune in Core World. Of course, it was just an exaggeration just like the Africans with spears and arrows but the everlasting truth here was an alien like Shiro could only dream about boarding a ship to anywhere near the cradle of humanity. Even the nobles thought twice about such an expensive trip and some of them only visited Earth once.
"If you somehow got me my interview, Postdam and the Arch of Triumph then. All on me." She said with a smile people always smiled for things never came to pass , "Damn my luck, the Einzberg must have castrated the man before sending him here or something."
Besides the fact that Franziska was now ten years older than the first time she came up with the tactic which was seldomly brought up, she didn't understand why the magic wore off. Once she assumed Leonard was into boys but it was unlikely to be the case. Camp Adel was a small place so if the noble was doing something outrageous and degenerating, people would talk.
"Be patient, Fräulein Schott, your chance will come soon enough." Shiro reassured her, "In the meantime, I think you may want to know more about your target. My source told me some very interesting stories considering the overseer."
"You...you have a source?" More importantly, it was rare to see 'Interesting' and 'Leonard von Einzberg' in the same sentence. "I didn't give you enough money to afford that."
"Some kindness and a promise is good enough for him. Coincidentally, my source also owns a decent establishment that may satisfy your demand."
You sly bastard. Well, If charm and virtues didn't work then what he was suggesting wasn't a bad idea either. Blackmailing was a low blow in journalism, not to mention dangerous for it might come back and bite you someday, but Franziska had always been far from an upright reporter and too desperate to fear such trivia. Besides, she really wanted to see what kind of dirt had managed to stick on Herr fancy bookworm. For the record, dry tiles had invoked more curiosity than the youngest son of Lucius von Einzberg.
"I hope it isn't about him having a mistress and a son born out of wedlock. It might be a hell of a story during my grandfather's time but now we have a bastard turn crown prince."
"It will be worth your time, I promise ." He took something metal and clinking out of his pocket, and held out the clenched hand for her. "Here, a souvenir from my source. He said it belonged to his father."
There was...an eerie feeling when the necklace touched her flesh, rain pouring heavier, wind wailing outside her windows and thunders roaring from the distance. She held the object in front of her nose, puzzled by the design. It was no jewellery by any stretch. The chain was made of stainless steel, and the pendant was cast in bronze, crude and not so sophisticated, and yet... and yet...she couldn't help but think she had seen this enthralling symbol, this crest somewhere before; A Roman numeral one with a skull stamped in the middle.
"What the hell is this junk?" She asked
"Pedro is a much better storyteller than me so I will save the hard labour for him, " The Drell replied causally, " But if you wanted to know the short version of it then...Well, have you ever heard of 'Los Primeros Devotos' (The First Devouts) before?"
Now she saw it everywhere. On the road leading to the downtown, the strange symbol was carved into every old milestone. She saw it on the walls of buildings and lamposts, painted in faded white paint. She saw it shined in golden light among the crowd of miners coming home from work, soaked and exhausted by the rain. Women used it on cheap bracelets, compensating for the rag they wore and vagabonds proudly displayed the skull on their exposed arms while giving Franziska a dirty look outside her car windows. Camp Adel was never her favourite location and now she had another reason to stay ten miles away.
"You mean he joins a cult?" The reporter asked, fear treading on her voice. Being born in Core World, she knew the terrifying prospect it implied. " Is he..."
"The overseer is far from a genestealer if it was what you feared." Shiro chuckled, "By the gods, I have never seen a Doran enthusiast like him before. Everyone around here had at least four injections each month by his command while the standard for an E-tier planet is just one."
Either I was wrong and Leonard actually cared about this shithole or this was just a clever foil to make some money out of the annual budget. The latter sounded unlikely but she wasn't going to exclude it. After all, he was still the son of Lucius von Einzberg, a man who was believed to make charity profitable and sell his mother at the right price.
"So...what is this 'Los Primeros Devotos' is about? Beside giving out an eye-catching trademark I mean."
"Run-of-the-mill stuff you would expect from a cult no matter the race - Apocalypse teaching, Endtime prophecy, nighttime chanting, praying, fasting, arguing over the succession."
Franziska couldn't help but smirk, "Always a pleasure to see people living a rock like this one have time to talk about a court drama happening hundred million lightyears away." Sighing, she leaned back against her seat, feeling dizzy due to the string of disappointment and comfortable flowy cotton, "My best guess is we currently are in a Frog country so don't ever think about praising Konstantin unless you want to have a taste of mob violence."
Maximillian was more popular than the Habsburg Prince among the working class for a reason Franziska wouldn't even bother to find out. Her focus was always small-scale and practical. Besides two handsome men whom she could never marry or take to her bed, there was nothing for the reporter in this political conflict. And what I couldn't get my hand on, the less time I should spend dwelling on. That was always the first principle for a woman who wanted the whole galaxy to maintain her sanity, truer than ever as the privilege had gone to a bitchy princess and a harlot.
"If you say so," Shiro shrugged, " But I'm not so sure how it would help honestly. By the look of it, they have a different man in mind, a godly man who will lead humanity in the crusade against Dark powers." Franziska immediately threw him an irritated glance, to which the alien responded with a small chuckle, "Please, don't look at me like that, Fräulein. Pedro's words, not mine."
The establishment in question was located on a dirty unpaved road at the eastern end of the town, next to a clearing where digging equipment, rusty chassis and random mechanical parts were stacked up into a pile of garbage. The smell was unbearable but the bar looked decent enough - a medium-sized rectangle building painted in blue, wooden oval doors, purple flowers grown along the balcony, a strange bright dot in the middle of a grey canvas. - hesitantly, Franziska stepped out of the vehicle, rambling as mud shot up to her pink skirt and many unfriendly glances she received from the locals. It was always like this since the first day. She always stuck out like a sore thumb, men always had reason to comment about her ass and for the women, her attitude. However, today she could tell there was something else in their muttering, something very alerting but as the rain began to pour heavier, Franziska rushed to the door and the rare moment of self-preservation was gone never to return.
"Well, not really up to something you are used to but isn't this a cozy place?" The Drell asked with a smile and approval-seeking look when they were inside.
"Almost." Franziska replied lazily.
It was a true statement though. Relatively clean panelled walls and floor indeed made her feel warm but Franziska could never be a fan of this exotic decor. Her eyes were invaded by the shades of green, white and red coming from the ceiling lights, the counter, the liquors, the tables, the chairs and those ugly wide-trimmed hats which she saw the locals putting on everywhere except for their heads. For the prettiest thing she had seen so far in Camp Adel, the place was strangely deserted. Besides four patrons drunk sleeping on a table near the door, a miner eating his meal in silence at the corner and a teenage waitress rushing to greet them, there was no one else in sight. Either they don't drink before sunset or the price is throat-cutting, she decided and put hope in the former.
"Seignior Luok! Welcome back." The girl said, bowing and smiling. "You come here for a drink or my father?"
"Both." Answered the Drell jokingly, "And for you too, my beautiful Margarita. Never did I know not seeing your lovely face every day can be that hurtful."
Blushes appeared on the girl's cheeks as she giggled, to which Franziska couldn't help but scoff. At the age of 15, she could be considered comely enough due to the typical countryside charm- two brown pigtails, shiny black eyes, plain clothing and youthful innocence- but nowhere near deserving of such a compliment and though Shiro didn't mean anything beyond re-acting one of Zimmerman's most famous scene and failed miserably at that, the consequence could be severe. Even now, even in the most liberal areas like Core World, the sight of a man and his Asari wife walking hand in hand still earned plenty of scorn, so God helped them if the hard-working and well-mannered citizen of Eden Prime went on assuming her reptile alien was preying on an underage girl.
"Margarita my dear, wouldn't you mind go find your father?" The reporter asked, trying to end this stupidity as sweetly as she could, "We have something important to discuss."
"Yes..yes right away, señora. Sorry."
She dipped her head in embarrassment before heading for the door at the other end and disappearing. Shiro smiled warmly at the performance :
"Well, what do you think, Fräulein? She's a good girl, isn't she? It wouldn't be too hard to find someone like that a handmaid spot in respectable households, I assume."
You assumed too much. Franziska was never deemed to be respectable enough for an introduction letter and less could be said about an alien freelancer. Vouching for the girl and having her tagged along when they left Eden Prime wouldn't be a problem truth be told. Pedro had done all the paperwork and paid for the ticket but in the usual fashion of a clever merchant whom he was, the food or accommodation never went into the discussion. Clearly, the old man knew Shiro would never let his daughter live on Kaiser's charity soup and threshold while her gallant partner was so obvious about human nature.
"You should talk to me first before making such a decision. Did you even ask questions? How do you know he is genuine?"
"Ah, you know me Fräulein Schott. Things happened so fast and I got carried away." Explained the Drell, almost feeling regretted, "After I saved Margarita from that drunkard, Pedro had done nothing to raise suspicion. He is just a good man, a father wanting a better life for his only child. You will see."
Then why did he want to send her away? True the conditions around here weren't ideal but either swimming into the big sea and getting drowned. From what Franziska gathered, Pedro was far from a fool, so as they sat down at the counter, waiting for the master of the house, the irony certainly raised some questions. However, after three fiery shots of the local beverage called "Tequila", her concern vaporized like steam.
"My apology, I didn't mean to keep you waiting. A small trouble with this week's delivery as usual." Explained the small statue, curled grey-haired man as he walked slowly and difficulty to the counter, hands clapping together, a bright smile blooming on his thick lips. Franziska sighed. She could see right away that Pedro wasn't as old as he appeared to be and there was nothing wrong with this week's delivery. Just what I need. A sly bastard to deal with. " Welcome back Seignior Luok. Again, thank you for what you did for my daughter." He then turned to Franziska, smiling charmingly, "And this flower is your partner, señora Schott, I assume. My, my, you indeed didn't exaggerate when speaking of her beauty."
"Thank you for your kind words, Pedro. But, please, I have a long day and you have an establishment to look after." She said, hoping to put an end to this meaningless foreplay once and for all. "Shiro said you had a deal with him, am I mistaken? Well, with me being here, you can be sure that our part in the bargain will be fulfilled, and your daughter will be taken care of. As long as you do yours, of course."
"Straight to business, eh?" Chuckling humorlessly, he refilled their empty glasses, fingers drumming on the wooden surface, "I like your style, señora. What do you want to know?"
"Anything less known about the overseer will be helpful." Suggested the reporter, "For starters, let's talk about his favourite pastime these days. Shiro said you have info on the cult which he is a member."
The smile extinguished on his lips and in his brown eyes. Leaning a little forward, the man whispered to them, "They called themselves the Devouts or Servants of the God-Emperor. And he's no mere member, señora . He was among those who started the whole thing 10 years ago and ever since then, their number keeps growing."
"Wait, wait a minute! It can't be only ten years." The Drell interrupted, "Some of their marks I have seen are older than that. And the necklace you gave me belonged to..."
"My grandmother, yes, may she rest in peace." To Franziska's confusion, his hairy hands moved to the opposite side of the chest, forming something resembling a bird spreading its wings with ten fingers, "And I told you no lie, my dear Shiro. It all began ten years ago, right after the Battle of Eden, when this planet was still called Ronson, but the Holy Icon had been here for a long time. When I was a child, the man who brought it to our home was long dead, yet people still remembered the story. On a stormy night, people found him hiding in the grain tank of a heavy transport, nearly crushed by the scooping machine. He was a weird man, mad some may say, wearing rags that were once fine clothing and preaching about the Savior and Dark Gods who wanted to devour the Galaxy which none could make sense of. My grandma said his German was horrible and his Spanish was even worse but he was sincere despite how people here treated him like a joke. He went around craving the holy icons on every stone he could find, helping people or spending his time at Nido de águila, working on a book of some sort until his death."
Smoothly, Franziska took out of her pocket a small black mirror-liked object which was quickly expanded into a larger one and flicked into life after she laid it on the counter. Although this version of Datapad didn't offer as many applications and features as the normal ones, it was compact, cheap and durable, a perfect tool for a guerilla journalist.
"Son of a predominant house influenced by a mysterious cult leader of unknown origin. Bizzare dogma. Visual effects on local culture can be observed. Worshipping a new god? Locally originated or alien import or rebellious against the crown still remained in question." She began to type down, " Did our man have a name?" She asked.
"Perhaps he did but people all referred to him as 'The Prophet'. As you can see, he..."
"Talked walked and acted like ones. Very creative." Franziska let out a sigh, "And where is this Nido de águila anyways?"
Pedro replied with arms crossed and a smirk, "The highest mound around here, three kilometres to the West. I think you know the place."
Franziska and Shiro share a look of genuine shock. That was where they had just come from, Leonard von Einzberg's mansion. Although the details weren't enough yet, she could see this was far from a weird roleplay of an eccentric noble, "Are you saying the overseer built a shire on his prophet's grave?"
"I can tell you that it wasn't done on purpose. Twelve years ago, when the young Einzberg came to Eden Prime, he was no more than a whimper that might end up dead after having too much yellow dust in his lungs. However, no one dared to disrespect him. His father owns three continents on Eden Prime, Camp Adel included and savages we may be, we all know what kind of man Lucius von Einzberg is." He then poured himself a shot of Tequila, "Our.."councilmen', if you can call them that, built the mansion. The old overseer building was a little better than a ruin by that point, so we hoped through giving his son a new one, Old mighty lord Einzberg would lower the tax."
"Did it work in your favour?" Asked the Drell amusingly.
Pedro shrugged, "Don't know. At least he didn't ask for more so this can be counted as a victory I guess."
Shiro busted out laughing but Franziska couldn't even manage a polite smile, "That doesn't explain how a whimper becomes a cult leader." She pointed out, "You said nobody believed in that mystical tale before now."
Pedro's brown eyes cautiously move from left to right, looking for eavesdroppers. Then he downed his shot and spoke in an unusually low voice :
"I'm just a man running a business to feed myself and my daughter, señora, not a reporter nor a detective. What I have for you are stories. Some drunk construction workers came over here and talked about the day they found an old trunk full of books while digging the foundation for the mansion and how the Overseer was so captivated by them that he spent days after days reading them under the tree. Local pharmacists go around buying all Asari dream wine for new DTM doses because our Overseer gets high so often that he begins to be immune to whatever they have in the stall. Former gardeners, maids and guards will tell you how intolerant he can be in the presence of droids, alien-made objects or the Surkesh peace treaty. The drill instructor of our pitiful Landwehr doesn't understand why his men have to train with weapons and tactics specifically designed to combat the Asari while Asari pirates can't be found anywhere in the whole sector or desperate enough to attack this place. Those are just a few things I have heard all over the years. What is the real cause? I don't know."
This has to be a joke. Franziska put a hand against her face, dispairing, I came here to get some dirt on the Einzberg patriarch but in the end, I just got myself a madman. No one will believe whatever the fuck comes out of his mouth.
"Aren't people here concerned? Aren't you concerned, Pedro?" Shiro asked, grim as for the first time, he realized the gravity of the situation. "Your leader, the highest official around here clearly lost his mind. Someone must have informed the Sector Administration about this, right? Or the Citadel, at least. They share the ownership of Eden Prime as much as the responsibility comes along with it."
Shaking his head, Pedro refilled their glasses, "And back then you asked me why I wanted Margarita to get the hell out of this planet." He then turned to Franziska, confused, "How long have he been with you? Our alien friend here seems to believe we are a big fat happy family that takes care of each other."
"Is it wrong to think so?" Shiro disagreed, " You Germans fought tooth and nail to maintain the Reich's territory in Core World against the Citadel then Tyranid."
"Fighting bravely for prized possessions of the Reich, mind you," Said the tavern owner sarcastically. "They make a ton of money out of the other Eden, yes, but this one can only give them dirt. Stinky volcanic yellow dirt that chases away even the genestealers, a blessing in disguise. Life here is miserable enough without those bald heads. " Pedro nodded toward the miner sadly munching on his bean stew, " See that? Last year, that man lost 40 co-workers in one of those tunnels. Unbelievable isn't it? It's the 29th century already, some folk manage to enjoy their breakfast on Earth before watching the sun setting down on Mar's sand dunes, and yet people still die like their ancestors did, buried under a ton of rocks in the attempt to feed their families." He downed his shot and drowned in sorrow, "No one cares, my dear Xenos. We are the unclaimed children of mankind; outsiders and cockroaches since the day we set foot on this soil. If you want to live a long and happy life, please leave Eden Prime."
Am I having too much Tequila or does it sound like a threat?
Franziska couldn't tell but it definitely was Tequila that caused the concern to fly off her head, making her a bolder woman than she actually was, "Well, I guess you should start packing our things in the inn, Shiro." The reporter finished her drink and placed a 5 Reichsmark on the table, "Keep the change."
"Wise decision, señora." Pedro smiled, contented. "I will tell my daughter to do the same."
She raised her hand, "That has to wait. We won't be off the planet just yet." On the bright side, this hiccup didn't come without an opportunity, "We will go nomad for a week or two then see whether we can find something worth our time here or not. Imagine the look on Lord Einzberg's face when I came to him with evidence of his son's nightly activities. A million Reichsmark look I say."
"A hundred thousand if we're lucky," Said the Drell, looking less optimistic after the revelation, "I doubt the mighty lord Einzberg cares much for his blood as you hope."
It's his ego I'm aiming at, not his fatherly love. It was true that barely anyone could claim he knew Lucius von Einzberg's heart, but under the sun, any man who disowned his son for being too weak was never too hard to understand. Honour and legacy were everything to this type of man and what could done more harm to that than a rebellious son spreading a traitorous cult teaching? One million was just the beginning. If she managed to get this thing done beautifully, ten times that number wasn't far-fetched.
"Here we often say digging too deep and you will dig your grave." Warned Pedro, "Lucius is treacherous as much as he is cold-hearted. Isn't it the norm? Under those pretty faces and hair, the Einzbergs are nothing more than stingy merchants who do everything to protect their investment, their trade routes, their palaces and to hell with others. Promises he may give you, yes, but in the end, he will betray his words. This is a mistake, señora."
On that, their pub owner and so-called informer weren't entirely wrong. Indeed there was a wide range when it came to their nobility. Some houses, like the Breitners, were renowned for their martial prowess, some for providing many exceptional politicians to the Reich over the years, some even became legends among the aliens for their bravery like the Krahenholz, and some followed the footsteps of the Einzberg who could only be known for not losing a single member or a coin throughout the Great War. It wasn't gonna be a walk in the park, but which part of her life was full of roses anyway?
"Mistake or not, I would be the judge of that." Franziska replied with a mischievous smile, "But speaking of 'treacherous' and 'betray', is this masques your idea or your master's, Pedro?"
She should have told Shiro after they passed through the door. She should have because his surprised, jaw-dropping face looked so ridiculous it cringed the hell out of her.
"Hold.. on... Hold on, Fräulein Schott," The Drell stuttered nervously, "I think there is a misunderstanding here..."
"I must say I appreciate the drama." She ignored the objection. "A loving father of humble origin sending his little princess away in tears does ring some nice tones, but you kinda break the immersion with your hands and mouth." His sign of the cross was too suspicious to be counted as a signature move of an eccentric man and although Franziska didn't really know what the word 'Xenos' meant, she could tell it wasn't Spanish nor appropriate for a Samaritan like Shiro. "Nice try, though. If only you knew whom you were dealing with. A discouragement like that wouldn't chase me away, sorry."
She had experienced all kinds of reactions after exposing a liar. Some tried to deny it, some tried to weasel their way out by changing the story, accusing her of being a liar or simply telling her that she had misheard. Well, that was always the case, or at least it had been until Pedro poured another drink and made a toast for her.
"No, we always know whom we are dealing with," Replied Pedro with a slight disappointment. "I would prefer you take the bait and spare yourselves of further unpleasantries but who am I to tell? The God-Emperor clearly has a plan for every one of us and no one understands it better than his Holiness."
Right after he finished, the sound of moving tables and falling chairs rose behind Franziska. She turned around, eyes wide open. The four drunkards didn't appear to be drunk and the sad miner was, in fact, not sad. Standing still like statues, they silently observed both of them with their dark eyes, smooth black tubes found their way into those big hairy hands, glistering in blue electrical light. Franziska froze on her feet, realizing the mistake she had made.
He didn't mean to chase me away.
"STAND DOWN!" Shiro shouted, as loud as a Drell could. His Walther quickly left the holster and before Franziska had a chance to react, he had stood between her and the potential threats, weapon raised, locked and loaded. "We are journalists operating legally under the Kaiser's Information Transparency Act and with the permission of the administration of this star system. Any obstruction or arrest must be approved by higher authority."
"We recognize none of that." Growled the miner, "Not the traitors in the Reichstag, the pretender on thrones nor his law."
"Then you have to recognize this, sir." Shiro aimed his pistol at the man's chest. " Stay where you are, and then we may part ways in peace."
The miner laughed, a wicked and bitter laugh, "You speak of peace, Xenos? While you are still there polluting our air?
The door flung open, followed right after by a stream of troubles in all shapes and forms. Some of them wore the dark blue uniform of police, the rest were just wet heads, muddy boots civilians. Most were men but Franziska could see some crooked-toothed women and bearless boys among the mod. However, they were all armed - pistols, Lasgewehr, knives, clubs - and they were here with a single purpose.
"Fear not, brothers and sisters. Those who die in his service are worthy of eternal glory." Declared Pedro from behind the counter, his voice reeking with a zeal that didn't belong to this world, "Take the woman. Kill the Xenos!
November 15, 2856
Arcturus Relay, 20 million kilometres from the Capital planet of Aldebaran, Kernwelt.
Normandy's bridge
The Normandy glided through the dark cold void in her maiden voyage, smoothly and beautifully like a yacht in the bay of Naples. Of course, Nora couldn't share that with anyone since she was perhaps the only person on board who had ever seen a yacht and knew how gorgeous Naples could be in the summer months, but it didn't mean the comparison was incorrect. Normally a 150-meter-long ship with four thrusters and three hundred crews would guarantee an 'U-boot experience', meaning sleeping boxes stacked on top of each other, long waiting lines in front of the bathroom, short breaks, shitty sergeant majors and even shittier food. Yet, with Asari ergonomic, Turian drive core and the finest shipbuilding of Aldebaran, the heart of Kriegsmarine itself, the impossible had become possible. Somehow, they managed to put two light-armoured Hanebu and two orbit-drop troop carriers Kugelblitz in to one hangar, installed a four-windows-recreation room, a vegetable garden with criminally expensive automatic irrigation systems into the Normandy while still making sure that the ship would outmanoeuvre even a Delphin scouting vessel at half-capacity.
Truly wonder whose idea this was.
It was said that the Crown Prince arranged everything for the arrival of the first human Specter but Nora doubted it. The Maxi she knew was never this thoughtful, and the fingerprint of that Russian princess could be found everywhere on this ship. At least 15% of her crew had an 'va', 'ov' or 'vich' in their names and for a peculiar and unknown reason, the food coming out of the kitchen always smelled of vodka. It wasn't like she was annoyed by the fact that noble folk, again, couldn't keep their politics out of military conduct or her arm almost fell off after shaking so many hands at so many reception parties, but at least they should have considered her opinion when it came to the rest of crew members.
"Now that is what I call the New Age of spacefaring!" Exclaimed her flight lieutenant, Jeff Moreau, also known as 'Joker' before slapping his palm on the control panel "Make your daddy proud, girl !"
Lord preserves us.
Even after five weeks of training on Aldebaran, his antics never failed to cause many heads to turn in the cockpit as well as earn from the ever-patient Kommandant, a sigh. In all fairness, Joker might be the prime example of the never-ask-my-opinion problem, but It would be a lie if Nora said she didn't see the reason why the man was chosen to steer perhaps the most advanced vessel in the Kriegsmarine.
As an only child raised by a single mom and suffering from a severe case of Vrolik syndrome which turned his bones into crackers and accidentally getting pushed down the stairs more times than he could count, Joker's final hope lay inside the cockpit of a war machine where he could stand tall and strong to any man. Inferior complex and thirst for revenge were always powerful catalysts, it was known, but in this case, the substance was so strong that her cripple pilot was eager to take on a 7-on-1 match in stimulated starship combat and somehow come out victorious. Not her first choice really, but given time, Nora would find a way to live with it.
"Easy, Joker." She reminded him gently, like a mother would her child, "Change vector to D-201, approaching the Relay at 50,000, auto-pilot until we go blue."
"Auto-pilot? Come on, Shepard. I can take us to Eden Prime with a blindfold."
"It isn't a request, Moreau", Said another example of the never-ask-my-opinion problem in his own style of command, not particularly harsh and yet not particularly gentle. To most, Kaidan Alenko was the image of how a German officer should be: Few of word, courageous under fire, executing orders with machine precision and boots so shiny that he could see his face in them. However, to Nora, this dark-haired, blue-eyed spieceman was nothing more than a riddle. "And please address her as Kommandant or Ma'am."
"Yes, sir, Captain Alenko, sir." Joker replied with a mischievous wink, "I forgot myself for a moment. Such familiarity is only meant for an Adonis like you."
Kaidan snorted in annoyance while Nora couldn't help but crack a smile. Her captain was indeed a handsome man. Young female crew members giggled as he passed by in the hallway, and it took Nora great restraint not to touch his shoulders from behind. God forbid, she loved men with strong shoulders.
"Alright, that's enough chatter for now." She decided. "Estimated arrival time, Joker?"
"7:10 pm local time, 6:40 am standard earth time. The weather is as good as it gets for a relative visit with warship and a Turian Spectre on board." Announced the cheeky little guy in a horrible space steward's impression before turning serious "Still got no idea why we're heading there, Kommandant?" He asked, "Man, it isn't like I want to sound doom and gloomy, but the whole thing definitely has a bad vibe. A Spectre, a Commodore and a soon-to-be Spectre in one place only mean serious shit about to hit the fan. Holy smoke, it would be wild if they wanted you to arrest your uncle as the entrance mission."
He wasn't the first to suggest that, but the first to voice it out loud. Half of the crew shared a similar idea after Reinhart showed up alongside Nihlus Kryik, a big bad Turian with a bigger stick up his ass and demanded them to pack things up and depart for Eden Prime but they knew to keep their mouth shut. A Citadel's agent Spectre might be, but everything, from the coffee cup to the vessel itself, still bore the anchor and dagger insignia of Naval Intelligence and Nora clearly didn't ease anyone's nerves by wearing the black cloth and white skull of Totenkorpf (The only dress uniform she had) during the first month.
So far, the Kommandant was indifferent to the speculation.
On the one hand, she wasn't naive enough to believe this had nothing to do with the blood running in her veins, but on the other hand, she was sure no harm would be done to Uncle Leo. More than twelve years since they last saw each other, yet the memory of a gentle soul who loved Schubert and disagreed with Wagner, citing long-dead poets of long-forgotten times and irritating Grandpa to no end, still lingered on. It was hard to imagine a man like that could cause any trouble besides failing to meet a few of Citadel's ridiculous standards, but Nora could speak from experience that you didn't need to do something to get yourselves into trouble.
For us nobles, kindness is a curse. People love you and fail to respect. Fear is the only thing worth the salt.
So said Lucius von Einzberg, a man who definitely had acquired a considerable amount of fear and respect, but this time, he was wrong about one thing :
Nobility is a curse.
He was cursed, Uncle Leo was cursed, and so was everyone else who had a 'von' in their names. But not me, she said to herself, My name is Nora Shepard, not Noria von Einzberg.
"The circumstance is indeed abnormal." Added Kaidan thoughtfully. "We are just 48 hours away from the destination, and yet the Commodore is still keeping the objective in the dark."
"Oh my, did I just hear it right? You actually agree with me?" Joker exclaimed.
"No, I just said they are unnecessarily endangering our mission." He then turned to Nora, "Ma'am, I sincerely advise you to reconsider the decision. The two-man squad is a liability if we come under attack. Against Spectre's protocol, it may be, but at least let a platoon of Naval infantry accompany you to the field."
"Have no confidence in my ability, Kaidan?" Nora asked, half-joking. What her captain didn't have here was some experience working with a smaller force. Fighting a charging enemy on the frontline was very different from fighting shadows in dark alleys, and be sure that there would be plenty of shadows in Spectre's path. Perhaps she didn't know why Maxi thought she was the best woman for the job, but she could see why they needed an N7 operative who was also a genestealer hunter after reading declassified reports of her predecessors. The fewer bullets that were fired in a mission, the more successful it would be. "If my safety was that important to you, then why don't you follow me down there? A three-man squad is not much different from two. Nihlus wouldn't have any objection, I think. He is going to be on the field there like the rest of us, so you can say that my fire support is his fire support as well."
"It would be my honour." Replied Kaidan with a Prussian salute, body slightly leaning forward and heels clicking before as always, voicing another concern "But is it wise to trust the Turian, Kommandant? He is from clan Kryik and your father..."
"Clan Kryik? What does it have anything to do with the admiral?" Joker asked, confused, before slapping his forehead, "Oh..Oh, I remember now. God, is that why he has been an ass ever since boarding?"
And here, I'm surprised that he has yet to challenge me into a duel. So far, Nihlus's conduct could be described as...'Professional', meaning answering her question with the politeness of a Turian who lost his father and many cousins to Michael Shepard at Gottes Gipfel, the graveyard of Turian Navy. It could have been worse. It could have been a Vakarian, and Nora would have had her career cut short due to friendly fire.
"Well, turns out Jenkin isn't wrong about bringing that MG, right?" There were two types of machine gun in service of the Reichswehr: The standard 77S Keifer and the 113. The former offered a higher rate of fire while the latter was more compact, but the one that captivated the hearts of young, enthusiastic soldiers these days was the custom-made Beretta 90 with a polished titanium barrel and leather hand grip, a taste of Italian quality and style. No need to say Kaidan hated that thing with passion, even calling it a waste and an ostentation right to Jenkin's face, but Nora could only shrug and give the young man a pass. She was 19 once, and her Luger was also made of silver and ivory. "Our Turian friend better behave or..."
Beep..Beep..Beep...Beep...
The communication indicator light on Joker's dashboard flashed orange, meaning a message had come from within, and it was urgent. Nora sighed heavily. Only three people on Normandy were authorized to make a direct call to the chief pilot's cockpit : Captain Holtz on the observation tower, her, and...
"Yes, Commodore, she is right behind me." Answered Joker with a rare solemnity, finger pressing on the earpiece, "Of course, sir. Yes sir, the Kommandant will be there in a few minutes." The pilot armchair then spun slowly around, revealing a very content Joker with hand woven into each other and a shitty grin bloomed on his face, "The moment of truth finally arrives so it seems. Nihlus and Commodore Reinhart are waiting for you in the comm room for mission debriefing. Oh, and there is one more thing..."
"Which is...?"
"He makes it quite clear that you must present yourselves this time in proper attire."
Nora cracked a smile and took one step back, both her arms spread wide, "Well, what do you think, gentlemen? This is the best feather I have ever don."
It wasn't an exaggeration. What on her now was worth at least five hundred thousand Reichsmark or more. The Kriegsmarine white uniform was tailored and manufactured by Valentino, her boots came from Prada's limited python collection for high-ranking female officers, and letters had been sent back to Vorig, despite Nora's protest, to acquire a set of Einzberg heirloom daggers and saber, plated with gold and silver, studded with diamonds. Her father was a man of modest dress code, and until the recent social events where she was introduced to the whole empire as the first human Spectre, Nora found nothing wrong with it.
"It seems the Reich hasn't yet committed to the Citadel's standard," Stated a critic of the Republic Guardians. "The pathetic Germans send a doll and forget to dress her," Some asshole of the Batarian Voice commented. "Once again, the Crown Prince proves that he likes making poor decisions." Claimed a pro-Constantine newspaper that didn't even bother to hide their political bias. "Is this the best we can do?" The ultra-conservative, veteran-friendly Alte Kameraden asked before broodingly concluded, "The Reich has already fallen."
Geez, the hammer that Berlin used on him must be very big. They literally beat the old man into a fashionista in just a few days. It was likely the case because during all those years when she trained and served under his command as an N7 operative, Reinhart didn't give a damn about what his subordinates wore unless they decided to go naked.
"Your Iron Cross first class should be ten centimeters away from the second class. A Kriegsmarine's Knight Cross is more appropriate than the Heer's given the circumstances, but since you spent most of your career outside Kriegsmarine's judictionary, an exception can be made," Said Kaidan, the only human alive that actually read the whole 'Reichswehr's Uniform, Awards and decorations, 2800 edition'. His blue eyes then traced down to beneath her belt, where a dangerously beautiful ọbject was dangling on a silver chain; A fine black leather wrapping around its scabbard, oaken handle with hilt shaped into a wolf's head. "Forgive me, Kommandant, but isn't you supposed to wear your family's dagger?"
"Yeah, I was going to ask the same thing." Joker added, " The Einzberg's sigil is a unicorn, right?"
"It's my father's sigil." She replied cooly, " People called him the 'Wolf of Gottes Gipfel' after the battle, don't you know?"
The two of them looked at each other awkwardly, but it was Kaidan who proved that sometimes, honesty wasn't the best policy." With...With due respect, I think you have made a mistake, Kommandant. Your father...Admiral Shepard, an exceptional commander he was, is just a...a commoner. He isn't allowed to have..."
"Then you are free to take it off my hip, Captain." Nora took one step forward, her chin raised high, her voice deprived of emotion. Kaidan was taller than her, and from the report she read, a better biotic. But here, on this warship, she was in charge. "No? What a disappointment."
"I...I'm sorry, ma'am. I didn't mean to..." He struggled to apologise, cold sweats nervously rolled down his forehead. Even Joker was speechless at the sudden rise of temperature
"No, you just meant what you said." Nora concluded coldly before turning around and walking toward the door, "The bridge is yours until I return. Good day, Captain."
After the unpleasantness, Nora no longer had interest in the mission or whatever Reinhart and the cranky Turian had saved for her. Taking the emergency stairs, she quickly found herself on Lower Deck - B1, where the kitchen was supposed to be. For the first time, the Kommandant appreciated the fact that she had an Ivan as her chef. No questions were asked when she demanded something to drink, just a single quiet nod and Nora was left alone with her thoughts and an icy glass of Bourbon.
Just a commoner, huh?
Lucius von Einzberg had said so after the battle, after Eden, and she wouldn't be surprised to know it wasn't the first time those cruel words were heard under the roof of his magnificent white-stoned castle. She didn't mind it, truthfully. Her grandfather's pride knew no bound, and he treated his blood a little better than he treated the peasants. She didn't mind either that her uncles and aunts, high-born men and women of even higher virtues, dipped their pretty heads, hoping to gain some favor from the old man. They were all hypocrites who disliked her as much as they disliked their inferior brother-in-law, and thus, she felt compelled to return the favor.
However, she did mind the fact that the woman who once called Michael Shepard commander, darling and husband remained silent and changed her name back to ' Von Einzberg', eager to welcome another man to her warm soft bed.
I can't forgive such a betrayal. And I won't.
Arriving late and a bit light-headed, Nora was greeted by the icy glances from both Reinhart and Nihlus after the automatic steel door of the comm room split open. The Commodore sat at the head of the table with a datapad, in the chair that temporarily belonged to him. Nihlus stood next to him on the right, arms crossed, disapproval written all over his fearsome painted alien face.
"You took your time." The Turian said with a low grunt.
"I have something to take care of first." Lied Nora causally as she sat down at the opposite end.
"Like drinking on duty?" Reinhart asked with a half-smile. Nora frowned. Obviously she didn't drink that much Bourbon to have a smell on her, so it could only mean old habit died hard, and he had planned a rat in her crew, "Good God, girl. If I weren't the program supervisor, I would certainly believe you passed the N7 test thanks to your late father and Hackett."
She gave a shrug, "Well, nepotism certainly helped me get into the program, so who can really tell whether you were impartial or not."
In case he wasn't, Nora definitely had reason to complain. Out of one hundred candidates who participated in the physical trial, twenty-five made it through. Three withdrew soon after due to unsustainable injuries, which left twenty-one facing the survival trial on the jungle planet of Madako where at some point, Nora actually thought she wouldn't get out of there alive. In the end, only five were qualified to conduct a raid on the pirate haven of Shangxi, a fucking real combat trial with real opponents which then led to the real death of Louie Adrendt, handy with his pistols but clumsy at showing his affection for her; Dorothea 'Dora' Erdmann, looked like a housewife than a soldier and cooked like one too. Everyone knew the N7 selection was seamed from the Obersoldaten program, and everyone knew it wouldn't be a walk in the park, but none of them expected this level of insanity.
"You let your subordinate talk back like that?" The senior Spectre raised an eyebrow, if you actually believed a Turian capable of doing so, "In Turian Navy you are gonna be whipped for something less."
"Unfortunately, this is Kriegsmarine, not the Turian Navy. We are not allowed to perform corporal punishments on crew members, but if my memory served me well, the codex speaks nothing of non-crew members or guests so..."
She could see Nihlus's head looked like it was about to explode, but Reinhart had raised his hand and put an end to it before the real fun began:
"That's enough, Shepard." He told her sternly, "You will apologize Agent Kryik after the mission. Do I make myself clear?" She nodded diligently, knowing not to push her luck too far. "Good. Now, to the main topic. I'm sure you have some... concerns after learning we're heading to Eden Prime, where, conveniently, is your uncle's domain."
"Not really. Unless you are about to tell me that my grandfather has something to do with it." Having his least favourite granddaughter assassinated his least favourite son? Nah, not even Lucius von Einzberg could sink so low.
"The duke has nothing to do with the matter. For now." The Commodore sighed and pushed his datapad toward Nora in a sudden move, to which she responded with an effortless catch, " A mission with conflict of interest is never ideal. Even if they meant it to be a test for you as a potential Spectre, I would object in every way I can. Believe it." She gave him a suspicious glance and began to scroll down the datapad, "However, Our situation is precarious at the moment. As you're well aware, half of the public doesn't take too well to the fact that our Reich has to give up two dozen planets in Core World and put them under the control of Citadel."
"It's just customary for a new member to contribute some territories and naval power to the Citadel as a gesture of trust and friendship. We Turians have done the same thing many thousand years ago." Nihlus added, "Compared to the entrance fee other races had to pay in the past, yours is minimum. None of the said planets have any significant economic or military value, half of them are just one step above wasteland with a few settlements. The Citadel doesn't want to govern a populous human centre. I think as a counter-genestealer specialist, you understand why."
Afraid of crooked arms in the night, aren't you? Strange as it might sound, the true nature of Genestealer cults so far had never been understood, even after all these years. Till now, people still didn't have a clue on how Genestealers arrived on their destinated planets, how long since they first began the infiltration, how many Genestealers were out there, how many minions, and how many sleeper cells. There used to be all kinds of debates that occurred around those questions, well-learned men and not-so-well-learned ones barked at each other like dogs, until people realized they only needed to understand two things about these creatures of hell : One, if you shot them with enough bullets, they died. Two, for some reason, they had a tendency to build kingdoms inside German metropolises. Nine out of ten large incursions happened inside the Reich's territory, causing billions of deaths and trillions of Reichsmark damage, so it wasn't a surprise to know Citadel wouldn't dare to touch places like Enbar, Bergliez, Pledia with a pole.
It would have been more than ten, if my hand wasn't soaked in the blood of people like Hans. She must have killed a hundred men like him and yet still used the old for-the-greater-good excuse to sleep better at night. For a death squad, Totenkopf Kommando was rather relaxed in discipline and the pay was usually high but there was a reason why very few people were able to make a career out of it.
"As you can see, Citadel wants the whole new member admission to go without any hiccups along the way." Said Reinhart, "The Reich, on the other hand, doesn't want to explain to its citizens why the aliens are sending troops to quell rebellions on formerly recognized German soil. It makes everyone involved look weak and foolish, but if you asked me, that was what they are. Only weakling fools take a fall like that and hope for a soft landing. What do you make of the report, Shepard?"
"Half-hearted, lack of detail and wrong." She shook her head and put the datapad down. Her gaze was hard as it switched from Reinhart to Nihlus, "Who wrote this report? I hope it wasn't you, Agent Kryik. Do you really accuse a man of being a Genestealer, condemning him to his death and then have the gall to ask his niece for a pass? If I were someone else, I might go on assuming this is personal."
The Turian chuckled humourlessly, "I just did my duty, lady Einzberg. Unlike your father." He gazed down at her like gazing down at a bug, "He could have held further attacks after the victory was ensured and spared the galaxy of another carnage but it seemed that retaliation for losing the war was more important. My conclusion, on the other hand, was consulted and supported by the Council and Anti-Tyranid division of C-Sec "
And it seems you should thank whatever Turian gods in your heart for Reinhart is still with us. Choking back rage, Nora calmly pointed out, "One consists of politicians while the other only knows Genestealer through video tapes and written reports. When I killed a Tyranid, I could even tell the colour of its eyes." She activated her Omni tool and began to project a part of the report. The big screen on the wall flicked to life, illustrating ten sheets of paper. "How long have we received these...manifesto?"
Reinhart scratched his chin. " Abteilung 14 said the oldest one had been floating on the Extranet for more than a year and gained no popularity. However, in August, the guerilla journalism of sector Zora, Drachenstein, and the western part of Eisenmarke was on fire by an article called 'The Declaration of Men' and everything began to spin out of control."
Interesting. All of them were far away from Eden Prime; Eisenmarke was located inside the Transition Zone, but none of them had strong Einzberg's influence. If this were her uncle doing all along then why didn't he choose regions where his last name held some weight? The more she thought about it, the less sense it made. Uncle Leo wasn't a born- general, sure, but neither was he an idiot.
"The Declaration of Men?" The Turian spectre frowned, accusation sparkled in his pale blue eyes as he turned to Reinhart "Is there any reason why I'm not made aware of this article, Commodore?
"Because I and Abteilung 14 decided that piece of info was too volatile and should be terminated for good." The older Kriegsmarine officer answered with his hand putting against his face, "Trust me, Spectre. We managed to keep the whole affair under the radar so far only because of the Abteilung's 1500 arrests and the article was deleted from Extranet."
"What was the article about?" Nora asked, curious.
"Just like other articles and manifestos. Strong words against the legitimacy of the Reich, the Reichstag, and the Imperial Crown; declaring Eden Prime to be the safe haven for true believers, outright calling for rebellions against the local authorities, stating that men's destiny is to unite under the banner of one eternal emperor, one saviour and one true religion. Everything is soaked in genestealer cultlike behaviour if you ask me, and on top of that, every single sheet of paper always ends with ' Leonard von Einzberg, Archbishop and High Lord of Terra."
"You may think I'm biased, but with all the evidence at hand, an investigator can only come up with the same two conclusions. Either your uncle is an unsatisfied noble rebelling against your Kaiser and the whole thing is just a domestic affair or he is a Genestealer brainwashed and controlled by a Purii." Said Nihlus Kryik with a less harsh tone, "As his niece, you must admit the former is unlikely. Nowhere in Leonard von Einzberg's life suggested he disagreed with the status quo and wanted to rebel."
On that, the Turian had a point. Uncle Leo's problem was always small and personal. He got a name to live up to and an asshole for a father who wished him dead more times than he could count, which left little room for politics. Still, it was also impossible for him to be under Purii's control.
"While appreciating your dedication, Spectre, I can't help but point out that you have missed one important detail..." Nora paused for a brief moment to gather their attention, "These manifestos were written by two different people and if that were the truth then what we are looking at is not the work of a Genestealer cult."
The Turian scowled, "Nonsense! You don't have any proof for that..."
"Hold on, Agent Kryik." Reinhart raised his hand and softly cut him off, "Nora Shepard has been fighting these creatures for the last ten years so let's hear her out first. Please continue. How do you know they were written by two different people?"
"Weiße Königin (White Queen) can run an analysis and give you a more detailed answer, but on the surface, the older manifestos were written in an archaic language with not-easy-to-understand vocabularies and expression, which may be the reason why they were unpopular and unnoticed in the first place. The person who wrote them is likely a male coming from the upper class or noble class with a formal and elite education. Whether it was my uncle or not, I can't be so sure but I know for a fact that he isn't the man who wrote 'The Declaration of Men' or any pieces that came out after August. The one behind the latter publications must be a professional who knows how to use crude but powerful, up-to-date language for a wider audience. A journalist, perhaps. You don't randomly publish an article and get received by underground journalism unless you are one of them."
The Turian was suspicious of her deduction but chose to say nothing. Reinhart, on the other hand, was having a sigh of release, "And how does this prove Leonard is not under the influence of Genestealers?"
"Simply because there should not have been any manifesto and two different writing styles. Genestealer cults influence the public by spreading the Tyranid DNA strain and mind control. In other words, they don't need the victim's consent, they don't see the need for convincing or conversion, and they only enforce Hive Mind's will through force. So why did the Purii write those things for? It makes no sense, sir. This is the first time ever I see a Genestealer cult spreading propaganda to recruit people."
"They not doing that before doesn't mean they can't do it now." Nihlus pointed out impatiently, "There is a first of everything, Kommandant."
"No doubt, but that doesn't explain two different writing styles, two different personalities, which is impossible for a creature of primal intelligence like Purii."
The Turian Spectre and Reinhart turned to look at each other, confusion written all over their faces while on the other side of the table, Nora could not help but rub the bridge of her nose, wondering whether the Ministry of Propaganda was right to feed the populace only basic knowledge of their enemy. Genestealers were only as powerful as our imagination they reasoned and thus, as long as Totenkopf Kommando managed to make people like Hans Ruppen disappear nicely and quietly, leaving no chance for them to survive and become another Hanah Schwann, the hard-working citizens should not be bothered with the meticulous gruesome detail of the battle that might or might not happen in their neighbourhood. By the look of it, the Ministry had done its job too well for Nora's liking. Even a Spectre and a Commodore were now as knowledgeable as every Hinz, Kunz and Krethi.
"Primal Intelligence? What do you mean by that?" The Turian asked.
"I mean a Purii is pretty far from stupid but please do not apply normal standards to it. The Tyranid, in general, doesn't process thoughts like any of us, Spectre. Most of the Purii and genestealer cells we encountered were killed on sight, but some of them managed to survive and were sent to Ahnenerbe, the research division of Totenkopf Kommando, for study. What they have found so far is astonishing. After their connection to the Hive Mind were cut off, the Purii have no distinguished features or personalities whatsoever. Although they had access to various memories and experiences of several victims, they were unaffected by them. They could imitate someone else's voice, sure; they can tell that person's deepest secret, very likely, but they are unable to act like us, sentient beings. They are like fleshy droids engineered and programmed by the Hive Fleet so if these manifestoes had actually come out of a Purii's head, they should not have been any changes in the tone or writing style."
"Interesting." Reinhart commented, scratching his chin, "Writing is also the expression form in which our best A.I, Weiße Königin fails to replicate. No matter how hard the programmers try, human thoughts and emotions are still a galaxy far away."
"Then perhaps the Purii has been using Leonard von Einzberg and someone else as conduits." Agrued the Turian Spectre, "All It has to do is give orders to the lackeys and enjoy the fruit. What is so hard to understand here?"
"It's not that simple. Since Purii can't replicate human behaviour perfectly, a fully controlled victim is nothing more than a worker ant, totally brainwashed and only fit for manual labour. Those who can be trusted to write a propaganda piece are the sleeper cells, but there is a risk that goes along with it. Do you ever read Gabi Altmann's report?"
"The girl who was with Dominic Keiner after he became Genestealer?" Nihlus was taken by surprise before nodding, "Every Spectre I know has read it once or twice. What of it?"
"It's a prime example of how their mind control works. Gabi Altmann never met Dominic Keiner the Sleeper Cell, but Karl the Genestealer, a husk of a man he used to be. Later investigation revealed that he had been compromised at least five years before the Battle of Eden and managed to fool everyone, even his wife and children. How was it possible for a Purii to mind-control a Planet Governor for years without making him stand out like a sore thumb? The answer is simple : It didn't, not to a full effect anyway."
"Not to a full effect?"
"Totenkopf didn't understand that concept either, which led to many failed attempts in the early phase of the war." A lot of good men had lost their lives during that time, Nora was later told, as the Tyranid infestation could only be discovered when their numbers became too large to go unnoticed. All that time, they spent chasing after spies following orders from a spymaster, chasing a cat inside a dark room only to realize the cat wasn't even there. "Nearly all sleeper cells didn't have a clue of what they were doing. The Purii alters these people's course of action here and there, erases memories, messing up the mind just enough to make a thrall out of them, but for the most part, let the victim be his own man, maintaining the facade. The last sleeper cell I encountered was a man who went by the name Hans Ruppen -30 years old, working for a docking company, never left the planet, the type of man who has breakfast and lunch at the same place since he was child and yet somehow related to at least 35 female disappearances in the area. He dated those women, lured them to an abandoned farm where they were captured by the Purii and brought down to a 'breeding nest' underground. His mother had suffered the same fate a year before, but because of fake memories pumped into his mind, Hans was convinced she was still living with him in their apartment and went out hunting for more victims with a clear conscience. You would never know he was a liar if you spoke to him. Well, technically, he didn't lie. He just told everyone what he thought to be the truth."
No, it was more than that. His feelings for me were real. The woman's instinct in her didn't lie, she just told herself what she wanted to be the truth.
"So that means Purii can't use its sleeper cells to write the manifestos because it demands too much control. Pushing too far can cause sleeper cells to become useless." Reinhart finally touched the matter with a needle, "It can't use a fully controlled subject either since both the controller and the one who is under control can't think like a sentient being." He then turned to the grumpy Turian, pride was in his green eyes "Don't you think this analysis worthy of a Spectre, Agent Kryik?"
"Too early to tell." Nihlus said flatly, "Even if she was right, we still have in our hands a diplomatic crisis to deal with. A planet that has just been transferred to the Citadel and immediately become a haven for dissidents and rebels against your Kaiser?" He shook his head, "No, even I find that suspicious. The Council require a quiet solution, Commodore."
"Of course, Abteilung 14 has sent a Brandenburger team to Eden..."
"You can't be serious!" Before Nora could put a hold on herself, she had already bolted up from her seat, hands pushed against the table, "Having a man assassinated for suspected treason is ridiculous. This could be a prank of a degraned mind or from someone who has a bone to pick with the Einzberg."
"No one assassinates anyone here. It's just a recon team, not a death squad. Sit down!" Reinhart ordered, cold anger slowly building up, "Agent Kryik, can I have a word with the Kommandant? Alone."
Nora could tell no chance in hell the Turian wanted to do that. Why would he? To witness Nora getting hammered by her superior worth all the trouble. However, in the end of the day, it was still Reinhart who had the final say on this ship.
"As you wish."
The Spectre nodded and departed, leaving the two of them behind with a calm before a storm. Raising from his chair, the Commodore walked alongside the table, using the walk he always used when about to give Nora a lecture - hands behind his back, body leaning slightly forward, and rolling thunders could be heard in his slow footsteps.
"What got into you today, huh?" He asked, "Someone steps on your tail, and now you bear your fangs to everyone?"
Kind of, but Nora would never dare to give him that answer, "My apologies. It won't happen again."
"You better hope it won't. You are no longer the queen of the planet, Shepard. This is the big open space, and the Reich's reputation is at stake." Reinhart sighed, "No, it's peace at stake. Good God, out of all soldiers and operatives within the Reichswehr, why did it have to be you taking up the job?" He waved his hand in the air, defeated. " no crying over spilt milk, I guess. Just remember that no matter what you do, please don't start a war, Ok? "
She shrugged, "You act like I accepted it with the biggest grin ever. What could you do really when your old field commander and a Crown prince on top of that ask you for a favor?"
"I would decline, and my prince, in his wisdom, would understand." He gave her a pat on the shoulder. "But I can't judge you. I'm just an old man from an older generation with tiredness creeping into my bones. When Hackett sent you to me, I could see in you the best N7 operative of the new generation, and you didn't disappoint..."
"With due respect, sir, my father once said everything came before a 'but' is bullshit
"He was a wise man, your father." Reinhart laughed heartily," Indeed, you're, like what they used to say in the ancient time, a great warrior, but like too many young men and women these days, you take this peace for granted. Some of you even throw their lots with Constantin von Habsburg, thinking that another gigantic war and battlefield glory is the way to honor old veterans like me. Don't ever fall for it, Shepard. Nihlus may be a pain in the ass but you would rather met him at court than on the field of thunder. It took us a century of warfare to learn the season, so don't make the same mistake. If your father was still with us, he would have agreed."
She suddenly felt ashamed by those words. No matter how many times she brought Admiral Shepard up in her thoughts and actions, he was still a combination of her vague childhood memory and propaganda. She never knew the real Michael Shepard, and as if fate loved playing a cruel joke on her, the only one who knew him best, Nora despite to the core.
"You can be reassured about your uncle's safety. Whether he has anything to do with this incident or not, I will do whatever I can to guarantee him a fair investigation or an early release." Said Reinhart. "Just complete the mission with flying colors. Make your father proud."