- Location
- none of your business
Or maybe just some Xenophobic asshat wanker
Fall of the Citadel (reboot), Mass Effect x KanColle
- Thread starter Fujisan
- Start date
- Crossover
Chapter 10
New
Fujisan
四月咲く花
- Location
- Vietnam
"Welcome to the Migrant Fleet, Ambassador Goyle. I am honored that you have chosen our humble fleet as the destination for your diplomatic visit."
Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema surveyed the small conference room aboard the refitted turian frigate. The room, formerly the captain's cabin, had been hastily rearranged to accommodate the human delegation. A table now occupied the center of the room, with the sofas reconfigured to provide seating for eight. Han took his place alongside Captain Ysin, while the human ambassadors sat across from them. Rael'Zorah's hologram flickered at the end of the table, the Admiral having chosen to participate via commlink rather than in person.
Ambassador Goyle cleared her throat. "Thank you, Admiral. It is a pleasure to meet you in person."
Han nodded. "The pleasure is mine, Ambassador Goyle. I have studied the history of your people... your journey here has been quite eventful."
Goyle gave a brief chuckle. "It certainly has. We are glad to finally find ourselves settled among friends once again."
Ysin leaned forward. "What do you hope to accomplish through these diplomatic talks?"
"We wish to establish formal relations," she stated simply. "The plight of the quarian people over the past three centuries is well known throughout the galaxy. The human race is appalled at your treatment at the hands of the Citadel Council, and we are willing to aid you in any way possible."
Han nodded slowly. "I understand that. But we must begin somewhere. Perhaps we could start by outlining our respective positions on the issue at hand?"
"That seems like a good place to start," Goyle agreed. "For starters, the Alliance is engaged in a large-scale initiative to upgrade and augment its technological base with element-zero technology. This is an open and long-term effort, with the aim of eventually bringing our species' tech base up to the standards of the rest of the galactic community. We would greatly value quarian input in this process."
Han's mind raced as he sought to discern the underlying motivations behind the Ambassador's words. "A handful of advisors in exchange for three super-capital sized ships is not exactly an even exchange, Ambassador."
Goyle smiled. "The Alliance is a large economic powerhouse, Admiral. Admittedly, we are still rebuilding and recovering from the shadows that have been our history, but we have come far enough to begin taking steps forward into the greater community. As a species that has been through its own share of dark times and hopeless causes, we believe we understand somewhat how it is for you. The Migrant Fleet's technological expertise and knowledge base are legendary among the galaxy's inhabitants, and we will not squeeze such talents from you cheaply when we can afford to pay a fair price."
"I see..." Han leaned back, steepling his fingers together. "The Alliance is willing to give the Migrant Fleet three super-sized colony ships, in exchange for a team of advisors. That is correct, yes?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "We would not have it any other way."
Han looked up at the ceiling, weighing the offer carefully. It was too good. Too perfect. There had to be a catch. He could hear his father's voice ringing in his ear, telling him to walk away. To not be swayed by the temptation that was being presented to him.
But, on the other hand...
If they weren't a trap... if these weren't some elaborate tricks and lies concocted by the humans, if they were genuinely as benevolent and altruistic as they seemed, then it would be an unmitigated disaster for the Migrant Fleet to pass up on the offer. He would personally rather take a plasma cannon blast to the gut than pass up the opportunity for the entire quarian species.
Han sighed. "I would need to convene with the Admiralty Board before accepting the terms you have presented."
Goyle smiled, as if expecting him to say that. "We understand. However, may I propose a second deal, if you're willing to listen?"
Han leaned forward. "Go ahead."
"Our technology may seem advanced and impressive on the surface, but anyone with significant technical expertise will know that they are at least decades behind that of the Citadel. This is a gap that we are working to narrow as quickly as possible, but we are hampered by a lack of experienced specialists in Citadel-standard technology. We believe such an undertaking will be a lot faster, and easier, if the civilian, government, and industrial sectors had quarian advisors and engineers at their disposal."
Han mulled the proposal over in his head. "The scale of such an undertaking is a daunting one... it would require millions, if not tens of millions, of quarians. How would this work? Where would they go?"
"We are aware of this," Goyle replied. "There are exchange programs in place to permit foreign workers entry into our space, which you would be allowed to make use of. Quarian engineers are extremely highly valued, and many companies would gladly part with substantial sums of money to acquire their services. The wages would definitely be higher than what most quarians may expect in other parts of the galaxy, significantly helping your economy."
Han sat silently for several seconds, letting everything sink in. Finally, he spoke again. "...are you sure about this?"
Goyle nodded firmly. "Absolutely."
"What will we get in return?"
Goyle removed a small holoprojector and set it up on the table. "This is the Gemini Sigma cluster, home to many dozens of newly-colonized worlds such as Shanxi, Guanxi, and New Fuji. Despite being a newly settled cluster, however, its abundance in uninhabitable worlds, yet rich in natural resources, have made it a major industrial hub for the rebuilding Alliance."
Han watched the hologram intently as Goyle continued.
"The few habitable planets that are settled are home to large and vast industrial complexes, ranging from simple vehicle foundries to large shipyards and repair docks. We will offer you full access to these shipyards, with or without their human crew, if the Migrant Fleet agrees to assist us in our modernization endeavors."
Rael's hologram flickered as the Admiral thought the proposal over in his head. "We will take it to the Admiralty Board."
They met in secret, at undisclosed, hidden locations, arriving in unmarked air-cars that were packed with the best stealth technology STG had to offer. They traveled alone, their faces hidden behind masks, their voices masked by commlinks. Their identities were unknown, their actions untraceable, their location cloaked by a network of encrypted security protocols. And every time they arrived at a new meeting point, they entered under cover of darkness, moving unseen along empty streets until they reached a nondescript building where they'd gather to discuss the plan.
The project lead waited until the last member entered the room before speaking. "Speak."
One masked official answered. "Ten days ago, on the fifth day of our shakedown cruise. Our sensors detected an anomaly when patrolling an empty sector of space. It was a rogue dreadnought-sized vessel, drifting in space near the edge of the Hawking Eta."
Another responded. "How did you discover its origin?"
The first speaker tapped a command into his slate, accessing the data feed. "At 02:18, sensors detected an anomaly in the interdimensional realm consistent with a drifting derelict in the vicinity. I ordered a probe launched to investigate the contact."
He paused as he read the results off screen. "Derelict matches no known profile in databases. Initial observations reveal that the ship had suffered catastrophic battle damage before being left adrift. Its hull is badly scarred and damaged. No power signature. Internal systems nonresponsive."
"Any clues as to who might have built it?"
"No. Initially, we suspected Prothean, but the designs do not match, the ship itself seemingly predates the Protheans themselves. Current estimates place the ship's age at upwards of thirty-seven million years, perhaps even more. Preliminary scans also indicate that there are traces of organic material inside the ship, though nothing resembling life signs."
"Anything else?"
"A strange signal, one that cast an interference field on the interdimensional telemetry links. Analysis reveals it to exhibit properties comparable to slave-control chips in the Terminus sector, but more refined and subtle. It is completely undetectable on normal scanners."
The group remained silent for several moments, digesting all that was said.
Finally, another one spoke. His voice came out low and quiet. "Who owns this thing?"
Silence greeted the question.
Eventually, someone spoke again. "Unknown."
Someone asked a different question instead. "Do you think whoever owned it survived?"
All eyes turned toward the lead member. He didn't answer immediately, choosing to stare into the middle distance for several minutes as he contemplated the situation.
"How many have come into contact with the derelict?"
The first one replied. "Only me and my crew. I have ordered them to stay put at a secure location. If anything happens, we'll know soon enough."
More silence followed until the lead spoke again.
"You've done well so far. Now let us proceed with caution," he began. "Closely monitor the derelict. Report any anomalies to your superiors. We must remain vigilant. There may be something in there that we don't want to wake up."
Macen Arterius watched as PFS Enforcer left the dock and lit it's engines, thrusting itself forwards on it's first shake-down cruise following it's refit.
The engineers at Palaven Arsenal had done well. It took a mere two years for them to develop, prototype, and integrate the resulting technologies into the Vulture-class dreadnought, giving it a brand-new lease of life after becoming obsolete when humans were introduced to the galaxy.
It wasn't quite a carbon copy of the original design—not anymore. The reactor was upgraded, allowing for increased power output while maintaining acceptable safety levels. The ship's armoring was overhauled. The hull was widened, and the armor moved out. Extra plating had been added, encasing the ship's upper hull in a thick shell of ablative, sloped to protect against incoming, flanking fire. The GARDIAN lasers were revamped with the latest cooling systems and firing nodes available. Extra racks of missile launchers were added to the side.
The ship's main gun remained, but it's secondary armaments were expanded. Four extra cruiser-caliber mass accelerators were mounted to the sides of the hull, and another four frigate-grade guns were installed on the wing leading edges to complement the spinal mass accelerator. The broadside mass accelerators were replaced with rapid-firing ones similar to human autocannon systems, capable of firing either explosive shells at low velocities, and a high rate of fire for point-defense, or armor-piercing shells at lethal velocities to strike targets at medium range.
The hull was enlarged and lengthened, the wings moved further aft, and the ventral side extended downwards to provide additional space for the refit. The ship was now longer than it's old self by a good 400m, making for a formidable opponent to face in the line-of-battle. It won't be able to engage a human battleship in a straight fight, but it's mixed-caliber secondary battery and single main gun could still outgun an Alliance heavy cruiser and tear it apart.
A wing of three light cruisers formed up around the dreadnought, keeping pace with it as it accelerated towards the interstellar void.
Macen watched the cruisers from beyond the bridge's viewports as his crew continued with their tasks. Three Condor-class cruisers formed a perfect triangle in front of them, engines casting distant twinkles amongst the stars. Originally, they were line cruisers, meant to form a line-of-battle and overwhelm enemy ships with their superior firepower and armor, in conjunction with armored support from dreadnoughts.
The arrival of humans with their far larger cruisers rendered the class all but obsolete for their assigned purpose. But Palaven Armory was able to give the Condor-class a new lease on life as light cruisers, serving now as a dedicated torpedo combatant, as opposed to the offensive, gunnery duels of before. The ships now boasted newer and more powerful engines to give them extremely fast accelerations, improved mass accelerators, and amped-up broadsides, allowing them to tear through any opponent in a close-quarters brawl. Expanded torpedo banks were mounted, giving them an extremely lethal bite against larger targets, which was a perfect force multiplier for their oversized engines.
Admittedly, the short elapse of time meant that only the Enforcer and a handful of other ships had been refitted for their shakedown cruises, but it was still a testament to turian engineering, nonetheless. Frigates glided by on their patrol routes, their running lights twinkling almost gracefully in the distance. Enforcer's group glided by, leaving trails of fusion torches in their wake.
"Legate's air wings are passing by us. ETA five minutes, six seconds."
From the distance, three dart-shaped fighters emerged, formed in a neat triangle as they approached the Enforcer and the three cruisers around it. Engines glowed brightly in the void as they propelled the small craft forwards, their sharp lines contrasting starkly against the blackness surrounding them.
Macen watched them pass by en route. Carriers. A class of ship that he never thought would be relevant in space combat.
The salarians had been building carriers ever since First Contact, after reviewing footage of human space combat, and of their carriers in action. That appeared to be enough for them, for less than two years later, they unveiled their own renditions of the human ones. One Noestros-class carrier was already undergoing trials with the Salarian Union Fleet, and another two were under construction, stuffed to the gills with the latest advancements in fighter technology the Union had to offer.
The concept, admittedly, stuck with many officers of the Navy of the Hierarchy. The ship was an unfinished Palaven-class dreadnought, still halfway through being built when the Admiralty halted construction after it was rendered obsolete before it even left the dockyard. Originally, it was destined to be scrapped at the shipyard and forgotten ever after. But after Admiral Karandis's recommendations and political maneuvering, the ship now had a new career as the Hierarchy's first-ever carrier. PFS Legate cruised on in the distance as it's hangar bays readied another flight of interceptors for launching, escorts surrounding it to form a protective sphere.
It wasn't to say the other Citadel races were idle. The asari were building pocket dreadnoughts out of their old ships, giving them bigger engines for better mobility and faster-firing guns for maximum effect during close-quarters combat, as well as a new breed of fast-attacking frigates that eschewed the old screening doctrine for rapid, offensive firepower. Some even had their famed silaris armor as testbeds. The latest generation of fire-control and maneuvering VIs gave them mobility and firepower well above their weight class, and their cooling system was massively revamped, atop all of that. Their distinct spoked-ring design contrasted perfectly with the robust, angular designs of their turian counterparts, as they accelerated nonetheless on their own courses and paths.
The salarians were the most along on their modernization programs, not surprisingly. Three of their new Rikashi-class line cruisers were already undergoing trials with their famed plasma lances and other assorted directed-energy weapons. Out of the three Council races, they had the most intelligence penetration into human space, and had put that information to good use. The target dummy ships that were subject to the plasma lances were torn apart in mere instants, the searing hot plasma boiling through ablative armor and hull plating. It took exactly one hit to completely and utterly destroy a dummy cruiser, tearing it in half and turning the middle section into a cloud of vaporized metal.
There were even rumors of a stealth dreadnought under construction at one of the Union's many black shipyards, although no details have surfaced about it's specs yet. Macen doubted anyone outside of the highest echelons knew much more than him...and perhaps a few others who had access to classified data.
The shipyards nearby bustled with activity as the ships they held were being constructed. Nanofabricators welded prefabricated sections of ship together like puzzle pieces, assembling plates of metal together to form larger, shaped sections of the outer hull, assembling smaller components and attaching them to the hull to complete each vessel. The ships inside them were slowly, but surely, taking shape. Cruisers the size of the previous generation of dreadnoughts, and perhaps, even bigger. Dreadnoughts the size of the asari superdreadnought Destiny Ascension, and bigger, bristling with armaments and the latest technological breakthroughs Citadel engineers could come up with. More modern and faster frigates, newer and better weapons. VIs and computer technology like the galaxy had never seen before.
Simulations by S-Com had been…bleak. The Citadel's combined might could most likely win against the humans in a total war of attrition, leveraging their superior industry and numbers to overwhelm the entrenched humans, wearing them down slowly but surely. But at what cost? Even with the fleet-wide upgrades and refits, S-Com's estimations predicted a 2:1 numerical superiority for any Citadel fleet to defeat a human fleet, and even then, emerge with 50% casualties. Yes, they would win, but the casualties would be horrendous, needless to say the fighting. And what to say of the Abyssals they fought? STG and Hierarchy Intelligence had pieced together every rumor, video, article, and book they could find on the subject to get a glimpse at what the Abyssals could truly bring to war, and the results…were…not good.
Conservatives and critics denounced the buildups. Humans were peaceful, they said. The cost was too much, they said. Money that could've been put to better use was being instead wasted on vast shipbuilding programs and military buildup, preparing for a war that would never come. Look at how peacefully they have traded with the rest of the galaxy, they said. The buildups were unnecessary, an overreaction.
But Macen, Karandis, and many others, were realists. If the worst came to pass, the cost would be beyond astronomical. It would be a price paid for not in credits. But in burning worlds, burning ships. In rivers of blood, in millions of good turians dying. There were two things out there that could challenge galactic stability as the galaxy knew it: humans, and the Abyssals they fought. To fight either, they needed to be prepared. And that meant dreadnoughts. New dreadnoughts, bigger dreadnoughts, equipped with the best equipment turian engineers could ever develop.
The battle was a constant one. Political capital was spent like water to lobby liberals and nationalists in backing the cause, create party coalitions, and sway public opinion. Many saw the need to prepare, while some didn't want to see their taxes raised so the government can spend money on something they believed was frivolous.
And yet here they were, watching the work unfold, seeing their investment pay off. Seeing the fruits of their labor take shape, ready for deployment. Ready for whatever lay ahead.
Yoshida Ayumi moved a pointer on the screen, highlighting the map of the galaxy.
"To the galactic north of us lies the Attican Transverse, and up north of that, is the Terminus Systems. As we all know, the Transverse is home to many systems rich in natural resources, especially eezo, and habitable worlds. It is also sparsely populated, making it game-ground for colonization."
The assembled Cabinet watched as she continued. "There are two major polities making grabs in the Transverse: the Citadel, and the Batarian Hegemony. The Citadel region is currently on the opposite side of the Transverse as ours, making them irrelevant. What we must worry about is the batarians."
Her pointer tapped twice against the screen, causing it to switch from displaying a single map, to two. "The one on the right is the galactic map as of First Contact, July 2457. The one on the left is the map of today, April 20th, 2461."
The Minister of Exploration, Amul Shastri, blinked. "They're expanding too quickly. Citadel law prohibits activation of relays unless the other side has been completely surveyed first. FTL probes can only travel so fast, and need to routinely stop to do static core discharges lest they destroy themselves."
"Yes, that's right," Yoshida confirmed. "The batarians abused a legal loophole and had pirates activate the relays in their stead as deniable assets. If the pirates are caught, then it is the actions of third-party criminals unrelated to the Hegemony; if they aren't caught, then the Hegemony can claim to have surveyed both sides of the relay and have activated them legally. Should the former happen, Citadel law does not explicitly prohibit transiting an active relay, regardless of whether it was activated legally or not, leaving the batarians free to claim the systems beyond the relay as their own."
Prime Minister Fitzroy glanced at the display. "What can we do? We can't levy accusations against them without solid evidence that the Hegemony directly sanctioned the activations and ordered those ships through. And even if we could prove such things, how would we ever get any support out there?"
Amul nodded slowly. "We don't have enough data yet to make a call either way, but I think our best bet is probably just to keep quiet until we gather more information."
Fitzroy glanced at the map. "We'll need an evaluation of the batarians, and the threat they pose. How strong are they? How much of a threat can they pose to us?"
Rajenda Khatri, Minister of Defense, sipped away at his cup of tea. "They're a significant threat, and while we can probably beat them in a straight-up fight, it's going to be very brutal, either way. The batarian economy's foundations are cheap manufacturing and natural resources, sourced from cheap slave labor and strips of systems rich in natural resources. Despite sanctions and embargoes, the Hegemony's industry and resource exports are still extremely profitable and economical, and their low-quality, but cheap, exports, like raw materials, weapons, foodstuffs, etcetera, continue to flow into the Citadel markets.
"Military wise, they pose to us a direct threat, and can hold their own against the turians. Their ships, while inferior to ours, are still lethal. They focus on close-quarters combat and boarding actions, taking the fight directly to the crews of individual ships, fighting them hand-to-hand. While close-quarters combat is something we are no strangers to, the batarians take it to the next level. Their fleets have entire packs of dedicated boarding-ships which specialize in this type of warfare, and employ tactics and strategies that leave little room for mercy. Even with superior technology, we cannot simply run these people over, nor can we allow ourselves to become complacent. Our forces will have to be prepared for every eventuality."
Fitzroy tapped his finger against the table. "What courses of action are available for us to take?"
The screen flickered as Yoshida tapped it. "The Attican Transverse is a vast expanse of uncharted, unclaimed systems, many of which are rich in potentially valuable resources such as element zero. Upgrading our technology has not been cheap, and what limited eezo reserves we have—imported from the batarians, ironically—are being spent like water to the demand of our industry. Our best bet is to expand into the Transverse as fast as we can, claiming the resource-rich sectors for ourselves before they can. The sooner we get our hands on the resources, and end our dependency on batarian eezo, the better."
Shastri nodded. "The bottleneck of relay activations other races suffer from when colonizing new space does not apply to us. Our FTL drives are not limited to the relays, permitting us to simply bypass them and colonize at our leisure, activating relays later as they are needed. We can expand at a brisk pace, focusing on the systems that contain the resources we need. Secure the resource-rich sectors for ourselves before the batarians can."
"Assuming that goes well," Fitzroy nodded. "And we secure the resource-rich clusters for ourselves. What will we do when ours and the batarians' expanding borders meet?"
Khatri smiled thinly. "We will inevitably clash, one way or the other. There is no avoiding it. The Hegemony will most likely start sponsoring pirates and raiders to harass our trade routes, and we should prepare ourselves accordingly. Backing abolitionist movements to get them off our backs might be necessary. In the long term, though..."
He shrugged. "It depends on who wins the conflict."
The heart of the Batarian Hegemony, the city of Seshat, was abuzz with activity as wealthy slave-owners showed off their goods to others, markets rang out with merchants proclaiming their wares out for sale, and slaves toiling away at their tasks, with the watchful eye of their handlers gazing over their shoulders. The streets were packed, a sea of people moving from one place to another in an endless flow that seemed like it would never end. There wasn't enough room on many occasions—especially during the height of day when so much foot traffic flowed through the streets—to walk more than a few steps before having to move aside.
The Great State Council building in the center of the city had been constructed along similar lines as other structures throughout all of the Hegemony's major cities. It was massive, made up mostly of stone and marble, built in the likeness of ancient temples that had been scattered across Khar'Shan. Massive columns rose high above it's facade while arches soared toward the heavens. Statues stood tall atop each column, depicting some long lost hero or deity of old who'd helped create this world thousands of years ago.
Inside it, the assembled members of the Great State Council watched as the Hegemon lowered himself down into the council chambers on his throne, mass-effect fields lowering him gently onto an elevated dais where he would usually be. "Report."
"We are proceeding according to plan," the first Councilor spoke, her voice echoing around them. She wore the black robes of the Hegemony, though she looked no different than any other citizen of Seshat. "Our attempts at infiltrating human territory have so far been met with limited success. We've managed to establish ourselves within various groups and factions without drawing attention, but we're still waiting for our chance to strike against the humans directly."
The next Councilor shifted slightly in his robes as the Hegemon looked at him with all four of his eyes. "Modernization projects are going well so far, but have been hampered by several slave revolts over the past year. We have the situation under control, however, and the upgrades will go as planned, with only minor delays and rescheduling necessary."
The Hegemon turned to the third Councilor, a young batarian who appeared almost giddy about being present. His headdress was colored yellow, signifying his status as an honored member of the ruling class. As such, he bore the title of 'Tahni.'
"Tahna Gashtok. Explain the situation."
"As you wish, Your Excellency. Several groups of weapons smugglers have infiltrated several worlds involved in the extraction of resources needed by our industry, and have proceeded to arm the slaves with numerous types of weaponry, mostly small arms. The revolts have been significant, but are under control. I am confident that we the Special Intervention Unit can deal with these situations quickly and efficiently if they continue to occur."
The Hegemon looked at him carefully. "Keep an eye on the smugglers and report back anything unusual. Do not let your guard down, Tahna. If there is trouble brewing between us and the humans, it may come from sources we cannot predict right now. Continue with the program as originally outlined, but do what must be done should the need arise. Is that understood?"
Gashtok nodded. "Yes, Your Excellency."
The Hegemon returned his focus to the fourth Councilor. A female batarian, wearing the same robes as those worn by her fellows, sat beside the Tahni, holding a staff which had been decorated with red ribbons. The look suited her perfectly.
She spoke softly, "Your Excellency, my reports indicate that the Humans have begun preparations for war again. They appear ready to launch another attack soon...but this time, the threat appears even greater."
The Hegemon stared at her intently. "Explain yourself further, Tahna."
The Councilor leaned forward slightly in her chair, careful not to strain herself too hard. "Their fleet has grown exponentially since first contact, and they have been integrating eezo into their own technology, aided by the quarians. This does not bode well for us."
"What do you suggest we do? How can we prepare for this new assault?"
Councilor Sushil glanced over at her fellow Councilors. Each wore their robes proudly, showing off their power and authority in the eyes of everyone else in the chamber. The Hegemony's leaders were revered, respected, feared, and envied among all of the batarian kind, save perhaps for the most elite members of society. All knew that a seat here could lead to great riches, fame, and glory, but also meant accepting certain responsibilities.
Sushil took a deep breath before speaking. "I believe we must send forces to the human to ensure the safety of our citizens and colonies. Perhaps this action will serve as a warning to the humans that any attempt to interfere with us will result in dire consequences..."
There was silence in the chamber. None dared speak until the Hegemon raised his hand once more. "We are already expanding and consolidating our gains in the Attican Transverse, and the humans are likely to do the same. Inevitably, we will meet. But we will face them together. A show of force will be in order then. But in order to accomplish that, we must have the force in question first."
He paused briefly, allowing his words to sink in. "You will get me results, Councilors. You will see to it that we remain victorious in the coming conflict."
The lone figure's four glowing eyes looked carefully at the batarian eyes that stared it back. It's armor glistened with a dull, dark gray finish, the body beneath a similar shade of dull gray. The creature walked slowly towards him, stopping just outside the range of his energy shield.
It sniffed at him cautiously, taking in every scent and sound with sharp precision. Its claws clicked upon the ground as it moved closer. When it reached the edge of his field of view, it stopped.
Prasvan Dres'costar watched the Collector as it's companions set down a few large crates onto the ground nearby. One of them removed a panel from inside the crate, revealing rows of weapons and equipment.
They waited patiently as he approached, the aliens standing motionless. He looked closely at each item in turn before nodding, glancing at the Collectors, as they glanced back at him. "These are good equipment . Thank you."
One of the creatures stepped forward, its claw extended. It placed something cold and metallic in front of Prasvan's face. It was a weapon, a pistol. It was larger than the ones used by the soldiers in the Hegemony.
"Twenty pistols, ten particle rifles, and numerous other equipment items," the alien said, watching as he examined each piece. "All yours."
Prasvan studied the gun, turning it around in his hands. It was a particle-beam weapon, not the mass-effect guns the rest of the galaxy used (with the notable exception of the humans, who used slugthrowers). Extremely exotic gear, extremely advanced technology. Even the batarians weren't sure how to make use of it properly.
This would change everything.
He slid the pistol into the holster on his left side, fastening the belt clip firmly into place. "Thank you."
The Collector simply made a gesture of acknowledgement. "As agreed. This cache, in exchange for a dozen human slaves, and two left-handed salarians. Both males."
Prasvan nodded, sliding his gaze back to the others. They had taken care of loading the cargo, securing it tightly into place with ropes. Now they were waiting, silent, staring straight ahead. "You. Deliver the goods."
The other batarians complied, dragging forth their quarry forwards, bound hand and foot. Their heads drooped low, exhausted from hours spent in captivity. Two of them carried the bodies of a male and female, both dead due to dehydration.
A few of the creatures began examining the captives, checking vital signs and noting physical details. Some of the men had cuts and bruises, evidence of beatings and torture. The females were stripped naked, displaying their pale, white skin for inspection. Most didn't seem bothered by the exposure, though one of them shivered uncontrollably as she stood there in nothing but her underwear.
The Collector stepped forward, raising a thin device in it's claws. "These are good beings, both healthy and strong."
Prasvan nodded absently. "Good."
Two of the Collectors took hold of the restraints as they began to take the two salarians and ten humans towards their own ship. They lifted the prisoners easily despite their size and weight, carrying them like sacks of grain. Others followed behind, climbing aboard as the coast was clear for them to depart.
The lead Collector looked at Prasvan before he left. "Next time: Five human AI constructs, with their bodies."
Prasvan smiled politely. "Acknowledged."
I don't really think this is how a trade deal between organics and Collectors should go, but wiki-walks turned me up with nothing. Can you guys enlighten me btw? Thanks in advance.
Next up: Time-skips and interludes : p
Admiral Han'Gerrel vas Neema surveyed the small conference room aboard the refitted turian frigate. The room, formerly the captain's cabin, had been hastily rearranged to accommodate the human delegation. A table now occupied the center of the room, with the sofas reconfigured to provide seating for eight. Han took his place alongside Captain Ysin, while the human ambassadors sat across from them. Rael'Zorah's hologram flickered at the end of the table, the Admiral having chosen to participate via commlink rather than in person.
Ambassador Goyle cleared her throat. "Thank you, Admiral. It is a pleasure to meet you in person."
Han nodded. "The pleasure is mine, Ambassador Goyle. I have studied the history of your people... your journey here has been quite eventful."
Goyle gave a brief chuckle. "It certainly has. We are glad to finally find ourselves settled among friends once again."
Ysin leaned forward. "What do you hope to accomplish through these diplomatic talks?"
"We wish to establish formal relations," she stated simply. "The plight of the quarian people over the past three centuries is well known throughout the galaxy. The human race is appalled at your treatment at the hands of the Citadel Council, and we are willing to aid you in any way possible."
Han nodded slowly. "I understand that. But we must begin somewhere. Perhaps we could start by outlining our respective positions on the issue at hand?"
"That seems like a good place to start," Goyle agreed. "For starters, the Alliance is engaged in a large-scale initiative to upgrade and augment its technological base with element-zero technology. This is an open and long-term effort, with the aim of eventually bringing our species' tech base up to the standards of the rest of the galactic community. We would greatly value quarian input in this process."
Han's mind raced as he sought to discern the underlying motivations behind the Ambassador's words. "A handful of advisors in exchange for three super-capital sized ships is not exactly an even exchange, Ambassador."
Goyle smiled. "The Alliance is a large economic powerhouse, Admiral. Admittedly, we are still rebuilding and recovering from the shadows that have been our history, but we have come far enough to begin taking steps forward into the greater community. As a species that has been through its own share of dark times and hopeless causes, we believe we understand somewhat how it is for you. The Migrant Fleet's technological expertise and knowledge base are legendary among the galaxy's inhabitants, and we will not squeeze such talents from you cheaply when we can afford to pay a fair price."
"I see..." Han leaned back, steepling his fingers together. "The Alliance is willing to give the Migrant Fleet three super-sized colony ships, in exchange for a team of advisors. That is correct, yes?"
"Yes," she confirmed. "We would not have it any other way."
Han looked up at the ceiling, weighing the offer carefully. It was too good. Too perfect. There had to be a catch. He could hear his father's voice ringing in his ear, telling him to walk away. To not be swayed by the temptation that was being presented to him.
But, on the other hand...
If they weren't a trap... if these weren't some elaborate tricks and lies concocted by the humans, if they were genuinely as benevolent and altruistic as they seemed, then it would be an unmitigated disaster for the Migrant Fleet to pass up on the offer. He would personally rather take a plasma cannon blast to the gut than pass up the opportunity for the entire quarian species.
Han sighed. "I would need to convene with the Admiralty Board before accepting the terms you have presented."
Goyle smiled, as if expecting him to say that. "We understand. However, may I propose a second deal, if you're willing to listen?"
Han leaned forward. "Go ahead."
"Our technology may seem advanced and impressive on the surface, but anyone with significant technical expertise will know that they are at least decades behind that of the Citadel. This is a gap that we are working to narrow as quickly as possible, but we are hampered by a lack of experienced specialists in Citadel-standard technology. We believe such an undertaking will be a lot faster, and easier, if the civilian, government, and industrial sectors had quarian advisors and engineers at their disposal."
Han mulled the proposal over in his head. "The scale of such an undertaking is a daunting one... it would require millions, if not tens of millions, of quarians. How would this work? Where would they go?"
"We are aware of this," Goyle replied. "There are exchange programs in place to permit foreign workers entry into our space, which you would be allowed to make use of. Quarian engineers are extremely highly valued, and many companies would gladly part with substantial sums of money to acquire their services. The wages would definitely be higher than what most quarians may expect in other parts of the galaxy, significantly helping your economy."
Han sat silently for several seconds, letting everything sink in. Finally, he spoke again. "...are you sure about this?"
Goyle nodded firmly. "Absolutely."
"What will we get in return?"
Goyle removed a small holoprojector and set it up on the table. "This is the Gemini Sigma cluster, home to many dozens of newly-colonized worlds such as Shanxi, Guanxi, and New Fuji. Despite being a newly settled cluster, however, its abundance in uninhabitable worlds, yet rich in natural resources, have made it a major industrial hub for the rebuilding Alliance."
Han watched the hologram intently as Goyle continued.
"The few habitable planets that are settled are home to large and vast industrial complexes, ranging from simple vehicle foundries to large shipyards and repair docks. We will offer you full access to these shipyards, with or without their human crew, if the Migrant Fleet agrees to assist us in our modernization endeavors."
Rael's hologram flickered as the Admiral thought the proposal over in his head. "We will take it to the Admiralty Board."
They met in secret, at undisclosed, hidden locations, arriving in unmarked air-cars that were packed with the best stealth technology STG had to offer. They traveled alone, their faces hidden behind masks, their voices masked by commlinks. Their identities were unknown, their actions untraceable, their location cloaked by a network of encrypted security protocols. And every time they arrived at a new meeting point, they entered under cover of darkness, moving unseen along empty streets until they reached a nondescript building where they'd gather to discuss the plan.
The project lead waited until the last member entered the room before speaking. "Speak."
One masked official answered. "Ten days ago, on the fifth day of our shakedown cruise. Our sensors detected an anomaly when patrolling an empty sector of space. It was a rogue dreadnought-sized vessel, drifting in space near the edge of the Hawking Eta."
Another responded. "How did you discover its origin?"
The first speaker tapped a command into his slate, accessing the data feed. "At 02:18, sensors detected an anomaly in the interdimensional realm consistent with a drifting derelict in the vicinity. I ordered a probe launched to investigate the contact."
He paused as he read the results off screen. "Derelict matches no known profile in databases. Initial observations reveal that the ship had suffered catastrophic battle damage before being left adrift. Its hull is badly scarred and damaged. No power signature. Internal systems nonresponsive."
"Any clues as to who might have built it?"
"No. Initially, we suspected Prothean, but the designs do not match, the ship itself seemingly predates the Protheans themselves. Current estimates place the ship's age at upwards of thirty-seven million years, perhaps even more. Preliminary scans also indicate that there are traces of organic material inside the ship, though nothing resembling life signs."
"Anything else?"
"A strange signal, one that cast an interference field on the interdimensional telemetry links. Analysis reveals it to exhibit properties comparable to slave-control chips in the Terminus sector, but more refined and subtle. It is completely undetectable on normal scanners."
The group remained silent for several moments, digesting all that was said.
Finally, another one spoke. His voice came out low and quiet. "Who owns this thing?"
Silence greeted the question.
Eventually, someone spoke again. "Unknown."
Someone asked a different question instead. "Do you think whoever owned it survived?"
All eyes turned toward the lead member. He didn't answer immediately, choosing to stare into the middle distance for several minutes as he contemplated the situation.
"How many have come into contact with the derelict?"
The first one replied. "Only me and my crew. I have ordered them to stay put at a secure location. If anything happens, we'll know soon enough."
More silence followed until the lead spoke again.
"You've done well so far. Now let us proceed with caution," he began. "Closely monitor the derelict. Report any anomalies to your superiors. We must remain vigilant. There may be something in there that we don't want to wake up."
Macen Arterius watched as PFS Enforcer left the dock and lit it's engines, thrusting itself forwards on it's first shake-down cruise following it's refit.
The engineers at Palaven Arsenal had done well. It took a mere two years for them to develop, prototype, and integrate the resulting technologies into the Vulture-class dreadnought, giving it a brand-new lease of life after becoming obsolete when humans were introduced to the galaxy.
It wasn't quite a carbon copy of the original design—not anymore. The reactor was upgraded, allowing for increased power output while maintaining acceptable safety levels. The ship's armoring was overhauled. The hull was widened, and the armor moved out. Extra plating had been added, encasing the ship's upper hull in a thick shell of ablative, sloped to protect against incoming, flanking fire. The GARDIAN lasers were revamped with the latest cooling systems and firing nodes available. Extra racks of missile launchers were added to the side.
The ship's main gun remained, but it's secondary armaments were expanded. Four extra cruiser-caliber mass accelerators were mounted to the sides of the hull, and another four frigate-grade guns were installed on the wing leading edges to complement the spinal mass accelerator. The broadside mass accelerators were replaced with rapid-firing ones similar to human autocannon systems, capable of firing either explosive shells at low velocities, and a high rate of fire for point-defense, or armor-piercing shells at lethal velocities to strike targets at medium range.
The hull was enlarged and lengthened, the wings moved further aft, and the ventral side extended downwards to provide additional space for the refit. The ship was now longer than it's old self by a good 400m, making for a formidable opponent to face in the line-of-battle. It won't be able to engage a human battleship in a straight fight, but it's mixed-caliber secondary battery and single main gun could still outgun an Alliance heavy cruiser and tear it apart.
A wing of three light cruisers formed up around the dreadnought, keeping pace with it as it accelerated towards the interstellar void.
Macen watched the cruisers from beyond the bridge's viewports as his crew continued with their tasks. Three Condor-class cruisers formed a perfect triangle in front of them, engines casting distant twinkles amongst the stars. Originally, they were line cruisers, meant to form a line-of-battle and overwhelm enemy ships with their superior firepower and armor, in conjunction with armored support from dreadnoughts.
The arrival of humans with their far larger cruisers rendered the class all but obsolete for their assigned purpose. But Palaven Armory was able to give the Condor-class a new lease on life as light cruisers, serving now as a dedicated torpedo combatant, as opposed to the offensive, gunnery duels of before. The ships now boasted newer and more powerful engines to give them extremely fast accelerations, improved mass accelerators, and amped-up broadsides, allowing them to tear through any opponent in a close-quarters brawl. Expanded torpedo banks were mounted, giving them an extremely lethal bite against larger targets, which was a perfect force multiplier for their oversized engines.
Admittedly, the short elapse of time meant that only the Enforcer and a handful of other ships had been refitted for their shakedown cruises, but it was still a testament to turian engineering, nonetheless. Frigates glided by on their patrol routes, their running lights twinkling almost gracefully in the distance. Enforcer's group glided by, leaving trails of fusion torches in their wake.
"Legate's air wings are passing by us. ETA five minutes, six seconds."
From the distance, three dart-shaped fighters emerged, formed in a neat triangle as they approached the Enforcer and the three cruisers around it. Engines glowed brightly in the void as they propelled the small craft forwards, their sharp lines contrasting starkly against the blackness surrounding them.
Macen watched them pass by en route. Carriers. A class of ship that he never thought would be relevant in space combat.
The salarians had been building carriers ever since First Contact, after reviewing footage of human space combat, and of their carriers in action. That appeared to be enough for them, for less than two years later, they unveiled their own renditions of the human ones. One Noestros-class carrier was already undergoing trials with the Salarian Union Fleet, and another two were under construction, stuffed to the gills with the latest advancements in fighter technology the Union had to offer.
The concept, admittedly, stuck with many officers of the Navy of the Hierarchy. The ship was an unfinished Palaven-class dreadnought, still halfway through being built when the Admiralty halted construction after it was rendered obsolete before it even left the dockyard. Originally, it was destined to be scrapped at the shipyard and forgotten ever after. But after Admiral Karandis's recommendations and political maneuvering, the ship now had a new career as the Hierarchy's first-ever carrier. PFS Legate cruised on in the distance as it's hangar bays readied another flight of interceptors for launching, escorts surrounding it to form a protective sphere.
It wasn't to say the other Citadel races were idle. The asari were building pocket dreadnoughts out of their old ships, giving them bigger engines for better mobility and faster-firing guns for maximum effect during close-quarters combat, as well as a new breed of fast-attacking frigates that eschewed the old screening doctrine for rapid, offensive firepower. Some even had their famed silaris armor as testbeds. The latest generation of fire-control and maneuvering VIs gave them mobility and firepower well above their weight class, and their cooling system was massively revamped, atop all of that. Their distinct spoked-ring design contrasted perfectly with the robust, angular designs of their turian counterparts, as they accelerated nonetheless on their own courses and paths.
The salarians were the most along on their modernization programs, not surprisingly. Three of their new Rikashi-class line cruisers were already undergoing trials with their famed plasma lances and other assorted directed-energy weapons. Out of the three Council races, they had the most intelligence penetration into human space, and had put that information to good use. The target dummy ships that were subject to the plasma lances were torn apart in mere instants, the searing hot plasma boiling through ablative armor and hull plating. It took exactly one hit to completely and utterly destroy a dummy cruiser, tearing it in half and turning the middle section into a cloud of vaporized metal.
There were even rumors of a stealth dreadnought under construction at one of the Union's many black shipyards, although no details have surfaced about it's specs yet. Macen doubted anyone outside of the highest echelons knew much more than him...and perhaps a few others who had access to classified data.
The shipyards nearby bustled with activity as the ships they held were being constructed. Nanofabricators welded prefabricated sections of ship together like puzzle pieces, assembling plates of metal together to form larger, shaped sections of the outer hull, assembling smaller components and attaching them to the hull to complete each vessel. The ships inside them were slowly, but surely, taking shape. Cruisers the size of the previous generation of dreadnoughts, and perhaps, even bigger. Dreadnoughts the size of the asari superdreadnought Destiny Ascension, and bigger, bristling with armaments and the latest technological breakthroughs Citadel engineers could come up with. More modern and faster frigates, newer and better weapons. VIs and computer technology like the galaxy had never seen before.
Simulations by S-Com had been…bleak. The Citadel's combined might could most likely win against the humans in a total war of attrition, leveraging their superior industry and numbers to overwhelm the entrenched humans, wearing them down slowly but surely. But at what cost? Even with the fleet-wide upgrades and refits, S-Com's estimations predicted a 2:1 numerical superiority for any Citadel fleet to defeat a human fleet, and even then, emerge with 50% casualties. Yes, they would win, but the casualties would be horrendous, needless to say the fighting. And what to say of the Abyssals they fought? STG and Hierarchy Intelligence had pieced together every rumor, video, article, and book they could find on the subject to get a glimpse at what the Abyssals could truly bring to war, and the results…were…not good.
Conservatives and critics denounced the buildups. Humans were peaceful, they said. The cost was too much, they said. Money that could've been put to better use was being instead wasted on vast shipbuilding programs and military buildup, preparing for a war that would never come. Look at how peacefully they have traded with the rest of the galaxy, they said. The buildups were unnecessary, an overreaction.
But Macen, Karandis, and many others, were realists. If the worst came to pass, the cost would be beyond astronomical. It would be a price paid for not in credits. But in burning worlds, burning ships. In rivers of blood, in millions of good turians dying. There were two things out there that could challenge galactic stability as the galaxy knew it: humans, and the Abyssals they fought. To fight either, they needed to be prepared. And that meant dreadnoughts. New dreadnoughts, bigger dreadnoughts, equipped with the best equipment turian engineers could ever develop.
The battle was a constant one. Political capital was spent like water to lobby liberals and nationalists in backing the cause, create party coalitions, and sway public opinion. Many saw the need to prepare, while some didn't want to see their taxes raised so the government can spend money on something they believed was frivolous.
And yet here they were, watching the work unfold, seeing their investment pay off. Seeing the fruits of their labor take shape, ready for deployment. Ready for whatever lay ahead.
Yoshida Ayumi moved a pointer on the screen, highlighting the map of the galaxy.
"To the galactic north of us lies the Attican Transverse, and up north of that, is the Terminus Systems. As we all know, the Transverse is home to many systems rich in natural resources, especially eezo, and habitable worlds. It is also sparsely populated, making it game-ground for colonization."
The assembled Cabinet watched as she continued. "There are two major polities making grabs in the Transverse: the Citadel, and the Batarian Hegemony. The Citadel region is currently on the opposite side of the Transverse as ours, making them irrelevant. What we must worry about is the batarians."
Her pointer tapped twice against the screen, causing it to switch from displaying a single map, to two. "The one on the right is the galactic map as of First Contact, July 2457. The one on the left is the map of today, April 20th, 2461."
The Minister of Exploration, Amul Shastri, blinked. "They're expanding too quickly. Citadel law prohibits activation of relays unless the other side has been completely surveyed first. FTL probes can only travel so fast, and need to routinely stop to do static core discharges lest they destroy themselves."
"Yes, that's right," Yoshida confirmed. "The batarians abused a legal loophole and had pirates activate the relays in their stead as deniable assets. If the pirates are caught, then it is the actions of third-party criminals unrelated to the Hegemony; if they aren't caught, then the Hegemony can claim to have surveyed both sides of the relay and have activated them legally. Should the former happen, Citadel law does not explicitly prohibit transiting an active relay, regardless of whether it was activated legally or not, leaving the batarians free to claim the systems beyond the relay as their own."
Prime Minister Fitzroy glanced at the display. "What can we do? We can't levy accusations against them without solid evidence that the Hegemony directly sanctioned the activations and ordered those ships through. And even if we could prove such things, how would we ever get any support out there?"
Amul nodded slowly. "We don't have enough data yet to make a call either way, but I think our best bet is probably just to keep quiet until we gather more information."
Fitzroy glanced at the map. "We'll need an evaluation of the batarians, and the threat they pose. How strong are they? How much of a threat can they pose to us?"
Rajenda Khatri, Minister of Defense, sipped away at his cup of tea. "They're a significant threat, and while we can probably beat them in a straight-up fight, it's going to be very brutal, either way. The batarian economy's foundations are cheap manufacturing and natural resources, sourced from cheap slave labor and strips of systems rich in natural resources. Despite sanctions and embargoes, the Hegemony's industry and resource exports are still extremely profitable and economical, and their low-quality, but cheap, exports, like raw materials, weapons, foodstuffs, etcetera, continue to flow into the Citadel markets.
"Military wise, they pose to us a direct threat, and can hold their own against the turians. Their ships, while inferior to ours, are still lethal. They focus on close-quarters combat and boarding actions, taking the fight directly to the crews of individual ships, fighting them hand-to-hand. While close-quarters combat is something we are no strangers to, the batarians take it to the next level. Their fleets have entire packs of dedicated boarding-ships which specialize in this type of warfare, and employ tactics and strategies that leave little room for mercy. Even with superior technology, we cannot simply run these people over, nor can we allow ourselves to become complacent. Our forces will have to be prepared for every eventuality."
Fitzroy tapped his finger against the table. "What courses of action are available for us to take?"
The screen flickered as Yoshida tapped it. "The Attican Transverse is a vast expanse of uncharted, unclaimed systems, many of which are rich in potentially valuable resources such as element zero. Upgrading our technology has not been cheap, and what limited eezo reserves we have—imported from the batarians, ironically—are being spent like water to the demand of our industry. Our best bet is to expand into the Transverse as fast as we can, claiming the resource-rich sectors for ourselves before they can. The sooner we get our hands on the resources, and end our dependency on batarian eezo, the better."
Shastri nodded. "The bottleneck of relay activations other races suffer from when colonizing new space does not apply to us. Our FTL drives are not limited to the relays, permitting us to simply bypass them and colonize at our leisure, activating relays later as they are needed. We can expand at a brisk pace, focusing on the systems that contain the resources we need. Secure the resource-rich sectors for ourselves before the batarians can."
"Assuming that goes well," Fitzroy nodded. "And we secure the resource-rich clusters for ourselves. What will we do when ours and the batarians' expanding borders meet?"
Khatri smiled thinly. "We will inevitably clash, one way or the other. There is no avoiding it. The Hegemony will most likely start sponsoring pirates and raiders to harass our trade routes, and we should prepare ourselves accordingly. Backing abolitionist movements to get them off our backs might be necessary. In the long term, though..."
He shrugged. "It depends on who wins the conflict."
The heart of the Batarian Hegemony, the city of Seshat, was abuzz with activity as wealthy slave-owners showed off their goods to others, markets rang out with merchants proclaiming their wares out for sale, and slaves toiling away at their tasks, with the watchful eye of their handlers gazing over their shoulders. The streets were packed, a sea of people moving from one place to another in an endless flow that seemed like it would never end. There wasn't enough room on many occasions—especially during the height of day when so much foot traffic flowed through the streets—to walk more than a few steps before having to move aside.
The Great State Council building in the center of the city had been constructed along similar lines as other structures throughout all of the Hegemony's major cities. It was massive, made up mostly of stone and marble, built in the likeness of ancient temples that had been scattered across Khar'Shan. Massive columns rose high above it's facade while arches soared toward the heavens. Statues stood tall atop each column, depicting some long lost hero or deity of old who'd helped create this world thousands of years ago.
Inside it, the assembled members of the Great State Council watched as the Hegemon lowered himself down into the council chambers on his throne, mass-effect fields lowering him gently onto an elevated dais where he would usually be. "Report."
"We are proceeding according to plan," the first Councilor spoke, her voice echoing around them. She wore the black robes of the Hegemony, though she looked no different than any other citizen of Seshat. "Our attempts at infiltrating human territory have so far been met with limited success. We've managed to establish ourselves within various groups and factions without drawing attention, but we're still waiting for our chance to strike against the humans directly."
The next Councilor shifted slightly in his robes as the Hegemon looked at him with all four of his eyes. "Modernization projects are going well so far, but have been hampered by several slave revolts over the past year. We have the situation under control, however, and the upgrades will go as planned, with only minor delays and rescheduling necessary."
The Hegemon turned to the third Councilor, a young batarian who appeared almost giddy about being present. His headdress was colored yellow, signifying his status as an honored member of the ruling class. As such, he bore the title of 'Tahni.'
"Tahna Gashtok. Explain the situation."
"As you wish, Your Excellency. Several groups of weapons smugglers have infiltrated several worlds involved in the extraction of resources needed by our industry, and have proceeded to arm the slaves with numerous types of weaponry, mostly small arms. The revolts have been significant, but are under control. I am confident that we the Special Intervention Unit can deal with these situations quickly and efficiently if they continue to occur."
The Hegemon looked at him carefully. "Keep an eye on the smugglers and report back anything unusual. Do not let your guard down, Tahna. If there is trouble brewing between us and the humans, it may come from sources we cannot predict right now. Continue with the program as originally outlined, but do what must be done should the need arise. Is that understood?"
Gashtok nodded. "Yes, Your Excellency."
The Hegemon returned his focus to the fourth Councilor. A female batarian, wearing the same robes as those worn by her fellows, sat beside the Tahni, holding a staff which had been decorated with red ribbons. The look suited her perfectly.
She spoke softly, "Your Excellency, my reports indicate that the Humans have begun preparations for war again. They appear ready to launch another attack soon...but this time, the threat appears even greater."
The Hegemon stared at her intently. "Explain yourself further, Tahna."
The Councilor leaned forward slightly in her chair, careful not to strain herself too hard. "Their fleet has grown exponentially since first contact, and they have been integrating eezo into their own technology, aided by the quarians. This does not bode well for us."
"What do you suggest we do? How can we prepare for this new assault?"
Councilor Sushil glanced over at her fellow Councilors. Each wore their robes proudly, showing off their power and authority in the eyes of everyone else in the chamber. The Hegemony's leaders were revered, respected, feared, and envied among all of the batarian kind, save perhaps for the most elite members of society. All knew that a seat here could lead to great riches, fame, and glory, but also meant accepting certain responsibilities.
Sushil took a deep breath before speaking. "I believe we must send forces to the human to ensure the safety of our citizens and colonies. Perhaps this action will serve as a warning to the humans that any attempt to interfere with us will result in dire consequences..."
There was silence in the chamber. None dared speak until the Hegemon raised his hand once more. "We are already expanding and consolidating our gains in the Attican Transverse, and the humans are likely to do the same. Inevitably, we will meet. But we will face them together. A show of force will be in order then. But in order to accomplish that, we must have the force in question first."
He paused briefly, allowing his words to sink in. "You will get me results, Councilors. You will see to it that we remain victorious in the coming conflict."
The lone figure's four glowing eyes looked carefully at the batarian eyes that stared it back. It's armor glistened with a dull, dark gray finish, the body beneath a similar shade of dull gray. The creature walked slowly towards him, stopping just outside the range of his energy shield.
It sniffed at him cautiously, taking in every scent and sound with sharp precision. Its claws clicked upon the ground as it moved closer. When it reached the edge of his field of view, it stopped.
Prasvan Dres'costar watched the Collector as it's companions set down a few large crates onto the ground nearby. One of them removed a panel from inside the crate, revealing rows of weapons and equipment.
They waited patiently as he approached, the aliens standing motionless. He looked closely at each item in turn before nodding, glancing at the Collectors, as they glanced back at him. "These are good equipment . Thank you."
One of the creatures stepped forward, its claw extended. It placed something cold and metallic in front of Prasvan's face. It was a weapon, a pistol. It was larger than the ones used by the soldiers in the Hegemony.
"Twenty pistols, ten particle rifles, and numerous other equipment items," the alien said, watching as he examined each piece. "All yours."
Prasvan studied the gun, turning it around in his hands. It was a particle-beam weapon, not the mass-effect guns the rest of the galaxy used (with the notable exception of the humans, who used slugthrowers). Extremely exotic gear, extremely advanced technology. Even the batarians weren't sure how to make use of it properly.
This would change everything.
He slid the pistol into the holster on his left side, fastening the belt clip firmly into place. "Thank you."
The Collector simply made a gesture of acknowledgement. "As agreed. This cache, in exchange for a dozen human slaves, and two left-handed salarians. Both males."
Prasvan nodded, sliding his gaze back to the others. They had taken care of loading the cargo, securing it tightly into place with ropes. Now they were waiting, silent, staring straight ahead. "You. Deliver the goods."
The other batarians complied, dragging forth their quarry forwards, bound hand and foot. Their heads drooped low, exhausted from hours spent in captivity. Two of them carried the bodies of a male and female, both dead due to dehydration.
A few of the creatures began examining the captives, checking vital signs and noting physical details. Some of the men had cuts and bruises, evidence of beatings and torture. The females were stripped naked, displaying their pale, white skin for inspection. Most didn't seem bothered by the exposure, though one of them shivered uncontrollably as she stood there in nothing but her underwear.
The Collector stepped forward, raising a thin device in it's claws. "These are good beings, both healthy and strong."
Prasvan nodded absently. "Good."
Two of the Collectors took hold of the restraints as they began to take the two salarians and ten humans towards their own ship. They lifted the prisoners easily despite their size and weight, carrying them like sacks of grain. Others followed behind, climbing aboard as the coast was clear for them to depart.
The lead Collector looked at Prasvan before he left. "Next time: Five human AI constructs, with their bodies."
Prasvan smiled politely. "Acknowledged."
I don't really think this is how a trade deal between organics and Collectors should go, but wiki-walks turned me up with nothing. Can you guys enlighten me btw? Thanks in advance.
Next up: Time-skips and interludes : p
Chapter 11: Interlude
New
Fujisan
四月咲く花
- Location
- Vietnam
8 years after First Contact
Agem Creb'pavan had been beyond pissed when the Council had banned all travel in and out of a particular sector of space without warning nor explanation.
He wouldn't mind if it was any other section of space, but this one pissed him off. He had spent the past decade and millions of credits sending probes through that sector, searching for valuable resources to exploit. It took him a large sum of money, and for many, many years, mapping out the area, the investment was a large one. After years of hard work, his efforts had finally paid off—a large cluster of asteroids, rich in eezo, orbiting a neutron star. At a little over three weeks' travel from the nearest mass relay, it had escaped the eyes of many other prospectors like him. Initial estimates placed the total value of the site at well over a billion credits, all for his taking. Nobody had registered it as a find, it was all for him to take, one of the luckiest finds of his lifetime.
Then the Council—in all their infinite wisdom—decided to make the place off-limits.
The place did look like it had been worked on in the past—what appeared to be the remains of a space station lay amongst a debris field—abandoned. It was completely pitch-black, composed out of sleek, pristine curves that made it seem more like a work of art than anything practical. It was almost a double payday as a reward for all the money and time he had spent searching for it. The station didn't look like anything the other races made, nor did it look like one Prothean. The implications were vast—and he was beyond happy to see the fruits of his labor finally come to life.
He had been beyond pissed when the know-it-all Citadel Council told him that the twenty million credits and twelve years of his life prospecting had been wasted. But what had they done for him? Fuck them. It didn't matter back then when he lost his left arm trying to save slaves from being sold into lives full of misery, nor did it matter when he nearly lost his life defending those he had sworn to protect from the dreaded Special Intervention Unit. The galaxy looked down on good batarians as much as they did the bad ones, so why should he care?
His navigator, who had known him personally, was in his confidence, nobody else had any idea of where would they be going. When he left dock, he had filed a false flight path; it had him skirting the edges of banned space. But no, he was going straight into it. He had a hold full of automated mining equipment, and he would see to it that each and every of them would be hard at work mining away the eezo, or else he would be mining it himself. All they had to do was to get close enough, drop off the drones, and then come back in a few months to reap the results. Along the way, they could stop by the derelict and see if it had anything worth salvaging to take.
He was well aware of the potential consequences, but he didn't care. The batarian freedom fighters on Anhur better be given the largest donations ever since the Great Rebellions centuries ago, or he would be down there mining the eezo himself.
Guangxi, Theta Lyrae, April 20th, 2465, 0710HRS Coordinated Universal Time
Rael'Zorah watched the sight beyond the observation deck of one of the human stations as the human shipyards buzzed with activity.
Guanxi stretched out in front of his eyes, activity buzzing around and over it. Sprawling orbital dockyard complexes lay in orbit, like giant spider webs stretching out into space. Giant gantry frames and arms held quarian ships in place as they removed old components and replaced them with fresh ones, repaired damaged sections, and restored badly damaged ships back to fully operational status after centuries of misuse and disrepair.
The Heavy Fleet had only started to be cycled through a complete repair and refit, and even then, the results were already clear. The last surviving twenty heavy cruisers—unique until the introduction of humanity to the galactic community—were already as sharp and pristine as they had been on their maiden voyages centuries ago, before the war against the Geth, accompanied by their re-fitted brethren. Other members of the Heavy Fleet—the few true warships the Migrant Fleet had remaining—were undergoing refit. Some were being stripped down entirely while others underwent repairs to hull breaches caused during their time serving without access to dry-dock or repair.
The human shipyards had been put to good use. While their nanofabrication technology was still inferior compared to the galactic state-of-the-art, they were still nonetheless very functional and effective at their job. The Heavy Fleet was expected to complete it's refit inside of the next year, and once it was done, the Patrol Fleet will take their place in the dockyards, and emerge fresh and new. The three human colony ships cast shadows over the smaller ships of the Civilian Fleet like a guardian angel, their 'wings' extending outward from their bulk seemingly touching the little ships nearby.
The three liveships—Rayya, Chayym, and Shellen—were all being tended to carefully as the human capital-class dockyards went over them with a fine-toothed comb. The repairs had already extended well past damaged individual components and were now extending deep into the hulls of the ships themselves, fixing flaws in the original design outright, flaws that had been overlooked due to the hasty, haphazard conditions they were built in. Sections of metal scavenged from the former quarian navy during their flight from Rannoch were now replaced with DuraSteel plates, sections suffering metal fatigue removed and replaced afresh. Their populations had been moved to the three human colony ships for the time being as they continued to be worked on. From his vantage point on the observation deck, Rael could clearly see assembly drones work over the Shellen, swarming over the hull to work on areas deemed in need of repair.
The program was going well. Quarians on Pilgrimage were highly valued, contrary to the treatment many would usually expect in other parts of the galaxy. The immense wages many human companies, ranging from small, local shipbuilders all the way to the vast conglomerates that were Enoshima, Nagoya, and Mitsubishi, were willing to pay, spurred on the program at a breakneck pace.
Funded by a heretofore unprecedented surge in money and resources, new ships were purchased as replacements for vessels too beyond repair, and the resulting hulks scrapped for their basic resources and returned to the Migrant Fleet's resource pool. The Civilian Fleet was visibly swelling, with dozens of brand-new ships holding position in the vicinity. The Patrol and Heavy Fleets were also similarly expanded. Dozens of older human warships now sported quarian emblems and paintjobs, holding position with the rest of their brethren, glistening in the distant starlight.
The primary exception to all that had been the capital-class shipyards.
None of the Quarian Federation's dreadnoughts had survived the Geth Rebellion. The last of them, QFS Ostral, had gone down covering the evacuation fleet's desperate retreat from the homeworld alongside the tattered remnants of the once-mighty quarian military, now reduced to a small collection of ships desperately trying to flee from their former creations.
For centuries afterwards, the Migrant Fleet had relied on the sheer numbers of the Heavy Fleet, led by their few surviving heavy cruisers, to deter any dreadnought-led attack by either the Geth or any other future adversary. The Migrant Fleet grew as ships joined it, brought back by quarians coming home from their Pilgrimages. But now...they had a new protector.
The live AP feed focusing on Capital Yard 7 showed a bustling scene of both human, quarian, and Citadel reporters milling about, cameras recording footage of the massive shipyard, and the ship that lay within. All cameras were on it as running lights came online over the bow and down the stern of the vessel, a silent hum steadily growing in intensity emanating from it's interior as it readied itself for flight.
Docking clamps retracted as the brand-new Reclamation warmed up it's engines and brought it's drive core to full power.
A chorus of cheers erupted throughout the docking station as Reclamation cleared the slipway and began proceeding under it's own power. Fireworks exploded overhead, marking the occasion, and the crowd cheered louder than ever. It wasn't just the people who'd come to witness this historic event. The entire planet below them was watching as well.
It was a momentous day indeed.
3,700 meters long from bow to stern, the monstrous Reclamation dwarfed everything else in the vicinity. Apart from the rumored superdreadnought that the asari was building, it was the largest amongst dreadnoughts, and it's main armament, two spinally mounted super-heavy mass accelerators running the length of the vessel, gave it more than double the firepower of a salarian or turian ship of the line. The Admiralty Board had clearly gone for quality over quantity, Reclamation spoke for itself. Despite the limited resources at their disposal, they had built up to the largest their resources and eezo reserves would allow.
Onlookers and security personnel alike looked on in awe as the mighty warship passed through the docking bay, it's hull shimmering like glass in the light.
The AP analysis that the ship would bring nearly double the firepower of the Alliance's Kilimanjaro-class battleships or the turian Diatryma-class dreadnoughts was drowned out in the cheering crowds outside. CNN reporters and camera operators jockeyed for position, trying to get some shots of the spectacle, but the throng of journalists and spectators kept getting in the way of each other, blocking their view of the action.
Footsteps echoed against the floor as Zaal'Koris entered the room.
"The damn fools are going to get us all killed," he deadpanned. "We couldn't beat the geth when we had an entire military and all they had were a few stolen and converted cruisers." He shook his head in disgust.
Rael turned towards him, raising an eyebrow.
His colleague shrugged. "What can I say? Strong as we might be, we have been out of the loop for over three centuries by now. The geth have done nothing but build in that time. What makes them think we can take on the geth? How are we going to catch up to the centuries of time that the geth have to build?"
"Ekuna didn't work out, either," Rael answered wearily, memories of the constant political battles between the Admiralty Board and the Conclave over the past years coming to mind. "People are smart. Politicians are dumb. That's how we got into this mess."
"As they say, 'genocide is always necessary'," Zaal agreed. "They think that they're doing the right thing, somehow, preparing ourselves for war against the geth, to 'claim what is rightfully ours'. They're only going to drag us into a deeper hole than we ever dug out of. What are we going to do? March up to Rannoch, blow everything geth apart, and then somehow, miraculously, repel everything the geth throws as us in their counterattack? Conclave be dammed, unless Special Projects comes up with a miracle piece of technology that leaves us literally impervious to attack..."
He trailed off.
"I don't know," Rael admitted, turning away. "Maybe there isn't anything left anymore. Maybe our species has run its course. We've lost so much. And yet, you can't help but feel optimistic about the future."
"Optimistic?" Zaal asked skeptically, cocking his head curiously. "You really believe that this ship is going to save us? You honestly think that this ship will give us hope again?"
His face hardened. "No matter how many times the Conclave tries to sell me on it, I am not convinced. No, war is not an option. It is peace. We must learn to coexist with our creations, or accept the loss of our home, permanently. We cannot fight them. Unless we all want to seal the fate of the quarian race."
Rael sighed. "If only the Conclave is as rational as we are..."
Zaal laughed harshly. "If only politicians had a thousandth of our brain-cells, we would have solved most of our problems already!"
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[353,467 results for "Alliance-Batarian Tensions", organized by Most Relevant]
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Citadel News Net: Alliance Escalates Tensions with Batarian Hegemony!
"Vienna, Earth—In a bold move to address the ongoing issue of batarian slaving practices, the Systems Alliance has initiated a trade war with the Batarian Hegemony. The Alliance has imposed hefty tariffs on Hegemony imports and enacted sanctions against Hegemony assets, citing the Hegemony's inaction in combating the rampant slavery within its borders.
The Alliance's decision comes after years of mounting frustration over the Batarian Hegemony's refusal to address the issue of slavery. Despite repeated calls from the Citadel Council and other galactic powers, the Hegemony has maintained that slavery is an integral part of their history and culture.
The trade war is expected to have significant economic consequences for both the Alliance and the Hegemony. The Alliance's tariffs and sanctions are likely to disrupt supply chains and increase costs for consumers. However, the Alliance has maintained that the economic impact is a necessary sacrifice to uphold its principles and protect the rights of enslaved individuals.
The Batarian Hegemony has responded to the Alliance's actions with fury. Hegemony officials have accused the Alliance of hypocrisy, claiming that they are merely trying to protect their own economic interests. They have also threatened to retaliate against the Alliance if the sanctions are not lifted.
As tensions between the Alliance and the Hegemony continue to escalate, many fear that the galaxy may be on the brink of a devastating war. The Citadel Council has called on both sides to exercise restraint and seek a peaceful resolution to the crisis."
Associated Press: Alliance Strikes Back Against Batarian Slavery with Economic Sanctions
"Vienna, Austria, Earth—In a dramatic escalation of tensions between the Systems Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony, the Alliance today announced the imposition of severe economic sanctions and tariffs against the Hegemony. The move is a direct response to the Hegemony's ongoing involvement in the abhorrent practice of slavery, despite repeated calls for reform. The announcement was made today from the Alliance's headquarters in Vienna.
The Alliance's decision comes after years of mounting international pressure on the Batarian Hegemony to end its barbaric slave trade. Despite repeated calls from the Citadel Council and other galactic powers, the Hegemony has remained defiant, insisting that slavery is a deeply ingrained part of their culture.
"Slavery is a barbaric and inhumane practice that has no place in the modern galaxy," stated Prime Minister Fitzroy. "The Alliance can no longer tolerate the Hegemony's continued support of this abhorrent institution."
The sanctions and tariffs are expected to have a significant impact on the Hegemony's economy, which is heavily reliant on trade with the Alliance and other galactic powers. The Alliance hopes that the measures will force the Hegemony to reconsider its stance on slavery and take steps to abolish the practice.
The move is likely to further exacerbate tensions between the two powers, which have been on the brink of conflict for several years. Some analysts fear that the sanctions could spark a wider war between the Alliance and the Hegemony, with potentially devastating consequences for the entire galaxy."
Kar'Shaan Today: Human Hypocrisy and Racism Fuels Galactic Tensions!
"Seshat, Kar'Shaan—The Alliance's recent imposition of sanctions and tariffs against our Hegemony is a clear act of aggression and a blatant display of racism. For centuries, our people have endured prejudice and discrimination at the hands of the asari-dominated Citadel Council, and now, at the hands of the humans and their pitiful Alliance. Now, they have taken their bigotry to a new level, seeking to punish us for the very fabric of our society.
Slavery, as we understand it, is not a tool of oppression but a fundamental aspect of our culture. It is a system that has existed for generations, providing a means of survival for many of our people. The Alliance, with their holier-than-thou attitudes, refuse to understand the complexities of our society or our way of life.
Their sanctions are not merely an attempt to punish us for our practices. They are a deliberate attack on our sovereignty and a blatant attempt to undermine our way of life. We will not tolerate this blatant disregard for our rights.
We call upon the Citadel Council to intervene and demand that the Alliance rescind these unjust sanctions. The galaxy cannot afford to descend into chaos because of the Alliance's narrow-minded views. It is time for them to learn to respect the diversity of cultures and to abandon their racist and imperialist tendencies.
We, the Batarian people, will not be cowed by the Alliance's threats. We will defend our way of life with every fiber of our being."
Citadel News Net: Suicide Bombers Attack Systems Alliance Consulate on Citadel
"The Citadel, Serpent Nebula—The calm of the Presidium was broken this morning as explosions rocked the Systems Alliance Consulate. In a shocking attack that has left the Citadel in a state of shock, a group of suicide bombers stormed the Consulate and overwhelmed it's security detail, before detonating explosive vests. The attack resulted in multiple casualties and significant damage to the consulate building.
The Alliance Consulate, established shortly after First Contact, is located on the Presidium ring, a prime location that is home to the embassies of various galactic powers. The attack occurred during peak hours, when the consulate was bustling with activity.
Witnesses reported seeing a group of individuals, wearing suicide vests, rushing towards the consulate building. Before security forces could react, the bombers detonated their explosives, causing a massive explosion that shook the entire Presidium.
The Alliance has confirmed that several of its personnel were killed or injured in the attack. The Citadel Council has condemned the violence and vowed to bring the perpetrators to justice.
The identity of the attackers remains unknown, but many suspect that the attack was carried out by a terrorist organization. The Citadel Council has called on all galactic powers to unite against terrorism and to work together to ensure the safety of the Citadel."
The Galactic Journal: Border Clashes Between Alliance and Hegemony Intensify
"The Citadel, Serpent Nebula—Tensions between the Systems Alliance and the Batarian Hegemony have reached a boiling point, with a series of border clashes erupting across the frontier between the two powers. The escalating violence has raised fears that the galaxy may be on the brink of a full-scale war.
The clashes have occurred in several locations along the Alliance-Hegemony border, with both sides accusing the other of initiating hostilities. The Batarian Hegemony has claimed that Alliance forces have been encroaching on Hegemony territory, while the Alliance has accused the Hegemony of conducting border raids and harassing Alliance civilians.
The fighting has been particularly intense in the Attican Transverse, a region that is rich in natural resources and strategic importance. Both the Alliance and the Hegemony have deployed significant military forces to the region, and there are fears that the conflict could spread to other parts of the galaxy.
The Citadel Council has issued a desperate plea for both sides to cease hostilities and return to the negotiating table. However, there is little sign that either side is willing to back down. As the violence continues, the galaxy holds its breath, fearing that the worst may be yet to come."
The skytruck came to a halt as Fubuki eased on the brake, stopping the vehicle in the middle of the Anhur wilderness.
"And here we are," she mused, fiddling with the seatbelt as she scanned the alien trees all around her. "Smack in the middle of bum-fuck nowhere, in a skytruck out of all things. How do we come to this?"
Shigure lit a cigarette beside her and opened the passenger-side door for some fresh air. "This is where we need to go."
Fubuki nodded slowly, staring up at the distant mountains looming behind them.
She inhaled deeply through her nostrils, taking in the scent of the forest. A shiver ran down her spine and she looked away from the mountain peaks, feeling exposed.
She never expected to be working with aliens, nor did she ever think of venturing into the middle of a forest in Anhur, either. But, as fate had it, the rising Alliance-batarian tensions had demanded immediate attention, and action. Personally, she'd just drop a dozen HAVOCs four SHIVAs onto each batarian world and be done with it, probably a few more to let them know how badly they had fucked up. But then, need must where the devil drives.
Shigure crushed the empty cigarette box between her fingers and tossed it out to the wilderness below. "They're coming."
"Uh huh…"
The bright lights of another skytruck appeared in the distance as it made it's way through the winding forest trail towards Fubuki's vehicle, brief flashes of light in the distance as they were obscured behind trees, rocks, and other associated obstacles. It was accompanied by two skycars that flanked it, machine guns attached on the back making them out to be the improvised technicals that the Anhur rebels were famous for. The skycars hung back as the truck surged forwards, repulsorlifts propelling it forwards at a significant distance from the ground. Numerous pintle-mounted machine guns became visible as it approached, attached haphazardly to mounts on the roof and through gunports in the sides. Plates of improvised armor were also visible as well.
The skytruck came to a halt as over a dozen batarians, turians, and asari hopped out of it and the two armed skycars close behind, all armed. Volus-made M8 Avengers by the looks of it, with the occasional Phaeston sprinkled in every here and there. Fubuki opened the driver-side door and hopped out in response, her M54 rifle slung over her shoulder. Shigure watched from her seat on the skytruck's right side, blowing puffs of cigarette smoke out to the cosmos as her friend went out to greet the newcomers.
"You have the goods?" the lead batarian asked as he walked up to her, his body covered in thick armoring that seemed to be kitbashed together from numerous different sources.
Fubuki glanced at his fellow resistance fighters, all with improvised equipment to various degrees. "In the truck. You got our goods?"
"Yes, the usual. Hallex, red sand, two tons of each. Your standard deal."
Fubuki smiled warmly at him. "Good. Let me see what I can get you for those."
Shigure jumped down from her passenger-side seat after clicking the button on the dashboard to open the skytruck's cargo hold. Taking in the last dregs of her cigarette before crushing the stub underneath her boots, she pulled out a crate stacked neatly within the skytruck's cargo hold. The Anhur rebels watched as she pulled out a rifle, cradling it within her hands.
"...that's a slugthrower, isn't it?" one of the younger batarians asked. Jaharan, if she remembered correctly.
"Yeah. Not a fancy plasma or laser weapon, not the typical run-of-the-mill mass effect guns you guys all wield. It's a slugthrower through and through, explosive propellants and all."
The batarian eyed her skeptically as Shigure spun the rifle around in her arms. "I know what you're thinking, I've seen that kind of stare before. I assure you, this is not your average improvised contraption made from whatever scrap you can find along the way, nor the hideously primitive museum exhibits. Yes, the way it works can be compared to weapons nearly five thousand years old. But don't underestimate human engineering. Your guns can punch holes through armor, fine. This thing will tear whatever you aim it at to shreds."
"Blow a fist-sized hole through the first one, he's dead on the spot," Fubuki added. "These things aren't designed for civilized fights or sport shooting, they're designed to maim and kill."
Jaharan accepted the slugthrower as Shigure gave it to him, running all four of his eyes down it's angular, jagged lines. The skepticism melted from his face like ice under fire, replaced with awe and admiration instead. His comrades soon followed suit as they took turns handling and inspecting the human rifle.
A turian fiddled with the rifle's bolt mechanism and racked it back and forth, causing the weapon's electronics suite to light up with a bright, red'00'. "What kind of ammunition does it take?"
Fubuki pulled a magazine out of her pocket. "7.62x40mm Arisaka, usually in 60-round magazines. Admittedly, they're not as powerful as the newer 7.62x44mm Nagoya rounds that replaced these later on in the Alliance military. But they can tear through most body armor with ease, and the wounds they leave behind are often horrendous."
The turian's eyes flashed. "Wouldn't premade ammunition like this be hard to source?"
"No. You'll need to reload more often and carry around a lot of annoying magazines, but you can easily replenish your ammunition indefinitely in the field provided you have an omni-tool and sufficient nanofabricator omni-gel. Thermal clips are smaller and lighter, but not by much. I think it'll be a worthwhile trade-off."
He examined the magazine closely, turning it in his hand. "It looks sturdy enough, though I wouldn't want to test it against my own personal defense system."
Jaharan grinned. "I'm sure it will serve us well."
Shigure fished a second crate out of the skytruck and opened it.
"Slave-chip scramblers," Fubuki answered the curious gazes the rebels sent her friend. "Those things send a brief signal, akin to an EMP, that fries slave control chips within a half-kilometer radius. You won't have to worry about your masters using the control implants to incapacitate you anymore. This takes care of that problem permanently, without having to resort to any dangerous surgery to remove them."
Jaharan's eyes widened. "Control implant...jammers?"
Excitement overtook his body language for a moment before he visibly tamped it down. "How…how much for those?"
"As many human slaves that you can possibly free," Fubuki nodded. "Plus the drugs. Those pay a lot, and we sure do need the cash to get our homies back."
Codex Entry — Technology and Equipment — Dark Matter
Abyssals use raw dark matter in their drive cores, collected by unknown means.
Their usage of dark matter is anolagus to the Citadel's usage of element zero, but with a minor twist—instead of mass manipulation, they instead use gravity manipulation. There are, however, sufficient parallels between the two for them to be not too different from each other—Abyssal analogues to mass accelerators, kinetic barriers, and similar technologies, exist.
Human artificial gravity technology was reverse-engineered from their Abyssal counterparts, using 'navitasium', a specialized crystal grown to 'capture' dark matter within it's internal stucture. It normally takes the form of a cube, glowing green, blue, or red depending on the intensity of the power input given (and to a lesser extent, the workload, and thus output), but is often machined to create finely-shaped argrav fields to perform specialized tasks—a major example is the particle accelerators used in the Higashi-Blau slipstream drives.
Codex Entry — Technology and Equipment — Interdimensional Slipstream
The Alliance reverse-engineered their FTL drives not from Prothean ruins and element zero, but rather from Abyssal dark matter crystals and equivalent technology.
Human FTL travel does not depend on the galactic norm of lowering a ship's mass to the point where FTL travel is possible, or of 'warping' space and time to create a 'wave' on which a ship rides through, as seen on quarian FTL drives; they function via accessing and manipulating a realm of higher dimensions known as the 'interdimensional slipstream', a subdomain of numerous infinitesimal dimensions in a 'bundle' above the four-dimensional realm of the known universe.
The realm acts as the intermediary between the known universe and the 'interdimensional realm', a theorized realm beyond the known universe that is composed out of "infinite dimensions and possibilities", where all known laws of physics breaks down, and everything exists in fine superimpositions of existing and not existing. As the known universe expands, it creates a 'shockwave', a 'wake', against the interdimensional realm. Inside of that 'bow shock' lies the region known as the interdimensional slipstream.
The interdimensional slipstream itself is in effect a foam-like bundle of small 'slipways' created by the known universe interacting with the inter-dimensional realm; if normal spacetime is comparable to a flat sheet of paper, then the interdimensional slipstream is akin to a foam-like substance, with endless mazes and networks of internal channels to navigate. A ship entering the interdimensional slipstream is akin to cutting into the block of foam to gain access to one of it's internal channels; the process is repeated to exit. A quantum field is necessary to envelop the ship and 'squeeze' it through the 'slipways', wrapping them in carefully shaped 'bubbles' of normal space.
If a ship enters the slipstream without a quantum field, it triggers a paradox—the presence of normal matter introduces the three spatial and one temporal dimensions of the normal universe to the numerous and incomprehensible dimensions of the interdimensional slipstream. The disrespancy between the two realms triggers a violent chain-reaction of numerous paradoxes stacking atop each other as a result, creating ripples, shockwaves, and eddies to disrupt the chaotic fabric of the interdimensional slipstream; the normal matter is eroded to nothingness. The aftereffects gradually 'fade' into nothingness as the paradoxes eventually collapse into the void, a process known as reconciliation.
The number of paradoxes such an event triggers depend on the mass of the object—smaller objects disrupt the slipstream much less than larger ones. If multiple objects are phased into the slipstream at the same time, the combined paradoxes and aftereffects build up, they accrue a 'debt'. The debt can be 'paid' by permitting the slipstream time to reconcile the aftereffects, allowing them to fade into nothingness. If too large a mass phases into the slipstream, or too many objects are phased into it in a short period of time, then the effects can be disastrous. Cascading ripples will violently collapse any rifts leading to normal space, the local vicinity becomes a violent, turbulent storm of ripples and shockwaves; any object made of normal matter is instantaneously turned into "atomized bits". Such an event is typically known as a Catastrophic Reconciliation Blackout.
Navigating through the slipstream is akin to navigating through a maze; to get from Point A to Point B requires one to navigate between many hundreds to thousands of different 'slipways' and hubs, before arriving at a locus that corresponds with the intended destination. Some star systems located literally next-door may take weeks or months of slipstream travel between each other, whereas other systems orders of magnitude further away can be reached in mere days. It is possible, however, to overcome this issue somewhat by 'cutting' a path through the maze of slipways, using a series of finely-executed jumps to take a straight-line path to the destination rather than a roundabout one.
The human Higashi-Blau Interdimensional Slipstream Transition Engine functions by creating 'rifts' in space-time, using high-power particle accelerators to create miniature blackholes, and then tearing those open to create a stable portal between normal space and the interdimensional slipstream. A major component of Higashi-Blau drives is the accelerators, which require to be spooled up to optimal capacity before executing a jump; the working particles inside the particle accelerators need to be accelerated, spooled, to a sufficient velocity to successfully create the microscopic singularities required for an interdimensional rift. It is possible to execute a jump with an underpowered drive, often at extreme risk, the rifts created are oftentimes unstable and can result in annihilation of the ship in question to 'atomized bits'.
Alliance Series 4 drives circa 2410 can be spooled to optimum velocity within six to ten minutes. Current Series 6 drives, with the integration of element zero accelerators, can spool up to optimum velocity within less than one.
It is possible to spool up a drive to commence multiple jumps in rapid succession—a process known as double-spooling—but requires an extra set of accelerators and capacitator banks to tear the required rifts, or theoretically, an extremely powerful accelerator capable of spooling up to optimum within negligible amounts of time. Military ships are equipped with dual-spool drives as standard, permitting them to launch devastating hit-and-run attacks.
Although human drives are extremely advanced and sophisticated by Citadel standards—with Series 6 drives capable of making jumps to within three kilometers of expected arrival point and within one minute of expected arrival time—they pale in comparison to their Abyssal counterparts, which have been observed to make jumps accurate to the nanosecond and atom, and can reliably execute jumps even when underpowered.
Mine eyes have seen the glory of the coming of the Lord:
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.
John Brown's righteous legacy is marching on!
He is trampling out the vintage where the grapes of wrath are stored;
He hath loosed the fateful lightning of His terrible swift sword:
His truth is marching on.
John Brown's righteous legacy is marching on!
MWKillKenny84
Lurking from the Trauma Switch.
- Location
- Vado Ligure
For the money he has lost, or because he will try to get there regardless of the ban and thus end up Indoctrinated (or eaten by an Abyssal)?
- Location
- Kansas City area
The first.