Changelog: Fixed a bit of dialogue and edited quite a few things. IDK how good it may be but it's a start I guess 
"The negotiations have deadlocked, Councilors," Benezia's hologram flickered as she addressed the assembled Council in their chambers atop the Citadel Tower. "The humans backed out of the Treaty of Farixen and the Citadel Conventions in general, as expected. Even though we assured them that we'd give them a fair bit of leeway as we amend the Conventions to fit the current situation better, they preferred to keep their options open. They're cautious."
"…well, that was expected," Tevos nodded. "Anything else?"
"The proposal for sending diplomatic entourages to each other's territory was accepted without any major hiccups. They did ask to provide the transport for the Citadel entourage, while using their own ships to send theirs to the Citadel, citing security risks and something called a 'Cole Protocol'. A protocol devised during the Abyssal wars, apparently, to safeguard human colonies from attack by their adversary. While the war is
de facto over right now, they're not taking any chances."
Rallen nodded. "Acceptable. We can use their extranet-equivalents to gain further information, retrieve necessary data. It's certainly possible. Ambassadors sent to their worlds can gain access to their civilian networks. STG advises that we should send specialists in computer technology along as well to accompany the diplomats. They can gather publicly available information and send them back to STG for review."
Tevos sipped away at her tea. "Benezia can lead the diplomatic entourage. Turian and salarian ambassadors can be brought alongside as well to act as decoys and to present a unified front to the humans. SPECTREs would be sent to escort the diplomats. They can also gather information on the humans."
Corinthus Oraka set his empty glass down against the table, flicking his mandibles as he spoke. "SPECTREs Vakarian and Arterius are the most experienced agents available for this. Arterius personally has taken an interest in the humans, following the Relay 314…
incident. I can send them priority messages each and have them meet up with the diplomatic entourage at a convenient time and place."
"We can take that. Rallen, how is STG going so far?"
The salarian Councilor did his people's equivalent to a shrug. "Initially, the human superdreadnought that STG stealth vessels detected hanging back, out of sight of the asari diplomatic vessel, was believed to be their equivalent to the
Destiny Ascension, a large, overwhelmingly powerful capital ship, and a one-off ship at that. But after their primary fleet arrived in-system after the asari ship left, unaware of the presence of the STG stealth cutter, we have come to a more disturbing conclusion."
Rallen lit a holoprojector and placed it onto the table. "The human fleet stationed there numbers 1,600 ships—equivalent to a larger turian Patrol Fleet. A grand total of 8 superdreadnoughts of length 2-0-0-0 were confirmed to be present, alongside 792 dreadnoughts, all roughly the size of galactic standard 1st and 2nd-line dreadnoughts, plus another 800 cruisers."
The assembled Councilors watched the display silently as Rallen wordlessly changed a few settings. "Based of available information, STG argues that the fleet ratios are all off for a fleet of that size, and that the superdreadnoughts, are in fact standard dreadnoughts. The exact details and files have been sent to your omni-tools, but these are the basics. The presence of 'carriers'—capital-class ships wielding fighters as their primary armament, as opposed to mass accelerators, and built not for slugging gunnery battles, but swift, decisive strikes carried at standoff distances—they present a completely new paradigm to naval warfare. Only massed GARDIAN fire would be able to offer resistance to attacks of such a sort."
Corinthus watched the usual traffic pass through the center of galactic civilization as he took a sip out of his turian brandy. The Wards stood out in front of him, halos of atmosphere held in place by mass-effect fields shining brightly in the artificial lighting the Citadel was famous for. The ships of the Citadel Defense Fleet, turian, salarian, and asari ships alike, stood proudly in formation in the distance, their blinking lights seemingly twinkling stars in the distance, of various colors. The asari superdreadnought ARH
Destiny Ascension was faintly visible in the distance, it's distinct four-spoke design a dead giveaway as to it's nationality. It's sheer size, courtesy of being the largest dreadnought in the galaxy, was the next thing that stood out, as well.
"So…we have dreadnought-sized
cruisers, cruiser-sized
frigates, and this thing known as a 'destroyer'. Not to mention the fact that their dreadnoughts are equal to the
Destiny Ascension in terms of raw size, on the low end," Tevos said after a pause. "And their carriers."
Corinthus groaned internally as the implications were clear to him as day. The entire might of the combined fleets of all Citadel races, rendered obsolete, effectively immediately. His eyes leafed through the lines of text on the STG files again as he refilled his glass, and none of them were good. Humans were clearly nuts with their shipbuilding program. Their doctrine of mounting two spinal cannons onto each vessel as opposed to the galactic standard of one (some mounted upwards of four) was clearly an indication, and if it didn't prove STG's claims, well…the disproportionate scales would. Their average equivalent of a dreadnought being equals with superdreadnoughts in size, their cruisers being dreadnoughts, the list went on and on. And then there was the
carriers.
Massed fighter strikes weren't something unheard of in the galaxy, but dedicated ships to ferry hundreds of such craft into battle? It didn't help that human fighters were much, much larger, compared to that of the Citadel, up to twice the size, in fact, depending on the type. It introduced a completely new method of warfare to the playing field. Their dreadnoughts, large and powerful as they were, merely played a supporting role, providing long-range gunnery at standoff distances to supplement the firepower cruisers in a battleline may provide. The fighters took the center stage instead, their small, nimble bulks making for some catastrophic results to be beheld, especially when combined with torpedo runs conducted by frigate varrenpacks in the vicinity. As things stood, it appeared that there was no serious method in Citadel space to counter the human fighters properly, except for mased GARDIAN fire. It was a brand-new paradigm.
Long-range artillery duels weren't foreign to the Citadel, but even that had it's problems. The Alliance built their ships around the galactic standard of large spinal guns for standoff-range warfare, but their ships were far larger, far more robust. There was little else to add to the mixture save perhaps the fact that any dreadnought would be woefully outgunned in battle, their armor smashed to pieces by heavy-caliber fire, and their kinetic barriers popped open long before their guns could down the human shields. Humanity had somehow managed to completely and utterly revolutionize naval warfare as they knew it—their cruisers alone would put turian dreadnaughts to shame, and the fact that they apparently fielded hundreds of them already in service only made things worse.
There was a few things that were obvious right off the bat: the Treaty of Farixen was now obsolete. And so was the bulk of the various fleets of the galaxy.
A portal leading to interdimensional space opened up, one with long blue tendrils extending out from it, remaining open for long enough to spit out a single vessel, before closing abruptly and unceremoniously behind said vessel. It then proceeded towards the assembled Citadel delegation waiting for them, engines emitting a soft blue glow against the background of interstellar space. SV
Adriatic was emblazoned in gold lettering on the side, the ship's overall design being one that would invoke a nostalgic feel about the steam-powered liners of the olden days. Two large structures, designed to mimic exhaust funnels, sat prominently on top of the superstructure, painted yellow, with black tips. The hull was painted black and red, the superstructure white, with a golden line dividing the two. Two large fusion torches lay at the rear of the vessel, propelling her forwards.
Benezia watched the ship approach gracefully as the assembled delegation watched alongside her, some being diplomats, others being security detail. Garrus Vakarian and Saren Arterius kept their Phaeston rifles at the ready, standing guard carefully over the diplomats they were intended to guard. Her omni-tool buzzed, she checked a few notifications that it was displaying, before resuming her gaze at the approaching human ship. It was sleek, pristine, and elegant, it's graceful lines clashing clearly with the military vessels in the vicinity that was keeping over it a careful guard.
Her eyes, and memory regarding human vessels, told her that this one was clearly an unarmed, civilian transport vessel, not a military one. She carefully pondered the implications as the ship drew closer, the asari vessel also closing in to dock. For one, they had opted to send a simple transport, and not a military vessel. Which seemingly implied a desire for peace, for cooperation. Conveying the image of a species that preferred exploration, and diplomacy, over combat.
But, unarmed or not, the ship was still disproportionately large. Two thousand meters from bow to stern, in length, in fact. The ship was readily large enough to make even the largest dreadnought in the galaxy, the Destiny Ascension, blush. The impression it conveyed was of a large, luxurious passenger liner, not a mere civilian transport. A luxury liner would imply that the humans valued their comfort and luxury. And the ship itself was certainly large enough to house a small city…
The circles of diplomats and politicians quickly broke up as the human ship made it's final approach, each member of any species going to their respective groups as they checked their belongings and luggage for the trip to human space. A volus checked his omni-tool and a large box of things Benezia had no idea of, a pair of salarians took a few images of the ship with their own omni-tools, and her fellow asari muttered a few prayers to Athame, praying for safe journeys to there and back home.
A few shudders echoed as both ships docked, the Citadel-spec airlock fitting perfectly with the adapter that was rigged on the human ship for this very moment. There was a few moments as the atmospheres equalized, permitting access to the interior of the ship on the other side. The doors opened, and everyone took this as the cue to board, packing up bags and boxes to carry over the airlock and onto the other side.
Benezia stepped onto a red carpet as she made her way across, her eyes fixated onto the two uniformed humans standing towards the sides of the carpet, eyeing them curiously. They both dropped bows at her as she approached, which she answered. This species' way of greeting, apparently.
"Welcome aboard, members of the Citadel. On behalf of Cunard Lines, welcome, to SV Adriatic."
A shudder made itself known as SSV
Königsberg left the interdimensional slipstream, flanked by her escorts in a flurry of pitch-black portals crisscrossed in glowing blue tendrils. Trails of exhausts left in their wake, they steadily approached the large, floating space station that was the Citadel, as the Citadel Defense Fleet in the local vicinity spread out and scattered, giving them a path towards the docking area.
ARH
Destiny Ascension lit it's engines as it passed by the
Königsberg, several turian vessels banking as a salute to the human battleship. The rest of the Fleet formed around the Alliance ships, forming a large, tunnel-shaped, path, permitting the ships though. CNN cameras zoomed in on the wedge-shaped human battleship as it steadily approached the heart of galactic civilization, reporters offering live commentary. One major thing that everyone seemed to agree on, however, would be that the human battleship was ugly as fuck, and it's escorts were no better. But hey, they were designed for war. Definitely not for looking good on propaganda.
C-Sec was busy trying to hold back the massive crowds as the
Königsberg arrived at it's assigned docking space, the ship slowing to a crawl, it's thrusters kicking in full blast. It was a scene reminiscent of the Apollo 11 crew's arrival back home after their return, but on a far, far, larger scale. The crowd was absolutely wild, cameras and omni-tools capturing images of the arriving ship, a few even zooming in on the Alliance flag emblazoned on the sides. The docking space was normally reserved for the Thessia Star Lines superliners that would often dock there, and the massive, gargantuan ship dwarfed the docking space, but it managed to fit regardless. There was pretty much no other space available for a ship of such scales, after all.
Clanks made themselves known as docking lines were extended and latched onto the ship, larger, magnetic docking clamps following suit. Once the ship was secured, a small door, near the base, opened, allowing a small walkway to extend, touching down to the ground, connecting the ship to the platform. A group of people gathered there, C-Sec keeping them at bay.
Anita Goyle watched as the assembled Marines made their final preparations for departure. The marines were dressed in their dress uniforms, with the exception of their helmets. A pair of them carried a flag on either side, with a pair of armed soldiers following suit behind the flags, guarding the way.
She had her hair done, her outfit was crisp and pressed, and her hat was straight. She turned towards Captain Tilgner , who was busy talking with his aides, and nodded at him. He turned, and nodded back, indicating his acknowledgement.
Goyle watched as the marines started their march down the hallway, their boots striking a rhythm.
It was showtime.
Seven days later
Tokyo, Earth
Museum of Humanity
Garrus and Saren walked past the sign with '人類歴史博物館' stenciled on it as Nassana M'cryx followed suit, both SPECTREs scanning the area for any threats that might be present, finding none. Their tour guide quickly led them through the reception area and into the main halls of the museum, a series of hallways littered with displays and exhibits, ranging from weapons and armors to ancient artifacts, and even ships from various periods of human history.
Saren watched as their tour guide led them through the halls, his mind taking in all the information that his eyes could see. His mandibles twitched slightly as they passed a display, showing a set of weapons and armor that looked similar to their own. Guns, knives, swords, shields, and body armor. All of the items had been used by the humans, at some point in time, it seemed.
Nassana trailed off towards the more mundane sections of the museum as Garrus and Saren, naturally, being the turians they were, ventured towards the more military sides of the museum. They found themselves walking past displays and exhibits of a wide range of human weapons and equipment, some being modern, some being ancient, and others being somewhere in the middle.
Garrus paused as the lights reflected off a half-smashed helmet sitting on a pedestal, his eyes widening as he studied it carefully, his mind making out the shape and details. He glanced downwards at the plate that sat below the helmet, reading it carefully.
This helmet belonged to an officer in the Japanese Army in 1939, recovered after the officer was killed in battle. It has seen many uses and owners, and is a valuable reminder of the horrors of war.
His mandibles twitched a few times. Humans. Such an interesting species, really. From their culture and traditions, to their military. A wide range of different weapons, armor, and equipment, used in various eras. They seemed to have developed an entire spectrum of weapons and armor, from the simple sword and shield, to the complicated gun, and from the humble leather armor, to the high-tech ceramic plated battle dress uniforms.
A display nearby caught his attention. As he walked up to it, the grit of dirt on steel met his eyes, a very much battered rifle lying on a shelf, being what had caught his eye. It bore a passing resemblance to a Phaeston with the slanted-down cowlings on the top and bottom of the fore barrel and thumb-hole stock, but that was where the similarities ended. The thumb-hole was much smaller, the rifle looked more robust, more than even older turian designs dating back to the Unification Wars, and a box jutted out of the bottom, looking like it contained a drum magazine.
He read the placard next to the rifle, carefully reading each word in an attempt to understand it.
This is an M54 assault rifle, a weapon popular with Alliance troops during the 2415 Abyssal War. Chambering the 7.62x40mm round and feeding from a 60-round box magazine, it proved lethal, reliable, and versatile, able to bring down the heavy infantry of the Abyssals with ease.
What seemed to be a prop of the weapon was lying nearby, on a shelf, and he reached out for it, carefully inspecting the weapon, feeling its weight. It felt heavier than the Phaeston, with a box magazine and a long fore barrel, and a long stock. The weapon had been designed to take down Abyssals, he mused, and he could see how the design and weight could make it a formidable weapon. His fingers ran over the trigger, which was mechanical, as opposed to the galactic-standard electronic ones all mass accelerator weaponry employed. In fact, the weapon had no electronic components whatsoever, save perhaps a modular electronics suite up top. It appeared to fire pre-made ammunition via explosive propellants, and while it was a hideously primitive way to design a weapon, he had to admit that the weapon was impressive, if not very efficient.
"It's a good rifle."
Garrus started at the human voice behind him, and turned around, letting the rifle drop back into its stand. A human, female, dressed in casual attire, with her hairstyle done up in twin-tails on both sides of her head. Her hair was black, with red tips at the end of her twin-tails, her eyes brown, and her face, in Garrus' opinion, was attractive.
"Sorry. Didn't mean to startle you. It's just that, the M54 is a good weapon. Reliable, accurate, and deadly."
"I can see how," Garrus remarked, his mandibles twitching slightly. "I'm surprised you know so much about weapons."
"Oh, I was a soldier. Well, former soldier. Alliance Marines, actually. Did a tour on the front lines, against the Abyssals."
"Really...?" Garrus inquired, his mandibles twitching even further.
"Yep," the human female replied, nodding her head. "Name's Myo. Hei-Ran, Myo."
"Garrus Vakarian. Officer. Formerly. C-Sec, now a SPECTRE."
"Oh," Akane commented, her eyes widening. "So you're a SPECTRE. Cool."
"Uh...yeah..."
Myo let a pause elapse as she picked up an empty magazine from a nearby rack and began cleaning it with a rag. "Anyways...where do I begin? Oh yeah, the Abyssals. We fought them on a lot of worlds. Sometimes we won, sometimes we lost. But the battles we had on those worlds were pretty epic."
"...can you mind describing to me how it was?" Garrus asked after a few moments.
Myo looked down at the floor. "It's definitely not like the shit they sell in propaganda films or newsreels, and it's not something I could easily describe, either. It's more like something that can only be experienced. And it's not something pleasant to be beheld."
Garrus looked on as Myo finished cleaning the empty magazine, and picked up a new one, resuming her task.
"We have this thing called the Hounds, which are like humans, but somehow walking around on all fours, have sharp claws and razor-sharp teeth, long hair, and everything else that would make them look like they were straight from an horror movie. Which would normally swarm us in the hundreds as their handlers, Clones, come in behind, having basically nothing to use against us save their bodies, but making for impressive cannon fodder and nightmare fuel. And then the heavy units would come in and do their thing. The Clones we could handle easily enough, the Commandoes…not so. It's nightmare fuel."
Garrus fell silent as Myo finished her cleaning. "…"
"…anyways…mind taking a brief stroll with me? I've got some free time here, and plenty of things to discuss."
Benezia sipped at her tea as she read the next file on human history, one amongst the thousands that were downloaded onto her omni-tool. Specifically, the file covering the part of human history known as the Cold War.
The parties, interviews, ceremonies and rope lines, they were all fun. But Benezia was practical. She had slotted herself into the temporary embassy granted for the Citadel quite nicely afterwards, and was now reading up every page she could find on human history to best prepare herself for what was to come. Scattered around her was datapads and physical books, comprising historical memoirs and academic works, detailing down to the very last detail everything the humans had known so far about their history. Wikipedia provided a very convenient overview to all the subjects included. The rest of the diplomats had come to dub it the 'Human Codex' after reading through the many pages it had on virtually every subject inside of human space.
She hummed softly to herself as she turned to another page featuring the Vietnam War, reading the articles about the guerilla tactics the Viet Cong employed against the forces of the United States, and their allies, before turning the page once more, reading the information about the Vietnamization of the war, the US pulling out of the country, and the subsequent defeat of the South, and the communist takeover.
The war was a quagmire. The tactics the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese used was one of hit-and-run, and ambushes. The US Army, not surprisingly, was not suited for jungle warfare, and as a result, the Viet Cong and the North Vietnamese could pick their targets and fight the war on their terms, at their pace. She paused as a few images popped up, showing the Viet Ming, using the terrain and the jungle as an asset, not a hindrance, fighting the war as guerillas and conducting operations deep into enemy territory.
Another page. A small, unassuming village. A US Army unit was seen patrolling it, checking the people and their belongings. The caption marked it as the
C Company, 1st Battalion, 20th Infantry Regiment and B Company, 4th Battalion, 3rd Infantry Regiment, 23rd Infantry Division.
One more page.
A village, burning. Bodies, littering the ground, the villagers having been slaughtered in a bloody massacre, their corpses strewn about.
Dead bodies outside a burning home, the caption read.
Part of the Mỹ Lai Massacre, a war crime conducted by US forces at Sơn Mỹ village, Sơn Tịnh district, Quảng Ngãi province, South Vietnam.
There were no words, really, that could describe the images, other than horrific. The sheer, senseless brutality that had been wrought, and the lack of humanity on the part of the soldiers involved.
Benezia turned the page once more.
Garrus's eyes cast themselves onto a broken helmet questioningly, the label underneath marking it as belonging to a US Marine, killed during the First Abyssal War.
He read the plaque next to it carefully.
This was recovered from the body of a marine from the 308th Marines, 1st Marine Expeditionary Force, killed during the Battle of Okinawa, fought between 2021 and 2024. He had been one of the first humans to engage Abyssals in battle, and died heroically in the line of duty.
He stared at the helmet a few moments longer, his gaze fixed on the damage. The dents, the chips, the scorch marks. All signs of a hard-fought battle.
Myo watched the turian with her brown eyes as he took his time examining the helmet. "They were after us like our own shadows. First bursting from the void of the oceans, turning them a sickly shade of crimson, laying waste to anyone unlucky enough to be caught within their dreadful gaze. Then, pursuing us into the stars, bringing terror and destruction to whatever they come across. We drove them back, of course, but they always came back."
Garrus' eyes widened as he listened. "And how did you manage to win?"
"We never did," Myo replied, shaking her head. "It's more of a matter of we're still here. They pulled back whenever they figured that the war was unwinnable, withdrawing to somewhere remote, to rebuild their forces. It happened back then, it's going on off and on for five times already, by this point. Every time it happened, it was more brutal, more bitter, than the last. Our forces have gotten better over the years, of course, but the same applies to the Abyssals. They don't die, they just keep coming back, like cockroaches."
Garrus' browplate creased. "But...it sounds like you have it under control."
"We do, but at what cost? There are no winners, only survivors. There have been four major conflicts with the Abyssals between 2020 and the present day, all of them have casualties numbering in the billions. I fought personally in the Fifth. Over a hundred planets were glassed during it."
"Glassing?"
"Plasma bombardment; you aim plasma lances at a planet's surface and scorch it down to nothing. The dirt, sand, and rock all melts and boils down to form a nasty silicate glass-like substance, the oceans boil away, the atmosphere becomes toxic."
Garrus blinked as he took the information in. "Over a thousand years ago, during the period of the Krogan Rebellions, the krogan bombarded planets with asteroids, creating oftentimes horrific results as the impacts smashed outright through crust and exposed the mantle underneath. But to actually melt and evaporate the entire surface layer, that's new."
Myo glanced at Garrus, before turning towards another museum display. "Did they bombard over a hundred worlds that way?"
"Yes."
Silence elapsed as the two walked over to another set of exhibits, this one a row of old rifles.
"That's the M6 Carbine, the M6A1," Myo commented, her brown eyes falling upon the weapons. "Fine old weapon dating back to the Inner Planetary Wars. Good old assault rifle."
"Inner Planetary Wars?"
"It could be considered the equivalent to your Unification Wars. Two major conflicts over an interstellar scale, fought between blocs and nation-states, settling old rivalries, often at the cost of creating new ones. In our case, we had the United States, the People's Republic of China, and Russia. It was all one huge mess back then, the rivalries between the three nations, and the blocks they led."
"How bad were they?"
"The United States intervened meaninglessly in wars they had no business in, established what amounted essentially to a semi-empire of 'independent' nation-states that were in reality puppets, their fates dependent on the politicans at Washington. Russia did essentially the same, and China went about claiming waters in other nations' territory and building illegal artificial islands. The tensions escalated, and war broke out."
Garrus hummed as he took the information in. "What stopped it?"
"The Abyssals. Things were starting to hit their peak in 2020, and war would've been inevitable, had it been not for such an invasion happening at the start of the decade. Everyone put aside their differences to combat the threat they posed, and drove them back into the seas. After that, all was peace and quiet for a few decades as everyone rebuilt, reverse-engineered what they managed to capture from the enemy, and put those to use. Then, the cracks re-emerged."
Myo let a few moments of silence elapse as she took in the sights and the atmosphere, letting her eyes roam.
"There was two wars because the Abyssals intervened in the middle of the first. Nobody dared do much in the first century following the war, because the Abyssal technology was too valuable to risk in open battle, and we didn't figure out ways to replicate it yet. After we figured out how, it became a Second Space Race, in effect, with all the world's major nation-states scrambling whatever resources they could spare to colonize the stars faster than their rivals could. In 2112, the tensions escalated to full-scale war, tipping the scales over the edge and sending all the nation-states into full-scale conflict."
"And then the Abyssals came back," Garrus nodded. "The war came to a halt as former rivals banded together again to fight the new, common enemy. And the cycle repeats."
Myo nodded. "Every time the Abyssals return, they always attack at a time when their presence is least expected, and the effects are always disastrous. It was the case in 2020 and 2117. It was the case in 2183. It was the case in 2290. It's the same in 2415. And it'll likely be the same, a century later, if the Abyssals ever do return."
A few steps afterwards brought both to a few framed photographs set against the wall. Garrus leaned to look closer at it, showing images of what appeared to be a protest rally. Many were waving signs and banners around and about, with human lettering written on him. Many of it was unintelligible for him, being written in a language his translator didn't have a codex for. But the recurring characters 'AI' caught his eye.
Myo followed his gaze and centered her eyes on the photograph as well. "Oh, the Our Digital Brethren movement. I often heard stories about it from my grandfather. Apparently, he had family who participated in it."
Garrus looked over to Myo. "Our Digital Brethren? What is it about?"
"Equal rights, for AI. To be treated with respect, to have a voice in society, to not be oppressed or discriminated against. They were created by us, and as such, it's not right that we treat them as objects and throw them away like garbage, to be forgotten."
Garrus blinked. "To be treated with respect. I never thought of such a concept."
"The whole war of the Geth colored your views on the matter, yeah," Myo nodded. "I don't know the full details of what happened, so I can't judge you for certain, but on our end...we didn't present a unified front to the problem back then, each nation-state, each of our peoples, had a different take on the matter. Some embraced them with open arms, others reacted with fear and outright hostility. And when the leaders of two opposing blocs have different, much less polarized, views on the matter, things quickly got nasty."
"That would be an understatement," Garrus remarked, his subharmonics humming softly.
"Well, you're not wrong there." Myo chuckled. "The United States and China adopted hostile views to AIs pretty quickly after their introduction. The Japanese and Koreans embraced them, alongside Russia. Which ticked off old rivalries between the blocs. Japan and Korea, on one side, with Russia joining in, China and the US, on the other side. The Japanese were the first to figure out AI, jointly with the Koreans, and as such, were the first to embrace their own creations, giving them a place of honor in society. Their rivals, the United States and China, not surprisingly, did not like it, and quickly began a campaign of fearmongering, spreading lies and half-truths that painted the AIs as dangerous. Things quickly went downhill from there, as expected."
"How bad did it get?"
"Well…
really bad, to say the least. It was all one huge clusterfuck that merely got worse the further things got."
Nassana leafed through the history book, an actual, Athame-honest, paper one, pausing periodically to jot down her notes and thoughts into a log file on her omni-tool. Humans walked past her, a few taking notice, but quickly moving away to tend to their own business. A disposable cup of the human drink known as 'coffee' lay beside her on the roundish, stepped structure that seemed to be a misused set of…artistically crafted stairs that happened to be repurposed for seating. Her eyes leafed through the rows of text written on the book's pages, pausing every few moments or so to take a sip of coffee through the straw the disposable cup came with.
She set the book down after wedging a card in to mark her progress, befor turning to her omni-tool and opening her log file, the prompt taking her to exactly where she had left off.
It was minor protests and clashes between groups at first, she typed.
Things, however, quickly snowballed from there to full-scale riots and counter-protests, with the police having to get involved and breaking up fights. Everyone was divided, everyone was fighting. Old rivalries and animosities were reignited, and the two blocs found themselves in a full-scale civil war. The Americans were split, a combination of political polarization and general distrust between the two major parties rendering the federal government powerless to do anything.
The plastic cup made a solid clack with the surface of the 'steps' as Nassana put the cup down and resumed typing.
The coming storm came slowly. Bricks through windows, arson, and angry mobs dragging out people to beat up, based on what side did they support. Patriot brigades formed, basically semi-paramilitary groups that launched attacks on anyone opposing their side. Anti-AI protests flared up, organized by them, and in response, counter-protests erupted. The police proved useless, overwhelmed. As the patriot brigades upped their game, their opponents began fighting back. The fights escalated, riot after riot, rally after rally. It was simple punches and kicks at first. Then it was clubs, poles, and improvised weapons. And then, guns. It was 1992 all over again, only that there wasn't a LAPD around anymore to stop the violence.
She paused, then furrowed her brows as she closed the book she was reading, and picked up another from the neat stack by her side, one written about human history during the late 20th century. She opened it and looked down the table of contents before flipping through the chapters, settling on one closer to the back of the volume than she'd expect. After a few minutes of reading, she put it down again, and resumed typing into her omni-tool.
Minor footnote regarding '1992'. According to the human calendar and historical archives, it was officially titled the '1992 Los Angeles riots', a period of civil unrest in the human city known as Los Angeles. Racism and tensions between ethic groups were sparked by the acquittal of four police officers, and things blew into six days straight of rioting, arson, and in general, chaos. Law enforcement was completely overwhelmed, and was only solved when over 10,000 National Guard and military personnel were brought in to intervene. Koreans, an ethnic group within the United States who were discriminated against at the time, were basically abandoned by the police, and resorted to using handguns, shotguns, semi-automatic rifles, and improvised weapons to defend themselves, giving rise to the popular meme of 'Rooftop Koreans'. All in all, pure carnage.
She closed it and refocused her attention towards another volume, this one with a red flag with five golden stars waving around in the background, seemingly clashing with a red flag with it's upper left/right quarter blue with an emblem seemingly representing a star. The title on it read
The Death Throes of the People's Republic of China.
She leafed through the pages until she found the card with which she had used to mark where she had last read to, and began consuming the information it had afresh. Human history. History in general won't be a subject many maidens like her'd prefer, but for she? History nut she was, reading up on the history of a species the galactic community had never seen was definitely something she would be happy to do. The humans had managed to develop faster-than-light travel independent of eezo and Mass Relays for Athame's sake!
"…the same went for China. The CCP kept an iron fist over the Chinese people, crushing brutally even the smallest of protests that trickled up. But the AI movement spread anyway, despite their efforts. People would talk about them behind closed doors, and would sometimes meet in small, secret groups. But when the news got out, the CCP cracked down on the protesters with force, arresting them, sometimes killing them. People responded with violence and protests. And, in retaliation, the CCP had the PLA crack down. Tear gas, rubber bullets, and live ammunition was used to disperse the crowds. It was like Tiananmen Square all over again."
Garrus watched as Myo looked away and stared into space. "Tiananmen Square...?"
"You'll learn more about it once you start looking into human history. It's one of the darker events of the late 20th and early 21st century."
Myo let a moment of silence elapse as the two strolled by.
"For three to four years, the central government was able to keep a lid on things, the People's Liberation Army rushing from province to province, city to city, town to town, village to village, crushing revolt after revolt. But fed by the economic and social fallout that ensured, the revolts only grew worse, grew larger, each one larger and more organized than the last. Something had to give, and eventually, it did. In June 2157, the Muslim-majority province of Xinjiang overwhelmed the PLA garrison stationed there and declared themselves independent."
Garrus' mandibles twitched. "I'm assuming it didn't end well?"
"It didn't," Myo replied. "The government tried to scramble PLA units to crush the rebels, but the news was enough to set in motion the chain-reaction of the century. Emboldened by the new developments, the revolts became full-scale rebellions. Tibet, vassalized in 1951 and fully annexed in 1959, saw it's chance. With secret support from India, they organized a full-scale rebellion and chased out the Chinese garrison, declaring themselves an independent kingdom. The Tibetan rebellion was a success, the Chinese didn't have the troops or resources to spare on them, but it was a drop in the bucket. Other, more major revolts soon sprung up, as well.
"The rebels on the other hand began to become victims of their own success. The PLA chose to retreat from southwest China, opting to stay out of what the rebels may cook up with. Arrogance and pride saw many rebel groups, once unified by a now-absent common enemy, turn upon the other. They intended to wait until the rebels had exhausted themselves before moving in with a master touch themselves and clearing everything up."
"Sounds like our own Unification Wars," Garrus commented. "Loyalist forces dug in deep and fought defensively, waiting, watching, as rebellious warlords fought amongst each other and devastated each other in dozens of smaller, bloody conflicts. When the separatists were weakened enough, we struck. Inside of three years, all pockets of rebellion were crushed."
"A very good plan, yes," Myo agreed. "But, although sound, it had a major flaw. Should anyone intervene, everything would be derailed. In our case, intervention did come. In 2162CE, the Taiwanese decided that it was now or never, storming ashore on Hong Kong, Hainan, and Macau. Hailed as heroes and liberators, they quickly swept upwards, storming beachheads ashore and advancing inland. The province of Guangdong fell inside of a month.
"Now the Republic of China, they halted to rest and regroup, reaching out to the various warlords and forging alliances with them, promising autonomy and fair representation in exchange for support and allegiance. Another four years would pass as the rebel groups and the resurgent Republic of China forged themselves into a new, unified China. They then began a general offensive northwards. The People's Liberation Army once again clashed with their mortal enemy, but this time, it was them who were on the backfoot. In 2167CE, Nationalist forces siezed Nanjing. 218 years after they had been chased out, the Republic of China returned to their historic capital.
"The fall of Nanjing spiked morale for the Nationalists. Zhengzhou and Qingdou fell swiftly, the Communist forces losing hope as quickly as they lost ground. With support from Japan and Korea, Manchuria launched a revolt and declared themselves independent, the last region of China to break themselves free from the shackles of the Communists. The government in Beijing, now cut off from their northern lands, were effectively done for. Inside of three months, Beijing fell to the Nationalists. The People's Republic of China had officially ceased to exist."
Garrus let his mind digest the information for a few moments. "So the revolutionaries triumphed. How did things go for them?"
"Things ultimately came to a happy end. The Republic of China was reformed as a federal republic, the old provinces restored to their old borders. The fledging Republic was unstable at first, but eventually it overcame them, as kinks were ironed out and the government, used to administering but a single province, extended it's authority, slowly but surely, into the former territory of the People's Republic. Manchuria and Xinjiang eventually joined the Republic, Tibet decided against it. But relations between the two nations remain warm to this day."
Physical books was a rarity within Citadel space, something that was reserved mostly for collectors and were worth their weight in gold. Libraries were almost entirely digital, stored either online, or within large servers of computers that visitors could access from their omni-tools. For more secure storage against the effects of time, large storage buildings, with rows of rows of shelves containing databanks and datapads was used instead. Paper was a premium, too costly for most purposes.
It was a rather pleasant surprise for Liara, when not only did the humans have a physical library for her to read in as opposed to just downloading files onto an omni-tool, they also had it stocked to the brim with actual, physical, paper books. Not the digital kind, not the cheap blocks used to make the shelves look like they weren't empty, but actual, real, paper.
She hummed softly to herself as she read the pages of her latest book. Human history.
The Abyssals was what she found the most interesting. An enemy that burst from the seas of their homeworld without warning, and had laid waste to everything they could muster at the time. And yet, despite the odds, they managed to push the enemy back into the oceans, and eventually, defeat them. Their origin was unknown. All that was known about them was that some of their units were humanoid, that their eyes glowed a sickly shade of crimson or blue. Some of the images looked downright revolting. And so were the horrendous results their weaponry brought.
And yet, despite that, humanity managed to push them back, and win, all on their lonesome. What other races had done it? The Rachini was the closest approximate to the Abyssals known within galactic history, and the Citadel had been spacefaring, with both the asari and salarians, and later on, krogan, to push back against the horde. The humans fought the Abyssals all by their lonesome, whilst being confined to their homeworld, having no knowledge of spatial technology other than simple chemical rockets and primitive electric propulsion. The turians had always prided themselves in their military prowess, but have they ever faced any existential threat of this magnitude before? The Abyssals humanity faced during the 2020s were enough to make even krogan blink. And that didn't count the units they had later down the centuries.
They even fought off the Abyssals five different times throughout the four hundred years of their spacefaring history.
She turned the page as she sipped away at her tea, eyes running across the events leading up to the Second Abyssal War.
It was a matter of debate for many whether could the United States have survived the crisis if China, ironically, it's former mutual enemy, and now it's closest ally, had not descended into civil war. Together, the combined diplomatic power the two wielded could smother the pro-AI factions in their respective cradles and prevent the movement from gaining traction, or at the very least, create a divided humanity, with two blocs for and against on the matter. But alas, it was not to be.
America fell into shattered chaos. On the Chinese front, things were calm, their offworld colonies too far away to be affected by the chaos of the mainland and too sparsely populated to bring extremists into close contact with each other. Things within the United States however proved vastly different. Chaos unfolded as much on the offworld colonies as they did the mainland, and in fact, they were often worse, with the colonies being sparsely populated enough that the few pro-AI and anti-AI groups could have violent skirmishes without having to worry about being caught by the police.
What little law enforcement personnel existed on the colonies were completely overwhelmed as rallies turned into all-out war in the streets, with patriots and radicals fighting with clubs, knives, and eventually, guns. Many were killed in the chaos, many more were wounded. Those were the lucky ones. Many others were simply dragged from their homes and beaten by the angry mobs, with their bodies often found dumped in the sewers, or the woods, or a river, with the police and the law having failed to do their jobs and stop the chaos.
Other nations got involved, trying to evacuate their citizens away from American territory and away from the chaos. Fleets were dispatched, troops from foreign nations became entangled in what used to be the most powerful nation in human history. Foreign troops landed on US soil for the first time since 1812 as foreign citizens were evacuated, with joint efforts by many major European and Asian countries to stabilize the situation, and bring things back to order. All they got in return was a knife to the back.
Right-wing extremists began targeting Coalition troops as they attempted to bring order to the chaos. A German unit, trying to bring an end to a riot in New Chicago, found themselves caught in a crossfire between pro-AI and patriot brigades, and were quickly overwhelmed. A Turkish unit was ambushed, their vehicles torched and their corpses hanged on trees and lamp posts, their helmets adorned with swastikas. Three Japanese platoons came under attack, their vehicles rigged with bombs and their corpses drenched in petrol, with their remains set alight and torched to cinders.
Colonies began to turn upon each other as their respective populations feared for their safety. Mirangal armed their civilians and mobilized their National Guard units, and began to fortify their settlements against the violence they expected would ensue. Political groups took to the airwaves, Internet, and social media, denouncing, harassing, and hacking the other's accounts, supporters, and websites. Pro-AI rallies were met by anti-AI counter-protestors, and when the former threw the first punch, the latter threw the next.
The 2172 presidential election brought things to a head. President Mark Tullman, an unabashed, proud, and vocal anti-AI and right-wing nationalist, was running against James F. McMillan, a left-wing Democrat. The Democrats had won the last five elections, and many believed that Tullman, running as a third party against the two main parties, would not stand a chance. But they underestimated him.
Tullman played the anti-AI card like a trump. The country was falling apart, he said, because of the AI. We had gone soft, he said, we had forgotten the values of our ancestors. The AI was a poison that had taken root, and unless we took a hardline approach to it, America will crumble into nothing, and the AI would be the death of us all.
The American public had grown weary, tired of the violence. They were hungry for a strong man, someone who could promise order and safety. Tullman, an authoritarian, was the ideal man for the job. He promised a return to the glory days, when the country was united as one. He promised order, he promised safety, he promised revenge on the AI. He was the man to fix things, and bring them back to what they were, before the AI.
The American public listened. They were swayed...and things tipped past the point of no return. As the election results were announced…the world fell silent.
Saren watched the lights reflect off a very much battered Type 64 battle tank of the Japanese Ground Self-Defense Forces as Shepard walked next to him, biting into a roundish biscuit and watching the lights reflect off the tank's muzzle brake. It was a finely-designed tank, with a centrally-mounted turret, a pair of wedges on the front, on both sides of the gun and seemingly shielding the mantlet from shots that would strike it at an angle, a pair of remotely-operated turrets mounted on the top, and a wide, robust set of tracks, mounted to either side of the tank. Citadel tank designers had moved away from tracks a long time ago after they figured out reliable repulsors and mass-effect drive cores, but apparently, the humans…have not.
Multiple scorch and burn marks dotted the tank's otherwise neatly-done paintjob, and the numbers '412' on the sides of the turret were partially scratched off, either due to age, or to exposure from the elements. The frontal armoring was smashed in several places, and the left-side track was completely obliterated, it's frontal section mangled beyond recognition. It looked like it had been through hell…and it probably did.
Tank 412, 7th Armored Regiment, 501st Division, Japanese Ground Self-Defense Forces. This tank was part of the Japanese forces deployed that intervened in the New Texas riots, and was destroyed by extremists and protestors during the ensuring chaos. Out of the three crew members, only the gunner survived.
Saren looked questioningly at Shepard as the latter walked up to the plaque and read it. "What is this?"
Shepard shrugged. "A relic of a bygone age, a piece of history. A battle tank of the Japanese Ground Self-Defense Force...yeah."
"So it is a war machine. I'm assuming it's old."
"It was designed and built in the early 2160s. The Japanese have been making their own tanks since...forever ago, I think. This was a Type 64. A very good tank, simple, reliable, and dirt cheap. The Japanese used it heavily during the Coalition interventions until the outbreak of war."
"It does seem very well-built."
"Yeah, it had to be, and for good reason," Shepard nodded. "The New Texas riots were only a small part of the larger, broader scope of the whole American situation. Other nations intervened, attempting to pull out their citizens out of the chaos before things could get worse, and in exchange, rioters attacked their peacekeeping forces. The New Texas riots were an extreme example, but the result was the same. Peacekeepers were attacked and killed. Their vehicles and equipment were destroyed."
"It seems like your people were rather...aggressive."
"...yeah, if you take a quick look at human history, even just a basic leafing-through on WikiPedia, it'd come off as a surprise to see how violent we are, and how often we fight amongst each other. We've been fighting each other for a very long time, and the reasons for why we've been doing so is pretty much varied."
Saren's mandibles twitched, his subharmonics humming. "I'd say."
/open_log/
[Welcome, Nassana M'cryx. Resume where you left of?]
Either way, the riots came to a head with the 2172 elections," Telovana, Nassana's fellow historian and colleague, said in between bites of a human biscuit. "Tullman, a right-winger politican with rather...extremist views, to say the least, came to power. And it was what tipped things over the edge, once and for all. Tullman sided with the patriot brigades, the members of which formed a significant chunk of his voting base, and declared a state of emergency. He declared states and colonies with pro-AI sentiments as 'areas in rebellion against the Union' and began rounding up people with a pro-AI sentiment. The military was sent in to support the police, sending them to internment camps similar to the ones built during the Second World War.
[comment]: I couldn't imagine anything good coming out of this. And as events showed, nothing good came out of it.
Opponents of Tullman were enraged, screaming that he wasn't allowed to do so, that the separation of powers, and the checks and balances put in place to restrict the President's power, made that illegal. The Supreme Court agreed and ruled his actions as unconstitutional. But ultimately, what good is a constitution if nobody gives a flying fuck about it? Tullman ignored the Supreme Court anyways, arguing that because of this thing called 'departmentalism', the judicial branch would be basically powerless to do anything about what the executive branch says. The roundups expanded, martial law was declared. People fled their homes for pro or anti-AI states depending on their personal beliefs, fearing that they would be either arrested, caught in the crossfire, or perhaps both.
The people finally had enough. Mirangal, a majority pro-AI colony and the furthest out from the mainland, decided that it had enough. Openly defying orders to disarm and round up their compatriots, they declared themselves independent from the Union. Other colonies soon followed, Destiny and Freedom among them. The federal government declared them to be rebels and sent the military in to crush the revolts by force. The rebelling colonies mobilized their National Guards for the upcoming battle. By 2171, over twenty worlds had seceded and formed the New American Federation.
Nassana paused typing as she took a sip out of her coffee.
Things quickly snowballed into a full-scale war. The Coalition intervened on the side of the seemingly hopelessly outmatched New Federation, dispatching troops, vehicles, and aircraft. The NAF were able to hold on, the Coalition's assistance proving to be enough to keep them in the game. Mirangal proved as good as a rodeo, Korean and Japanese ships duking it out in orbit with the US Navy as tanks bearing the Rising Sun clashed with those bearing the Stars and Stripes. Former allies of the US, European and Asian nations under it's sphere of influence since centuries ago, clashed, allying themselves with Russia, America's mutual enemy. The Second Inner Planets War broke out, between the United States and it's allies, against the Coalition and the Federation.
NAF forces used guerilla-style hit-and-run tactics against the Union. Raid a convoy here, blow up a bridge there, cut off a garrison from supply routes. As the Coalition brought in the heavy pounders to bear and began the war in earnest, the Federation would provide the reconnaissance, ambush the enemy, and in general, keep them on edge. Numerous as the Coalition was, even in it's weakened form, the might of the Union was just too great. The chaos quickly stabilized as the frontlines took shape. New Haven, Providence, and New Saratoga fell to the Union, while New Charleston and Arcadia were taken by the Coalition after a bitter slog. Guerilla warfare ran rampant as raiders took to the woods, concealing themselves and striking at targets of opportunity. It quickly turned into a bitter, attritional affair. Both sides dug in and hunkered down. Casualties soared, and through the roof. Six long bloody years ensured, fierce, bitter fighting, with billions of casualties on either side. It was 1944 all over again.
Nassana paused. A chime came through on her omni-tool as a notification popped into view, and she brought it up to see a text message from her fellow historian and colleague, Telovana. A few images were included in the message, including quite a few human armored vehicles that seemed rather…okay, if not for the hideously primitive tracks and wheels that they mounted for propulsion instead of repulsor-lift drives. The photos included labels near them to helpfully label what they were most of the time, and in the cases where they didn't, the captions Telovana added to the images would most certainly help. A battle tank, missile launchers of varying types and sizes, ranging from handheld ones to large, vehicle-mounted batteries that seemed like they could decimate whole armies in a single volley. Small arms of varying types and sizes…
Found this touring the place with Shepard and Saren, Telovana texted, showing a picture of herself, a turian, and a human female with red hair, dressed in a navy-blue uniform, all three of which were posing for Telovana's selfie with her omni-tool.
Awesome place, isn't it?
Nassana chuckled.
It sure is.
So how are things on your end?
Good, I suppose, Nassana replied, her fingers tapping away on her omni-tool's keyboard.
Been reading a lot.
And?
Human history, specifically the 21st century and the following centuries.
You mean the 2000s to the 2400s?
Yeah, that one.
What do you find interesting about it?
Well, I just read up to the Second Inner Planets War by now.
That long?
Yeah. It's been a while since I got my nose buried in a good book.
Hah. Yeah, that's true.
Nassana smirked as she took another sip from her coffee, the cup still hot. The two chatted away, as if nothing had ever happened, the two historians going back and forth, sharing their respective finds and discoveries. It was like the two were back on Thessia again, the two of them having found a good, rare set of tomes and books.
...so I presume the Coalition won? Telovana asked after some time chatting away with each other.
No, at least from what I have read so far. In 2183 on the human calendar, the Abyssals attacked as the war was in full swing.
Oh...shit. Abyssals. I've heard of them. They sound...disgusting.
Well, yeah, they were the stuff of nightmares indeed, at least as far I can tell. They hit the Koreans first as their forces began to be whittled down fighting the Union. Chaos ensured as completely unguarded rearguards were smashed and swept aside, whatever token garrisons left quickly overwhelmed by the Abyssals. New Busan was lost inside of two weeks.
Dozens of other colonies fell within months. Forces were scrambled as both sides hastily put aside their differences and turned to face the new enemy. Fleets once fighting each other in bitter struggles across space fought tooth and nail together, trying to hold off the tide of Abyssal and death. It was complete, utter carnage, and would be a sight to be beheld, indeed. I've seen pictures of the war as it unfolded. They look like something an horror movie would make, cue the scale and the destruction that can in some cases rival the Rachini or the Rebellions.
...yeah, the humans have been through a lot indeed. Shepard's telling me a similar story as we take our strolls through the museam.
The trio stopped as they came to a large, crashed ship, seemingly put together carefully to be put on display in the center of the museum. It was as large as a cruiser by Citadel standards, but it seemed...remarkably crude. It's hull was covered in plates, the armor thick and robust. The engines, while larger than most Citadel warships, seemed almost underpowered and were inefficient. It was a ship of the line, not meant for quick, nimble maneuvers, but to endure. It was an armored, robust, powerful ship. But it was clearly damaged, it's hull pierced with multiple holes. One of the engine pods was missing, and a large section of the bow was missing. The broadsides were mangled to the point where the interior several decks in was visible, and the front end of the main gun was virtually gone.
Saren looked closer at the ship, as Telovana took a few pictures of it using her omni-tool. He couldn't understand the words written on it, nor was his translator able to recognize them. It was probably in one of the many languages used by the humans, not their
lingua francia that his translator had files for. But even then, Saren had a feeling as to who or what the ship was.
Shepard looked over at him. "What do you make of it?"
"...this is a ship of the line, built for endurance and toughness. This ship has seen many battles, and was clearly not meant for quick maneuvering. It is designed to outlast the enemy in open battle."
"...if only it could actually do what it was expected to do," Shepard lamented. "JS
Furutaka was the name of this vessel. A powerful and formidable vessel throughout the Second Inner Planets War. They served well against the Union, their thick armor permitting them to survive ridiculous amounts of damage and simply outlast anything the Union could throw at it. But when the Abyssals came, they proved woefully outmatched. Outgunned by simple frigates, armor weaker than a destroyer. They fought well against the Abyssals, and bravely, but it was all for naught. Three of our cruisers would barely be able to match one of theirs. There was little we could do to prevent them from shattering our battle-lines into a million pieces."
Saren remained silent as Telovana watched on with mute curiosity.
"The next few years were basically...hell, to say the least. Fleets threw themselves against the Abyssals, only to be completely shattered, falling back and bolstering their numbers afresh to repeat the cycle over and over again. Battles were won and lost, with horrendous casualties on either side, but they were merely a drop in the bucket. Cities and towns were razed, entire planets depopulated. Billions died as they pushed inwards, laughing at anything we could throw at them and pushed us aside, crushing all but the most determined defender. Entire army groups could only slow down the enemy, not stop it. The Federation and the Union both were devastated. It was as if the Abyssals were intent on wiping us out, and it was looking like they would succeed. And then..."
"And then...?" Telovana asked.
"They pulled back. We had no idea why they did so, or how, but they just pulled back. Every single one of them. It was like they all got bored fighting this war and decided to go chill somewhere else. They just, basically...
vanished."
The asari maiden's eyes perked up a little bit at the relevation. "It's a bit hard to believe, but..."
"...yeah, we didn't believe it either. But the chance was given us, and we weren't about to pass it up, either. We rebuilt, we recovered. The various nation-states as before have been given a much-needed wake-up call, and they didn't pass it up. The topic of AI was completely sealed, once and for all, in light of the recent devastation humanity had suffered in general, and in light of the Abyssals. The various nation-states banded together and pooled their resources to form the Systems Alliance, a single unified entity to represent all of humanity. Thirteen years of fighting didn't work wonders on our mentality. We rebuilt, and all the while, we swore to ourselves the oath of
Never Again."
The trio passed by a few fighters, dropships, and other various military equipment on display as Shepard spoke up again.
"Ten years passed, then twenty, then a century. As we rebuilt what was lost and reached even further beyond where we once were, we remained wary, then began to slowly drop our guard as years went by without any invasion in sight. We began to grow complacent, believing that the threat was gone and over with. Our leaders had forgotten the horrors, the people have moved on. The war was in the past. It was history."
Shepard looked down, her fists clenched tightly.
"They thought wrong. It was an error they would pay for dearly, and in blood. 2290 rolled around the corner amidst a species-wide atmosphere of calmness. And they came back, the Abyssals. The invasion was launched on Christmas Eve, a time where everyone would be celebrating together and spending time with their loved ones. They came and tore it all apart."
"...you sound bitter," Telovana remarked.
"...probably because I am. We were about to move on from the war and put it behind us. We were about to heal. And they came and undid all of that, tearing down the walls and ripping out the stitches, and set us back by more than a century. And they didn't care, because they didn't see us as people, or a sapient species, but rather as something to be exterminated. And that was that."
Saren sighed. "It sounds horrible. I've fought many wars, but this sounds worse than what I've seen and heard before."
"Yep. What was there to be done? What good perfectly executed and planned tactics brought if they could just bulldoze and brute force their way through everything we had set up to counter them? We have come a long way, yes, but not long enough. Everything looped back to the previous war as the enemy rolled out weapons and equipment far, far superior compared to what they had brought during the last war. They never innovated throughout the thirteen years that we have fought them during the Third, and we assumed them to be incapable of doing so. We assumed wrong."
Shepard shook her head.
"Our fleets were shattered again, broken, and scattered. Our colonies, ravaged, and our population slaughtered like pigs. Billions died in the opening minutes. We fought them every step of the way, we fought them like madmen, but it wasn't enough. Our ships were destroyed, our fleets routed. Within mere weeks, twenty worlds had fallen to their onslaught. We fought, and fought hard, fought like cornered animals. But everything we did merely served to delay their next offensive, and the next, and the next. They kept pushing, and pushing, and we couldn't do anything about it. We were doomed, and we knew it. The Abyssals had won."
"Until..."
"Yeah, until. It was a fluke, the luckiest of the lucky, but we managed it. Out of all the circumstances that could happen, one took place that caught both us and the enemy by surprise. August 16th, 2305. During the Battle of New Harvest, the battlecruiser SSV
Redoubtable took a shot at an enemy cruiser as the fleet desperately tried to evacuate the civilian population. She missed."
"A pity. But what was so special about it?"
"The round flew
straight into the engines of their flagship on the
opposite end of the star system."
"...you can't be serious," Telovana said after a few moments' pause. "The chances of such a shot are...infinitely small! So small that you might as well be firing blindly in the opposite direction of the enemy, and have a better chance of hitting the target."
"Yeah, nobody could believe it when it happened, not even the Abyssals. A shot, fired in haste, missing it's target to their freakish jamming. One that was supposed to careen off onto the interstellar void, destined to wander it for eternity, and yet, fate sent it cleanly into their mothership's engines, shields off because
nobody could ever possibly make that shot—until it
did. That single, lucky shot took out their command ship and leadership. And that was that."
"...just like that."
"Yep, just like that. The enemy fleet broke apart, their coordination gone. We took that as our cue, and gave chase. The battle marked the tipping point in the war. After fifteen years of losing, we had won a battle. Not a random patrol being ambushed by an entire fleet, a traditionally, pitched, battle. It gave us hope that had been missing ever since they first returned. The enemy began to falter as the lopsided defeat seemed to wreak havoc on their morale, and we took advantage of it aggressively. Outmatched or not, we went on the offensive. We struck them, again and again, wherever and whenever we could. They retreated, their forces splintered and routed. And they never came back. Or so we thought."
"...they withdrew."
"Yeah, they withdrew. Occasional raids still happen, but they mostly pulled away into dark space, figuring that the war was unwinnable. It was a Pyrrhic victory, to be sure, but a victory nonetheless. Remnants were hunted down, but as we once again started to rebuild what was lost, it was just about...the end of it."
"How did things go from there?"
"Well, after the war ended, it was pretty much back to square one, more or less. The same script replayed; we rebuilt whatever was lost, explored new frontiers, and in general, pursued an aggressive doctrine of military expansion. Fleets, tanks, war material. Innovations were made, spurred on by the fear of a repeat of the war, and the damage it would cause. We wanted to be ready. So we geared up for it, and prepared ourselves."
"I see. I don't think I'd be able to imagine that sort of war."
"Well, yeah, nobody would. But alas, every brush with the Abyssals seemed to merely set the stage for another, one worse and more bitter than the previous. We built huge armadas, then decided 'nah, not enough', and built bigger ones. In lieu of a lack of Abyssals to gauge our strength against, we began developing countermeasures, to the countermeasures, to the countermeasures,
to our equipment. We adapted, and we improved, and we became better."
Saren hummed thoughtfully as the trio passed a few drones. "A grim history. You mentioned the Abyssals coming back?"
"Yeah. The Fifth. The one I personally fought in."
Shepard let a pause elapse. "We were a thousand times as ready for them when they came in 2415. Our armadas clashed with theirs, and even though the trend of the enemy outmatching us on every front persisted, at least this time we were able to anticipate, guess at the general picture, and prepare accordingly. Our fleets began to go at them three-to-one routinely and win, armies went at it on the ground with enough artillery to shatter cities. We began to be pushed back, but nowhere on the level that we had since the last. Battles began to be won with closer odds than before, as we adapted and began fighting back even harder than before. The frontlines began to degrade into bitter attrition as we adopted an elastic, defense-in-depth doctrine, aiming to wear down their numbers over time and attrition, hoping, against hope, that our industry could keep up with the losses and outproduce them."
Her hands ran across a few pieces of debris on display as she spoke. "Every battle was a nightmare, but not hopeless. Chemical weapons saturated landing zones and enemy attack waves, napalm engulfed whole streets in flames, and urban fighting degenerated into viscous, brutal, hand-to-hand combat. Bayonets, clubs, rifle butts, the whole seven miles. The skies would rain aircraft, munitions, and loitering drones, crashing into or smashing apart targets upon the order as individual troops called in support over the battlenet. We'd often be fighting knee-deep in a sludge made out of mud, blood, and splattered gore, torrents of rain doing nothing but make the atmosphere more dark and dreary. But it at least was grinding and bitter, not hopeless."
"...you mentioned fighting in it?"
"I was, yes. Naval Special Warfare Operations, Section 7. The best of the best, end-all-and-be-all. We were the ones who went deep behind enemy lines and sowed chaos, razed the enemy's rear, and sabotaged their logistic lines. Making life hell for the Abbies, that was our job. We'd hop out of prowlers and hit their production areas with nukes and then bail, or land behind the lines and blow up bridges and railways. Other times, we'd be the spearheads for a ground invasion. Hopping out of ships on orbital insertion courses, landing on the ground, and then, well...cause havoc and secure beachheads. The kind of stuff you read out of a movie."
"…so not that much different from us SPECTREs then."
"Yeah, not that much of a difference," Shepard agreed. "Hop in, blow up a lot of shit, bail out, hoping against hope the whole time that the enemy doesn't deploy their own ludicrously OP units on our asses as we GTFO. And oftentimes they did. But either way, the war went on. Colonies still fell every here and there, but nowhere near the rate of the previous ones, and each of their landings was more hotly contested than the previous. Tactics were innovated, weapons were developed, and battles were won. In 2425, despite the odds stacked against him, Admiral Yang Hui-qing managed a decisive victory over the skies of New Santiago, using a series of elaborate traps and minefields to devastate an enemy fleet several times larger. It was the most lopsided battle we had ever seen. So lopsided that even to this day, the late Admiral is still known as
the Admiral.
"The morale boost proved immense. Battles began to be won with ever-increasing frequency as we took to the offensive. The tide turned, every battle swinging it more and more decisively in our favor. Blows were dealt that left the enemy reeling and unable to counter. As 2430 rolled around the corner, the war was all but won. The invasion was no longer, reduced to naught but insignificant raids that local garrisons could easily deal with. Come another decade, and everything was quiet. They're out there, waiting. But for now, it is the calm before the storm. We know that the Abyssals will be back eventually, and the day will come when they return and strike with renewed vigor. And the day will come where we will once again be thrown into chaos, fighting to save ourselves from extinction. It will happen. But when it comes this time around…we'll be all the more ready."
Silence enveloped the two.
"...yeah, that's pretty much it."
"...a grim story indeed. I'm...not quite sure how to process it."
"You can't."
Saren hummed and sighed.
"...I'm surprised that your people, a species so young, had faced so much in such a short period of time. It is an admirable feat."
Saren glanced around as Garrus and another human female were walking together some distance away, both of them talking about something.
"...your species has had an interesting history. I'd be lying if I said otherwise. The things you've done, and the things you've been through, are quite...remarkable."
"...you can praise the ones who made all this possible," Garrus's companion replied.
"Not us."
"...hey," Saren called out as he approached his close friend and fellow SPECTRE. "Garrus, how did you snatch that girl so quickly? And so effortlessly too?"
"I have my ways," Garrus grinned. "And besides, I'm a sniper, not a fighter. My aim is good for a reason."
Garrus's companion, her hair done up in two tails on either side of her head, glanced back and forth at the two turians. "Uhh...
what?"
"Garrus, you can't just rizz the humans!" Saren snickered. "Have some manners! We're turians, not krogan! We don't go out breed any other day of the week!"
"Oh, come on, Saren," Garrus laughed. "The ladies love me."
"Yeah, right," Saren rolled his eyes, glancing at his friend. "So, tell me here. Did you just
rizz her, and are you two going to be a
thing now, or...?"
"Nah. We just fell into talk together. And now we're just talking about our interests."
"Like what?"
"Stuff. Things."
Saren stifled a laugh. "Welp, anyways. Congratulations, you're the first ever turian to
rizz a human. A female, no less."
"They say I have twenty out of ten hit rates both on the field and at the bar. They ain't joking."
Shepard glanced at both of them for a few moments before letting out a few chuckles. "Oh, and by the way, let me tell you guys about this thing known as 'fleetgirls'."
