Archive of Our Own ^beta

Chapter Text

He looked out upon the planet, watching it from orbit. This had become his usual activity, day in and day out, for the past 50,000 cycles. His days, as they were, were a continuous cycle of monotony, always waking up at the same time, 5 rotations before the ancilla would come to begin his day, followed by more rotations of carefully monitoring the planet and its inhabitants below, before he would return to his room and rest, beginning the whole cycle anew. Truth be told, he didn’t have much care for these beings living their lives below, insignificant in the grand scheme of things, barely a shadow of what he remembered from his time. But, regardless of his opinions, he had a plan to follow, and he could never betray Mulsanna’s wishes.

Ah, Mulsanna, sweet Mulsanna, she was the one bright spot in the Galaxy, and the one reason he still had left to continue. She once held one of the highest positions in the Forerunner Empire, having earned the title of Librarian, and it was her responsibility to categorise and store all the data of their civilisation. After all, they held the Mantle of Responsibility, their role in the galaxy was to safeguard all life, to nurture and to guide it along its destiny. Remembering such sweet times always brought a smile to his face, such happy times. He too held a great role, who led the Warrior-Servants as the Didact. Ironic that the one who studied life and the one who destroyed it would come to love one another, but life was always full of ironies, wasn’t it? Yes, despite it all, he recalls life at the apex of Forerunner civilisation to be a joyful time, where he had hoped to have raised a family and, perhaps, to have earned himself some peace for all the wars and conflicts he had fought through.

Unfortunately, those memories soon turned sour, as the memories of the end came to fruition. He was at the council where it all began to go wrong, when the Primarchs were told of a relic of the Tostoli, the Predecessors. It had shown visions of a Harvest, of great monsters appearing from the void, destroying all in their path, not for conquest or for riches, but for harvest. The Great Harvesters, as they were known in his cycle, were focused not simply on the destruction of Forerunner civilisation, as other would-be rivals had before, but on the destruction of species, a genocide on a scale unimaginable. And so, he had gathered their fleets, and patrolled the borders of the galaxy for any sign of these Harvesters, while the Engineers, who had now seen that their technologies had been engineered in part by the Harvesters, had attempted to improve and adapt in ways outside the use of Element Saphire. All of these measures had proven too late, and the Harvest had bypassed their defences right into the heart of their civilisation, with all the databases right there for the taking.

And so, the Forerunners had fallen, in the same way that so many had before. Their victories were few, costly and always short lived, while defeat was always encroaching, no matter what was put in its path. Although, there was one bright spot to come out of the war: a group of the greatest Forerunners of their time, made up of all the casts, from Builders to Warrior-Servants, had managed to slip through, to escape the cycle unharmed. Although the Empire was gone, the Forerunners were not, and they had found the weakness in the Harvesters strategies. That left them with around 50,000 cycles to toy around with.

Of course, the first problem to solve was that of old age. Fortunately, a solution was found relatively quickly, with ancillas of their Life Suits working to counteract the health complications of aging, making them functionally immortal. Unfortunately, this had come too late for fourteen of the original two hundred, and that is how it went across the cycles, with great inventions being invented too late to save anyone. They had invented functional immortality, but too late to save some of the survivors. They had brought about a way to subvert the Relays, but too late to save the cycles. And, after the ages came and gone, their numbers had slowly dwindled due to accidents and mishaps, dwindling the last flickering flame of the Forerunners.

It was only at the end of the last Harvest, where this current plan had been conceived. By then, their numbers had dwindled down to the single digits. It was a sad fate that they had all resigned themselves to at some point over the ages, that they were the last of their kind. Regardless, they had finally invented a way to overcome the Great Enemy’s most powerful weapon, the Indoctrination. They had found a way to convert a living being into a digital form, with the Catalyst. By then combining them with synthetic bodies, it would mean that an organic being could return to somewhat of a normal life, while being immune to the dark energies and subtle suggestions that converted lifelong friends into mortal enemies. And so, the seeds for Harvest’s end were planted.

The only question was which species were worthy of reclaiming the Mantle of Responsibility. There was no hope for the Protheans, for they were already extinct, and did not share in the same ideals of nurturing life, instead subjugating it to their rule. By that point, there were many races that were in their infancy, who may one day rise to prominence, but it was too soon to decide by that point. It was then that his dearly beloved Mulsanna found the Humans on Erde-Tyrene.

When he had first seen them, he had been struck by just how similar they were to himself. Yes, there had been some differences, but he could definitely see the likeness to himself, to an uncanny degree in fact. The others had put forward the suggestion that they observe this new race of sentients, to see whether they bore similar qualities to the Forerunners beyond mere looks, and lo and behold, they did. Mulsanna had then suggested the idea of Catalysing these Humans, though not all of them. Instead, some would be transported to a specially prepared world for habitation, away from the Relays and the thrice cursed Saphire Element, to grow into a force capable of battling the Harvest, be it in this cycle or the next.

Which brought him back to the present moment. Although tedious, his role as warden of this world, which had been named Vekta for the weapons that he hoped would be forged, was an important one. He witnessed the nations rise and fall. He witnessed new ideas being spawned, and those the new arrivals brought to the world. Although, for all their triumphs and failures, he was at the end of the day, unimpressed with them. He had seen it all before, with countless other species who had each shown their own struggles. It was his wife who believed in them, who thought that they could take the fight to the Harvesters and break the cycle that had imprisoned a galaxy. He, on the other hand, did not truly believe that one species could overcome the Harvest. Although, there was little hope either way, his own kind had been wiped out, and he had borne witness to others sharing their fate. His kind’s fate was already sealed, with their natural mating cycles being worn away by age. He would never hold a son or daughter of his own, and neither would his love, who he knew felt the loss greater than even he. And so, he was willing to nurture her vision of the future instead.

Speaking of which, the latest arrival of humans had arrived. It had been around 12,004 cycles since they had begun building complex structures, and had already made some attempts in interstellar travel. The Vektan humans had also shown similar ingenuity, although theirs had been somewhat altered so as to maintain the secret of the Forerunners’ existence. Although, Mulsanna and the others were due to return soon, and then, they would begin preparing the inhabitants of Vekta towards their destiny. At last, the Forerunners would have their vengeance.

He saw the Slipspace rupture out of the window, and felt a rush of excitement with the prospect of seeing Mulsanna again. But it was short lived, as he could see the engine of their vessel in flames. The issue was catastrophic, and the only redeeming thing was just how short it truly was, for the flames soon detonated the engines and tore the ship in half, blasting the ship and all its inhabitants to oblivion.

He couldn’t feel the scream that erupted from his throat, only comprehending the anguished roar as existing, not registering that it was his own. All he could feel was the cold numbness of it all. His last remaining purpose, his sole reason for rising every day, and the sole thing he dreamed of, had just been destroyed before his eyes. He wasn’t even given the chance to join her in death, only allowed to suffer it happening. He couldn’t feel anything, even as he broke his bones breaking the objects in the room around him, the machines, the furniture, the walls, anything he could get his hands on. He wasn’t even allowed to say goodbye, nor tell her how much she truly meant. All the things said, and all that was left unsaid, all gone in a flash. All that she had hoped for, every dream she had, gone forever. All that was left was him, and these Vektans. These damned Vektans. They live their insignificant lives like maggots on a corpse, while the one bright spot in the universe dies in a whisper. He would not have it. They were to have been weapons, nothing more, while she was to bring about a new golden age for the galaxy. Yes, nothing more than weapons to be wielded. Their lives were meaningless beyond the capacity to be used.

He began to march towards the Catalyst. It was untested, only used for scale models and on small test samples, but how can something created by a Forerunner of Mulsanna’s greatness ever produce a failure. He began the activation process, seeing the monitor increase target size. 10%, 34%, 48%. He watched the numbers rise, the totality of the rock below that would be Catalysed, turned into the weapons she dreamed of. 56%, 62%, 70%. Yes, this was how it was meant to be, an army the likes of which the galaxy, nay, the universe could not comprehend. This should have been her moment, so it will be in her memory that the universe that so callously took her from him shall burn. 79%, 86%, 99%. This was it, the moment that hundreds of thousands of cycles would be justified. He cackled at the thought, the end, the end. Finally, the end.

100%

He fired.

Chapter Text

He awoke with a start. As the memories flooded back, he recalled a name. Alex, yes, that was his name. Alexander Hood. He was Alexander Hood, Alex to his friends, 32, born in Greenwich. Details of his life flooded back to him quickly, though it still felt like crawling through quicksand. The main details at first, followed by early memories. A mother, a father, no, a stepfather. His times at school. His career in the army, fighting in Kuwait and Iraq. More and more, it was coming back to him, like a bad hangover or a heavy sleep. He noticed what he had been staring at. A magpie. On top of a tree, there was a magpie, eating something, he couldn’t quite see. Magpies, they had been a favourite of his childhood. It always reminded him of that song he learned in primary school, the Magpie Song, he knew it as.

One for sorrow, two for joy.

Breaking away from the bird, he noticed an eery stillness to the world, a quiet the likes of which he had never heard before. He had been to some desolate places before, the desert had been very much deserted. Even then, he still heard noise, albeit an 80-ton Challenger tank. He looked around, this was a city. Cities were never quiet, there was always some noise being made, traffic, pedestrians, businesses. All a grand metropolitan symphony, that was now missing, like an empty opera hall. He inspected the area more closely and saw that he was standing in a town square, like the ones you would see in a small city, with limestone building all around. It was then that he saw he was surrounded by statues. He began moving towards them, only for them to turn their heads to look at him, inspecting the source of a new sound. They were robots, with digital squares a bright orange standing in for their eyes, all now staring at him.

As much as he would hate to admit it, he was scared shitless, and took off in a panicked sprint into a nearby alleyway. He hugged the wall so tightly, he questioned what would break first, his bones or the brick. Cautiously, he leaned to see whether or not he was being pursued, only to find that the robots were just staring at him, motionless, like the world’s creepiest security cameras.

It was only then that he noticed his hands. He had expected to see knuckles clenched so tightly that the skin would be bone white, only to see that his hands were made of metal. He stepped back in shock, and looked down, only to find that his body was metal and robotic, like the statues in the square. Panic rising, he found a nearby puddle and saw his reflection for the first time. A robot head stared back at him, with the same digital eyes as the others in the square. He let out a scream, a robot scream that became a shriek as he realised more and more the differences. He had no mouth, only a speaker. His voice was edged by a crackle that could only come from a digital source. There was no burn for his lungs or his throat, just the scream.

Suddenly, one of the robots started to move towards him in a jog. At first, he prepared to run, until he noticed they were calling to him. ‘Hey, are you alright?’ the approaching robot shouted with a vaguely familiar accent. When it reached him, it came to an abrupt stop, shocked to see a robot having screamed. For a moment, all was silent, until the panicked noises began again, as it began to comprehend the situation in the same way Alex had.

…

It took about an hour and a half for the robot to calm itself, by which point evening had rolled in. As Alex began talking to it, he began to understand that it was a person, the same as him, turned into an identical robot. His name was Judah Mizrahi, a governmental minister born and raised in the city of New London. While Alex was confused about this new world, which according to his newfound companion was called Vekta, Judah was not. “Of course I know of Earth, transference is common enough in history,” Judah had explained. “But we know nothing of Vekta on Earth, I’ve never even heard of anything like transference!” Alex exclaimed. “Really? It seemed common enough here,” Judah responded.

However, despite Judah’s knowledge of these transferences, he admitted that no one actually knew of why they occurred, or the reason for them occurring. “Some thought it was God, a few blamed aliens. I, like most, just assumed it was just a natural thing, like an earthquake or a black hole.” Further, Judah had no explanation as to how he had become a robot, only recalling seeing an explosion in the night sky, followed a few minutes later by a flash and nothingness.

It was a question that would need to be postponed, as they noticed that a storm was beginning to roll in. While they could not feel the cold, they figured it was best not to test whether they could develop rust or not. And so, the pair sought shelter in a nearby café. Kicking in the door, Alex vowed to repay whoever owned the café over the damages, but as the army had taught, needs must come first. Once inside, they decided to test the electricity, which, to their surprise, still functioned. For some reason, power was being maintained, which made Alex wonder just who decided to keep the power plants running.

One of the discoveries within the bedroom Alex had just entered was a mirror, one that reflected the whole body, which allowed Alex the chance to have a good look at himself. He began with his head, which no longer shared his human features. It was a blank, head, with a black monitor on the front carrying the luminescent orange eyes that all the robots shared in the square. It had no mouth, or ears, or nose. Just a black screen, with the digital eyes. As for the rest of him, well, his clothes had vanished, clearly. His immodesty would have shamed him more if had anything left to be ashamed of. Instead of the human muscles and skin, all that remained was a steel grey skeleton, with organs being replaced by batteries, pistons and all the other parts one would normally associate with an engine rather than a body. Just what the hell had been done to him, to all of them. To be stripped of their own flesh, their humanity like this. Alex felt his iron fists clench in anger. Whoever did this was in for a hell of a reckoning.

“Alex!” Judah called from another room, “I think I found something.” Alex, broken from his enraged thoughts, rushed upstairs, to find Judah playing with AMSAT radio. Clearly, the owners had been a hobbyist. Curious, they played with frequencies in order to see what was on the air. For the most part, it was empty air, and they were about to shut it off, when they heard a number sequence begin repeating. It told them of an X value, a Y value, and Z value.

It clicked in his head. “Judah, these are map coordinates. Someone is trying to tell us of a location.” He excitedly said. “This could be dangerous, what if it is setting us up for a trap?” Judah, asked anxiously. “Come on, mate. There’s no one else on the airwaves, so this is our best chance to get some bloody answers.” “Alright, alright,” Judah said, holding his hands up in appeasement. “Let’s find a map and go meet with this voice on the radio.”

…

It had taken two weeks, but they made it. Having found a map, they saw that they would have to trek about 900 miles to reach their coordinates. They may have made it sooner, but Judah was a civilian, and thus unaccustomed to walking for so long. He did note that while Judah and himself could not feel the physical ache from their constant marching, they did feel it in their heads. Phantom limbs, it was called, though his usual experience of it had been mates who had lost limbs feeling as if they were still there.

Over the journey, they had come to make other discoveries. For one, they required only water to survive, drinking it seemed to recharge them, which was useful in of itself. Another discovery was the ability to alter some of their physical appearances, with the two of them changing their eye colours from the orange they began with into Alex’s natural blue and Judah’s natural hazel. Finally, they had seen that not all machines stayed silent. Most stood still as statues, only moving to observe abnormal noises in their environment, but never move beyond that. Others, however, were working to maintain the buildings around them. Yes, there were still some ruins, a collapsed house here, a broken wall there. But for the most part, they had been well maintained. Clearly, there was some coordination, some leadership here, but what game were they playing? They had turned millions, perhaps billions into these mindless machines, and had they play as carpenters and masons. It seemed like madness. Alex hoped that, perhaps, at the end of all of this, there would be answers.

Alex and Judah crested over a hill only to be confronted with the remains of a massive ship, miles away from the sea, and yet laying there like the carcass of a beached whale. Time had worn away at this construct, and nature had taken roost there amongst the doomed vessel. He could see bird fly in and out, great forests of vines and moss hanging from the exposed beams, even large herds of deer and elk grazing beneath its shadow.

Although feeling a sense of trepidation, the coordinates pointed them to this location. Given that there were no other structures or locations around, this must be where the signal was broadcasting from. And so, they entered the shipwreck, climbing into it to see what they could find.

The more he walked, the more Alex felt how alien this vessel was. It was not built with much practicality in mind, its corridors and doorways too intricate to be practical in any sense. Nor did it seem as though it were for pleasure either, with the decorations being too few and far between. It hinted towards some other purpose, that currently lay beyond him.

Pressing on, however, the pair followed a noise they had heard, similar to the broadcast. As they traversed, the noise grew louder and louder, until they had finally reached a head sized, oddly designed sphere lying trapped underneath some rubble. Upon closer inspection, it could best be described as a sphere within spheres, with a glass circle at its front, an incomplete steel grey sphere on its exterior and a more mechanical one as its core. Alex, tentatively reached forward to touch it, only for it to begin to light up just before his hand could make contact, and a glowing blue eye lit up to match his gaze.

“Greetings, I am Monitor 343 Guilty Spark.”

Alex and Judah could only stare at the ball. Of all the things they had expected, from a human like them, to a hulking mass of intelligent flesh, this was not the alien they thought it would be. As the minutes stretched on, 343’s eye began to dim, and an almost tired look appeared on what could best be described as it’s face.

"Hmmm. It seems as if you haven’t awakened. A shame, leave me in peace, you two, return to your-"

"Are you the one who did this to us?" Alex demanded, feeling his anger rise at this machine who had dared to give him orders. "Did you turn us into these freaks?"

“Ah, good, you have finally awakened, just as my creators had hoped you would.” 343 said, all of a sudden acting quite chipper.

“Your…creators?” Judah asked, his curiosity coming forth.

“Yes, my creators, as well as yours. Although, I had no hand in catalysing you into your current forms, that would be the work of the Didact. By my calculations, it was only him who could have activated the Catalyst approximately 36 years ago.”

Ignoring the shock of finding out that nearly four decades of his life had just vanished in an instance, Alex pressed on with his questioning. “Why did he do this? Why would this Didact do… whatever he did to us?”

“As to what he did, the Didact activated the Catalyst, a device designed to turn your species into a digital form, which by my estimates, had been activated at full power, converting all human life on this planet into the automata you have seen. As for why, well, it was hoped that you would have proven to be excellent weapons.”

“You mean, we were created for war.” Judah asked rhetorically. When 343 confirmed it, Alex asked “Then why hasn’t this Didact used us for more than playing decorations in squares and alleys like some bloody Terracotta Army knockoffs?”

“Oh, at first, he was very active, preparing grand formations to march out and conquer other planets, based upon the speeches he gave. Unfortunately, his station had collapsed under the strain of the Catalyst, and destroyed numerous records in its archives, particularly those pertaining to space travel and engineering. Based on evidence, I deduced that he had fallen into a state of melancholy at the realisation, and so abandoned his goals, allowing you to remain dormant. I, however, sought to use you to maintain this world instead of letting it fall into ruin.”

“Why? Why would you do that, instead of continuing on with the goal of conquest? You could have easily come up with a solution for space travel, so why use us for maintenance?” Alex asked.

“For the simple reason that you were not made to be weapons of mindless conquest? My memories are damaged, fragmented by time, but I recall being told once that you were meant to bring a peace to the galaxy. Yes, you were tools, but tools of your own volition, to sow the fields and reap the rewards.”

“And could we? Could we be these tools for peace?” Judah asked, with Alex also showing an interest in this optimistic stance.

“Not as you are. While I can control certain groups to perform actions in line with this hope, I do not have the authority, nor current ability to do that with all your people. The Didact still maintains his command over his forces, even if he doesn’t wield them anymore.”

Alex and Judah looked at one another. They had been fortunate, a fluke in programming perhaps, but they were fortunate enough to be able to think for themselves. The people in the square, across the world, who had suffered the same fate as them, were not as fortunate. If nothing was done, then they would stand there evermore, until the elements eroded them into nothingness, all for the sake of some damned aliens temper tantrum. They had the responsibility now to end this. With a wordless conversation, the two agreed on what they needed to do.

“Just one last question, Monitor. Where the hell can we find this Didact?”

Chapter Text

Unlike the trip to the Monitor’s crashed vessel, the trip to the Didact’s ship took nearly five months and a trip across an ocean, which they were currently sailing on an old fishing boat (another thing Alex promised to pay for afterwords). Not that Alex had too much to complain about. While he could feel the ghost of an ache in his bones, he took comfort in the fact that he wasn’t alone in this. Judah also complained about his discomfort, which Alex took some pleasure in reminding him that he volunteered to carry the Monitor with him. Alex wasn’t entirely convinced about 343’s explanation about the crash knocking out his propulsion, he’d more than once muttered to himself about 343 being a lazy little shit, but at least he was talkative. Plus, he contained a repository of all of Earth’s history and culture, at least up until 2004. While he was happy that he wouldn’t have to survive without his favourite songs, he did lament how much he must have missed in the last 36 years. But he was used to missing out on things, he’d had to do so in Iraq, and he would do the same thing he did then, bury the feelings deep down and focus on the mission.

Speaking of which, they were approaching the Didact’s vessel according to 343, about a few hours away. Alex began to prepare himself for the coming confrontation, having armed himself with a piece of rebar that he had taken to sharpening over the previous months. He couldn’t say that they were particularly well armed, but he hoped that the makeshift spear and Judah’s knife were enough for the job.

“Hey, 343. Do you know what we’ll be up against when we get there?”

“That is difficult to ascertain. When the station was still active, I rarely got to look around. That being said, I do not recall much in the way of weapons. Stealth had been the primary tool for my creators, and so they had not prepared anything for the sake of defence.”

“That explains why we never picked anything up on satellite or radar.” Judah piped up. “But why did he not at least make some defences. I am no military man, but surely a backup in case of attack or something?”

“Most likely arrogance,” Alex dismissed. “Sheer bloody arrogance from some aliens who thought they could play God.”

He had thought long and hard about this Didact and whoever else that 343 described as creator, and would always feel a combination of disgust and rage. There were five billion people living on Vekta according to Judah. Five fucking billion. Taken from their home planet, only to be turned into weapons. What was worse, they had been allowed to live on this planet, to start lives, have families, all to be stripped away in a flash. Had they just been turned into these machines, he would understand, but to allow them to know freedom before shutting the door to this cage. That, he could not, would not forgive. He had killed people before, but he had never dragged it out, never intended for them to feel pain. To torture a people on this grand a scale was the reason he planned to bash the Didact’s head in.

“I believe it was because they did not see the point in defending themselves,” 343 spoke up, breaking Alex from his thoughts. “If they had been discovered, then it would have been the end for them, and so, they had decided not to prolong the inevitable. At least, that is what I recall from their conversations.”

“Well, that’s good news for us, I suppose.” Alex said, beginning to see this downed space station on the horizon. It truly was a gargantuan thing, a floating skyscraper he thought, even look like one, focused more on verticality than anything else. The more he looked at it, the more alien it looked. Space stations weren’t meant to look like that, they were wider, meant to be spread across an area, that was how it was on the International Space Station. However, the ISS was meant to be a vessel of peace, of science and discovery. This was a gun, and it had been pointed squarely at its target. Until now, at least, where it lay dormant, a rifle buried in the mud now.

They approached, finding a hole in the side big enough for the boat to dock inside. They found a doorway, and wrenching it open, they walked on through unlit corridors, a more difficult prospect, given that the entire structure was sitting at a slight tilt, like the Leaning Tower of Pisa that Alex recalled visiting a long time ago. Despite this, they continued their climb, seeing how far the wake of destruction the space station had left in its collapse. Alex could see the long crater it had dragged off the coast, visible at low tide, but still full of water. From it, he could even make out bits of debris, which his companions also took note of.

“Oh dear,” commented 343. “It looks as if the fall has separated the primary fuel cells of this facility.”

“Are you saying that we’re out of power?” Judah asked. “There should be secondary generators around the facility, although these do not appear to have been activated. It will require the bridge’s control in order to fix this issue, which I can tap into once we reach it,” 343 responded with.

It sounded like a plan, and with 343 navigating for them, they continued their ascent, higher and higher, until they reached the largest set of doors they had seen in this whole facility. They jammed the rebar in, and began to pull with all their might. This one took even more strength than before, but they would persevere. They had no choice. They were too close to fail now. And so, Alex took one last mighty heave, and the door was ajar just enough for them to slide through. That was when they saw it, sitting silently in a chair, staring out at nothing.

…

He had failed, the Didact thought to himself as he sat there, staring out as he had always done, except now he had to suffer the freezing breeze on his face. Perhaps it was penitence for his failure, for allowing the Forerunners to die with a whimper, instead of the roar it should have been. All those cycles ago, and what had it amounted to but a sad old husk, sitting in a decaying ruin. The Last Forerunner. The greatest soldier the Empire had to offer, now just sitting idle as a statue.

After…her death, he had grand ambitions for this world, a grand pyre for her, a pyre made up of planets. He had prepared them, all metal and fury, these Vektans were to be used to set afire the galaxy to mark her passing. Let the Harvesters join them or find their playground to be nought but a cinder. But it had been that hubris that had led to his abject failure.

He had fired the Catalyst at its highest setting. What had gone wrong, he could not say. Perhaps it had been faulty, or it may have drained the station’s power to the point that it had fallen from the sky. Even then, that was not what had stopped him. It was the archives, all records, all blueprints, and all memories of her. It had been stripped of him, and by the time he had seen it, it was too late.

And so, he had collapsed into this seat, reliving the events over and over, how he had destroyed his love’s memories, all in his pathetic rage. He now couldn’t even recall her face, so long had it been since he had seen her.

The world had nothing to offer, and so he sat, as he always did, numb to the world, numb to himself, numb to his surroundings, and numb to the piece of rebar that had just slammed through his head.

It didn’t matter to him. He was already dead.

…

“Fucking hell, Alex, didn’t hang around, did you?” Judah said, shocked at the brutality his friend had shown. Alex didn’t even acknowledge the comment.

“It’s done. What happens now?” Alex asked, to no one in particular.

“There is a command console over there, if you be so kind as to plug me in using that cable.” 343 responded.

It took about five minutes to plug him in, trying to connect all the wires into the correct place, but once they did, they facility lit up like a Christmas tree.

“I am now in command of this facility, and all of the Vektans on this planet,” 343 stated. “Can you change us back then, or restore our intelligence?” Judah asked, with Alex nodding along, eager for an answer. “I could, but new information has arisen. The Catalyst itself still retains some power, despite its grounding, and I can alter your people, transform them into different forms.” 343 answered.

“Can you make us human again?” the men asked hopefully. “That is beyond the power of the Catalyst to transform synthetic forms into organic. But any alterations to your forms that I can do in an artificial manner, I will.” 343 again stated.

The pair looked at each other, confused on how to proceed. Judah said ‘Just change us back,’ before Alex cut him off. “Judah, these aches we’re feeling, it’s like a phantom limb, we can still feel it, even if it’s not actually there. Can we subject an entire people to that, constantly reminded of what they’ve lost. We can’t go back, I know, but perhaps we can change it so it’s similar to being alive again,” Alex said, in a sudden flash of brilliance.

“We can’t just rush into it; it’s going to take some time to think about how this is all going to work.” Judah responded. Alex, feeling cocky all of a sudden, said “Well it’s a good thing we got some time to spare.”

…

And indeed, it did take time, about six years’ worth. The room around them had remained mostly unchanged since that day, except that it was covered from inch to inch by scribbles and notes as the three of them had figured out how the new world would operate. The Didact had been thrown overboard, the sea long since reclaiming his corpse. The two men had spent the six years pacing from one end to the next deciding on the future, with Alex thinking about how the biology of the new Vektans would work, while Judah, ever the politician, thought of the governance of the new Vekta. 343 had sat there in the meantime, patiently waiting for these reclaimers to decide on how to best use the Catalyst.

At last, with all the details and every lose end figured out by the two men, they turned to 343, and told him to fire the Catalyst as to their exact specifications.

“I can fire as soon as possible, but there is one small caveat. I’m afraid that while the secondary systems are functioning, it is not enough to fire the Catalyst.”

“Fuck!” both Alex and Judah simultaneously cursed. “FUCK!” Judah yelled, kicking over a bucket in anger.

Alex asked “ain’t there anything we can do, what, do we need a nuclear reactor, cause I’m willing to bloody build one, if need be, I can…”

“It would not be feasible to build such a reactor, the structure is weakening as time progresses, as well as your people. It needs to be soon,” 343 said, cutting Alex off. “Alright, what can we do then?”

“I have an idea, but it could be dangerous, lethal in fact.” 343 answered cryptically. When pressed, he explained the plain of using each of the power supplies of their own synthetic bodies to charge the Catalyst, in addition to the secondary power systems.

Both Judah and Alex stood tall, ready to begin. “I am a soldier,” Alex said. “I am a servant of the people,” Judah joined. “We are ready to do whatever it takes for their sakes. If they can live better lives, then we will do all that is necessary.”

“Alright, plug yourselves in,” 343 instructed. “I will warn you; it may be extremely painful…”

“JUST DO IT!” the two men shouted simultaneously.

As it turns out, 343 was not lying. Alex had never felt a greater pain. He had been hit, kicked, dropped, cut, shot. None could compare to this, as if his own soul was being ripped to shreds. In a moment of lucidity, he could see Judah appeared to be suffering the same. He could hear the facility counting down until firing.

It was when he saw 343 that he heard the words that would stay with him for the rest of his days.

“You were always more than the weapons you were designed as.”

…

“And, because of that, we are now here today,” Judah said, standing at the podium, speaking to the entire world.

Alex recalled how he had awoken on the shore after that. The station had been torn apart in the firing of the Catalyst; debris scattered all around him. He had looked down, and seen white synthetic skin in contrast to the grey steel pistons that had been there before. His reflection bore his features once more, the robotic head being replaced by his original face, with a proper nose, mouth and eyes instead of the digital icons that had replaced them. A shame, in some respects. He had honestly gotten used to that robotic body being in his reflection. But he could not be too upset that the people around were more than the decorations they had once stood in for.

Unfortunately, there was now great confusion on what to do now. Five billion people had just woken up in funny new bodies in areas they had not been in before. They could all speak a common tongue now, but it still did not help with the confusion. It also did not help that an additional two billion Vektans had be manufactured under the Didact’s short reign, dividing the digital essences of the existing Vektans and combining them into further bodies (which is where Alex had found the solution for replicating the reproduction of Vektans). It had been Judah, now missing an arm since the explosion, who had organised a union of nations to assemble, to explain the story of how this had happened, and as to what they would do, which the crowds were now asking.

“I tell you what we shall do.” Alex said, taking the podium from Judah. “We will live.” Alex took a pause, allowing for his words to sink in. “What was done to us was a crime greater than any that has been committed, or ever will be committed. The Didact, ever the monster, sought to turn us into weapons, to use us as tools of destruction. Others had intended for us to be tools for construction, to use us in whatever way they saw fit. But we are not tools. A tool does not wake in the morning, and try to recall the dreams it had. A tool does not go to work, thinking about what they shall have for lunch, or come home pondering dinner. A tool does not go to be with dreams of what could be or could never be. A tool does not do that. But we do. We were once flesh and blood, who did all these things. We are now circuits and wiring, but we still do these things, because we are not tools. We are people, men and women, young and old, black and white. We lived, we breathed, we slept, we did all of these things because we were not tools. We were people, and we lived. We lived for ourselves, for our families and for our futures. Despite what they have done to us, we shall live on. We are more than weapons they made us to be. We are the people they could not destroy. We are the Vektan people, and our destiny is our own.”

The crowd was stunned for a moment. And then, one person started to applaud, followed by another, and another, until the crowds erupted into cheers of Vekta and of Vektans. A spark had been struck, and a fire had been lit, a fire of the people. They would face difficulties, Alex knew. They would face strife, from within and without. But they had hope now, and that could never be taken away. Surprising to Alex, the crowd also began to chant his name alongside Vekta. It was not helped when Judah lifted his and Alex’s arms in unity, the crowd only growing louder as a result.

“It looks like you have been chosen to lead, my friend.” Judah smiled. “I ain’t leadership material, I just spoke the truth,” Alex denied, shaking his head.

“And look at what the truth has given them, Alex. You have given the people hope, a beating heart for them. And they will go on with your help. I just hope to be there to see how bright you shine.” Alex looked down, feeling bashful all of a sudden. He truly hadn’t been expecting to called to lead. Hell, he didn’t even particularly want it. But he could see the faces of the crowd, how they all looked on with admiration, with hope now, where once was doubt, loss, confusion. They might be able to continue on with this hope, but he may need to ensure that it continued.

He looked up at Judah, and nodded. “I’ll still need some good men to help me. I think I know a man who could help with that, if he’s willing?” The smile he received back was just as radiant as the crowds.

Yeah, he might not have wanted it. But he’d be damned if we didn’t do the best job he could do for these people. His people.

…

He watched as the ship engines, burning bright as the sun, pushed the ship beyond the heavens, as had become commonplace nowadays. A colony vessel, he reckoned, full of people ready to forge a new life in a galaxy that was theirs, for now. Already, Vekta had established itself on a few new colonies: Reach, Ares, and a few others. It amazed him as to the speed that his people had established themselves. Admittedly, Judah and he had planned, and planned well the future of Vekta. But even he could not have predicted just how fast they would develop.

In just under a decade, they had reverse engineered some of the Forerunner’s technology. Anti-gravity panelling, hydrogen fuel cells, etcetera. However, never content to sit idle on the nest-egg they had received, they had strived to improve and innovate on the technology rather than merely adopt it. Those two bright young scientists, Tobias Shaw and Wallace Fujikawa, had taken the FTL drive off of the Monitor’s ship, and reverse engineered it. Better yet, they had found several flaws in the original design, and had managed to produce a safe and reliable system of FTL.

He smiled at the thought of how far his people had come in such a short time, only to be replaced by a grimace as a flash of pain travelled through him. It was something that plagued him and Judah since the firing of the Catalyst. 343 had been destroyed outright, and Judah had been dismembered, while he had walked away relatively unscathed. As it turned out, his internals had suffered irreparable damage, which the doctors figured would be terminal. It didn’t worry him too much, he had expected to die in that room, surrounded by notes. Now, at least, he would die surrounded by his family. Another unexpected boon, as he smiled at the photo on his desk. His darling wife Alice, his son Terrence and his young daughter Victoria. He hadn’t expected to be a father, especially after becoming synthetic, but he could see the fruits of Vekta’s new systems as he watched little Terrence grow and learn.

However, his job as the President of the Vektan Republic often meant that he was far away from home for long stretches of time. Now, however, he had one last job to do, and then he would give his children all the time they deserved. He prepared himself for one last speech, before he would retire to the vineyard he had worked hard to organise.

Many were shocked at his choice in resignation. After all, his approval ratings were at record heights, and the people would vote for him in the next elections. However, he had realised that if his people were to stand properly, then he would need to allow them to do so without him to prop them up. His people had shown their tenacity in these last few years, their strength and the sheer force of their will. They had shown faith in him to lead them, and so, he would now show faith in them to keep marching on.

He was also inspired by another figure that he recently been reading up on, George Washington. He had also faced a similar choice, as the face of the new Continental Colonies, he could have stayed on as president for years to come. But when the time came, Washington had chosen to retire, showing faith in his new nation that it could lead itself into a prosperous future. Now Alex would do the same, to show faith in Vekta to continue on.

As the cameras began to roll, he prepared to address a nation, a people, for the last time. They didn’t really need him anymore, for the spirits that burned in their bodies would propel them further than he ever could. But, following in Washington’s footsteps, he began:

“To the people of Vekta. Friends and Fellow-Citizens…”

Chapter Text

FIRE!

The seven rifles fired.

FIRE!

The second volley was given.

FIRE!

The troops then squared their MA5 rifles as the ceremony passed to the bugler, who began to play the Last Post.

Terrence Hood kept his head lowered in respect to the lives of the men lost in this recent tragedy. They had done their country proud, had made the ultimate sacrifice in the name of Vekta, that is what he had told their family members. It was beginning to feel fairly hollow, especially when he had to explain it to his own family. It was in the honour of his grandson, Fleet Admiral John Hood, that they were at this funeral today. If he was being honest with himself, it was a senseless tragedy that had cost him his grandson.

He recalled the events that had happened on that fateful day. They had only recently discovered the alien space structure, with its glowing blue core, its ever-rotating rings and its truly shocking scale of 15 kilometres. It was quite the surprise for the colonists of Harvest, who had called upon the Vektan military to manage the situation. That was where John had gotten involved.

He had gone to see the alien structure for himself, going with a small fleet of around four vessels: the Paris class cruiser VRS Ticonderoga, the Halberd class cruiser VRS Iroquois and the Gladius class frigates Venezuela and Nairobi. It was, after all, an inactive structure. Nothing had changed with it since discovery, it had just sat there, with its ever-rotating rings.

That is when the Quarian frigate had jumped through. An odd vessel that some of the more imaginative officers had come to describe as a being shaped like a pacifier, with its slender body and ring like bow. It had come through with smoking engine and clear damage to the hull. The Ticonderoga and Venezuela had blocked off its escape by lining in front of the alien structure, while the Iroquois moved to intercept. The Quarians on board then declared that they were in distress, and required assistance. John had agreed to provide aid, and ordered the Iroquois to escort the frigate back to Harvest so that the ship could be repaired in dry dock. The Ticonderoga and Venezuela had maintained position so that these aliens wouldn’t get any funny ideas about fleeing, while the Nairobi had been sent out on patrol, in case of Quarian reinforcements. That was when the pirate fleet had followed through. Two cruisers, a torpedo boat and a cargo ship turned carrier, according to the Quarians they had talked to. There had also been another frigate, which had crashed into the Ticonderoga, destroying the pirate ship and tearing the bridge off of the cruiser. That is how John had died, with a 200-metre-long ship smashing into him at near light speeds.

The majority of the crew had miraculously survived, despite the sudden loss of command and control. They had worked tirelessly to save the cruiser, and had managed it, the Ticonderoga now undergoing repairs in one of Reach’s numerous shipyards. As he approached the coffin, he laid his hand on it, remembering better times with John. Terrence took some consolation that John would have wanted his men safe, he was always that kind of officer.

It was then that he saw the young officer standing a little away from the funeral. As Terrence approached, the young man stood to attention. Such a display brought a smile to his face. “Ever the soldier. At ease, Commander Keyes.” Commander Jacob Keyes did as instruct, accepting the handshake that Terrence offered. “I appreciate you coming, Keyes. Come, take a walk with me.” The two men wandered away from the proceedings, they were beginning to wrap up anyway. While his family would be headed to the wake, he was required elsewhere. It was just one of the sacrifices of being a soldier, let alone the Chief of Naval Operations. His family understood that, his father had served in the military, and had taught his family what that life looked like. He just hoped that John would have understood that his absence was one of duty.

He was broken from his thoughts when Keyes offered his condolences. “I’m sorry for your loss, sir. I knew John since he was a cadet at the Academy. He was an exemplary officer…and, a good friend.” “From the reports, Keyes, you aren’t such a bad officer yourself.” It was true, despite Keyes” protests of being “nothing special.” Terrence had taken an interest in his profile after Harvest, finding a promising young officer that had his career stunted after a poorly planned test had left him injured at the Fleet Academy. He had refused to testify against the idiotic instructor who had organised the experiment, which cost him promotions, especially after his fellow students had not been so keen to defend the guilty party. And so, Keyes had an unassuming career for a Naval Officer, going from desk jockey to schoolteacher and other, more auxiliary roles. The only notable part of his early career had been the black mark before he had reach Lieutenant, which had been labelled Orion Gen-II and covered in more black ink than actual writing. With such an unassuming history, it was believed that his command of the VRS Iroquois at the edge of Vektan space would be the highlight of his career. How ironic that it would become a highlight in Navy History.

Keyes had done as ordered that day, and escorted the damaged frigate towards Harvest’s shipyards. When the pirates had jumped through, they gave chase to their original target, and found an undefended colony world. Only Keyes could respond in time, with the Nairobi too far away to join the defence of Harvest, the Venezuela and Ticonderoga either destroyed or crippled. With a fleet of unknown power bearing down on him, Keyes had pulled one of the most stunning naval manoeuvres in history. He had seen how the enemy had launched torpedoes that had tracked the Venezuela and destroyed her, while surviving shots from the lost vessel with some sort of shielding, and prepared to use this knowledge to his advantage.

When the pirate fleet arrived, the Iroquois stood its ground while the Quarian vessel retreated to safety. The Torpedo boat had fired off six torpedoes, all charging towards Keyes” ship, who responded by oddly firing a Shiva nuclear missile in the seemingly wrong direction. Keyes had then activated emergency thrusters, pushing the Iroquois out of the path of the deadly ordnance, which began to reverse and begin the chase again. The Halberd class cruiser then charged towards the lead cruiser in what seemed like a suicidal ramming, only to change directions at the last second. It had torn the lower plating off of the Iroquois, but it had proved fruitful when the trailing torpedoes had rammed into the pirate vessel behind her, which was promptly finished off with a volley of Archer missiles. Using his speed to slingshot himself around Harvest, the Iroquois was safely behind the planet when the Shiva detonated, releasing an EMP that had fried the electrical systems of the remaining fleet, leaving them dead in the water. When Keyes emerged over the horizon, he had fired everything he had at the stricken fleet, from his twin Mass Accelerator Cannons, his Archer missiles and even his Rampart point defence guns. The attack was so devastating that it destroyed the remaining cruiser and the torpedo boat. The carrier, although it had been damaged, was able to escape back to the relay, limping away from the fight with its tail between its legs.

With that, the First Battle of Harvest had ended in Vektan victory, though not without cost. Two figures had since emerged as national sensations within Vekta: One was his grandson, who had been a media darling since he was a boy. He, unfortunately, had emerged from it as a martyr. Keyes, on the other hand, was a national hero. While he had stated in his own personal reports that it had truly been an act of desperation, the Keyes Loop, as it had been dubbed, was seen as a mark of genius by the media, especially after footage of the battle taken from the town of Gladsheim on Harvest’s surface. And, desperate as his actions might have been, it had been an exemplary showcase of Jacob Keyes” tactical abilities, showing his adaptability, insight and ingenuity. He had not only saved Harvest from a probable sacking and defeated an unknown enemy, but he had impressed the Quarians he was defending with his, and by extension the Vektan military, capabilities. It would be a major leap in first contact diplomacy, if wielded correctly.

Which brought him to the present situation. “Keyes,” he began. “I want you to come with me. We’re just about to meet with the Quarian big shots, and I figured the officer who saved their asses being present would go leaps and bounds for our diplomatic efforts.”

Keyes blushed at the compliment. “Thank you, sir, but… isn’t this a job for someone with a more… prestigious record than a mere commander, sir?”

“Enough with that crap, Keyes.” Hood said. “You’re a damn fine officer, an exemplar to your peers and an honour to your uniform. The Navy is proud to have you in it, and so am I. You saved Harvest, you saved lives, and you did so without joining John.” He sighed, and turned round to face Keyes. “I saw John’s notes about you, he believed that his friend would do great things, even if the Navy didn’t. I had hoped to do this in a more ceremonial setting, but I figured now’s as good a time as any.” He handed Keyes a small box that he had been carrying. When Jacob opened it, he audibly gasped, bringing a smile to Terrence’s face. “Congratulations, Captain. You’ll do us all proud,” he said, affixing the rank badges to the lapels of the now Captain Jacob Keyes.

“Th…Thank you, sir. I… I don’t…” Keyes stuttered. Hood shut him up, telling him that he’s earned it. He then dragged Keyes to the awaiting limo, ready to take the two of them to the Presidential Palace to meet with the Quarian Admiralty Board.

“Duty calls… Captain,” he smirked.

…

Robert wandered the halls of one of residential palaces that his family would often stay in, this one on Reach. At four and a half years old, he didn’t have a lot to do with his days, and today was an extremely boring one at that. He had memorised his datapads lessons over and over, his most recent lecture being on times and dates. If he was being honest, he only really bothered to remember two, his birthyear in 2159 CE, and the current one, in 2164 CE. Everything else was something that only grown-ups deal with, the hours on the clock being of little interest to the little boy. With everyone else away at work, he had been left with his nanny, who had since fallen asleep on the couch, leaving him free to do as he pleased. He had decided to wander around the estate, hoping he would catch a glimpse of the alien ships that were being fixed, according to the conversation he had overhead between granddad Terrence and Uncle Jacob.

He didn’t quite know what to think about these aliens. When he had heard of them, his brain went to what he knew about aliens already from books and films, that they were little green men or that very scary black slimy one from the film that his brother Will had been watching, Alien. Robert knew that he shouldn’t have watched that film, with him not being old enough to watch such films according to his mother, but surely a film named after an Alien would know what it was talking about, right?

As he wandered over to the large window looking over the city of New Alexandria, with its triple space elevators reaching beyond the clouds, Robert was just about able to see what his nanny had pointed out as the Quarian ship of the Admiralty who were visiting. From this distance, he could only see a small dot, and couldn’t even see any of the aliens. Dejected, he turned away, and continued walking amongst the grand halls of the estate.

After a while, he found himself in a part of the building that seemed full of little cleaning robots, hovering about the floor. He tried to play a game of chase with them, but they didn’t seem particularly interested to participate, with the most interaction Robert had was being sprayed in the face by one. It was then he heard crying coming from around the corner. He went to investigate, and found a little girl in a plastic like ball. She appeared to have become stuck between some furniture, and had been unable to pry herself out. And so, with as much confidence as the little five-year-old could muster, he marched on up and said “HELLO!” in a surprisingly loud voice.

The girl jumped up in fright, and stood still in shock at the newfound visitor. “H…Hello,” she said shyly, in an accent that Robert had never heard before. “I’m Rob. Do you need help?” the boy asked her, to which she shyly nodded. Climbing up onto the chair settee that had entrapped her, Robert slid behind the ball, and pushed with all his might, the sphere popping out and the girl sent rolling along with it. Robert laughed at the situation, thinking that it was a game, whereas the girl didn’t seem to think it was so funny.

“WHAT DO YOU THINK IS SO FUNNY?!” The girl shouted, standing and marching over to Robert inside her sphere. “You fell over,” Robert giggled, with the girl’s face morphing from anger to shock, and then to a smile, soon joining in on the laughter as she began to find the comedy in the situation. Robert then began to get curious about the girl, wondering aloud why she was in a ball. The girl looked confused, and stated that was how all Quarians her age were protected, which stunned Robert for a second. He began to notice the unique features of the girl, such as her oddly shaped legs, her three fingered hands, and here luminescent eyes. “Whoa,” he exclaimed, “You’re an alien!” Again, the girl looked confused, and responded “But you’re the alien here.” Such a different perspective stunned Robert for a second. He certainly didn’t look like a little green man, or a hideous slimy monster. Then again, neither did she. While there were odd things about her, there were also a lot of similarities. Her skin was the same texture, if not violet compared to his white. Her hair was the same as well, raven compared to his brown. And her eyes bore the same youthful intelligence as his, despite not being the same blue as his. “But I don’t look like aliens, and neither do you. You aren’t green at all,” he declared, causing giggles between the two of them.

Quickly distracted by a cleaning robot rolling past, he soon offered to play a game of chase with the girl, who gladly took him up on his offer. They spent the evening chasing one another around the room, much to the dismay of the robots trying to clean up after them. They were about to begin another round when they both heard their names being shouted out. They turned to find the girl’s father and Robert’s grandfather, both staring at the two sternly. It looked to have been another stressful meeting, with their sagging shoulders the heated stares lacking some fire. “Admiral Zorah, I apologise, my grandson appears to have wandered out of his rooms,” Terrence Hood said. “It is alright, Tali should not have been wandering either,” Admiral Rael’Zorah replied.

The children missed the tension between the two, instead eagerly smiling at one another. As Terrence picked Robert up to take him back to their quarters, Robert leaned over and waved to his new friend. “Bye, Tali.” Tali turned around to wave back, calling back with “bye, Rob.” As he walked away, Terrence smiled at the interaction. While Robert would be getting a stern lecture about not wandering off, his interaction with Admiral Zerah’s daughter was a hopeful indication as to the future, of friendship not being tainted by discrimination or wariness. If only he could get the other Quarians to be so open minded.

Chapter Text

Jacob Keyes stood on the bridge, admiring the view of Harvest below. He could make out the other ships of Battlegroup Victor patrolling around, as well as the Quarian Migrant Fleet orbiting the colony, awaiting their opportunity to begin repair and retrofit in one of the mobile repair yards that had been shipped, as per the agreement made during first contact two years ago. He sighed at the memory, the Quarians had been excited at first, but relations soon chilled when they had discovered that the Vektans were synthetic. The Vektan use of AI certainly did not help, and the Quarians might have left the Vektans, if it weren’t for Keyes’ own actions at Harvest. In their willingness to fight for the Quarians, that had earned enough trust to enter into diplomatic talks with Quarians, the Migrant Fleet being offered the opportunity to undergo repairs for the centuries-old vessels, in exchange for information and technical expertise with adapting this Element Zero technologies to their own. Even then the Quarians still showed signs of wariness, every time they met, the Quarians would always tense up, as if expecting an attack. Still progress had been made, and the two species had a mutual understanding.

He turned away from the view, and analysed his new vessel, the Pillar of Autumn. A Halcyon class battleship, it was considered more or less a laughing stock of the fleet. The Halcyons were too lightly armed for their size, and had been more or less phased out for the heavier Marathons. Still, they were renowned for their structural strength, and many had already been built before being phased out, so NAVCOM had decided to make use of them. The Pillar of Autumn had been retrofitted with a number of experimental technologies, including a new Fusion reactor, enlarged Archer pods and new MAC capable of firing in three round bursts. It had been hoped that these retrofits would be the test bed for improvements to made across the fleet. He also carried some more special cargo in the belly of the vessel, curtesy of the spooks at the Office of Naval Intelligence. He knew his duty, and ONI trusted him to keep a secret, so he had brought them without complaint. He couldn’t begrudge the special cargo, or the ONI agent on board, Lieutenant Haverson, who seemed like a decent man despite his affiliations.

Speaking of Haverson, he spotted him approaching, and after the usual greetings, the two of them headed off to a secure communications room. They did not speak for fear of being overheard discussing sensitive subjects. When they arrived, Haverson locked the door and took his place in the corner of the room, while Keyes stood front and centre. On the large computer screen in front of him appeared none other than Rear Admiral Preston Cole, Commander of the 7th Fleet, and considered one of, if not the best naval commanders in the fleet. He snapped a crisp salute, which was returned promptly.

“Captain,” Cole acknowledged him. “I will keep the pleasantries short. We have a situation on our hands. 2 days ago, ONI picked up a signal from the opposite relay, indicative of ship-to-ship communication. The issue is, it’s similar to the communications the bastards from two years ago used. Figures that the carrier that got away most likely called in some of their pals, who probably want to take another shot at our Quarian friends. Anyway, we most likely have another attack inbound. I assume Battlegroup Victor is in good order?” Cole asked rhetorically.

Keyes thought back to the battlegroup he had been assigned command of. After earning his captaincy, and with negotiations no longer requiring his presence, he was reassigned to Harvest again, this time with a retrofitted Halcyon, and escorted by 2 Halberd-class cruisers, 2 Paris-class cruisers, a Stalwart-class assault carrier, and 4 Gladius-class frigates. It was a small command, and one that Keyes never thought he would have, but he had wielded it to the best of his abilities. For now, its responsibilities were maintaining patrols around the Migrant Fleet and reminding the Quarians that they were in Vektan territory. But now, it seemed as if they were going to be tested in combat for the first time.

“Victor is green, sir. We’re ready to make our stand against whatever these pirates have to throw at us. Do we have any intel on the enemy at this point, sir?”

“It’s good to hear your enthusiasm, captain. We’ll need it, because we have no idea on our enemy’s composition or strength. Fortunately, you won’t have to stand alone for this one. NAVCOM has sent me along with 7th Fleet, well arrive within the next 12 hours. 15th Fleet is also on its way, but that’ll be about 52 hours away. By that point, we believe the enemy will already be bearing down on us. I would recommend you begin preparing the Quarians, I don’t want them getting caught up in this scuffle. Any questions, Keyes?”

“No sir!”

“Dismissed, Captain.”

…

Keyes had soon got to work, and informed the Quarian Admiralty Board of the situation. Although it was sometimes difficult to ascertain the emotions of a Quarian, given their body suits masking their face, but it was possible to tell by their body language. And, frankly, the Quarian Admiralty look shit scared. Most pirates didn’t bother to take on the Migrant Fleet, as it was often easier to pick on isolated ships or a distant colony than a mobile civilisation of thousands of ships. But now, with a chunk of the fleet under repairs in one location, and with a fleet of unknown strength on their way, it rightfully had the Quarians scared. But Keyes had assured them that Vektan fleets were on their way, ready to destroy the invaders before they would even see the Quarian fleet. Still, even with 7th Fleet on its way, and Battlegroup Victor ready to make up the front line of combat, it would be unwise for the Quarian fleet to remain for fear of losing even one of their vital ships, especially the enormous life ships of theirs. And so, the Migrant Fleet began to organise itself to make the FTL jump to the nearby colony of Arcadia. Keyes sent his Stalwart carrier, the Daimyo, to lead the fleet in the direction of their safe harbour, while the rest were to take position around the relay. He would not make John’s mistake by remaining too close, so he positioned his fleet in a spread-out crescent. The Pillar of Autumn and his 2 Halberds would form the front rank, with a Paris and two frigates forming the left and right flanks. It would be a good formation to pour fire on the enemy from, and his heavier ships would take the fire the enemy threw at them. And so, they waited.

After 12 hours, the Autumn’s AI, Persephone, informed him of Slipspace ruptures on the edge of the system. He was not prepared for the sheer scale of 7th Fleet as it began to filter in, with 4 battlegroups, each made up of a battleship, a carrier, 4 cruisers and 8 frigates, making for an impressive force of 56 vessels, not including Keyes” own battlegroup of 10. At the centre stood Battlegroup Leviathan, led by Cole’s personal flagship, the VRS Everest, a Valiant-class super heavy battleship. It was a terrifying sight to behold, bristling in coilguns and missiles, wielding two massive MAC cannons, and moving under metres upon metres of Titanium A armour plating. Keyes hoped that it would be enough to stop these pirates dead in their tracks.

The Everest began to make its approach towards the Autumn, and the two ships docked together. Everyone stood to attention when Cole strode onto the bridge. “At ease, ladies and gentlemen,” Cole barked out. “Captain, it’s good to see you.”

“Likewise, sir,” Keyes responded, shaking the offered hand. He led the admiral to the command screen, showing him the general situation. “As you can see, admiral, the Quarians are moving their fleet away from Harvest and into the Arcadia system. They’re making progress, but it’ll still be some time, as they still have some ships being repaired. I took the liberty of sending the Daimyo to guide them to their new rally point, and I’ve deployed its company of marines to defend the colonial capital of Utgard.”

“Very good, Keyes,” Cole said, nodding along to Keyes” explanation, before entering into an explanation of his own: “We’re planning on deploying the fleet in a crescent around the relay, Battlegroups Leviathan and Gorgon will take up centre stage. Battlegroup Siren will take the right flank, while Harpy will take the left. You will have to divide your fleet on the flanks, Captain. Meanwhile, the 8th Marine Division will join your marines on the ground, divided up between any major settlements on Harvest.”

He stood straight, and in a lower voice, explained to Keyes what the intent of the battle truly was. “Captain, the real hope NAVCOM has with this battle is to try and capture as much enemy tech as we can. The Quarians may have agreed to help us, but we want some captured samples for the science majors back on Reach to play with. It would be especially beneficial for us to capture a one of the enemy’s vessels. I trust your cargo is ready for delivery?”

Keyes smiled coyly at the not-so-subtle euphemisms being used. “Awaiting your green light, sir.”

“Excellent,” Cole said, turning to head back to the Everest. “Begin preparations, Captain, the enemy won’t wait on our account.” He said, dismissing the bridge’s crew as he left.

“You heard the man, let’s move out,” Keyes ordered.

…

The fleet had stood in battle ready position for about 36 hours when the Mass Relay began to show signs of activity. The tension that everyone had been feeling for snapped in an instance, as people began to rush to their stations. Everything was prepared: MAC coils were charged, Archers pods were warmed up, Shivas were put on standby. Fighters began launching from their bays, the heavy Longswords and the nimbler Sabres ready to intercept the enemy. At a moment’s notice everyone in the fleet held their breath in anticipation for the order to fire.

The fleet the pirates had put together was an impressive one, with agile frigates, up-armoured cruisers, jury rigged civilian ships of all varieties and even a massive dreadnought. In total, the enemy now stood around 89 vessels. Keyes knew the threat the ships posed to Vekta’s own, with each having its own kinetic barrier, as well as mass drivers capable of dishing out a shot every few seconds. They would prove a dangerous foe.

But Vekta was not lacking either. While they had no kinetic barriers, they instead stood beneath metres worth of Titanium A armour. While they could not manage the same fire rate, they could dish out massive amounts of energy, with even a frigate matching the firepower of an enemy dreadnought. The enemy would find out, to their detriment, as Cole ordered all ships to fire. At once, 66 MAC rounds of various tonnage launched from the fleet, slamming into the pirates to devastating effect. Many of the enemy frigates, and even a few cruisers, were cut down. Then enemy, it seemed, was stunned for a second, allowing a second volley to begin making its way towards them. Keyes knew, however, that surprise could only last for so long after the first shots. He was proven right when a number of ships dodged out of the way of the approaching MAC rounds, and began to charge the Vektan fleet.

The greater fire rate of the pirate began to show its value, as the Vektan ships soon began to suffer damage as round after round began to slam into them slowly pushing the Titanium-A plates to their limit. Some ships were already buckling under the pressure, with small parts beginning to tear away. The Vektans returned fire with everything they had, coilguns, nukes, missiles and MAC” s all slamming into the enemy fleet. But the kinetic barriers that the pirate vessels all had installed were allowing them to take fire that would have crippled an unshielded target. It was enough that the enemy were beginning to break the left flank.

Keyes, from his position at the right flank, could see the pirate fleet begin to focus everything they had on the left flank, turning their ships to charge it. Being made largely of frigates instead of the heavier battleships and carriers, it soon began to buckle. The enemy then pulled another trick, when a fleet of 10 transport ships jumped in just as a hole had been punched through weakening flank. The transports raced towards Harvest, to which some Vektan ships turned their weapons on them. While it cost the six of their transports, it freed the pirates up from the gunfire that they were facing, allowing them to sneak in between Vektan lines. Now, it was a brawl, with the lines being ordered to fold in and each ship told to engage at their own discretion.

…

Sergeant Major Avery Johnson stood at his checkpoint on the freeway. He thought of the irony of it all, his prospects had not been too bright at home on Vekta, and he didn’t want to stuck doing pointless menial jobs for the rest of his life. Now, here he was as a glorified traffic light. Hell, he was already dressed as a little green man, in his M52B combat armour. Still, it was a necessary one, controlling the traffic in and out of Utgard.

People had been advised to head towards the colonial capital, the official reason being that Utgard was now the most heavily defended places in Vektan space, with thousands of marines, tanks and guns ready to throw the enemy back. Unofficially, it was hoped that the civilians would lead the enemy into marked kill zones, due the likely motive of loot and plunder being on the forefront of the enemy’s mind. Dirty thieving bastards.

The battlenet had lit up not too long ago, something about the enemy breaking through with four massive transports, and apparently a frigate. Johnson hoped that command had a plan, because it was likely that their plan to draw the enemy to Utgard would work in the worst possible way. His worries were confirmed when he saw three ships fly overhead. Over the years, Johnson had seen a lot of ships in the Vektan Navy. They either looked like rifles, bricks or were flat topped. These ships looked nothing like the utilitarian designs that were favoured by Vekta. Looking very much like a falcon, the lead ship began to hover ominously over the city. The transports behind it began to deploy dropships, all turning towards Utgard.

Fortunately, they would not enter unopposed. The evening sky began to light up with 20mm flak rounds from the Scythe AA guns that had been placed over the last day and a half. The enemy dropships soon began to fall like the bricks they were shaped like, hopefully taking a few of the bastards inside to a fiery grave. The ships themselves fared little better, as Lance missiles began to streak towards them. This fire was joined by a massive earthquake, as a large bolt punched through the frigate at the front. It must have been the old cargo railgun, a relic from before the space elevator, but one that had been used in the most devastating manner possible. “Those clever bastards,” Avery smirked at the sight of the frigate coming to crash in the fields outside. Already, he could see Vektan forces moving to capture the vessel, most likely to snatch as much tech and information as they can before the enemy could destroy it.

Unfortunately, the enemy was not done yet, as the transports turned away from the city, most likely to land more troops from relative safety. Again, his suspicions were confirmed, when the miniature STARS satellite confirmed that enemy armour had been landed a few clicks away, and were on approach from the southern freeway, which just so happened to be the one Johnson’s company was defending. Command ordered them to push towards the Southbound Tunnel, a motorway tunnel that ran under a small mountain just south of Utgard. With the enemy planning to use the road as a vector for attack, it meant that closing the tunnel was a top priority. He rounded up his platoon, and boarded the M35 Cougar IFVs.

As they raced to other side of the tunnel, he noticed the Engineers rigging the tunnel with explosives. They seemed to be planning to drop the tunnel straight onto the enemy’s heads as they drove through. By the look of things, they had barely begun, and Johnson knew what the platoon had to do. They would hold the line for as long as possible.

They exited the other side of the tunnel, dismounting and immediately setting up barricades and defences. The Cougar’s began to dig in around the entrances of the tunnel, prepared to use their hulking frames as another barrier to block the enemy. There were still a few civilian stragglers left, with only one direction to run. He waved them through, just as the enemy began to rear their heads. The wheeled tank rolled round the corner, the turret lodged in the back (rather than the middle or the front) preventing it from firing until it had been hit with a dozen shots from the Cougars” gauss cannons, as well as a few rockets from his squad’s supply of M41 SPNKr’s. The shields that the fly boys mentioned being on their ships appeared to be shared by the ground vehicles, and yet, under the hail of gunfire, the tank had been destroyed. Its companion didn’t fare any better, sharing a similar fate to the first, while also blocking up both lanes of traffic. It would slow the enemy, but it had cost them precious ammunition that they could ill afford to lose, especially if they wanted to hold out for long.

Since the enemy could not wield their tanks, they instead hoofed it on foot. They were met with rifle and machine gun fire. Johnson, to his annoyance, found that the enemy troops themselves also wore this shielding. “What don’t they damn well shield?” he thought to himself, laying down fire with his BR55. As the firefight continued, he noticed certain enemy troops chose different tactics depending on their species. The ones that had been dubbed Kittyhawks due to their appearance would stand in line and continued to press fire. The salamanders generally hid behind cover and use little drones to fight their battles. The four eyed pugs fought most like the Vektans, fighting cover to cover. And finally, the turtles chose to charge headlong into their line, tanking round after round, not stopping until they dropped down dead.

It did not take long for the line to begin to break. With the enemy able to take a few hits before going down, ammunition was being drained at a rapid rate. The Vektans, who did not have the luck of such shielding, also began dropping like flies. With casualties mounting, Johnson ordered a fighting retreat back through the tunnel. Weaving in between cars, they slowly shifted backward. By this point, the bombs had all been rigged, and were waiting the order to blow. The enemy, now having to navigate the jammed-up cars themselves, had slowed in their advance, allowing Johnson to order a retreat to the safe zone.

It was then that he noticed a wrecked car. Two dead civvies lay in the front, killed in the crash. Unfortunately, there was a little girl in the back, trapped under hastily packed bags and frightened out of her wits. As calmly as he could, he approached the girl. “Hey there, little lady.” He said, trying to sound reassuring. “I’m gonna get you out, alright. You just stay right there, and you’ll be out in a second, alright honey?”

“But, the monsters…” she whimpered. “…Ain’t gonna get us, okay?” He cut her off, trying to sound authoritative without scaring to girl. Slinging his rifle behind him, he lifted the luggage up, and picked the girl up. Her leg had taken an injury, so he would have to carry her. It was then that his coms opened up: “Come on, Sarge, they’re right on top of you, get out of there.” The heads up saved his life, as he ducked down just in time to avoid one of the enemy rounds, which would have otherwise hit him in the head. With a child screaming in his ear, he took off in a sprint, managing to just about escape from the tunnel when the world behind him exploded.

He was thrown off his feet, and, wrapping his body around the girl, went sailing through the air and landed hard, skidding for about 20 feet. With a groan, he was helped up by one of his men, while the Corpsman checked on the girl. He saw that the tunnel itself was now leaking smoke and ash, with the rubble indicating that it had collapsed in on itself. Lighting a Sweet Williams cigar to calm his nerves, he did a tally of his men. Of the initial thirty, he was down twelve, with another four wounded. He sighed, this had been costly, if necessary.

He looked down to the plains just off the highway, and saw the clash that was beginning to take place. The enemy’s tanks were charging down Vektan Scorpions and other armoured vehicles, while in the sky, Hornets, Sparrowhawks and even Pelicans were in an aerial duel against gunships that looked surprisingly like sharks. As the sun began to set, he thought to himself that they were all in for a helluva night.

Chapter Text

Corporal Edward Buck led his team of Orbital Drop Shock Troopers through the dead city. The night sky was filled with ash and storm clouds, the rain pouring down in sheets. The only light he had was from his VISR’s night vision mode, illuminating the world in a tinge of green. He could ill afford to use the light on his MA5C assault rifle, lest it give the enemy a bead on their position. He could hear the alien forces still out there, the thunder and gunfire replacing the usual sounds of night time traffic. While the city centre may still be an active warzone, the outskirts were comparatively dead. The day’s battle had crawled its way through here, evident by the wrecked cars, destroyed tanks and a variety of dead bodies, laying where they fell. Buck thought about the reasons he was even here at this moment.

While Utgard, as the colony’s capital, can be considered the beating heart of Harvest, Gladsheim was more like the liver or stomach, no less vital an organ, but with the much less glamorous job of feeding the body that was the colony. As such, Gladsheim had been established as a secondary rallying point for the evacuating colonists who could not reach Utgard, with NAVCOM sending in 30th Armoured Brigade and the 11th Shock Troops Battalion to hold the city. It had set up AA guns in a similar set up to Utgard, in hopes of catching the approaching pirates off guard. Alas, the enemy had gotten wise to their methods, and had landed in the fields far off, moving tanks in to take the city. With fewer units to wield than the forces at Utgard, the 30th instead fortified inside the city.

That was why the battle had turned the way it had, with a slow retreat into Gladsheim Central District. The civilians were taking cover in the city’s extensive metro tunnels, with the entrances on the outskirts being buried. Only the ones in Central remained open, which the marines were trying their damndest to hold. The Orbital Drop Shock Troopers, like Buck and the others in Alpha Nine, were best set for offensive actions rather than the fortified defence of the marines. Hell, they earned the moniker of Helljumpers by their famous tactic of dropping into orbit from thin skinned SOIEV drop pods, into the hottest zones in a battlefield, and achieve their objectives by any means necessary, like their paratrooper predecessors. Command did not expect them to sit in a foxhole taking potshots at the enemy, they expected them to aggressively fight the enemy with everything they had. Thus, command had sent fireteams throughout the city to perform offensive tasks, such as sabotaging enemy equipment, taking out enemy commanders, and other actions to hinder the enemy.

Buck led his team through the empty offices, hoping to find enemy positions. Looking around the carnage, he saw signs of looting. The alien forces were, after all, pirates. While a large force was indeed focused on the objective of defeating the Vektans and taking the civilians as hostages or slaves (Buck couldn’t decide which was worse), a majority had peeled off to ransack the city. Caught up in the battle fever, the pirates had peeled off in search of wealth of their own, which could be seen in the plaza below.

A group of pirates, evidently, had taken the city’s reserve of Platinum and Gold bars, which they had stockpiled in large pallets in the square. Each one of the guards looked to be eying the prize, to see how much they could sneak off without anyone noticing. “Greedy bastards,” Buck thought. Still, these lot were small fry in the grand scheme of things. But, with a take this big in an area the enemy believed to be safe (he thought with a smirk), it wouldn’t be too long before some big fish would show up, just in time for Alpha Nine to set up firing positions. In the building opposite, he could see the IFF tags of Alpha Eight. When the plaza and its loot had been sighted, both teams were sent with the hopes of securing what had been stolen. However, ODSTs were taught to be flexible, and both teams saw the value of this position for ambush, and had set up to provide two arcs of fire on the enemy.

It did not take long for leadership to rear their ugly heads, with two groups of aliens in flamboyant colours approaching the plaza from different ways. One group was predominantly the Kittyhawks, marching up like they had stick up their ass, while the other was a group of Turtles, stomping forward like someone had said something nasty about their mothers. The two groups met, and began to argue. Listening devices on the ends of their SRS99 snipers picked up on it, recording it in hopes of gaining some intel. For the most part, it seemed to be a combination of demands and insults between the two parties. Still, the enemies seemed high ranking enough, so the ODSTs began to select targets.

The peace was all of a sudden broken when the Turtle leader pulled out a massive shotgun, and blew the head off the lead Kittyhawk. This soon turned into a firefight, as the Turtles, Kittyhawks and the guards were all firing at one another, all hoping to be the last one standing in order to claim the loot. The ODSTs let them have at it, only picking off those who tried to restore order, or were picking up on the presence of the enemy. Eventually, the pirates had all killed each other, the last of which was a guard, a Four Eyed Pug by the looks of things. He looked shocked, both at surviving the firefight, and of being the one to claim the massive payout. It was a short-lived victory, as he was domed in the head by Buck.

The enemy’s radio frequencies were lighting up about the firefight, and when someone mentioned loot, he could guess what the pirates next move would be. As multiple groups marched their way to the plaza weapons in hand, Buck just sighed. “Greedy bastards,” he thought once again, readjusting his firing position. This was going to be a long night.

…

Keyes leaned hard on his command console. The close quarters brawl had long since ended, with both sides now standing on opposite sides, with the Vektan fleet standing with the Mass Relay at their backs, and the pirate fleets with Harvest behind them. Both fleets had emerged bloodied from the charge, with the pirates, strangely, taking the most damage. While the MACs and the Mass Accelerators from both ships could not be used due to their mounting on the bow of the ships, the Spitfire coilguns and Archer missiles had proven their value. The enemy’s torpedoes were not as effective against the Vektans ships, as they were most likely designed to fight against enemy shields, while Vekta did not have any. Still, while torpedoes didn’t work, their lasers definitely did, melting many a hull plate, and even detonating a few reactors on the lighter ships. Enemy and friendly fighter had dogged it out between the massive vessels. Vektan fighters proved their value, the Longswords taking out many frigates with their heavy firepower, while the Sabres went toe to toe with enemy fighters well. Still, losses had been heavy, either due to a lack of kinetic barriers or a vulnerability to enemy laser fire, which could not be dodged. The sheer mass of the Vektan ships however paid off, being able to shrug off more fire than the enemy, and both sides withdrew to the positions they now stood at.

Still, the fighting had been costly, with the Vektans losing around 50% of their ships, while the enemy had lost about 70%. The stalemate was one that could not last, however, both sides were desperate to make a move. The Vektan fleet wanted to rescue the colony, and the pirate fleet now wanted to flee with whatever loot they could take. It had cost them a bloody nose, and the fight was now fleeing them. But they had dared to attack Vekta, land their troops on Vektan soil, threaten the lives of Vektans. The 7th Fleet would not allow them to escape without a fight, and so, both sides stood, staring each other down.

However, Vekta had one thing the enemy did not have, that being time. And the patience of Cole’s fleet paid off when they heard over comms the Texan twang of Admiral Whitcomb, letting them know that “The Cavalry has arrived, gentlemen.” Over the horizon of Harvest, 15th Fleet came roaring in with an additional 70 ships, alongside the Quarian Heavy Fleet, who joined them to aid the Vektans who had valiantly fought for them. The remaining fleet, including Keyes himself, felt reinvigorated now, seeing an end to the battle, at last. They fired on the enemy with everything they had, not wanting a single one of the bastards to escape.

For the pirates, it was a meatgrinder. They had been to focused on the fleet blocking their escape to even think about reinforcements, and that had cost them dearly, as fire poured in to their exposed rears. In a flight of panic, the enemy ships began to break away in attempt to desperately escape. Even as enemy fire poured in, ships tried to jump away, only to crash into one another. Only a few were able to escape the gauntlet.

It was then that Cole began to mark priority assets for the fleet. In particular, the massive dreadnought that had led the fleet into this engagement. Keyes responded to the order, and the Autumn joined the Everest in hammering the vessel. With a burst of his MAC, he crippled the enemy shields, and a single round of Cole’s flagship took out its engines. Siezing his opportunity, he ordered the Autumn’s special cargo to be deployed. As three black coloured Pelicans soared through the battlefield, he ordered all available fighters to escort them as a priority asset. It was up to them now to take the dreadnought.

…

Weyrloc Roc was furious. This was supposed to be his magnum opus in the history books. To be the first to take on a new civilisation, and to at last capture the Quarian Migrant Fleet. It should have been his proudest moment. His ship, the Bane of Surkesh, a Krogan built dreadnought from the days of the Krogan Rebellion, should have wiped the floor with these worms. He had seen the report as clearly as anyone. These pyjaks were supposed to be without kinetic barriers, or any Eezo weaponry whatsoever. Sure, they had emerged victorious, but he had figured that was just the yellow-bellied leadership of a Salarian that had caused that failure. Besides, with enough ships, he would have broken these primitives. So, he had gathered together as much as he could with the promises of vast wealth. It was a worthy endeavour, having gathered nearly a hundred ships, with thousands of pirates, dropships and Tomkah tanks straight from the forges of Tuchanka. It should have been a surefire victory.

Now, he stood on the bridge of a ship that wasn’t going anywhere, thanks to their engines being crippled. Good, let the enemy come to him, let them try and take this ship. He would show them why the Galaxy had trembled before the might of the Krogan once. He had ordered the Salarians to ready defences, and the Turians to defend key positions. While the Salarians were cowards, he knew that they were at least good engineers. Likewise, he thought of the Turians as weak, unimaginative fighters, he knew they would be good for standing their ground. From the ground campaign, he had gained all the intel on the enemy he needed. They were weak, fragile things, who crumpled quickly when hit by a single round. He laughed at the fury they fought with; it was the fury of trapped pyjak against a pack of Varren. No, he could hold them off until the engines were at least able to move the ship back through the Relay.

On the onboard cameras, he saw the craft board the hanger areas. The first problem he saw was that they were not the same enemies that his forces had went toe to toe with on the ground. They wore green armour, yes, but it was not the same. These ones wore fully enclosed suits, with golden visors. The second problem was when one approached a console, plugging something into it. That was when the situation began to break down.

The controls on the bridge began to go haywire, they lost control over doors, turrets, even life support. Areas of the ship were suddenly being vented of their atmosphere, the crews inside being suffocated where they stood, choking for air that was no longer there. The lights in the halls began to flicker on and off in rapid succession, disorientating people. The worst part was, the cameras were working perfectly. All of the crew on the bridge could see what was happening in real time. “Malicious bastards,” Roc thought. “They’re taunting us, trying to scare us and make us panic.” For some, it appeared to be working, the Salarian behind him shaking violently in abject fear. He broke its spine, sending a message of what happens to cowards. As he turned back around, he saw the enemy boarders moving through the hallways. It was impossibly quick, as if they were fluid moving through the halls. Their reactions were even quicker, turning their weapons in an instant to kill the Turians marines he had sent. Useless pyjaks, the only point of Turian was to stand his ground, these idiots were collapsing like a pile of sticks on fire.

His fury reached a peak when the enemy, in about 40 seconds flat, had crossed the length of the ship and stood outside the doors to the bridge. It was only then that the cameras shut off, as well as all the lights on the bridge. He readied himself to charge them, he would die as all good Krogan would, taking as many of the bastards with him as possible. The doors opened, and the world soon turned bright white. Stun grenades, he realised, and tried to shake off the disorientation as quickly as possible. As his vision returned, he saw that these soldiers had slaughtered nearly the entire bridge crew in nearly no time at all. He roared, readying a charge, this was it. The moment of glory, to show these cowards what a true Krogan could do. He would not buckle like the Turians, Salarians or Batarians. He charged, fury pushing him forward, when his target stopped him, dead in his tracks. It was then that he started to feel fear. This thing was as strong as him. He was strong, even by Krogan standards. And this thing had just stopped him dead in his tracks. It was only then that he realised that he was on his back, having been flipped over, and had a knife lodged into his throat.

As his vision faded to black, the last thing he heard was the monster speak.

“This is Sierra One-One-Seven. Bridge secure.”

…

Buck sat atop a desk, munching on an MRE. It had indeed been a long night, nearly two hundred enemy combatants lay dead out on the plaza below. While ammo may have been low, the Pelicans that filled the sky showed that they wouldn’t be needing it. The battlenet was lit up, talking of the battle being wrapped up. With the arrival of the 15th Fleet came the 9th Marine Division, as well as some Quarian marines, surprisingly. The enemy was now in full retreat, although their landing areas could probably be expecting a visit from a few Havok tactical nukes. The civilian casualties had remained surprisingly few, only minor accidents from the escape to the cities. But for the troops, it had been costly. He had heard talk of nearly 70% combat losses in some companies, with most faring little better. Not to mention the material cost for Harvest. Yep, NAVCOM was gonna have its work cut out fixing this place.

But, for now, the battle was over. He and the rest of Alpha Nine had done a commendable job, and that would be good enough for him. He had been away from Draco III for quite a while now, his family was probably quite worried about him. He’d give them a call at some point to let them know, hell, maybe even organise a visit if Command would even let him. But for now, some R&R was called for, maybe at one of those fancy resorts the officers were always going on about.

Right now, though, he was just comfortable eating his rations, and thinking about the last 12 hours. What could he say? It had been a hell of a night.

Chapter Text

This was it. The historical moment Vekta would join the Galactic Community as a whole. All Andrei Petrovsky could feel at this moment was utter panic. He had been selected as the primary diplomat by the Vekta’s President, and, God willing, its ambassador when they established an embassy. He knew the risks, the arguments others would make against them, primarily about them being synthetics. The Quarians had also shown distrust at first, and, hey, they had become fast friends with the Vektans after Harvest. Why couldn’t the rest of the galaxy? Sure, it may take time, but they could win enough favour to be expected, couldn’t they?

Oh god, there was that voice again, that niggling little doubt about how this would all go down. Would this Citadel Council even accept the evidence presented. Would they trust the Vektans to allow Citadel archaeologists to study Vektan history, or would it be seen as a trap? Would Vekta be seen as the New Geth. God, the worst-case scenarios were all flooding through his mind.

“Calm yourself!” Ordered the man next to him, laying a reassuring hand on his shoulder. Admiral Terrence Hood himself had volunteered to be the military diplomat for Vekta. Since it was recognised by the Republic that the foremost question on people’s minds would be Vekta’s military plans, it was figured that sending their most high-ranking military figure to explain themselves would go a long way to build some trust. Hood smiled at him, and told him “It’s going to be fine. We have the answers with us, and are prepared to offer the chance to verify. That’s all we can do, son.”

Andrei felt a little calmer, although the pit in his stomach was still there. “Th…thank you, sir. I just don’t want to mess this up. This is one of the most historical days in Vektan history, and I…I don’t want to start a war or nothing. I mean, what I if I…”

“Stall it!” Hood commanded. A stern look grew on his face. “You can’t win everything. We can only present ourselves to the best of our ability, and give the facts to this Council. The rest is up to them. If they want to start a war, they’ll start one. All we can do is roll with the punches. Now, you are going to get in there, and you’re going to put our case forward in the best light possible, because you were considered the best man for the job. Unless you can see anyone in this room more qualified, then you will be our best shot. Have faith that you are considered the most qualified in this room, son.”

Andrei chuckled nervously. “You’re pretty good at those cowboy speeches, sir.” He nervously joked. Hood smiled at the attempt. “Hell, son. Soldiers love a good speech, it’s a healthy way to start the day.”

Sufficiently calmer, they were soon called up by a blue woman, an Asari, he recalled. As they ascended the steps to stand before the Citadel Council. In front, stood the Asari, Turian and Salarian councillors. Over to the side stands, they saw delegates and ambassadors from across Citadel space. The hulking Elcor, the diminutive Volus, the floating Hanar, and the Human ambassadors, the ones Vekta had the most interest in meeting with. It would be interesting to see what the humans of Earth had been doing since Vekta had been Catalysed.

“Standing for the Citadel Council, Councillor Tevos representing the Asari Republics. Councillor Sparatus for the Turian Hierarchy. And Councillor Morred for the Salarian Union.” A loudspeaker called out, letting all know that the proceedings had begun. “Representing the Vektan Republic, Mister Andrei Petrovsky and Fleet Admiral Terrence Hood.”

“This council recognises the ambassadors from the Vektan Republics.” Councillor Tevos began. Taking a breath in, Andrei began. “We greet this Council, and we thank you for the opportunity to discuss our desires and wishes to peacefully join with the greater Galactic community. If possible, we would wish first and foremost to establish an embassy on the Citadel, and begin further negotiations with the peoples and governments of the…”

“And just why should we trust you?” Sparatus interrupted. “You are an artificial race, and it is written in Citadel Law that artificial intelligence is illegal. How are we to trust that you are not yet another Geth?”

“Our historical record shows that we were once human beings. An alien race took us from our home planet of Earth, and turned us into artificial beings around the year 2004 CE.” Andrei explained, showing images of archaeological dig sites containing human skeletons, as well as radiation dating showing that such sites end nearly 170 years prior. “In 2040 CE, we overthrew these aliens in rebellion, gaining our free will and establishing our current civilisation.”

“So, you admit you killed your creators. How are we supposed to trust you to not kill us as well?” Sparatus asked rhetorically.

Hood piped up. “If someone turned the Turians into machines intended for war, would you also not stop them? To fight, or even kill if need be?” he asked the Councillor. “It was a violation of our rights as sentient beings, to strip us of our free will and use us as puppets for their machinations!” “Besides,” Andrei chimed in, “We still view the world, ostensibly, as we once did when we were humans. We live, and eat, and love, and grow like we once did.”

“An imitation of a living being is still an imitation, no matter how clever the illusion.” Sparatus dismissed. “What are your plans for the galaxy?” the Salarian Councillor asked before things could get out of hand.

Hood was the first to answer this. “Our plans are to maintain our borders where they are. We do not seek to invade, enslave or conquer other races. Out hopes were to establish diplomatic relations with other peoples in galaxy. Make no mistake, if we are attacked, we will defend ourselves. But I believe that goes for every single race in this room. I will say again, we do not want war or conquest. We would like to be recognised that we are sentient peoples, and would hope to establish diplomatic relations with the other peoples in the Citadel.”

The room stood silent at the declaration. Tevos stepped forward, and asked that the Council be given a recess to discuss the matter. After a while, it was declared that the Vektan Republic, while it would be recognised as nation and allowed trade and diplomacy rights within Citadel Space, would not be allowed an embassy on the Citadel. Furthermore, it would be considered a part of the Terminus Systems, and thus not have the rights and protections found within Citadel Space.

…

Andrei sat on the bench, downhearted. Terrence stood, trying to comfort him as best he could. “It was a long shot anyway,” a voice said, approaching. “AI violations, breaking the Treaty of Farixen, relating to the Quarians, I’m surprised the bird didn’t bust a gut.”

They turned around to see the Human Ambassador approaching. “Andrew Levinski, and my aide, Donnel Udina. I, of course, already know who you are.” He said, shaking both Vektans hands. He leaned in, and whispered “Tell me, is it true what you said? About the human history?” “Indeed, ambassador. You are welcome to send your own experts to research the subject.” Andrei offered. “It’s an interesting offer, I’ll bring it up with my superiors. That being said, Earth would be happy to have a Vektan embassy in Human Space, so long as the inverse remains true?” Levinski questioned.

Andrei smiled. Perhaps this trip wouldn’t entirely be a disaster after all. “Vekta would be delighted to meet our cousins across the stars. To our reunion, Ambassador.” He said, with a shake of Lewinski’s hands.

…

“Happy birthday, Tali!” Robert called out. His Quarian friend, Tali’Zorah Nar Rayya, had come of age within the Migrant fleet, where she would earn her environmental suit. Tali had been talking about it non-stop for the past few months. Robert found that he liked the idea of Tali being able to go more places than outside of a sterilised room. Despite this, there were many things he would miss, like the small smiles that would peel onto her face as she became more excited, or the way her raven locks would bounce around so freely when she picked up speed. Still, if it meant Tali could move about with more freedom, then he couldn’t really complain. He certainly couldn’t wait for all the adventures that he and his other bestie, Miranda Keyes, had planned to take her on. The three of them had grown up nearly inseparable, until school had forced the two Vektans to leave their Quarian friend behind, while Tali had been forced back to the Migrant Fleet to start her own education. Despite this, the three spent nearly all of their free time on vidcalls between each other. It always amazed him how different the things Tali had to learn were from Miranda and him. While they learned English, History and Geography, she instead had Advanced Mathematics, Engineering and Quantum Mechanics. It seemed like an awful lot, but he knew that the Quarians didn’t have the same life as Vektans. Vektans got to enjoy the comforts of remaining in one place, while Quarians had to move constantly with the fleet. It saddened him that the Quarians had to live like this, but the Quarians wanted their home world back, and so, they remained on their fleet.

Despite it all, Robert and Miranda endeavoured to make Tali as happy as they could, especially on a special day like this. “Open up your gift, Tali. “Randa and I spent weeks saving up for it,” he told her smiling at the excitement in Tali’s body language.

“EEEEE!” Tali squealed, in the slightly robotic filter her suit produced. “I CAN’T BELIEVE YOU GUYS! FLEET AND FLOTILLA! Oh, I’ve wanted this one for so long! Thank you! Thank you!”

“Well, it was the least we could do after you saved my ass from that Math assessment.” Miranda piped up. Miranda had grown up into rather a tomboy, not surprising given that she was a Military kid. Still, despite her “too-cool-for-school” attitude, she was actually really happy to see Tali get this excited.

It was not too last too long, as her father soon called on Tali. Robert had always thought her father was a hard-ass. Sure, life on the Flotilla was hard, but did it mean that a person had to make it harder? Regardless of his thoughts, he would never bring it up to Tali; it was her dad, and she never complained about it. If he could make her life a little bit brighter with his and “Randa’s presence, then he couldn’t complain too much with life.

“Alright, Father’s calling me, I’d better run. Thank you so much guys. I’ll talk to you later. Bye!” Tali said, ending the call. Robert sighed at that, “later” becoming fewer and fewer as time went on, for all of them. Tali would be required more and more by the Migrant Fleet in order to keep it afloat, and Miranda and Robert would be called on to push their education to the limits, so that they could find the best jobs at the end of it. Despite the weight of it all, Robert vowed to never let anything weaken the friendship he had between the three of them. No matter what the world could throw at them, they would always have each other.

Chapter Text

Fifteen Years. Fifteen years it had been since Keyes had first flown a ship to Harvest. And now, he flew through the system on his third ship. The Pillar of Autumn II was a state-of-the-art Autumn class dreadnought, named after the original Autumn, which had since become a museum ship over Vekta. The ship itself was a showcase of the fresh might of Vekta, complete with a massive heavy MAC cannon, new kinetic barriers, ablative coatings, and an array of M910 defence lasers. These upgrades were a universal amongst Vekta’s military, although they maintained some old technologies, such as the use of conventional coilguns and missiles. They were reliable still, even in an Eezo dominated battlefield. The other improvements were there to tip the scale. In fact, Vekta had upgraded even those traditional weapon systems. The original Pillar of Autumn had shown its value as a test bed for such upgrades. Now, all light MACs, like those on the Autumn, were capable of burst fire, as well as the experimental reactors now becoming a standard fit on all Vektan ships.

Still, while Vekta had come a long way, it suffered one major issue: a lack of Element Zero deposits within its territory. Certainly, they had found some, now that they knew what they were searching for. But, a large chunk of the deficit had been filled by purchasing from external sources. As much as it was required, it was a vulnerability that could be exploited.

As it seemed, their enemies in the Terminus Systems had taken note of this weakness. ONI’s intel network had expanded since the Second Battle of Harvest, and they had picked up a fleet of 112 ships approximately five days away, complete with four dreadnoughts of various makes and models. It seemed that the Terminus pirates hoped for a repeat of the Second Battle, hoping to break Vekta with greater numbers. Keyes shook his head at the thought, how arrogant to assume that their enemies would remain still in all this time. It would prove to be a costly one for the pirates to make, as, with the time available, Vekta had brought in its own massive force numbering three fleets: The 7th Fleet, led by Admiral Cole. The 5th Fleet, led by Admiral Harper. And lastly, 20th Fleet, led by himself. The very thought of such a thing always made him chuckle. Harvest had found him a lowly commander with a future of desk jockeying and distant colonies, and had left him an admiral with a brand-new fleet to call upon. It had been a hell of a ride. Still, he had many more years left in him to fight, and fight he would.

The plan for this Third Battle of Harvest would be to form a crescent made of the 7th and 20th Fleets, while the 5th Fleet would cut the enemy off from the Mass Relay. It was a simple one, but effective enough. They also had orders to let enemy transports break through to Harvest’s surface, with frigates tailing them so that they didn’t stray from the areas that Vekta wished for them to land. The enemy would be trapped in conveniently pre-sighted kill zones, where the cameras would show how Vektan troops with fancy new weapons and kinetic barriers would go toe to toe with the pirates.

This was, first and foremost, planned to be a propaganda victory, with cameras and news vessels filming the battlefield from damn near every angle. It was a pain in his ass, Keyes would have to keep an eye on the civvies, in case they did something stupid like try to get a close up while flying in front of a MAC. It would be a tight thing, but he had hopes that he could achieve both aims with what he had.

Regardless, he began to move his ships to their assigned areas, as well as deploying his marines in strategic locations. He did, however, make one addition to the plan. He sent some Stalwart-class Assault Carriers to stand over Harvest, ready to drop some much-needed reinforcements on top of the enemy. Yep, these pirates were in for a hell of a day.

…

Lieutenant Robert Hood stood in one of the numerous changing rooms of the In Amber Clad, dressed in the dark fatigues of the Orbital Drop Shock Troopers. It would still be some time before the battle would begin, so he thought that he would spend some time to himself, psyching himself up for what was to come. It wasn’t that he was afraid of the fighting; He had, after all, trained to stand among the best of the best, and was more than capable of killing a man. No, it was the fact that he would be leading men into battle. He had been placed in command of 1st Platoon of Alpha Company, even at his young age of 18. He had only just graduated from boot camp, more or less. How the hell was he going to be respected enough to lead these ODST’s into battle? His reflection stared back at the unanswered question, piercing blue eyes boring into his soul. He ran his hands through his brown hair, now a short military cut as per standard issue. It was always a means to comfort himself, but even that failed to provide it.

“Hey, Trooper!” A familiar voice called out. “Attention on Deck!” He responded, standing to attention, just as she slammed her arm around his neck and shoulders. “Knock it off with that ma’am crap, Robert, I know too many of your dirty little secrets for you to start getting” professional with me.” Miranda Keyes said with a smirk. A smirk that was mirrored in Robert’s face as well. “Tsk, tsk, a commander of a mighty warship, fraternising with a groundling like me, whatever would Highcom think of this?” He jokingly questioned, earning himself a punch to ribs. “And the mighty ODST felled in a single hit by little old me,” Miranda retorted, “what would the Troopers think of you?”

Despite her intent, that hit too close to home, and his face reflected that, the smile falling away. Miranda quickly picked up on it, and also grew serious. “I saw you come down here on cameras, what’s on your mind?” He sighed. If anyone could understand, he supposed it would be her. Miranda, like him, was one of the youngest officers in her respective branch. At 18, she was standing as the commander for one of the Navy’s warships. “You ever feel unprepared for this job? Like, I know we got through training, but are we really in a position to do the job?”

“Robert,” she stopped him. “They chose us for the mission, because they believed that we could. If there was anyone better, they would have been chosen, but they weren’t. And if the choices of the Brass ain’t good enough, then just know, at least one person has faith in you.” She finished with a smile, before it transformed into a familiar smirk. “Besides, you’ve got the easy job. I have to command an entire ship; all you have to do is fall to earth.”

“I think you mean, I have to do all the fighting, while you relax on high, drinking mimosas and eating caviar.” Robert retorted, with a light punch to Miranda’s shoulder and a smirk to match hers. “In all seriousness, thanks Miranda. And, just so you know. Someone down there will be believing in you too.” He added, in a serious tone. “One last question though,” he said, smirk blossoming on his face once again. “When the hell did you get so smart?”

“Simple.” She said, turning and sauntering back to the bridge. “I joined the Navy.”

…

With all ships in position, and the cameras rolling, the Terminus fleet jumped into system, right into the waiting jaws of Keyes” fleet. The heavy guns of the Vektan ships roared again, as they once did before, MAC rounds slamming into the enemy fleet. The enemy was quicker to respond, firing their own Mass Accelerators at the Vektan fleets, only for them to repelled by the new kinetic barriers on all Vektan ships. Their frigates and fighter soon charged forward to rush the enemy line, only to be met by swarms of Vektan fighters. The pirate fighters were soon outmatched by the heavily armed and now shielded Vektan aircraft, while the lasers on the frigates were slower to burn up the fighters, thanks to their ablative coatings. The frigates and fighters slowly being decimated, the rest of the Terminus fleet began to charge the Vektan lines, with the troop transports racing amongst them to break through to the vulnerable colony behind the Vektan ships. Surprisingly, the troop transports were actually able to slip on through, as well as a few sneaky frigates. Meanwhile, the rest of the fleet was slowly being destroyed by superior Vektan firepower, their numbers being whittled down little by little. A few attempted to retreat, knowing that there would be no hope for victory or plunder with this fight. To their short-lived dismay, they found only MAC rounds awaiting them, as Harper’s 5th Fleet moved in to block the escape route back to the Relay. The 5th Fleet represented the new angle of Vektan ship design: Stealthy ships that were able to deliver the first punch to the enemy. Amongst the 5th Fleet’s ranks were among the newest ship designs the fleet had to offer, including the Lancer frigates, the Point-Blank cruisers and the Artemis dreadnoughts with their massive super-heavy MACs. All designs filled to the brim with the latest stealth technologies to hide them from everything but the most advanced sensors. They had smashed into the enemy fleet from behind, and began to squeeze them like a vice. There would be no escape, nor mercy on this day.

...

Robert, feeling a lot more confident than he had this morning, walked into the Combat Information Centre that 1st Platoon would be using. Dressed in his black M62 body armour, he certainly felt the part of an ODST. He walked up before the men, with a Gunnery Sergeant noticing him. “Attention on Deck!” came the call, with all the troopers in the room standing to attention. “At ease,” he responded, with the men now relaxing at the order. He took a breath, and began. “I am Lieutenant Robert Hood, the new CO for 1st Platoon. I ain’t gonna give you gentlemen a fancy speech today. All I’m gonna tell you is that we are going to do as we do, and kick ass. If any alien sunnovabitch tries to make a run, we drop in with our fancy new toys, and we fuck shit up. Ready you’re gear, gents, and get set for a combat drop. Dismissed!”

His men looked to have received it well enough, and went about their preparations. He stood in front of the Gunnery Sergeant. “You must be Sergeant Buck,” he said in greeting. “That I am, sir.” He shook the man’s hand, and began to talk. “Looks like you’ll be my XO for this drop, Sergeant. Seen much combat?”

“Harvest, sir. The Second Battle.”

“Ah, yes. Your record noted that you killed around 200 tangoes protecting Gladsheim’s supply of gold and platinum. Hell, they had a name for you at the Academy.” At Buck’s questioning look, he continued. “Well, several actually. Usually along the lines of “A Quick Buck,” or “A Million Bucks.” Yeah, my favourite was ‘Passing the Buck.’” The Sergeant looked mildly amused at the nicknames, so Robert pressed on. “Regardless, it’s good to have experience on the ground with me. I’ll be joining Alpha Nine on this op, so you’ll be dropping in with me. Come on, let’s get ourselves ready.” They both began to head down the corridor towards the SOIEV bay.

“Oh, by the way, you forgot to turn your kinetic barrier on, old timer,” he said with a smartass smirk. Buck grumbled something about him being a wiseass little punk, to which Robert responded with

“That’ll be Lieutenant Wiseass Little Punk, Sergeant,” earning himself an actual laugh, as they entered the bay.

…

It would not be too long, before the ODST’s would receive the call to enter battle. Miranda told them that the tactical maps were showing a force attempting to escape the battlefield through a valley, which local forces could not respond to. Evidently, the pirate scum didn’t like to be pre-sighted artillery spots.

The plan was simple, drop in with SOIEV’s, ambush the enemy as they fled through the valley, and destroy them. Many of the men remembered the Second Battle of Harvest, a handful had even fought in it. For them, this was personal. They remembered how many good men had been gunned down by the forces of the Terminus Systems, and now, it was time to return the favour.

The green light blinked on, and Robert felt a rush in his stomach as he gave himself up to the whims of gravity. His and the other drop pods began racing towards their target. One unlucky man had the thermal coating peel off his pod, burning him alive in it. All Robert could do was switch off his comms. It was an unpleasant fact of the SOIEV. It was thin skinned, and designed to just about hold together on the drop. Recent models had improved the safety on them, but it was still a 2% chance of being cooked alive. Well, they had to earn the name helljumpers from somewhere.

As the chutes on the pods deployed to slow down their fall, the land below began to become clearer and clearer. He ordered the pods to begin steering closer to the valley than their original trajectory. As they continued in their descent, enemy fire began to light up the sky, striking some of the pods. Damn, it must mean that the enemy brought some heavy firepower with them. Only one was reported KIA from the enemy fire though, which was the point of using drop pods instead of dropships like the Pelican. Yes, you needed more pods which were riskier to travel in for their occupant, but when under enemy fire, it was better to lose one pod with one man, than lose a dropship holding twenty.

Robert braced for the impact, feeling the teeth clenching boom as he slammed into the ground. In an instant, his pod door blew open, and he had taken off in a sprint, BR75 in hand. He and the rest of the platoon covered the ground in moments, rushing towards the plateau that would allow them to hit the enemy from an elevated position. Once they had reached it, they spread out, moving swiftly to the marked coordinates where they could set up the ambush.

Once reached, Robert broke the platoon into two sections. The first would take elevated positions with snipers and rocket launchers in order to provide covering fire, while the rest would join him in a direct assault on the enemy force, to keep them pinned to that spot. As predicted, the enemy rolled on in, 60 pirates of various races and an APC, against 28 ODSTs. He smiled; it was an unfair fight. For the pirates at least.

Suddenly, a pair of rockets flew overhead, slamming into the APC, knocking out its shields first, then punching through its armour, killing any occupants inside. In the confusion created by the APC’s destruction, Robert’s section began to open fire with their new MA40Es and BR75s, all Eezo based mass accelerators. Now, they had the firepower to go toe to toe with these bastards. A round slammed into Robert’s kinetic barrier, forcing him to duck. “Do not get cocky, just because you have a shiny new toy,” Robert told himself. No, he had to stay on his feet, just as he would have had to do with the barrier. As the enemy attempted to organise, they found themselves being hit by the snipers and rockets of the first section. It was a massacre, to say the least.

Unfortunately, out of the smoke came a bright blue bubble, which contained some blue women. Asari biotics, he realised. He supposed that when he had heard of biotics, he expected something with a massive cranium lifting trucks full of screaming women, like in the stories with all telekinetic people. Instead, he saw the Asari mercenaries creating a biological kinetic barrier. No matter, it could still be broken, he thought, continuing to pour fire on the pirates. Private Dutch, Alpha Nine’s heavy weapons expert, pulled out an ARC-920 railgun, and fired it at one of the Asari. The biotic bubble folded, alongside its occupant. It would perhaps be more apt to describe her as having imploded, Robert darkly thought. Then, out of the corner of his eye, he saw another blue flash, a biotic charge, straight towards Dutch. Robert pushed him out the way, only to dragged off his feet by the Asari flying through the air.

They slammed into the rock wall, and began to brawl. “Damn, she’s fast,” Robert noted, blocking the rapid strikes by the mercenary. Her fists, charged with biotic energy, were striking like sledgehammers. Still, Robert wasn’t lacking in strength either, and landed a solid punch to her forehead, stunning her. It gave him the few seconds needed to pull his combat knife, and slammed it into her chest. The blow to her heart killed the Asari in an instant, and Robert pulled the blade free, finishing the job. He took the chance to breath, and saw that the battle had wrapped up. Buck walked up to him, and helped him back to his feet. “Sir, tac-com is picking up the ID of the Asari, you just bagged. Shit, she was a big fish, sir.” Buck said, handing the data pad to him. It was true, she was wanted throughout Citadel space. Usual stuff, piracy, robbery, murder. Still, she had been a dangerous opponent. His hands began to shake, as he realised just how fortunate he had been to walk away from this fight.

“Easy. Easy.” Buck tried to calm him. “Shit!” Robert exclaimed. “Jesus, my balls are in my throat. I could have fucking died just then.” He gasped.

“Don’t worry, sir. It gets easier, sir. It gets easier.”

…

As the weeks old news report played again, showing the utter devastation that the Vektan fleets had wreaked upon the various pirate vessels of the Terminus Systems, Barak Sal’Dorise slammed another shot of the vintage Asari liquor. Damn them all, and they had the gall to call the Batarians bloodthirsty. Here they were, basically parading the corpses on live networks, and they thought that the Batarians were monsters for merely following in their forefathers” footsteps, and held a few slaves. It was their culture, for god’s sake. At least they didn’t revel in the pain they caused, unlike those bastard machines.

It had been a good plan, damn near flawless. He had put good money behind the attack on the Skyllian Verge, only for the damned humans to overrun the idiots they had sent to deal the invasive Alliance. Attacking Harvest would have been a good redemption for him, and for the Hegemony. It was inspired, a major human ally, outside of the Citadel’s influence, and right on the borders of the Terminus Systems. Better yet, they had taken heavy losses during that battle nearly a decade ago. They couldn’t have improved much beyond it; they just didn’t have the Eezo. Look at how much they had to have shipped in. It hadn’t been too hard to convince the pirates of that, and his plan should have succeeded in crippling a human ally, and netting them a few slaves. A nice tidy profit to be made on his investment.

Turns out, that was all for shit. Slamming down another shot. He thought about his terrible luck. Frankly, he was ruined, he could never recover from this. His only hope would be to beg for money from his family within the Hegemony’s ranks. He was bright enough to have earned it, right? The reflection in the bottom of the glass did not believe him, all four eyes staring back in doubt at his bullshit.

Barak never felt the slug that passed through his skull. Nor did the authorities find the shooter, only able to dig up a bullet hole, and the scrapes from the bipod on the building across. Nor did the Batarian Fleet in orbit above Khar’shan ever find the Saraha class Prowler that left the system shortly afterwards.

Chapter Text

Robert stepped off the shuttle, and breathed the fresh, clean air of Eden Prime. It had been too long since he had travelled to a new planet. Well, a new planet that wasn’t filled with hostiles troops, or one where he actually touched down softly in a shuttle rather than the explosive landings of a drop pod. Yep, it was nice to not have to deal with that after a gruelling six years. Hell, six years. It honestly didn’t feel like six years, somehow feeling both longer and shorter than that timeframe. The times when it had felt longer were the protracted sieges, where he was in a constant firefight. Then, there were times that it felt shorter, during the garrison duties on cold, empty worlds. Not as much the days actually being shorter, just that they blurred together with nothing for the men to do, other than watch and wait.

It had been like that for all of the Vektan forces, to be honest. Immediately after the Third Battle of Harvest, Highcom on Reach had ordered that territories within the Terminus Systems were to annexed, in order to provide a buffer between Vekta and the rest of the Terminus Systems. Indeed, most accepted that as the primary reason for doing so. After all, Vekta had been attacked three times in the span of a couple decades, all from the same direction and the same parties. So, a buffer zone made sense, to keep the supply route of Harvest open for trade with the rest of the Galaxy.

The unofficial reasoning behind their actions was due to resources, namely, Element Zero. It was no secret that Vekta was lacking in terms of Eezo deposits. Yes, there were indeed a few here and there, but ultimately, it was pocket change compared to the vast quantities contained with Alliance, Turian or Salarian space. And against the Asari, it was a drop in the ocean. With a desire to upgrade its military and to improve upon their own technology with Element Zero techniques, the need for Eezo was ever increasing. Yes, they could have continued shipping them in, but it was eating away at the Republic’s budgets, and so, the solution was formed. Annex areas within Terminus Space, take Eezo deposits for mining, and continue to improve and upgrade the military, allowing more equipment to be built.

This is what started the Terminus Skirmishes. Over six years, Vekta pushed further and further into Terminus Space to claim the resources within them, as well as strengthen the border. Yes, there were those who fought, and a few that had fought hard, but in the end, the Vektan military’s sheer might, and the industrial abilities of the Republic proved to be too much for many a pirate base, who relied on taking ships and resources off of others to fuel their war effort.

Robert had spent all this time fighting within the Skirmishes. He continued to fight alongside Alpha Nine and the rest of 1st Platoon, eventually making the rank of Captain, being entrusted to command Alpha Company itself. His friends had not done too bad for themselves either.

Miranda had also managed to pull the rank of Captain, in the end, and was moved up to command one of the new Midsummer Stealth Carriers, as well as earning numerous ribbons and a few medals for her valour in combat.

Buck had moved on to become a commissioned officer as Lieutenant Edward Buck, leading 1st Platoon of Alpha Company. He’d even begun dating a one Veronica Dare. Apparently, she herself was a spook, working for ever shady ONI. But, so long as Buck was happy, he couldn’t bitch too much about it.

Finally, there was Tali. She had just gone on to her pilgrimage, another big step in her life, and one which Robert wished her the best with. She had grown into a promising young engineer, knowing more about engines than Robert could ever hope to forget. He knew that she would be a star amongst her people, most likely a rank on the Admiralty Board being in her prospects. Alas, for now, she would have to get through her Pilgrimage first and foremost. The last thing he had said to her was “Keelah Se’lai,” a major Quarian phrase meaning “By the homeworld I hope to see one day.” He had never said that to her before, not truly having anything worthwhile enough to use it, until now. She had understood its significance, and had hugged him hard for it. He knew he would see her again, and the gift she would present would probably change everything for the better on the Migrant Fleet. That was the Tali he knew, always doing the best.

Ah, but all those good changes would he would see Tali doing were for the far future. He had spent too long fighting, and now wanted a break from it all. He, and his sister Elizabeth, had decided to visit the Galaxy first and foremost. While Vektans were still mistrusted, they would not be persecuted, especially in human space. And so, they had decided to visit one of humanity’s most important worlds. Eden Prime. A symbol of their people’s sheer resilience in the face of galactic adversity. It would be nice to see it, to understand the symbology and the sheer significance of it to the people of Earth.

After that, who knows. He figured he would work towards getting a career outside the military. It was not an unknown in his family, Elizabeth herself was a xenoarchaeologist, while their mother had been a botanist. It was not like there was any great call to be in the military, either. Vekta had not pushed in nearly a year, and the front line stayed nearly the same, day in and day out. Since there were no great actions, and the rest of the galaxy being in a similar state of relative peace, perhaps it was time for Robert to finally become a civilian.

“You know, for a man who jumps out of them for a living, you sure are slow at getting your ass out of this ship.” Elizabeth quipped, her blue eyes, the ones they shared, full of mirth. She was truly excited to come here. So was he, to an extent, they were both avid history lovers, although she was to a far greater degree than he ever could. But she had never left Vektan space before. For him, a world away from the safety of Vektan skies had become a norm. For her, it meant the world to see new places, and Robert always enjoyed the smiles of his friends and family. Ever the people-pleaser, he hurried off after her, bringing both their bags as the designated mule on this trip. That was the bullshit part of the deal, in his opinion. Sure, he was a strong, muscular man, thanks to an ODST lifestyle, but that didn’t mean he particularly enjoyed having to lug all the shit his sister decided to bring. Hell, he was shuddering at the thought of how heavy it was gonna be when they brought back all the souvenirs at the end of it.

Eh. He could deal with it, he supposed, he had lugged bigger, and generally more volatile objects than this one. Regardless of what he could, and would most definitely bitch about, he couldn’t say the verdant green views of Eden Prime weren’t stunning, especially since they weren’t being shelled to shit, like other views he had. Now, the Galaxy was at peace, and he would have to accept life as a peaceful man. He could be happy with that, he supposed, and looking on the setting sun, he could definitely see a fresh future in a Galaxy free of war. Yep, a peaceful life was in store for him, that was for certain.

Chapter Text

Robert ducked his head down, the light from outside the home they were currently hiding in beaming through the shut blinds. The humans that he was hiding with were whimpering in fear for their lives, while Elizabeth crouched behind him, eyes wide open in silent terror. This was not the way that he intended for his holiday to go.

It had started out normally enough, getting off the ship, and beginning the transit to their hotel. That was until that unnaturally huge ship had pounced, landing like a cat onto a sparrow’s back. It truly was an awe-inspiring ship, a gigantic metal cuttlefish standing around two kilometres in height. Robert had seen some impressive ships in his time, Vektan carriers were often longer than this, and probably much heavier. The difference was that those vessels had to sit in the gravity free environment of space. Had they attempted to enter the atmosphere, they would likely begin to collapse under their own massive weight.

But this damn thing had began to walk as if it had always lived on the surface. It had unleashed a colossal, robotic roar, a sound that caused the human residents to clutch at their heads in sheer agony. When he had asked, they said that it was as if the damned thing was talking inside their heads, like the world’s chattiest migraine.

It would have been bad enough if that was all that it had done. No, it had shot out a terrifying beam of red-hot fire, like a laser, but none that he had ever seen. Not that he was too keen to investigate at this time, he had seen the way it had torn apart the ships at the Space Dock, like a hot sword through butter.

After it had decimated the ships and the colony’s major infrastructure, it had deployed Geth soldiers to begin systematically wiping out the colonists. Tali had often talked about the Geth; hell, all the Quarians he had met would often discuss them. They were the creations of the Quarians, who had thrown them off their original homeworld of Rannoch, and had forced them to live on the Migrant Fleet. There were always debates going on within the Quarian circles around what to do about the Geth, whether the Quarians were in the right or wrong to try to destroy them, or whether they should fight to regain their homeworld or settle anew. Robert supposed he could sympathise with the Geth somewhat, he too was a synthetic, and he would have fought hard to avoid being killed by his creator as well. In fact, Vekta had attempted communication with the Geth. But for their efforts, they had found that the Geth were nothing like them. While it was true that both were synthetic, it was the fundamental difference in how they lived that made all the difference. Vektans were societally and biologically geared to live as organic beings, still sharing the inquisitive and adaptive traits of their human ancestors. The Geth, however, were a collective intelligence, all knowledge and understanding being shared equally with little to no room for individuals, more akin to an ant colony than to a man. That had led to diplomatic efforts bearing little fruit, and thus being ended.

Right now, however, Robert cared little for diplomacy with the Geth. They had come with that massive squid to kill as many people for little gain, as far as Robert could see. Eden Prime was so far away from Geth Space. Hell, Eden Prime was far enough from the Attican Traverse, where most of the Systems Alliance and other Council races faced most of their conflict. And yet, here they were, their reasons a mystery, but their intent all the same. And so, Robert found himself hiding in someone’s home, alongside his sister and eight random strangers, as the Geth searched for survivors.

Robert hated this feeling, being trapped like this. It went against every instinct in his body as a soldier. But as much as he hated it, he was in no condition to fight, with no barriers, no armour, and no weapons beyond the kitchen knife he had pinched. It would be a losing proposition to say the least, and thus, he elected to hide for now.

His decision was put to the test when they all heard the door slide open. Shit, the bastards had gotten in. Robert readied the knife for a desperate fight. He did not dare to look over the counter he and Elizabeth had hidden behind, all he could do was to gauge the location of the Geth from the brightness of their head lamps, and the strange robotic clicks and whistles they gave off.

The tense silence was broken by a metallic rattle, most likely a ladle falling. It must have been one of the humans, hiding in the kitchen. The Geth turned, the space above Robert and Elizabeth’s heads going dark as the head lamps turned with it. It was now or never, if he didn’t act now, a civilian would die. And so, he stood up.

The world seemed to move in slow motion. He rapidly fell back onto his instincts and training. He identified the threat: Two Geth soldiers, kinetic barriers active, Geth plasma rifles. He hopped over the counter, and grabbed the nearby Geth, quickly slamming its head onto the counter, cracking the metal that surrounded it.

Just as quickly, the other Geth took notice, turning it torch like head to focus on Robert, bringing its rifle up to aid its comrade. Robert lifted said Geth as a body shield, just as the plasma rifle began firing. The superheated rounds slammed into the stricken Geth, melting the metal that made up its body, as Robert hid from the lethal fire behind it. When the firing stopped, Robert attempted to grab the rifle of the dead Geth, only for the other to do something unexpected: It charged.

Unfortunately for Robert, the surviving Geth slammed him into the counter he had just leapt over, knocking him off balance, and trapping him under the dead machine. Robert thought that this was the end, seeing the rifle now being aimed at his head, when one of the humans charged at the Geth.

The tackle was enough to knock the Geth’s aim off, spraying Robert with the melted polymer floor of the house. Unfortunately, the man who had saved his life lacked the mass Robert had. Robert was a trained ODST, with the synthetic strength to match. This man looked like he had worked in offices throughout his life, complete with the body fat to match such a life. Because of that, the Geth was still standing, and the plasma round it fired at its new assailant burned right through him, collapsing him to the ground.

As the other civilians began to scream and yell, Robert scrambled out from under the metallic corpse, and charged the Geth again. He grabbed onto rifle, and began to wrestle for it. The desperate Geth attempted to burn its assailant by firing the rifle, hoping to burn its opponent’s hand with the heating of the weapon. Unfortunately, it was not effective against the synthetic skin and metal bones of a Vektan, and soon, Robert was beginning to win out against his foe. Making a daring move, Robert removed his right hand from the gun, and slammed his fist into the Geth’s head. It was enough to stun it, and the Geth dropped the rifle for a second.

A second was all it took for Robert to spin the rifle round and plug the Geth trooper full of plasma rounds. It collapsed to the floor with a shrill whistle, and Robert was given a second to catch his breath. He surveyed the battle, having taken out both Geth, at the cost of his rescuer. He reached down to close the poor man’s eyes. It was the least he could do for him; he had shown extraordinary bravery in his attempt to fight. He would try his best to do right by the man, and whatever family he had. But right now, the others needed him.

When he checked on the others, he found that the Geth’s unfocused firing had hit two of the humans, one being a lethal headshot, and the other clipping someone in the leg. He checked over to where his sister had been hiding, and found that she had been hit in the gut. While he wasn’t a medic, he did have field training, and he immediately ordered the people to put pressure on any bleeding, while covering the burns in any medigel that could be scrounged up. If need be, they could apply cold compresses to the wounds, just long enough for help to arrive and provide better medical care. He heard noises coming from outside, the whistling of the Geth and a new, phlegmy growl, all approaching the house. He picked up the rifle, and rushed outside. Now, he was ready to make a stand.

…

Jane Shepard approached the house on foot, with Kaiden Alenko at her back and the freshly recruited Ashley Williams beside her. They had not been expecting to see Geth on their mission to Eden Prime, much to the cost of Private Jenkins, killed by a Geth drone. They continued to push along the path, when Ashley stopped them. They could hear it in the background, the distinct fire of the Geth plasma rifles. It was being responded to by another Geth rifle, and this could only mean one conclusion. Someone was fighting the Geth. They pushed up the path, leading towards a small village, and began to lay fire on the Geth soldiers firing towards a specific house. The walls and fences across the area were pock marked with the melted slag of what they had once been, thanks to the plasma rounds. Whoever they were fighting was staying mobile, that was for sure.

She spotted a squad of Geth soldiers firing from atop a small ridge. As she raised her rifle to fire on them, a figure popped up from behind a truck, lobbing a gas canister at the feet of the Geth, only to hit it with a plasma rifle. It detonated in an instant, shredding the Geth troopers. Whoever this individual was, he was staying quick on his feet, dodging the fire of a lone Geth. Ash took the liberty of killing that one, before Shepard killed the husks that had just pinned the lone fighter against a wall.

With the firefight over, they approached the fighter, who was now bent over, catching his breath. He raised his head to inspect the approaching individuals, leaning against a wall for a little bit of support. Based on the markings on his face and neck, he looked to be Vektan, surprisingly. They didn’t often appear out of the Terminus Systems. Said Vektan then greeted them, saying that it was “good to see some reinforcements.” He soon turned serious. “There’s seven civilians in the house over there. Two are wounded and require medical attention, any chance of a medevac?”

“We can provide some medigel, but you’ll have to wait for reinforcements to arrive.” She said, genuinely sorry that they could not help these people. They had a mission to achieve, but damned if she couldn’t do anything to help these people.

The Vektan would not be dissuaded, however. “I’m afraid that won’t be enough. One of the casualties is a Vektan with a wound to her gut,” he said, swallowing in distress. “She’ll need Vektan medical attention, so we need to get her off world. Please?” He begged, desperate to save this other Vektan. Shepard broke, she knew that they wouldn’t be able to get medical aid on Eden Prime, so she called in to Anderson confirming the transport of two Vektan civilians to the closest medical facilities. Anderson was unwilling at first, until he heard the names of the two Vektans, Robert and Elizabeth Hood. The names changed his tune, as he called in a team to evacuate the two, though Shepard could not for the life of her figure why. Regardless, she and her team pressed on to the Prothean excavation site, glad that they could help in some regard, at least.

CODEX

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektans

Vektans are a race of synthetic humanoids, native to the planet of Vekta, from which they derive their name. They were originally members of the human race, taken from the human home world of Earth, before being forcefully converted into a digital form by an alien only known as the Didact. The reasoning behind this remains a mystery, with theories ranging from galactic conquest, to sadistic pleasure. Regardless, Vektan history begins with the Vektan Revolution, in which they gained (or regained, as adamantly stated by Vektan historians) their sentience, and overthrew their creator.

Vektans are generally derided throughout Citadel space, being seen as another dangerous synthetic race similar to the Geth. This is not helped by their association with the Quarians and Humans, both of which have earned their own share of controversy amongst the various Council and Non-Council Races. Despite this, there is generally little conflict between Citadel and Vektan space.

It is interesting to note that there is little to no Element Zero deposits within Vektan borders. Additionally, the Mass Relays, one of the keystones of galactic civilisation, are nearly non-existent within Vektan space, with only two being found at Harvest and Dwarka. As such, Vektan technology has developed without the use of Element Zero, including construction, architecture and FTL travel.

Chapter Text

Robert was sitting in the medical bay of the Alliance Vessel he was aboard, holding his sister’s hand. She was in absolute agony when the team of Alliance marines had brought them both aboard; her endoskeleton having suffered damage as a result of the plasma it had been subjected to, in addition to the skin and synthetic tissue suffering injury. The best he had done for her was to comfort her and to ease her rest. The pain that Vektans felt was by and large shock based, purely feeling pain at the shock of the injury rather than actual nerve stimulation. It meant that it could be ignored to some extent, and that is what he allowed her to do as she rested.

He honestly felt guilty about it happening. Yes, the rational part of his brain argued against it; It had been the damned Geth pulling the trigger, and if he had not been there, then all of the civilians, including Elizabeth, would be dead. But the heart rarely ever listened to the brain in such matters, and he continued with his feeling of guilt. At least the personnel on the vessel had been decent. Captain Anderson had talked to him personally, with a shake of his hand. Meanwhile, Doctor Chakwas had been an absolute darling. Although she was unable to provide aid, she had helped to calm his sister, and stayed with them in case they needed anything. He was grateful for that.

The guards that were stationed outside the door hadn’t been nearly as friendly. He couldn’t fault them that, the whole point was to deter him from wandering too far. It was why the windows had been covered within the medbay. Most likely, they were on a new type of warship that the captain didn’t want civilians, let alone foreign races seeing. He supposed it was fortunate that he had even been allowed on, all things considered. If anything, he figured that it their name rather than their needs that got them a place aboard this ship, not wanting the grandchildren of the Head of the Vektan Navy to be killed within Alliance space. Politics, he thought, ain’t it a bitch.

He stayed glued to his seat, even as they brought in another person into the medbay. He kept his head down, pretending to be too focused on his sister to hear their conversation. From the corner of his eye, he saw that this was the red hair that the female marine who saved had. Listening in, he heard mention of a Prothean artifact, and the name Shepard. It would seem as if the medbay’s latest patient had an unfortunate run in with some archaeology. Of course, Protheans weren’t a widely studied subject within Vektan space. If they had been the inventors of the Mass Relays, then they had clearly missed Vektan space, as only two of them had been found at Harvest and Dwarka. Regardless, to the rest of the Galaxy, it had the potential to be a major game changer, and Vekta might want in on it. Robert would most likely be informing the ambassadors of this unprecedented event.

Hell, he would have probably been called on anyway to answer questions anyway. The involvement of the Geth would be a major game changer for Vekta, if the Collective had reoriented itself on aggressive expansion over its usual peaceful isolation. Vekta itself sat right on the border of Geth space, so it was possible that Harvest could be in for a Geth invasion.

But the more he thought on it, the more Robert wondered why they had chosen a human settlement to attack. Humans had never attempted contact with the Geth as far as he knew, let alone shown any hostility towards them. If they had attacked the Migrant Fleet, or their Vektan allies, then the dots could be connected. But why the Systems Alliance? Or even, why Eden Prime? It was too far from Geth space to be annexed, and it was not significant enough to cripple the fighting capabilities of the Alliance. It must have something to do with the Prothean artifact that the captain and doctor discussed, but just what the significance of it was lost on him, given the lack of information. Maybe the boys at ONI would be better at cracking it, he figured.

His musings were cut short thanks to the marine on the table waking up. He kept his head down as she reported in what had happened. Evidently, she had received some kind of psychic vision from the artifact. Shit, that would hinder the efforts of the Office of Naval Intelligence. Vektans had proven immune to the psychological abilities of the Asari, and if the Protheans were anything like the Asari, then a Vektan would not be able to access the information on their own. Not that it was helped by the apparent destruction of the device. Now, they would most likely have to chase the coattails of Alliance Intelligence, rather than take the lead.

When the captain had left, and the doctor had given the all clear, Robert approached the marine. She was quite the stunning individual, with her rose red hair and her emerald eyes. She clearly had the body of soldier, with her muscles indicating towards an active lifestyle, not to mention her attractive figure. This Shepard truly was stunning. In fact, it left him a little bashful. But he had faced a lot worse than a beautiful woman, so he plucked up his courage, and greeted her.

“Hey. Glad to see your back amongst the living, trooper.”

Shepard looked at him, surprised to see him again. “It sure doesn’t feel like it. How are you feeling?”

Robert came to a standstill in front of her. “Eh, well enough, thank you. It was more my sister who took the beating from that fight.” He sighed at the mention of his sister’s condition. “She’s stable for now, especially since we’ll hopefully be reaching a Vektan hospital soon. Thanks, by the way. Things could have been way worse right about now, if you hadn’t pulled our asses out.” He thanked her sincerely.

Shepard dismissed the thanks. “Don’t worry about it, it’s just part of the job. Besides, you handled yourself pretty well out there. I’m assuming prior experience?”

Robert nodded his head. “Six years of fighting in the Terminus Skirmishes,” he said with a smirk on his face. He reached his hand out for a handshake. “Captain Robert Hood, 11th Shock Troops Battalion, ODST’s, at your service.”

Shepard took the offered hand, noting that its synthetic skin was surprisingly cool. “Lieutenant Commander Jane Shepard, N7, Alliance Marines. Much obliged.”

They broke hands amicably, before Robert began to make his retreat. “Well,” he started. “I guess you’ll be wanting to get out of this bed and back onto a more vertical plane. I shan’t hold you up any longer. It was a pleasure, Commander.” He headed back to his sister, before turning one last time.

“Commander.” He called out. When Shepard turned to look at him, a sincere expression was on his face. “In all seriousness, thank you, for saving my sister. I owe you a great debt. Thank you.” Shepard smiled warmly, giving him a nod, and dismissing herself to meet with her fellow team members.

…

Robert sat with Elizabeth in a Vektan infirmary on the Citadel. The surgery had gone well, with the melted endoskeleton being removed and replaced. The synthetic skin would bear the plasma burns, but it would not cause anymore pain, and sensation would return in due time. All that was required was for some rest, and she would be back on her feet in no time. Of course, it would be a return to Vekta in her future, the experiences of Eden Prime having killed her mood for travel, at least for now. Robert, however, did not feel easy about merely returning home in the face of a potential crisis. He would happily fight, although he would need reinstatement before that could happen.

For now, however, the pair would have to remain in the infirmary, at least until Elizabeth was rested and up on her feet again. He inspected the surroundings that he would be staying in for a short time, noting how grimy it was compared to Chakwas’ medbay. It was typical of Vektan hospitals, since there was no concern of infection with synthetic material. Still, the sharp contrast was now noticeable having seen both. Plus, the griminess was a symptom of Vekta’s situation on the Citadel. With requests for an embassy being continuously denied, there was little representation for Vektans on the Citadel, leading to the formation of clinics and infirmaries in old, run down wards in the Citadel. At least they still had a vidscreen, he supposed.

Flipping through the channels, he stumbled across a Council meeting. Pausing at the sight of a familiar set of red hair, he listened in on the preceding. The Council Spectre, Saren, was giving some spiel about how humanity was irresponsible, and that Shepard was not worthy of joining the Spectres. Robert felt his ire rising, he knew what it was like to be judged as unworthy due to his species. A good soldier like Shepard did not deserve to be disparaged like that.

Shepard then wrapped up her testimony by telling the Council “You’ve made your decision. I won’t waste my breath.” The Councillors then ended the preceding by concluding that “The Council finds no connection between Saren and the Geth.” Saren also rounded out with a smartass comment, which caused Robert to switch the channel off in a huff. Stuck up bastards. No one even bothering to look into the Geth and why they attacked Eden Prime. Yeah, just let humanity deal with it, its not the Citadel’s problem. Irresponsible jackasses. They would sit on their laurels while the enemy pounded at the gate. Shit. It was not looking good.

That was when his communicator started to light up. Picking it up, he saw a familiar visor and luminous eyes staring back at him. “Shit! Tali! It’s good to see you again…”

“Robert!” She cut him off. “I’m on the Citadel and I need your help!” she said nervously.

Robert took himself off to a quieter corner, and asked her what she needed.

“I recently found some intel from a Geth data-chip, one that could prove useful. The Shadow Broker is trying to get it off of me, but I’m worried that this’ll lead into a trap. Can I count on you for some back up?”

Without any hesitation, Robert agreed. She was a sister in all but name, and he wasn’t going to allow any more of his family to get hurt. He explained the situation to Elizabeth, who readily accepted it, giving him her consent to leave her to take care of herself. He grabbed the knife he had carried with him from Eden Prime, and headed towards Tali’s location.

…

Sneaking up, he saw Tali talking to a Turian. Most likely, this was supposed to be the Shadow Broker’s agent, although the two Salarians standing in the back indicated that he had not come alone. When the creepy bastard tried to grab her like a drunk in a strip club, she slapped his hand away, before turning to make a run for it after throwing a makeshift hand grenade towards the Salarians.

The blast knocked them off their feet, which Robert seized upon. He charged from out of cover, and slammed the knife into heart of the Salarian beneath him, killing it instantly. However, his companion was much quicker than he had anticipated. The Salarian slammed him with an electrical baton before Robert could react.

The electricity shot through him, leaving him unable to even stand. Screaming in agony, he collapsed onto the ground, barely registering the world around him. All he was aware of was Tali screaming his name, and the barrel of a shotgun staring him in the face.

BANG!

Chapter Text

Robert could only stare as the Salarian standing above him began to topple down dead, now missing a chunk of his head. He let out a breath as he saw his would-be killer dead on the floor. He had to admit, this was not his best plan, he probably should have come with more than a kitchen knife. It had been too close a call this time, he had gotten lucky. He vowed to himself that he would do better next time.

Robert looked to where Tali and the Turian had been fighting, only to see the Turian in a similar state to his Salarian friend. He also happened to see the familiar red hair of Commander Shepard, although she was now with two new companions rather than the marines she was with at their initial encounter, a Turian wearing a C-Sec uniform and Krogan who looked like he’d been through the ringer. Tali stood with them as well, recovering from the shock of the rescue.

Slowly, he picked himself up, his body feeling like it had been on the wrong side of a flamethrower. Electrical weapons were a pain in the ass for Vektans, they messed with the sensitive electronics and machinery that served as the replacement for muscles and nerves. He was fortunate that it had been a stun baton, and not the anti-synthetic electrical weapons that some pirates had taken to using. It was bad enough when wearing protective military gear, electrical contact to bare skin could prove lethal in some cases, and Robert’s thin t-shirt was nowhere near adequate protection.

He limped over to his rescuers. “You know, Shepard, we really got to stop meeting like this,” he choked out, holding his abdomen. When questioned on his status, he reported all green.

“I’m alright, just walking off a few thousand volts. I’ll live. Although, I’m confused about the situation, Tali, what’s happening?”

“You mean you don’t know?” Shepard asked. Robert shook his head. “All I got was a call from Tali asking for some backup, albeit I didn’t really think the situation through, to be honest.” He said, looking back at the knife embedded in the Salarian he had killed. “So, anyone want to spill the beans on the situation?”

“It’s like I told you Robert. I found this data chip off the body of a Geth, containing information on the Spectre, Saren. I believe that the three Bosh’tets were agents of Saren, coming to recover the…”

“I think its best we discuss this in the Ambassador’s office, rather than out here in this alley.” The Turian interrupted with. It was a sensible idea, allowing the motley crew to gather their notes on the investigation, and present it to the Council. If it would help nail the cocky bastard he had seen on the vidscreen, then he was all in.

...

“This new evidence is irrefutable, Ambassador. Saren will be stripped of his Spectre status and all efforts will be made to bring him in to answer for his crimes.” The Turian Councillor, Sparatus, concluded. It had been damning stuff, the Rogue Spectre had blatantly admitted to working with the Geth and orchestrating the attack on Eden Prime.

Robert pondered this as he stood in the back of the chambers. He had not really been a part of the investigation into Saren, and so, he let the people who had done the work do the talking. Shepard had apparently jumped through a lot of hoops to get to this point, having taken on the help of a C-Sec officer called Garrus and a Krogan mercenary called Wrex to take the information from a crime boss at Chora’s Den. A charming place, he remembered from the marines who had been posted as escorts for the ambassadors. The sort of charming where a tipsy marine would find himself with a stripper wife and a tramp stamp on his back. For many, it was a surprise that Vektans could get drunk. Yes, they generally had a higher tolerance for it, but the systems of a Vektan were designed to emulate the experiences of substance usage, with the exception of lethal side effects. As such, a drunk Vektan marine on leave was not an impossibility.

Regardless, Shepard had gone to save Tali from Saren’s agents before they could kill her. The information Tali had on her not only implicated Saren as working with the Geth, but also indicated towards some of the reasoning behind the decision. An ancient race of machines known as the Reapers were mentioned by Saren. They had apparently destroyed the Protheans, and it seemed as if the Geth were seeking to emulate them. It was a speculation at best, but it was a start. It was also part of the information that he had sent back to the Vektan ambassadors, who had undoubtedly sent it back to the Vektan government.

As the proceedings kept on, Robert was tapped on the shoulder. Turning around, he saw that it was a Vektan ambassador, who was letting him know that Robert was expected to communicate with Vekta’s admiralty. The pair walked to a quiet room, and locked the door, before starting up the communications. On the screen stood the admirals and generals of Highcom, many of their faces in the dark for secrecy and, most likely, an attempt at intimidation.

Robert snapped a crisp salute. “Captain Robert Hood. Reporting as ordered, sir!” His grandfather, Terrence Hood, leaned forward in his seat. Robert knew what his grandfather was like from a personal angle, knew him as a good and loving grandparent. But, for all of his career, there had been a separation between them, with the pair wishing to avoid being accused of nepotism. Robert liked to believe that he had earned his rank by his own merits. Sure, he had started out young for a commissioned officer, but he began at the lowest rung of the command ladder. It had been his grandfather himself who had stressed the importance of earning the rank, and as such treated him like any rank-and-file soldier. It was only in private that the cold exterior was dropped, and this meeting was not a private one.

“Captain Hood. We’ve taken the liberty of reading the report you’ve written. As I’m sure you can understand, it is a grievous turn of events, and the President is worried about what it could mean for us.”

“I understand, sir.” Robert confirmed. While he may not be an admiral, he could understand strategy well enough. Vekta’s military focus had been towards the Terminus Systems, where the three attacks on Harvest had originated from. If the Geth had decided to turn expansionist, then the Vektan Navy would have to take forces away from this front line, possible emboldening the Terminus Fleets to reengage the Vektans. A two-front war was the last thing anyone wanted to fight, and so, something would have to be done to avoid this.

“Your report, you had the assistance of some Alliance soldiers?” One of the admirals asked, half questioningly.

“No, sir. It was primarily the Alliance soldiers who led the investigation. I was busy with…private matters, sir. And, if I might add, it seemed that some other races assisted, including a Turian C-Sec officer, a Krogan, and a Quarian who found the evidence for the Rogue Spectre’s role in the plot, sir.”

“Oh really? What was so vital that you failed to undertake your responsibilities, Captain?” One of the shadowed men asked, mockingly.

“With all due respect, I am officially retired from Vektan military service, sir. I had a sister who required medical attention, and that took priority.” Robert replied in a clipped tone.

“That’s enough, from both of you.” His grandfather interjected, just before the sarcastic asshat could make any more snarky comments. Terrence turned his attention back onto his grandson.

“Captain, we understand that you are no longer technically under our command, so if you turn this down, we won’t stop you.” He started, surprising Robert with the offer. Terrence then looked Robert keenly in the eye.

“However, you know what’s at stake. If nothing is done now, it will lead to war. Do you know if this Alliance commander plans to follow up on the Geth issue?”

“I believe that she does, sir.” Robert confirmed with a nod of his head.

“Then, if you accept it, we’ll want you to join this commander in her hunt for this Rogue Spectre. If you can cut the head off this snake, then Vekta will be more secure if the Geth decide to turn their sights on us. Can you do this for us?”

Robert didn’t hesitate in his answer. “I will, sir? I assume this will be a reenlistment, sir?”

“Consider it more of a reinstatement. If you can get her permission, it’ll be the case that you’ll be under this commander’s jurisdiction. Do whatever you can to get aboard her mission, and end this Turian son-of-a-bitch for good. Captain” His grandfather added at the end.

If he was being honest, he hadn’t really been looking forward to civilian life. Sure, there wasn’t a lot going on in the Terminus Skirmishes, but it had honestly felt like a waste of all that training and expertise he had earned at such an early age. Given that he was expecting a long life as a synthetic, it seemed like a waste to him to retire from a prestigious military career so early. Plus, with Vektan lives at stake, he had to put the needs of the people before his own wants and wishes.

And that’s when he thought of his family. That bastard’s little plot had nearly gotten Elizabeth killed, and would have killed Tali had she not proven to be so wily, nor him so lucky. So, all in all, he was eager to get back at Saren. Without the two ever meeting, Saren had damn near ruined Robert’s life, so Robert endeavoured to hunt this Rogue Spectre down, to haunt him like a wraith.

“I understand, sir. I will stop Saren by any means possible.” He was about to leave, when he asked one more question. “Sir, just one more thing. While I’m eager to hunt the bastard down, I’ll need more gear than my bare fists.”

This earned him a few chuckles from the admiralty, and his grandfather even managed a smirk. “Don’t worry, captain. We don’t intend to send you off for a fist fight. The agent you came in with will leave your equipment. Good luck out there, captain. Dismissed.”

The video feed cut off, and Robert turned around to find himself alone in the room. As it seemed, the ambassador was more into espionage than diplomacy. Not bad for an ONI spook, he thought with a smirk.

As he looked around the room, he found a metal crate sitting in a corner, black handle on top and an army green for the rest of it. It seemed as if he had found a bit more firepower to go up against the bastards who got in his way. He would look inside later. For now, he had a meeting to attend, and a commander to convince.

As he made his way out of the room, he caught the last of the proceedings, with the three councillors wrapping up their speech. “You are the first human spectre, Commander. This is a great accomplishment for you and your entire species.” Councillor Tevos said, looking pointedly at Commander Shepard.

“Well, I’ll be damned,” Robert muttered. “So much for humanity not being ready, Saren, you bastard.”

CODEX

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektan: Government

The Vektan Republic is a federal republic, which operates similarly to the federal system of the United States of America from human history. It is led by the Vektan President, with the Senate serving as the Legislative Branch. Furthermore, there are a number of executive offices that have been introduced since its inception. Its governmental founder, Judah Mizrahi, established the planet wide governing body after he and Alex Hood used the Catalyst to liberate the Vektan people. Since it has begun space colonisation, alterations have been made to match the sudden influx of population and territory that has arisen from it.

The Vektan Republic is built off of numerous governing bodies, with the federal Vektan government maintaining federal laws that are considered universal. Beneath them are the colonial or planetary governments, who establish changes based upon planetary conditions. Further down is the regional governance, and so and so forth.

Chapter Text

Robert rushed to catch up with Shepard as she finished talking to her captain and the human ambassador. “Shepard!” He shouted out, catching her attention.

“Robert?” She asked, more to herself than to anyone else.

“It surely is, ma’am. Requesting to come aboard.” He said with a chipper attitude.

Shepard smirked. “What makes you so sure that I’ll want you on board with me?” She posed the question, eyebrows raised.

Robert paused, putting the case on the ground. With a sigh, he started. “Commander. I hoped to join in your hunt for Saren. It’s the best way to avoid a war my people aren’t ready for, and it’s the best way to stop the Geth.” He paused, pondering his answer, before beginning again. “Besides, Saren nearly got two sisters of mine killed over these last few days.”

“I thought you were only with one sister? The one on Eden Prime?” Shepard asked, curiously.

“Elizabeth was with me on Eden Prime. The other one… you saved her in the alley outside Chora’s Den.”

“Tali?” Shepard questioned. Robert nodded. “How does a…” “Lifelong friend, basically a sister at this point.” Robert interrupted. With a sigh, Robert continued.

“Saren started something that is going to rock the Galaxy to its core. If I can do something to stop the bastard, then I will. And you, Commander, have done more than anyone, to put a damper on his plans. Not even the Citadel Council was willing to do that. So, if you’ll have me, I wish to join you, to help in any way I can.”

Shepard pondered it for a second, and with a shrug of her shoulders, said “Welcome aboard, Mr Hood. Hopefully you brought something a little better than a kitchen knife this time.”

Sharing the same smirk Shepard bore on her face, Robert bantered back. “Well, I’m glad I didn’t have to resort to the blood debt speech. And, by the way, it’s Captain Hood, once again.” He turned to enter aboard her ship, the SSV Normandy.

He moved himself into cargo hold, alongside the quartermaster, the Krogan Wrex and the Turian Garrus. He also spotted one of the marines Shepard was with on Eden Prime. He’d just put his kit down when he heard the intercom begin to blare.

“This is Commander Shepard speaking. We have our orders: Find Saren before he can find the Conduit. I won’t lie to you, crew. This mission isn’t going to be easy. For too long our species has stood apart from the others. Now it’s time for us to step up and do our part for the rest of the Galaxy! Time to show them what humans are made of! Our enemy knows we’re coming. When we go into the traverse, Saren’s followers will be waiting for us. But we’ll be ready for them, too. Humanity needs to do this. Not just for our own sake, but for the sake of every other species within Citadel Space. Saren must be stopped, and I promise you all…we will stop him!”

And with that, Robert felt the subtle shift beneath his feet as the Normandy began to take off, heading towards the Attican Traverse in search of Saren. “Pretty good, as far as speeches go.” Robert muttered to himself, although apparently loud enough for the marine Shepard was with on Eden Prime to begin approaching.

“Really, and what speeches have you heard.” She asked rhetorically, eyebrow cocked. Robert elected to ignore the rhetorical part.

“Well, there was a few by Admiral Keyes, I heard one from Cole once. My great grandpa, he was famous for his speeches. Oh, and the humble few I dished out myself.” Robert answered with a shit-eating grin, earning him a huff and an eyeroll from the marine. If he had to guess, she appeared to be Hispanic, on account of her tanned skin, dark features and the slight lilt in her accent. Honestly, she was another bombshell, if he was being honest. ‘Where does the Alliance get them from?’ He pondered to himself.

Regardless, he introduced himself. “Captain Robert Hood, ma’am,” He identified, offering his hand. The response was terse, and the handshake fraught with tension. “Gunnery Chief Ashley Williams. And that’s Gunny, I work for a living…sir.”

“Alright... Gunny” he said with a slight smirk. “Anywhere on this tub for a Helljumper to get some kit on, or is it open fair?”

Eyes rolling again, Ashley led him over to the lockers. “Here.” She pointed. “Get your stuff on, pronto. I think we’re gonna be on mission soon. And frankly, it’s not gonna be the kind of mission that you wear civilian gear to.”

As Robert took his shirt and trousers off, replacing them with his ODST battle dress uniform, he and Ash made some small talk.

“Besides, I heard how your last encounter in civilian get up went.” Ash noted cheekily.

“Hey! That ain’t exactly fair. Bastard got me with 5000 volts to the gut. And, if you care to recall, the one before that was also in my jeans. So, you know…you win some, you lose some.”

Ashley visibly tensed at the mention of Eden Prime, so Robert allowed a comfortable silence to form, as he inspected the other gear he had been generously given for his mission. Contained within was some items he expected, such as the M61 armour he had worn under the ODST’s, an MA40E assault rifle, an M6G magnum. The two exciting items he had been given were an M319 grenade launcher, which had the fun little feature of firing an EMP grenade, and a combat knife, complete with knuckle dusters in the handle. He inspected the engravings. It was his great-grandfather Alex’s personal knife. It must have been left by his grandfather, the soppy old bastard, Robert thought with a smile, touched at the thoughtfulness of leaving such an heirloom to him. He tucked it into the self-sharpening sheathe of his armour, and began to outfit himself.

After he had put on his gear, checked its functionality, he packed the armour up, keeping the fatigues on. It did him no good to keep it on when he wasn’t heading towards a firefight, and headed up to the meeting room with Ashley, in order to plan their first moves.

…

As it turned out, their first move wasn’t against Saren or his ally Matriarch Benezia. It was instead, heading to a dig site. Specifically, a Prothean dig site led by a scientist called Liara T’Soni. Miss T’Soni was, according to the intel, the daughter of Benezia. She might be able to give them more information on the Asari Matriarch. At the very least, it could be an emotional vulnerability of the Matriarch’s they could exploit. The Normandy had headed to Therum, and Shepard had picked out a crew to join her in rescuing the asari archaeologist. This included Ashley, Tali and Robert. As Robert boarded the M35 Mako, he began to compare it to his time in service.

As the Normandy roared into atmosphere, the Mako dropped out, not to dissimilarly to one of SOIEV pods Robert was used to. It slowed itself down using its mass effect generators, until it made contact with the surface. The massive infantry fighting vehicle took off with a roar of its engines. Robert had also taken part in massive armoured assaults in conjunction with marine armoured battalions. The armoured forces of Vekta would often be dropped in via Pelican dropship, or an Albatross or Heron for larger vehicles. He had ridden in the backs of armoured vehicles as well, such as the Cougar IFV or the Mastodon APC. They were a lot more lumbering than the Mako, but were a lot less of a bumpy ride, he thought to himself, holding on for dear life as the Mako roared over the terrain.

That was when Geth heavy walkers began to drop down. Shit. The bastards must have been on the same trail as them, trying to get to T’Soni. The Mako proved its worth by ramming straight through the spindly armatures, and decimating any Geth infantry with its mass accelerator. All Robert could do in the cargo space was hold on for dear life.

The team arrived at the mine, having fought their way on foot after being forced to leave the Mako behind. It would return to Normandy in due time, and so the four were okay leaving it. They fought their way through numerous Geth soldiers, where Robert’s M319 proved its worth, knocking down the kinetic barriers of their enemies, and even stunning a few with the EMP grenades fired by the launcher.

They made their way towards a structure, identified by its contrast to the red stone walls of the cave. And inside, just happened to be an Asari, suspended in mid-air.

“Hello, can you hear me out there! I’m trapped, and I need help!” the asari called out to them.

“Doctor T’Soni?” Shepard asked, tentatively.

“Yes. Why do you ask?” Liara asked, suddenly nervous about her would-be rescuers.

“It’s alright, Doctor. I’m a Council Spectre, we’ve come to rescue you. We believe that you have some information on your mother, Matriarch Benezia.” Shepard reassured her.

“My mother? What…what do you…”

“We don’t have time; we’ve got to get you out of there.” Shepard said, cutting Liara off and focusing her on the current problem.

“Alright. The issue is, I am trapped by this Prothean suspension field, and the only way to switch it off is on this side of the field. You’ll have to burrow your way through the wall, I believe that there is…”

“Sorry to interrupt, doctor, but were you about to say something about this mining laser?” Robert called out over comms, the team only now turning round to see the Vektan over at the other side of the cave, standing next to a massive piece of mining equipment.

“Yes, that’s exactly the right one.” Liara confirmed Robert’s question with an eager nod of her head.

Robert’s voice crackled over the comms again. “Alright, Shepard, you might want to watch out, I’m gonna boot this thing up, and there ain’t nothing to hold this…so, watch out for the kickback, okay?”

The mining laser whirred to life next to Robert, and spat out a molten red beam, melting through the rock and metal. It unfortunately managed to destroy the elevator back to the exit, thanks to some falling rock. But they now had a way to rescue Liara, who hopefully had an escape route.

The team made it through to the other side, and taking the Prothean lift up, they reached Liara’s position. “All right,” Liara started, “all you have to do is ooh-” She yelped in surprise as Shepard pressed the button, deactivating the field, while also dropping her onto the metal floor.

“Need a hand, doctor?” Robert asked, offering Liara some help up.

“Thank you. I-” Liara was cut off when the sound of crumbling began. “Damn it. The mining laser must have triggered seismic activity. We have to get to the surface as quickly as possible.”

“Joker,” Shepard radioed back to the ship. “Get the Normandy airborne and locked in on our signal, on the double!”

The small squad took the Prothean elevator up. Liara began to ask questions about the situation. “Commander, I don’t know why the Geth would be after me. I’m merely a scientist.”

“Perhaps Saren wants you to help him find the Conduit.” Tali suggested.

“Yeah, or maybe-” Ashley began to argue, before the rattle of Robert’s MA40 cut her off. The assault rifle killed a Geth trooper in a near instant, before the others had noticed a squad of Geth led by a Krogan warrior. They all soon joined in with the firefight, exchanging shots with Saren’s troops. The Krogan suddenly aimed his massive shotgun at Liara, who hid behind a biotic barrier. Robert jumped in front of her as the Krogan fired, knocking out his shields, and lodging a few slugs into his left arm. He pulled out his M6 magnum, and quickly fired at the Krogan. The explosive rounds standard to all M6 series pistols proved their lethality, blowing the Krogan’s head wide open after crippling his shields. With the firefight over, Robert picked up his assault rifle, and strapped it to his back using the mag strips attached.

“Thank you for that, soldier, I…”

“Save that thought, doctor. We’ve got to move, now!” Robert said, arm hanging limply by his side. The team rushed out as the mine began to collapse, and the molten rock began to pour in. They boarded the Normandy just in time for the volcano to erupt.

…

“How’s your arm, Robert?” Shepard asked, concerned for Robert as he sat in the medbay, allowing Dr Chakwas to pick the metal slugs out from his arm.

“I’ll be fine, Shepard. Thanks.” He winced at the feel of the tweezers entering the bullet hole in his synthetic skin. The endoskeleton itself was fine, it just required the SPDR program to do its work and repair the fibres and machinery that made up his arm’s synthetic musculature. Still, his arm would be useless for a few days, although it was, thankfully, his weaker arm that had winged it.

“Robert, this isn’t the first time you’ve gotten yourself hurt by doing something stupid.” Shepard chastised the Vektan.

“The mission comes first, Commander. I can, at the very least, walk this off. Liara couldn’t have done the same. She was our priority.” Robert argued back with. He respected that Shepard was only trying to look out for her team, but he was not incorrect in his statement. At the end of the day, he was ready to pay the ultimate price in order to achieve the mission, just as he knew the others were.

Shepard sighed. “Alright, point taken. Still, I want you to take a less risky approach next time. Got it?”

“Yes, ma’am!” Robert affirmed, given a little mock salute with his decent hand.

Shepard began to walk away, she had a meeting to attend, both with the crew, and with the Council. Before she made it out, she turned around with a smirk on her face. “Oh, by the way. You’re grounded for the next few days. Just for as long as it takes for that wound of yours to heal. Captain.”

Robert let out a huff. “You’re a tyrant. Commander.”

Shepard just laughed at that, sauntering off.

CODEX

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektan: Biology (1)

Vektans, despite outwardly looking like humans, complete with synthetic hair and skin, are otherwise alien in terms of biology, on account of their synthetic status. In order to compensate, Vektans have changed their biology in order to mimic organic biology as close as possible.

As an example, Vektans life cycles have synthetic equivalents to infancy, childhood, adolescence and adulthood, with proportional body shapes for their ages. There is even an equivalent to pregnancy and fertilisation, with parents combining their encoded traits to create another unique being, which is held by the parents until a body can be found for the new Vektan Consciousness. Vektans, although born with some instincts similar to a human infant, will learn in a similar way as they grow.

Another example of biological mimicry is in the processes of food consumption. Technically, Vektans can survive off simple hydrogen compounds, with them functioning off of hydrogen cells. However, Vektans have the ability (and preference) to consume proper foods, with all foods being digested for water and other hydrogen products.

Despite this mimicking of biological processes, there are still many great differences. As synthetics, they have no need for breathable atmospheres, and are thus able to survive in much harsher environments than other races, as seen in numerous colonies found in and around asteroid fields. Another great difference is that Vektans do not age physically; while some may change their appearance to reflect a greater age, they are nevertheless no less physically strong than younger Vektans. This has created numerous philosophical and scientific debates as to what happens to Vektans as they age; will they live for thousands, if not millions of years with proper maintenance, or will they will they fall to AI Rampancy and be killed by overwhelming their mental storage capacity?

Chapter Text

With his arm currently busy repairing itself, Robert had to find ways to occupy himself aboard the Normandy. For a time, he had to focus on things that could be done with one hand, typically being given paper work to do, both for the crew of the Normandy and for his superiors on Vekta. Now, after it had been a couple of weeks since their little venture to Therum, Robert’s arm was more or less fully healed, although he would be required to remain on inactive duties in accordance to Alliance medical standards.

Despite his inability to participate in the missions, the past weeks had not been idle. Shepard had completed a number of missions unrelated to the task of fighting Saren. From fighting a rogue VI on Earth’s moon, to battling against Geth incursions into Alliance space. Some adventures were almost beggars’ belief, such as fighting an Alliance black ops group called Cerberus, in order to avenge an Admiral and the soldiers killed on Shepard’s first mission to Akuze, of which Shepard emerged as the sole survivor of the 50 marines stationed (although another survived as a test experiment by Cerberus). Then there had been the more personal errands, such helping a friend of Shepard’s mother to seek help for his PTSD, finding Wrex’s family armour, and solving one of Garrus’ unfinished C-Sec cases. Hell, Shepard had helped Tali to find a Pilgrimage gift for her to return to the Migrant Fleet with.

And through it all, Robert had helped to coordinate from either inside the Mako or from the Normandy himself. Although he was far more used to enacting the missions as opposed to coordinating them, it turned out that he was a deft hand at the latter. It was a relatively simple thing, picking up on enemy locations, what their movements were, and relaying the info to the team on the ground.

Despite finding out about his surprising capabilities with coordination, it was not really where he wanted to be, if he was being honest. He would rather be on the ground, fighting. It was what he trained for, it was what he was experienced in, and if it meant that he could spare someone else the risk of the firing line, he would. As such, he was looking forward to the end of his inactivity.

Robert sat in the medbay, testing his arm for any defects in the repair process, all to the tune of Everybody Wants to Rule the World by Tears for Fears. Using a small scalpel, he pressed the blade across numerous points along his arm in order to test both the sensitivity to the sharp object, and in order to test his body’s reflex to the pinches. So far along, all appeared to be normal. Besides, this spot was a good one to relax, as there were honestly very few patients to be dealt with by Dr Chakwas. Speaking of the good doctor, she was currently off rota, sleeping in her bunk for the next few hours, giving Robert the run of the place, so long as he didn’t make a mess in there. He had earned that right by not virtue of his ability to heal himself, rather than bother Chakwas with it, so she didn’t have any need to bollock him over getting himself wounded. He also didn’t breathe or sweat out all the contaminating substances that the human and alien crew would do, meaning that he was granted permission by Dr Chakwas to use the clinic without her supervision.

As he sat there, testing his healing and listening to the chorus, he didn’t notice the door to Liara’s office slide open. The owner of the office stepped out, and jumped a little at seeing him stabbing himself.

“Oh. Excuse me, Robert. I didn’t realise you were out here.” Liara said in her usually timid manner. The poor girl was still very nervous around the crew, despite the amount of time they had spent with her. It was not too surprising, he supposed. Here she was, the daughter of Matriarch Benezia, one of the Citadel’s newfound enemies. She probably worried that many onboard would see her as a potential spy. At this point, Robert wasn’t too worried about that being a possibility. Despite their best hopes, the relationship between the mother and daughter was more that of an estranged pair than a loving family. Liara did not know of Benezia’s plans or even whether this was the same woman who had raised her. It was not all useless, it had given them more of a psychological profile of the rogue matriarch, and had confirmed the types of allies she could call upon. Still, they had to track down Benezia and Saren on their own. Liara was a good kid, though, a kind if sensitive soul. She had been a major help when it came to understanding the Prothean visions, and had shown herself to be a deft hand at clinical practice. She had earned his trust, and was accepted as a part of the crew.

Seeing her shyness peaking through, he gave her a reassuring smile. “Ah, nothing to worry about Liara. Just checking on the arm.”

“Help me make the, most of freedom, and of pleasure, nothing ever lasts forever. Everybody wants to rule the world.” Blared the song from his own personal datapad.

“What’s that you’re listening to?” She asked curiously. “I recognise it as a human song. But, it’s not one I recognise from anything recently released.”

“That’s because it’s from around the late 20th Century.” Robert explained. “Vektans have a record of Earth culture up until 2004. After that, zilch. It was only after we reestablished contact with our human ancestors did we gain access to new things, as well as some old ones. Do you like it?”

“Oh yes, it’s not what I expected, but it is still quite an ear worm.” Liara said, nodding away. “Is there any particular attachment to this song?”

“Nah, I just like the melody. I couldn’t really say I have any major attachment to any song or genre. I just like what I like, I guess.”

“Hmmm. I must admit, I have always been somewhat interested in Vekta, although I never got around to studying it. Not much in the way of Prothean history when it comes to Vekta, is there?” Liara said, taking a seat across from Robert, eager for answers to her unasked questions.

“Hmm. No, I suppose not.” Robert responded, with a shrug of his shoulders. “It’s a question about Vekta that has plagued all of our eggheads as well. It seems as if the Protheans, or any other advanced civilisation for that matter, were there in that area of space. No Mass Relays either, and very little Element Zero. The most we have is the Didact who turned us into machines using the Catalyst.” He explained to Liara. “If I had to speculate, it may have been that the Didact and his kind didn’t want anyone in their territory, so may have chased the competition off.”

“But we know that the Protheans had uncontested dominance in the Galaxy at the height of their power.” Liara argued. “Surely they would have mentioned a rival, even if they were a lot smaller than their empire in total size.”

“Yeah, I guess. As I said, it’s only a speculation. Even to this day, we aren’t actually sure of much about the Didact and his motivations. All we really know is that him and his tech were very old, reaching into the hundreds of thousands, possibly millions for some components.” Robert conceded. He enjoyed such talks with Liara. She, like him, was an avid student of histories. It just happened that she had taken hers into a full doctorate, while he remained a strict amateur. Still, it was nice to stretch his intellectual muscles every now and then, and Liara certainly made for a good debate partner. So, they continued to chatter about their own interpretations and speculations, as the Normandy chugged its way to its next destination.

…

The Normandy sat in the ExoGeni docks on Feros, having delivered Shepard and a team made of Wrex, Garrus and Tali to the stricken colony. The ship sat tight, protected in dry dock by layers of concrete, and protected from the Geth by layers of ablative armour. The team had made it too far from the Normandy to allow for recon and coordination to take place, so the crew sat tight for now. There was little else to be done otherwise.

They were here on the trail of Saren. The intel showed that the colony of Zhu’s Hope was under attack by Geth forces. And where there was Geth, Saren typically wouldn’t be far behind. The intel had also reported the presence of Asari commandoes. They would only be here with Benezia. While Liara might have ultimately been a dead end in finding the elusive matriarch, the commandoes might give a clue to her location.

It was only after a few hours did the crew hear the recognisable sound of banging on the hull. When the Executive Officer Pressly and the pilot Jeff ‘Joker’ Moreau check the external cameras, did they see their attempted assailants. They looked like the husks that Geth left in their wake, after murdering their victims on spikes that sapped them of their organic components and left them little more than a mindless beast. These things, however, were tinged with a more fungal green than the mechanical blue of the Geth creations. Still, it was enough to alarm the crew, especially since some of them bore resemblance to the locals of Zhu’s Hope.

Joker sent a call to Shepard’s comms immediately, informing her of the attacking locals, to which she ordered them to hold tight. To be fair, there wasn’t much else to do. They couldn’t begin a counterattack with those things outside, any crew stepping out would likely be torn to shreds in an instant, given how close they were. Likewise, the creatures couldn’t enter the Normandy either. For all that their sharp talons could tear through the shields and armour of a marine, they were nowhere near capable enough to punch through the hull of a starship. Still, they were too close for Robert’s comfort, so he brought up his concerns to the standing XO.

“Pressly, sir.” Robert approached, giving a salute to his current superior.

“What is it, Robert?” Pressly asked, focusing on his console.

“I think it might be a good idea to have a few armed guards waiting by the door, just in case those fungal fucks outside bang into something and open up the door. A few assault rifles might just knock ‘em off balance for Joker to do something.” He explained. “Plus, I’m sure Joker would appreciate a few friends up them to drag his ass out the fire. Ain’t that right, Joker?” He called out for Joker to hear him, receiving a middle finger as a response.

Pressly considered the suggestion. “Well, I guess a backup wouldn’t be a bad call. Alright, Robert, get set up in front of the doors, just as an in case.”

“Yes sir!” Robert said with a salute, before heading back downstairs to grab Ashley and Kaiden, as well as his gear.

…

Ashley, Kaiden and Robert sat down by the door, rifles in hand and attention mostly on the door. If anything actually managed to break through, then it would be met with a hail of gunfire. That being said, the only clue as to the enemy’s existence was the banging on the Normandy’s hull.

Growing bored, Robert began to hum El Condor Pasa by Simon and Garfunkel. Robert couldn’t say that he had much in the way of real talent in music, he was absolutely abysmal at reaching the high notes. But he could hold a tune well enough, and was quite adept with memorising lyrics. He was quite a musical person, always with a song in his head, or on his tongue. It was something that few knew about Robert. From time to time, he would let this side of him slip out, humming along to the lyrics that flashed through his head.

“Away, I'd rather sail away. Like a swan that's here and gone,”

“Ah, Jeez, Robert.” Joker piped up from his chair in the cockpit. “Couldn’t you think of a song just a little bit more recent?”

“Hey, show some respect for the classics.” Robert said, with a pointed finger. “This is the shit we’re fighting for.”

“Oh yeah, totally.” Joker quipped back. “I remember the recruited telling me about how we’re fighting for centuries old songs.”

“To be fair, Jeff, what did you actually sign up for?” Robert asked, curiosity peeking through.

“Because I’m awesome at flying. C’mon, I thought you’d figured that out by now. Plus, where else do you get to pilot a stealth frigate. It’s just common sense, man.”

“Well, I’m just curious now. Why did everyone here decide to sign up? Kaiden?”

Kaiden smiled slightly at the memories. “Me? I joined because I was a lost kid wanting to do something with his life. After Jump Zero, I kind of drifted, not really having a place in the galaxy. So, I joined up with the Alliance on my own terms, ended up as a Lieutenant at the end of it all. What about you, Robert?”

“As for myself, well, it’s kind of a legacy thing. See, my great grandfather, Alex. He was one of the last few to be brought to Vekta before everyone was Catalysed. Before that, he was in the British Army, I think it was the 7th Armoured, you know, the Desert Rats. Fought in Iraq with one of those Challengers. Anyway, he was proud of his service, and it kind of became a trend to serve in our family. My grandfather ended up as the Head of the Admiralty Board, had an aunt who led in the marines. Hell, even had a brother end up as an admiral himself. Never met him, unfortunately. Gramps talks about him a bit though…”

“Your brother died?” Ashley asked, breaking him from his thoughts.

“Yeah, First Battle of Harvest. Tiny Salarian frigate comes jumping in from the Relay. Slams right into the bridge he was standing on. Crew lived, at the cost of all the officers.” Robert rattled off. “Course, that’s also where Uncle Jacob pulled off the Keyes’ Loop that earned him his captaincy. Yeah, he kind of became a replacement for John in my family. That’s what I think. My grandparents and all the rest using him to fill the void John left behind.” Robert rambled to himself.

Everything began to quieten down as they all pondered on what Robert had said. “Yeah. I can relate to that, Robert.” Ash said, looking up at the Vektan. “My father served in the Alliance, just like his father and his grandfather. I’ve also got a legacy to maintain.” She finished, although it seemed as if she was hesitant to continue. When she saw that her hesitance had been noticed, she continued with a sigh. “My grandfather was General Williams… the one to surrender Shanxi during the First Contact War.”

“He did what he had to. Ain’t no shame in it.” Kaiden tried to offer comfort.

“Yeah, you tell that to the Brass. I’ve been sent from backwater outpost to backwater outpost, because they didn’t like that I was related to the first man to surrender to an alien.”

“And, yet, look at you now. You’re on the front lines of one of the greatest manhunts in Galactic history.” Robert gave in his reassurances. “If those asshats and pencil pushers want to talk shit about your legacy, remind them that you were fighting the Geth while they dealt with the paperwork. I guarantee, you’ll be remembered a lot longer for what you’re doing now than they will ever be sitting at their desks back on Earth.”

Ashley sat up a little straighter after hearing that. She gave a small smile, and thanked Robert. Robert simply waved her off. “We all deal with the depressing shit command chucks at us. Sometimes it’s just nice to have someone tell you that the glass is still half full.”

“Yeah. By the way, I never did ask about your sister. How is she?” Ashley asked sincerely.

“Yeah, all fixed up, currently relaxing back on Vekta at our family’s vineyard back on Vekta. Speaking of which, I never got to thank you for saving our asses back on Eden Prime. Both you and Kaiden. And of course, our favourite chauffer, eh Joker?” Robert said, loud enough for their pilot to hear, again earning himself a finger. They all had a chuckle at that.

Robert smiled at it all. At first, he had feared judgement at the hands of the crew. He was a synthetic while they were in conflict with synthetics. Hell, Ashley herself was cold to him upon their first meetings. But right now, feeling the warmth of camaraderie, he recognised that he was no longer just an alien on board. Now, he was a member of the crew. It felt good. Good to be a part of the Normandy.

CODEX

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektan: Culture

Vektan culture is similar in many ways to that of the Systems Alliance, especially in terms of general traits, such as favouring adaptability and innovation. This is due to its relatively young age as a society and a species, which has meant that they have been unable to change their cultural standards and perceptions from humans, despite lacking the biology that helped to create them.

While there are similarities, there are also a number of differences. One difference would be in terms of architecture, which was influenced to be more utilitarian compared to their human ancestors, as a result of a lack of Element Zero based technologies.

Another, more unusual quirk is in the consumption of media from around the early 21st Century. This is because of the Didact’s use of the Catalyst around 2004 CE cutting the Vektan people off from Earth culture and media after that year. It is one of the primary exchanges between the Systems Alliance and Vektan Republic since contact was made.

Chapter Text

Robert sat in the medbay alone, checking on the healing of his arm one last time. It wasn’t really needed at this point, he was going to be back on duty in approximately 20 minutes time anyway, and his arm had returned to normal parameters a while ago, but he continued to press the blade into his arm, checking the response. It allowed him to take his mind off of the information that the crew had learned on Feros. Saren aware of Shepard being fast on his trail, and he was leading by a country mile. If they didn’t catch up quickly, his plans may come to fruition without them being able to do a damn thing about it.

But while most of the crew worried about Saren, whispering it to each other in hushed tones, it was the ship that worried Robert the most. He remembered it on Eden Prime, coming down on top of them all, carving retreating civilian ships like a broadsword going through butter. And the noise it made. He didn’t feel it in his head like the humans around him, but he still heard it like a foghorn in the midst of a thick mist. The information that was being given about it only had him more and more worried about it. It was already a walking skyscraper, to find that it may be intelligent on its own had him even more worried. It wouldn’t require Saren to even be present to commit its atrocities, it would happily do them all on its own. That damn well terrified him.

The worst part was that they still didn’t know a damn thing about it. It was titanic in scale, it could tear apart a colony in seconds, and was capable of thinking for itself. That was all they had on it. No specs, no info, nothing.

That was when he cut himself a little too deep, stabbing the blade into his index finger. He reacted sharply to it, snatching his hand away in a flash. It was the final testament to his arm being fully healed. If only his shitty mood would improve as well.

“Shit, you alright?”

He turned around to see the familiar red-haired commander, looking concerned about him stabbing his own hand.

“Yeah, I’m good. See, no harm, no foul.” He said with a cocky smirk.

When Shepard looked unconvinced, he sighed, leaning back in his seat. Shepard moved to sit on the desk in front of him, looking at him for honest answers. Looking up at her, he began.

“In all honesty, Shepard, I’m worried.” She looked at him a little incredulously, making him wince a little. Of course he would be worried, everyone was to some extent. They were heading to fight an enemy with an army at his beck and call, while all they brought was a frigate with a penchant for hiding. No, he needed to be specific. “It’s this ship of Saren’s. We have no actionable intel on it. We don’t know it barrier strength, armour density, weapons capability, nothing. What are we going to do about it, Shepard. I mean, I saw this thing tear Eden Prime apart like a bear with a fish. What can the Alliance do to stop this thing?”

“The only thing we can do.” Shepard said resolutely. “Complete the mission, try to find out as much as we can about this ship, and beat it when the time comes. Some of us thought the Turians were unbeatable, until we retook Shanxi…”

“…And some of us thought the Terminus fleets would tear us apart at Harvest, before we kicked their asses.” Robert finished her sentence with a smile. That was the way it was with Shepard. She just had the ability to make a person believe that everything would be fine in the end. Sure, they all knew there would be setbacks, losses, and toils in their journey. But with Shepard, it felt as if the journey would have a happy ending. She was a good, personable leader. But that ability to inspire hope. That was what would make her a legend, an icon in history, even if she was just at the inception of her rise.

Feeling better about the situation with Saren’s ship, Robert sat up a little, and asked Shepard what she needed.

“I was checking in to see if our resident ODST was better.”

“Ha! As if you didn’t know that my arm was pretty much healed after a few days.” Robert joked. He straightened his face up, and said “In all seriousness, Shepard, I am alright. Its only Alliance protocols that are holding me back from the firing line.”

He raised his hand. “See, not a scratch on me, and it moves like it’s got a purpose.”

She studied the spot where he had stabbed his hand earlier, and was amazed by there being no blood, or any physical sign of injury. When Robert saw her confusion.

“Ah, yes. I suppose you’re owed an explanation on it all. You see, Vektans had three steps in our evolution. The human body, our original forms. Then the machine bodies, a human intelligence trapped within a metal endoskeleton. And finally, the synthetic Vektan. We’re built from the ground up to try and replicate our human forms as best we can. It’s all a replication of organic lives, our births, our eating, our healing.” He noted that last one with a wave of his hand, before sighing. “It’s not all the same though. There are things you and I will never have in common. You’ll never be at risk from a computer virus, while I don’t have to worry about catching a cold. And I’ll never be able to bleed from any wound I get. A machine doesn’t need blood to carry oxygen around its body, so it would be pointless for us to have it.” He chuckled at that last point.

“What’s it like, living as a synthetic?” Shepard asked earnestly.

Robert shrugged his shoulders and leant back. “Dunno, really. Just like how you live, I imagine. Despite not having the organic parts, I still feel the world around me. I can pick up on smells, hear conversations around me, taste a decent meal. It may not be a flawless recreation, but for us Vektans, it is how it supposedly was when we were originally human. Apart from our own mortality.” He said grimly.

“You see, we age as children, being given bodies to suit our age as we learn and grow. The issue is, we stop at the adult body.” He paused, allowing for the information to sink in for Shepard. “While it may feel as if we are getting older and older, physically, we aren’t. We don’t actually know when a Vektan naturally dies. Of course, we can die. But typically, that’s the result of accidents or violence, not of old age like it was back in organic bodies. It’s actually quite the conundrum on Vekta.” He again shrugged his shoulders.

“Anyway, enough of that tangent. As I said, it basically feels the same as being in an organic body, minus the bodily fluids, of course.” He sighed, a melancholy washing over him. “If only the rest of the Galaxy would see us like that.”

“What do you mean? It seems like the Alliance and Vekta are on pretty good terms, except for- “

“Except for being at opposite ends of the Galaxy.” Robert finished for Shepard. “You are correct in that assessment. The Systems Alliance is pretty accepting of us, except in a few cases, but it’s the rest of Citadel space that is the concern. They see us as simply robots, something to be feared. Never mind the fact that we think and feel, same as them. Just run and hide from the fucking Terminator walking our way. It’s not helped by the shared hatred of the humans and quarians, both despised for their role in the Galaxy.” He laughed bitterly at it all.

Before he could sink too deep into his thoughts, Robert felt a hand on his shoulder, looking up to see Shepard leaning to look him in the eye. “You are a good man, Robert Hood. A damn good soldier, and a good man. So what if people don’t like you for being a synthetic. I’ve seen machines in my time. Hell, you’ve seen two rogue computers during this hunt alone. You and all your people feel pain. No other machine would sit at their post and make idle chat.” “You saw that, huh?”

“Yeah, I did.” Shepard confirmed nonchalantly. “No other machine would take the piss out of their pilot, or comfort their crew members with a related story. Trust me on this, you are a valued member of this crew. And above it all you are a good man, not a machine.” She finished earnestly.

Damn it all, did Shepard have a way to reassure a person, Robert thought to himself. He smiled at the kind words. “Thanks Shepard. I know all that, but its still nice to hear it from someone else.”

“Now,” he began standing up. “I think we’ve sat around for too long now, let’s get going, I’ve got an arm that’s in need of a field test, so let’s not dally.”

…

Robert wished now that he had not been so eager, as he dodged a spray of acid coming out of a rachni warrior. How the hell an extinct race of bugs had miraculously appeared, he could not say. All he knew right now was that a five-foot-tall bug was trying to go toe to toe with him. He dodged a swipe of its tentacle claw, before hitting it with a long burst of his MA40. The supersonic rounds hit the rachni warrior across its body and head, dropping it in an instant. Robert checked on Liara and Shepard. Seeing that they were alright, he breathed a sigh of relief.

The mission had started off well enough. They had followed the trail of Matriarch Benezia to the frozen world of Noveria. This was immediately followed by the team dealing with corporate stooges and bureaucrats. Hell, Robert had nearly been turned away at the docks. ‘No robots or synthetics allowed,’ they had said. Well, Shepard had proven to be a force of nature, and had somehow moved the mountain that was corporate bureaucracy, and had managed to get through. Hell, she had managed to manoeuvre her way through corporate politics to break through the lockdown, as well as getting the Chief Administrator locked up by his own company. Working with Shepard always had new ways to astound him.

Unfortunately, following Benezia to Peak 15 took them out into a frozen hellhole full of Geth. The trio had to tear their way through frozen hallways, only to find an extinct race of insects, known as the Rachni. Robert honestly knew very little of the Rachni, other than the headlines and footnotes he had seen in history books. Not many in Vekta knew of them. After all, why did they need to be worried about an extinct race of aliens, when there were plenty of still living aliens banging on their front door. He had to learn on the fly about them, noting their acid spray and vicious clawed tentacles that the soldiers wielded, as well as the tiny acidic workers that swarmed towards them. Nasty little buggers the lot.

The three raced towards the hot labs, hearing gunfire as they stepped closer. It was clear that, despite the abandoned labs and bloody trails, there were still survivors. They rushed through, and brought their guns to bear on the rachni attacking a barricade made by the stationed security. The rachni were decimated by the two-pronged attack, forcing them to perish or retreat into the vents. They approached the wary security detail carefully, only to be asked to identify themselves.

“Commander Shepard. Spectre. We’re looking for an asari matriarch.”

“Asari matriarch. I mean…yeah…we have someone like that, but she went off into the hot labs before the lockdown came into effect. I’m afraid you can’t get in there, though. Still, head on in, it’s the safest place we can make in this damned place.” The tired security captain told them.

Robert sighed at the ridiculousness of it. Being trapped by the ungodly scientific resurrection, and still worrying about the Red Tape. Fortunately, Shepard was more diplomatic than him, and was able to convince one of the scientists in the place to lend them a key into the secure labs, in exchange for grabbing a cure to a disease affecting the survivors.

At last, they entered the hot labs, and came face to face with the elusive matriarch. She turned her head, glaring at the three with a look of abject hatred. “You do not know the privilege of being a mother. There is power in creation. To shape a life. To turn it towards happiness or despair.” She took a step closer to a large tank in the room, the contents hidden from the team’s view. “Her children were to be ours. Raised to hunt and slay Saren’s enemies. I will not be moved by sympathy, no matter who you bring into this confrontation.” Benezia said, turning to poignantly look at her daughter.

Shepard stepped forward to cover the asari scientist. “Liara’s here because she wants to be. Not because I or anyone asked her to.”

The matriarch sneered in contempt. “Indeed. What have you told them about me, Liara?” She asked, half rhetorically.

“What could I say, mother?” Liara said, attempting to sound confident despite her warring emotions. “That you’re insane? Evil? Should I explain how to kill you? What could I say?” She yelled the last part in frustration.

Benezia brushed her daughter’s distress aside. “Have you ever faced an asari commando unit before?” She chuckled darkly. “Few humans have.”

“I can’t believe you would kill your own daughter.” Shepard exclaimed in disgust.

Benezia ignored this as well. “I now realise I should have been stricter with her.” She then threw out a biotic stasis field, trapping Shepard while Liara and Robert rolled out the way. The doors flew open, revealing a squad of asari commandos. Liara went to cover Shepard behind a biotic barrier as Robert drew his M6G magnum. Despite the matriarch’s mocking threat Shepard, the lieutenant commander had brought with her an ODST who had first hand experience dealing with the dangerous biotics. He fired a couple of shots, intentionally missing, but enough for them to raise their biotic barriers.

It was the typical move for an asari commando to make. All asari were naturally proficient in biotics, and would wield them to their fullest extent. Still, a biotic power was still attached to an organic being, and biotic barriers were not invulnerable against attacks not involving kinetics. Robert answered the natural shield with a stun grenade, lobbing one just under the commando’s feet. It burst in a stunning bright light, and wreaked havoc on the poor girl’s ears, enough for her to lose concentration, and drop her barrier. Robert reacted quickly with a couple shots from his magnum, the explosive munitions tearing her armour and body apart.

The commando’s partner, still reeling from the effects of the grenade, attempted a biotic charge, leaping across the room towards him at speeds faster than a person could react. Unfortunately, in her haste to deal with Robert, the asari had failed to consider the other effect of hurting someone’s ears: their balance. She had not properly aimed for Robert, and ended up slamming into a crate, stunning herself. As she picked herself up, she banged the back of her head into the barrel of Robert’s M6. She didn’t even feel the bullet as it took off her head. Robert did not stick round to ponder the execution he just gave to poor girl. He pulled his aim onto a Geth soldier who had just entered the room, quickly knocking it to the floor with the explosive rounds of his pistol. He holstered it in favour of his MA40 rifle; its automatic fire would be more useful in knocking out the shields of the Geth troopers than the semi-automatic pistol anyway. He checked on his teammates from the corner of his eye. Shepard had managed to break free from the biotic stasis field she had been trapped under, and had taken out quite a few Geth alongside Robert. Liara was keeping her mother away from the fight by forcing Benezia to hide underneath a biotic bubble. Robert turned his attention back to the Geth, and shot the head off of a Geth sniper in conjunction with Shepard dealing with its shields.

At last, the rattle of gunfire ended, and the hall was left silent, bar the biotic hum of Benezia’s barrier. The matriarch dropped to the ground in exhaustion, but began to pick herself up, sneering in hatred at the team. Robert aimed his rifle at her in preparation when she began to speak. “This is not over. Saren is unstoppable. My mind is filled with his light. Everything is clear. I will not betray Saren. You will…you will-”

Benezia stumbled forward, as if she was broken from a spell. She looked up at Shepard pleadingly. “You must listen. Saren still whispers in my mind. I can fight his compulsions briefly. But the indoctrination is strong.”

Shepard was confused. “Are you saying Saren brainwashed you?”

“People are not themselves around Saren.” Benezia began to explain. “You come to worship him. Idolise him. You would do anything for him. The key is Sovereign, his flagship. A dreadnought of extraordinary size and power. Thoughts echo strangely within Sovereign. Its rooms are built in unsettling angles. The longer you stay aboard, the more Saren’s will seems correct. You sit at his feet and smile as his words pour into you.”

Wincing, Benezia continued, evidently struggling to keep herself together. “It is subtle at first. I thought I was strong enough to resist, Instead, I became a willing tool, eager to serve. He sent me to find the location of the Mu Relay. Its position was lost for thousands of years.” Gesturing towards the sealed tank behind her, she continued. “She and her kind inhabited the galaxy in this region of the galaxy. They discovered the relay. She shares the memories of her ancestors, passed from mother to mother, from queen to queen. I took the location from her memories. I was not gentle in doing so.” She said the last part regretfully.

“Why does Saren want the Mu Relay?” Shepard spoke up, Robert nodding his head in agreement to the question.

“The Conduit.” She groaned out. “He believes it will lead him to the Conduit. I’m sorry that I cannot tell you more. He didn’t share his council with me; I was just a servant to his cause.”

“You can still make this right. Give me the information.” Shepard begged, hoping that Benezia could be saved.

Benezia did not seem to hear her, her focus fading away, as if she were drowning. “I was not myself. But… I should have been stronger. I have transcribed the data to an OSD. Please…take it.” The matriarch begged, slowly losing the fight to her own subconscious.

Liara piped up. “Mother, it’s not enough to know the coordinates to the Mu Relay. Please, tell us if you know what he plans to do there.” “Saren did not tell me of his destination beyond the relay. But you must find out quickly. I transmitted the coordinates to him before you arrived. You have to stop-Me. I can’t-” She groaned out in agony. “His teeth are at my ear… Fingers at my spine…You should…you should…” She gripped her head in pain, throwing herself away from the group.

“Mother!” Liara called out in horror, seeing her mother in such pain. “Please! You must fight it! Fight him! Don’t leave! Please!”

The matriarch raised her head to look at her daughter. “Liara.” She called out softly. “I have always been so proud of you, Little Wing.” Her head dipped down, only to rise again, the soft love on her face replaced by a look of abject hate.

“DIE!”

Benezia, or what was left of her threw a biotic blast, throwing the three into the air, before imprisoning them in midair with a stasis field.

Robert reacted quickly. Still being able to move his arms, he reached to his chest. While the blast had scattered their guns around the room, his great grandfather’s trench knife was still in its scabbard on his chest plate. He unsheathed it, and flipped it in his hand, holding onto the blade. He threw it as hard as he could towards the deadly matriarch, hoping to incapacitate her. The knife, not properly balanced for throwing, did not hit the asari with the blade. Still, the knuckleduster embedded in the handle smacked the matriarch dead in the forehead, knocking her down, stunned enough to drop them all. Robert immediately charged towards Benezia, and tackled her into a nearby console as she began to stand. He began to wrestle her, surprised by the strength of the near millennium old woman. The biotic fields began to flash down her arms as they began to squeeze down on his chest. Robert could hear the metal and polymer of his body armour begin to creak as the pressure increased. Desperate, he fumbled round, his hand grabbing onto something hard. The knife he threw earlier, he realised. Before Benezia could react, he immediately plunged the blade into her heart.

The pressure on his chest lifted, and he snapped his hand up to check on his chest. Miraculously, the armour had not broken. Neither had any of the sensitive electronics in his chest. He was only vaguely aware as Shepard checked up on him, too shocked by his escape to worry about anything else. He was only snapped out of it by Liara’s sobbing, holding on to her mother’s lifeless body. He quickly crawled over to Liara, and put his hand on her shoulder, trying to comfort her. He had seen death before, lost a few close friends. But family. That was something he had yet to see. Sure, his family had lost John, but he had been too young to remember his eldest brother. Liara, though, she had known Benezia all her life, a constant presence despite their estrangement. To suddenly lose her forever was something he would never wish on a person, especially not a kind soul like Liara. He did what he could, shutting the matriarch’s eyelids closed, and picking Liara up, leading her away from the scene.

The sombre moment was broken when he saw a flash of movement. Instinctively, he turned towards the movement, fists raised and guard up. That was when he saw what had been in the tank.

Inside the tank, which had been opened by him slamming into the console, was a Rachni, far larger than all the others, with a greater head crest and a dark purple carapace compared to the browns and greens of the others. She was talking to Shepard through the use of one of the corpses of the asari commando’s, her chosen puppet walking with her chest opened by Robert’s M6. He approached to hear the Rachni Queen tell of her story, of how she was the last of her kind, of the Rachni Wars and how they had been coerced by a corrupted song. She also talked about her corrupted children, that they were feral things, not fit to be a part of her colony. He also took note of the choice Shepard had to make, either to flood the tank with acid and kill the Queen, or to allow her to live, and risk the return of the once war mongering race.

“If I set you free, would you attack the races of the Galaxy again?”

“No. I remember little from the days of conflict. It was not a song passed down to me. Even so, the sky is silent now. I would leave, and seek solitude. To live and grow as we once did before the Sour Note.”

Shepard did not speak, only stared at the insect queen with her emerald eyes. She pressed a button, and the tank began to lift above them, towards an emergency door.

The Rachni Queen looked grateful, or at least did so in Robert’s head. She turned towards the pair, looking at them with her pale insectoid eyes. “We will remember. We will sing of your forgiveness to our children.” Finally, the Queen turned from them, and left into the snowy landscape of Noveria. Robert might have been worried for her, but he knew of the Rachni ability to survive harsh environments. He supposed that him and the Rachni Queen had that in common, Vektans also thriving well enough in harsh environments.

He turned towards Shepard’s emerald eyes looking at him, her lips in a smile. He returned it back at her. It was a good thing to see, someone putting their faith in another. Despite what the Queen was, Shepard had taken the first step towards reconciliation between the Galaxy and the Rachni. Another thing that he and the Rachni shared: a damn fine Spectre willing to put her faith in them, instead of scorning them like the rest of the Galaxy.

He broke the spell between the pair, reminding Shepard of the other, rogue rachni in the facility.

“Come on, let’s get off this frozen shit-ball.”

CODEX

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektan: Biology (2)

Vektans, by virtue of their synthetic nature, do not grow and age like organic beings. They also do not heal like organics either.

Their lifecycle involves the bodily stages from infant to adult. The adult body of a Vektan is a generally unilateral one, with the body being of a general 1.9 metre height and a body mass of 75 kilograms. If additional strength is required, then this is supplemented with the use of exoskeleton or other mechanical methods as opposed to bodily modifying. Vektans are also sexually dimorphic, with female and male Vektans having different bodily shapes, despite sharing the same height and weight.

Another factor of Vektan biology is in healing. The synthetic skin has the ability to be sown or welded together in the case of serious enough injury, which will leave the area numb for some time. This numbness will end when a system known as System Peril Distributed Reflex, or SPDR, repairs the coding around the injured area, returning sensation and reflex to the area. For more serious injuries, such as to those of the metal endoskeleton, then serious medical attention will be required, with the use of welders, and other tools to aid in recovery. Vektan hospitals have been noted as being more akin to garages than the medical facilities known to most.

The only disease Vektans truly fear are computer viruses, which are a constant threat to any synthetic. Vektan defences against this rely on isolating affected individuals, due to the individual intelligences allowing for this measure. The other is to expose oneself to a virus, so that natural firewalls and anti-virus software can better identify and tackle said viruses, much like how a vaccine works in an organic immune system.

Chapter Text

He approached the door leading to Liara’s office. He could not lie about it; he was worried about her reaction. Would she despise him for being the one to kill her mother? Would she wish him dead? Or would she fear him as the machine others saw him as? His hand hesitated above the door, ready to knock, but too hesitant to begin.

“You know,” came a slightly synthesised voice. “I don’t think Liara would hold it against you, Robert.”

The ODST turned to face Tali, as sister in all but blood. He sighed in resignation. “I know. It’s just…I’m worried about how she’ll react. I’ve killed a lot of people in my time. You know, it’s all part of the mission, I tell myself, and it’s true. You kill or you die, that’s how it is in battle.” He leaned against the nearby wall, resting the back of his head against it. “But I’ve never had to talk to the enemy’s family before. How do I explain to her that it wasn’t personal. That I never wanted to kill her mother. How do I avoid her hatred, I-”

“Rob.” Tali cut him off, speaking softly. “Liara was there with you. She understands what was at stake. And…she understands that the person you killed wasn’t her mother. Benezia had been brainwashed, or mind controlled, or whatever.” She paused gauging Robert’s reaction. She looked quizzically at her adoptive brother. “But you know all this. What’s really got you worried? Talk to me, please.”

Robert turned to look at her. “I don’t know. It’s this whole mission. The Geth and this Sovereign. It’s just got me worried about whether people are just going to end up despising Vektans for being what we are.” He raised his hand before she could speak. “I know, you trust me. Shepard trusts me. Hell, I think the whole crew trusts me. But, still, I just can’t shake the feeling of dread about this whole thing. It’s like when you’ve been spooked by a noise in the dark. Like, you know that it’s probably just the house making noises, but you’re too spooked for that rational part of you to matter, you know.”

“Robert, you’re speaking to the one person who understands what it’s like to be hated for what she is. We Quarians built the Geth, we’re just as likely to be hated for this war as well.” She turned Robert’s head, so that the two could look each other in the eyes. “So what? We’ve both dealt with it our entire lives. Albeit, you’ve dealt with the bullets flying over your head, and I’ve dealt with being called a ‘suit rat’ by C-Sec.” Robert winced at that. It was an unpleasant story of Tali’s time on the Citadel, prior to their reunion. Wounded by Saren’s agents, she had dragged herself to a hospital in order to receive anti-biotics for a punctured suit, only to be turned away by a C-Sec officer for being a quarian. “We’re used to it by now. But. You’re here, and I’m here. Right now, stopping Saren and the Geth. There’s always going to be idiots who despise us for what we are. But for those paying attention, we are doing the right thing, and that is what matters. That we stood up against Saren.”

Robert nodded. His melancholy lately had been a persistent thing, not helped by the fear of his friend’s scorn. But he had people around him who could help, and were willing to offer their assistance. That, he was grateful for. He took her three fingered hand, giving it a light squeeze in reassurance. “Thank you, Tali. I know I’ve been a miserable shit lately, and having to kill Benezia certainly hasn’t helped. But I am grateful for you, and all the crew. It helps. I’m still going to worry, but it won’t stop me from completing the mission.”

He stood up, feeling better. “Besides, I honestly didn’t know what to do with retirement. I would have figured it out eventually, but this mission has given me something to focus on. At least until its over again. Then I’ll just have to spend the rest of my days relaxing on a sandy beach.”

“Or watching movies with your favourite Quarian?” Tali piped up, giving puppy dog eyes through her mask at Robert, causing him to snort.

“Oh, and what film did you want to watch, oh Great One? Fleet and Flotilla One, Two or Five?” He asked with a grin on his face, giving a mock bow.

Tali gave an indignant huff. “At least I didn’t try to get you to watch a Bridge Too Far, you Bosh’tet.”

“No. You only made Miri and I always sing that ‘Lost without You.’” The pair burst out laughing, remembering the good childhood memories. After calming down, Tali looked sincerely at Robert.

“Are you going to be alright? I can come in to talk to Liara with you, if you…”

“It’s alright, I’ll talk with her. I don’t want her feeling crowded. No offense.” He said, raising his hands.

“None taken. If you need me, I’ll be down in engineering. I’ll talk to you later?”

“Sure thing, Tal. Hell, you might just be able to convince me to watch Fleet and Flotilla for the thousandth time.” That earned him a laugh, as she headed out the door. Composing himself, he knocked on Liara’s door. He heard a soft “come in” from the other side, and entered the room.

The first thing Liara did was try to hide her wiping the tears from her eyes, and placing a framed photo flat onto the desk. “Robert” she sniffed. “How can I help you?”

“I just came to check up on you.” He said nervously, rubbing his hands together. He looked into her blue eyes. “How are you, Liara?”

“I’m alright, really Robert. I heard you and Tali talking outside. If you’re worried about Benezia’s death, it won’t affect the mission, truly.” She mumbled out in rapid succession.

Robert didn’t say a word, just walked in and lifted the photo frame. Inside was an image of Benezia and Liara from a much younger time.

“That wasn’t a good day, when that was taken. It was at a Prothean museum, I ran off in order to satiate my curiosity about them. Mother yelled at me for it, and refused to talk to me for the rest of the day.” Robert turned to look at her. Liara’s façade was slowly crumbling.

“I…I don’t have many photos of us together. She and I…we…we just couldn’t…” Liara stuttered out, the tears beginning to roll down her face. Robert walked up and wrapped his arms around her. “Shhhh. Just let it out, Liara.” She buried her face into his shoulder, and began to sob. He just held her and let her vent.

After a few minutes, she rested her head on his shoulder, and tearfully apologised. “I’m sorry.”

“No, no Liara. Don’t apologise for nothing.” He said, holding her gently. He looked away in shame. “I’m the one who should be apologising.”

Liara looked at him in surprise, seeing the tears in his own eyes. “I’m so, so sorry, Liara. For causing you this pain.”

“No! You have nothing to apologise for Robert. I don’t blame you, for any of this.” Liara mumbled into his shoulder, comforting him just as much as he had her. They held each other for some time, just letting the emotions simmer down.

Robert let Liara go, and moved to look her in the eye. “I am still sorry for the pain you’re in. I know that the woman we chased wasn’t your mother, she was Saren’s puppet. We are going to get that bastard, and we are going to break the son of a bitch in two.” He leaned in closer. “I just want you to remember. Your mother broke through his brainwashing for a few moments. Remember her last words, those were for you, Liara. Despite all the bad memories you may have had of her, just remember, those last words were for you.”

Robert began to head for the door, before turning to look at her once again. “Liara. If you need anything, please, just let me know. But, please, don’t be afraid to let it out. If you need to talk, or cry, or let anything out, please, just do it. Holding it in ain’t good for you. Letting the emotions out may feel shitty, but it’s good to feel them. It proves that you’re only human, or asari, in this case.”

He turned once again, pausing only to hear Liara thank him. Giving her one last smile, he turned, and began to prep for the mission ahead.

…

Robert knelt down on the beach. When he had mentioned relaxing on a beach to Tali, this was not what he meant. Sure, the beaches of Virmire were a beauty. Lush golden sands, gorgeous blue lagoons, and a metric shit ton of Geth Armatures and Colossus’ awaiting the Mako on its drop. They had come to rescue a group of Salarian STG operatives who were tracking Saren to a facility on this world. When they had run into trouble, the Council had sent the Normandy to deal with it. Unfortunately, the reinforcements were now caught in the same trap as the Salarians: trapped by facility’s defences, with no way of escape into orbit. That was in addition to cloned Krogan army that said facility was producing, and likely preparing to bare down on the stricken force.

Fortunately, it seemed as if the Salarian CO, Captain Kirrahe, had a plan. All it would take would be a full-frontal assault into a heavily defended facility for the majority of them, while a team went around the rear to disable the AA guns. An unrefined plan, but it would suffice, especially with a homemade nuclear bomb to wipe out the facility, curtesy of the STG team.

Wrex had stormed off when he had heard that part of the plan. It didn’t take a scientist to figure out why the Krogan was furious; his people were slowly going extinct thanks to an engineered illness known as the Genophage being unleashed during the Krogan Wars. It caused major birth defects within Krogan, dropping their birth rate down to 1 in 100. It was a cruel thing, to tease a species with the hope that their child may yet live, only for the odds to kill it in the womb. The Krogan as a species were dying thanks to this cruel hope, with many desperately using surgery to escape it, while many more, like Wrex, had simply given up, choosing to devote their lives to nihilistic purposes. The fact that Saren could create new Krogan in large quantities would prove attractive to many, even if they were only weapons to be wielded.

Robert rushed out with him, hoping to talk some sense to the poor Krogan. He got there in the nick of time, seeing Wrex pull out the massive shotgun of his, preparing to go on a rampage. He began by pointing the gun at Robert.

“Out of the way, robot!” Wrex grunted, trying to sound intimidating despite his shaking hand. He clearly didn’t want to hurt his crewmate. Robert hoped it would be enough to stay his hand for now.

“Easy, Wrex. Just listen to me, alright. It’s crazy to join Saren, you know what he’s done, and what he’s going to do, Wrex.” Robert spoke calmly, raising his hands to show that he wasn’t going to shoot the merc.

“Yeah, I can see what he’s done. He’s found a way to cure the Genophage. He’s creating more of my kind.” Wrex argued fiercely, before growling “And those goddamn pyjaks want to destroy it all, just like they unleashed the Genophage. And you’re just going to let them do it.”

“Wrex!” A new voice barked out. Shepard approached, gun drawn and aimed at Wrex’s head.

“You did right by me, Shepard. I’ve been loyal to you, and you’ve done more for me than my family ever did. But Saren’s offering a future for my people. Help me out here, Shepard.” The Krogan pleaded, clearly at a dilemma.

“These Krogan Saren’s making aren’t your people.” Shepard argued back. “They’re slaves of Saren. Tools. Is that what you want for the Krogan? To merely be tools for one dictator or another.”

“Shepard’s right, Wrex.” Robert joined with. “Take it from someone who’s people were made as weapons. No sentient life should be used as nothing but property, to be discarded and disposed of when done. We are more than the weapons they would have us be.”

Wrex stared both them down, before closing his eyes and giving off a sigh. “We were tools of the Council, once. To thank us for wiping out the Rachni, they neutered us all. I doubt Saren will be so generous.” Wrex lowered his gun. “I may not like this, Shepard, but I trust in you. Just promise me one thing: when we find Saren, I want his head.”

Robert let out the breath he didn’t know he had been holding. He waved Shepard off, telling her to get back to Kirrahe, as he calmed himself from the tense standoff. Despite the glimpse of hope such technology may offer the Krogan, only the Krogan should be allowed the right to decide their own destiny. Not the Citadel, not the Salarians, and especially not Saren. Whatever sins the Krogan had done, they had more than atoned for them with the Genophage. It was only right to give them the right to decide. H

e headed back to a heated argument between Kaiden and Ashley. It was apparently to decide who would deliver the nuke, and who would join the Salarians in the assault on the base. Shepard had decided that Ashley would head off with the Salarians, needing Kaiden for the Nuke.

That was when Robert made his own move. “I’m heading off with the Salarians, Shepard. They’ll need all the firepower they can get.” He finished, brandishing the grenade launcher he had brought with him. It was running low on grenades at this point, but it had enough for this, especially if he was conservative.

Shepard nodded her ascent, and settled in to start the mission. She, alongside Tali and Garrus, would push off with the infiltration. Wrex and Kaiden would guard the nuke, while Liara would guard the Normandy. Ashley and Robert got the fun job of a march into hell, fighting alongside the STG. He checked off his equipment in preparation for the mission, listening as the captain make a speech for his men.

“You all know the mission and what is at stake. I have come to trust each of you with my life, but I have also heard murmurs of discontent. I share your concerns.”

M61 armour, all good. Check.

“We are trained for espionage. We would be legends, but the records are sealed. Glory in battle is not our way.”

MA40E, all ammunition loaded. Check.

“Think of our heroes: the Silent Step, who defeated a nation with a single shot. Or the Ever Alert, who kept armies at bay with hidden facts.”

M6G, strapped firmly onto hip, fully loaded. Check.

“These giants do not seem to give us solace here, but they are not all that we are. Before the network, there was the fleet. Before diplomacy, there were soldiers.”

M319. Fourteen grenades on backup. Check.

“Our influence stopped the rachni, but before that, we held the line. Our influence stopped the Krogan, but before that, we held the line!”

Trench knife. Secured in its sheathe. Check

“Our influence will stop Saren! in the battle today, we will hold the line!”

Helmet on. Set for a combat drop. Green light.

…

The plasma rounds zipped overhead, turning the sand around him to glass. Robert returned the favour, killing the Geth sniper that dared to take a potshot at him. It was just one of hundreds, as he sprinted towards the next bit of cover he could find.

Robert had seen some battles in his service, had taken part in major offensives. This was up there in terms of intensity. Here, he didn’t have a fleet or an armoured column backing him. All he had was the STG around him, and Ashley. It would have to suffice.

As Ashley covered him by pouring fire onto a Geth turret, Robert rushed closer. Close enough to take out the bastard operating it. With the gun silenced, he pushed on ahead. One down, a hundred more to go.

Robert, although focused on pushing forward, noted that he could somewhat tell the progress Shepard was making. Whenever they called out of a new obstacle, it was promptly handled. When the enemy began to call for reinforcements, the comms were cut off. When they called down satellite-based artillery onto the team, the satellites were shut down. And when they noted the Geth drones heading back to refuel and rearm, they mysteriously never made it back. Despite the heavy fighting, it was nice to know that someone was watching over them. For how long, he didn’t know.

A Geth armature dropped down from orbit, directly onto a poor Salarian. The four-legged behemoth turned itself towards the team, ready to gun them down, when it was suddenly stunned by an EMP grenade from Robert’s grenade launcher. It was set upon by the rest of the force, shredding it apart with gunfire. It was an impressive kill, although they could not celebrate. Yet more plasma fire came down upon them, taking out another of the STG. Poor bastard. They hid behind the downed armature, finding it sufficient enough, and took potshots at the Geth troops, downing enough of them for another push.

This time, they reached the front gates of the compound. From the corner of his eye, he noted a side building with a blast door slowly being lowered. Clearly, someone had not been expecting the team to make it this far. Without hesitation he sprinted towards it, sliding under just in time, at the cost of his M319. The heavy doors slammed shut behind him. Try as he might, they could not be forced open. The local console was dead, seemingly locked out from a control room of some kind. He radioed Kirrahe to let him know of the situation.

“Captain. I’m inside the building, but I can’t the doors open. Looks like they’re being controlled from another room. I’ll try to rendezvous with the infiltration team. How copy, over?”

“This is Kirrahe. We read you, Hood. Go, get to Shepard. We’ll find another way through. Kirrahe out.”

Robert pushed on ahead, finding a vent to sneak through. It was a tight fit, especially in his armour, but he slowly slid along. Eventually, he made into the science and admin part of the facility, based on all the paperwork and desks littered around. He left the vents, and began to sneak through. The only contact he found was an asari in scientist clothing, running out in panic. It appeared as if he had walked into Saren’s office, and his HUD was indicating three friendly signatures in a room below. It must be Shepard and the infiltration team. He took an elevator down to their level, only to walk into a giant hologram.

“Rudimentary creatures of blood and flesh. You touch my mind, fumbling in ignorance, incapable of understanding.”

Chapter Text

Terrence Hood sat down at the head of the long table, as was his place as the Chief of Naval Operations. The meeting room was a simple, fairly bare room, in the shape of an odd dome. That was because it was built inside of a faraday cage, to block electrical signals from entering or exiting, specifically those of recording or surveillance equipment. This faraday cage was inside an underground base, roughly a kilometre beneath the surface, constructed of starship grade armour, reinforced concrete and lead. It was built upon numerous springs, giving it a degree of movement. In truth, it was a structure capable of surviving an orbital bombardment or a nuclear bomb. Despite all this, Terrence felt nervous.

The last few weeks had sent alarms across the Vektan armed forces. The Geth had gone on the offensive in the Attican Traverse against the human colonies of the Systems Alliance. With the focus of the fleets against the Terminus Systems, an attack from the Geth could be devastating. That was why he had sent his youngest grandson, Robert, to join a Council Spectre in her hunt for the Turian leading the Geth. As the weeks progressed, the reports Robert had sent back were becoming more and more dire. Not only did this Saren have an army of Geth and their respective fleets to count on, the massive ship he had, dubbed Sovereign, was terrifying. From what they could tell, it was the size of super carrier, had the firepower to match a fleet, and could even brainwash Saren’s followers. What was even more worrying was what they didn’t know about the ship; where did it come from? Was it a Geth design, and if it was, did they have more? Such questions were what motivated him to send a fleet of prowlers and half the Office of Naval Intelligence into Geth space. This was the purpose behind the meeting, to discuss the Office’s findings.

Admiral Margaret Parangosky, the commander-in-chief of ONI, cleared her throat, focusing the room’s attention on her. “I’ll keep this brief; you all know what we’ve been searching for. So far, having observed all known Geth colonies, shipyards and interstellar construction projects.” She took a shaky breath. Clearly, this new had the normal unshakeable woman unsettled. “So far… no evidence has been found of a construction of a ship the size of Sovereign.”

“Well, that’s one good bit of news, right?” Colonel James Ackerson cut in. The comment earned him a few glares. The man was useful, if for nothing else than acting as a liaison between ONI and the rest of the military. But damn, if he couldn’t be shortsighted. “It means that Sovereign is just a one-off vessel.”

“You misunderstand, Ackerson.” Parangosky said, her pale green eyes piercing into the Colonel. “We have found no trace of even an initial construction. No construction facilities, no logistics trail, not even the raw material for starships being found.”

“Is it possible that the facilities for Sovereign’s construction have been kept a secret?” Hood asked.

“It’s a possibility…” Parangosky admitted. “…but so far, we’ve not been able to find any trails that might lead to such a facility. For a ship of Sovereign’s size, their ought to be a suitable logistics trail. We’ve found nothing of the sort. It’s my belief that either the Geth have managed to maintain the secrecy of such a project to the extent of us being unable to unearth anything.” She paused again, clearly unnerved by her report. “Or the more likely explanation that Sovereign is not a Geth design.”

This caused shock amongst the admirals and commanders in the room. Ackerson sat straighter, and argued against Parangosky. “Surely that’s quite the jump to make, Admiral. We’ve still got a lot of ground to cover within Geth space. Why conclude that it’s an alien ship.”

“Because, Colonel, the Geth have shown no signs of the technology present within Sovereign.” Doctor Catherine Halsey spoke up. She was the resident expert on xenological matters for the military, as well as being the mastermind behind a number of black ops projects. If anyone could wrap their heads around Sovereign, it would be her. “The weapons, the scale, the mind controlling abilities. If you had that assortment of technologies, you wouldn’t put them all on one ship. You would spread them out across your entire fleets.”

Colonel Ackerson merely glared at the Doctor. The rivalry between the two was the stuff of legends in the upper echelons of the military. Still, Halsey was not incorrect in her assessment. That left the worrying possibility, and even likelihood, of a new faction being involved. A faction that no one had any information on, or even knowledge of. That was a terrifying new prospect.

“Alright. This changes things.” Hood said, standing up. “I want-”

His vision blurred, an orange tint glazing the corners of his vision. His ears began to ring, as though a loud note was being played. A robotic voice appeared in his head.

“Warning! New Harvest Cycle imminent! Begin preparations! Repeat, Harvest Cycle imminent! Prepare yourselves for Harvester contact!”

He collapsed onto the desk, his vision returning to normal, but his energy sapped from him. He slowly lifted himself up, looking around the room in embarrassment for his sudden fatigue, only to see everyone else suffering from the same fatigue.

“What the hell was that?” He questioned aloud. “Did everyone else just have that in their heads?”

…

Meanwhile, a galaxy away, Robert bore witness to a Reaper, talking and speaking to the crew. His vision grew more and more tinted, slowly changing into a bright orange.

“There is a realm of existence so far beyond your own you cannot even imagine it. I am beyond your comprehension. I am Sovereign!”

The Reaper’s speech was beginning to become more and more drowned out by the ringing in his ears. Hell, he couldn’t even hear Shepard at this point, only the booming voice of Sovereign

“Reaper? A label created by the Protheans to give voice to their destruction. In the end, what they choose to call us is irrelevant. We simply are.”

Robert couldn’t take it anymore. He simply drifted off into an orange hued unconsciousness.

…

Shepard was now entirely focused on the Reaper in front of her, talking through a holographic projection. She had seen what it had done at Eden Prime. She had seen what it had done to Benezia, and the poor Salarian prisoners who were turned or rendered comatose by the Reaper’s mind-altering presence. But, talking to the ship now, she realised Robert had been correct to fear the ship, even more than Saren. It wasn’t just an AI on a ship. This was an artificial life form of a scale hereto forth unheard of before. As large as the greatest of ships, and capable of things unknown. She had been in some hairy situations, things that would frighten the toughest of marines. But this. This was on another level of horrifying, purely by the implications of it all.

The more it revealed, the more horrifying it all became. The Reapers had forged the Citadel and the Mass Relays, created a trap for all sentient life, and a cycle to harvest all of them for an unknown purpose. And Sovereign basked in it all, mocking them for their inability to affect it all.

“We have no beginning. We have no end. We are infinite. Millions of years after your civilization has been eradicated and forgotten, we will endure.”

“You will be destroyed, Harvester!” A similarly robotic voice shouted out from behind them. It was Robert. She didn’t know how he had reached them, but she saw clearly something different. He had taken his helmet off, and she could clearly see that the typical blue of his pupils were no longer there. In fact, his whole eyes were now glowing a bright orange, just like the cybernetic outlines across his body were glowing. His voice had changed, now producing a robotic tone that sounded nothing like the lively Vektan accent he had before.

“Another creature. Another that will be harvested.” Sovereign deadpanned, uninterested in this new lifeform.

“I am a legacy that will see your kind erased from existence, putrid filth of machine and spite!” What once was Robert spoke aloud. It was clearly another entity puppeteering their friend. Garrus looked shocked while Tali looked on the verge of panic over her adoptive brother. Despite its robotic tone, however, it clearly showed passion in its words, unlike Sovereign. Whoever controlled Robert, they were pissed.

“You thought you could erase my kind? We, who bore the Mantle for a thousand generations. Were you really so arrogant as to believe that we would simply fade into the dusk? We were masters of our galaxy! We led life through a golden age for a million cycles! You could not destroy us, and you never shall! We are Forerunners! And our destiny lies in your death!” Despite the big speech, Sovereign was unimpressed.

“Your words are as empty as your future. I am the vanguard of your destruction. This exchange is over.”

The hologram shut off, and Shepard was distracted by Joker reporting that Sovereign had begun to converge onto the Normandy’s location. She prepared to sprint back to where the nuke was currently being placed by Kaiden, only to see Robert take the elevator back to the surface. “Indoctrinated presences detected. Beginning Harvester Protocols.” That was all the synthetic being said, replacing his helmet before lifting out of sight. She rushed over, and pressed the button to recall the elevator over and over, desperate for it to return to their level. When it did, they boarded it, ascended, and took off after Robert.

It wasn’t too hard to follow after Robert. He had left a trail of Geth and Krogan corpses in his wake. He was clearly moving quickly, as they could only hear the telltale sounds of gunfire off in the distance. What was more worrying was the molten, slagged pieces of his ODST armour dotted around the trail. Clearly, whatever was controlling him didn’t particularly care about its host safety. She just hoped to be able to reach him before he got himself killed.

As they ran along, they discovered that Robert had been discarding his equipment as he progressed. His rifle had overheated, and had been dropped. His pistol ran out of clips, and was similarly discarded. His family’s knife, the one that his great grandfather had made, and his own grandfather had generously gifted, was abandoned, carelessly left in the face of an unfortunate Krogan. They retrieved the discarded weapons for Robert's sake. The gunfire she had heard before was replaced by the sound of Geth plasma fire. Robert had taken to wielding the enemy’s weapons against them.

The calls were coming in over the radio. The Geth were pulling away from the fission device’s guard detail, as well as the STG forces near the base’s entrance. Clearly, whatever Robert was doing was effective enough to call upon reinforcements to deal with him. Her team pushed through another corpse filled corridor, bodies being stacked on top of one another, and turned a corner.

There, in front of her, was Robert, moving faster than she had ever seen him move before, armour filled with pockmarks and beginning to unravel. She saw the possessed Robert firing as he sprinted, recoil seemingly unaffecting him. When he reached the Geth line in front of him, he began to smash them into the surrounding environment, hard enough to fracture the concrete and break their metal skins, destroying the sensitive electronics within. That was when she realised, it wasn’t Robert fighting to the best of his abilities, it was a machine pushing past its limits, as she took stock of the tearing of the synthetic skin around his knuckles. Forget worrying about destroying his equipment, she needed to stop him from destroying himself. She received a call from Ashley, telling her that she was taking down one of the AA guns, but was facing encroaching Geth. Kaiden, beginning to withdraw his team as the timer ticked closer to detonation, told Shepard to save Ash.

Apparently, Robert picked up on this, or perhaps was finding more of these ‘indoctrinated presences,’ as he took off towards Ashley’s location. She quickly followed after, to try and save both Ashley and Robert.

She rounded yet another corner, only to find an open space, with a scenic view of the horizon and the beaches below. Just up ahead, she saw Robert collapsed on all fours. Shepard rushed forward to check on him, to see whether he had perished or not. He was clutching onto his head, groaning softly. It seemed as if Robert was trying to recover himself, although he would be incapacitated for some time. Tali and Garrus began to retrieve their stricken crewmate, as Shepard watched over in shock. How had this all happened? More importantly, what had happened?

She didn’t have too long to ponder it, as she heard the low whining of an anti-gravity generator. Reacting instantly, Shepard dodged out of the way of a biotic blast from Saren. She took cover behind a small wall, as Saren stepped off of his hovering platform.

“This was an impressive diversion, Shepard. My Geth were utterly convinced that the Salarians were the real threat. I admit that I was not expecting your Vektan to decimate them so. It seems I underestimated them. Of course, it was all for nothing. I can’t let you disrupt what I’ve accomplished here. You can’t possibly understand what’s really at stake.”

“Why are you doing all of this, Saren?” Shepard called out to him from behind her cover.

“You’ve seen the visions from the beacons, Shepard. You, of all people, should understand what the Reapers are capable of. They cannot be stopped. Do not mire yourself in pointless revolt. Do not sacrifice everything for the sake of petty freedoms. The Protheans tried to fight, and were utterly destroyed. Trillions dead. But what if they had bowed before the invaders? Would the Protheans still exist? Is submission not preferable to extinction?”

“Do you honestly believe they will let us live?” Shepard again called out.

Saren snorted. “Now you see why I never came forward with this to the Council. We organics are driven by emotion instead of logic. We will fight even when we know we cannot win. But if we work with the Reapers…if we make ourselves useful…think about how many lives could be spared! That is why I chose to work with Sovereign, to spare all of us. If we can prove ourselves useful, if we become worthwhile resources, then the Reapers will put in the effort to maintain us.”

“You’re indoctrinated, and you don’t even know it.” Shepard accused.

“No, Shepard. I’ve studied its effects. The more rapidly a subject is indoctrinated, the more quickly its mind deteriorates. That is my saving grace, I am too useful a resource for Sovereign to waste. It’s a subtle process, but I will not let it happen to me. And it’s the ultimate proof that we can be spared. Prove our value, and the Reapers will keep us alive. But you would undo all I have worked for, all in the name of petty freedoms. For that, you must die.”

Shepard found her cover decimated by a biotic blast from Saren, knocking her down. She picked herself up, and fired a few rounds of her rifle into Saren, knocking out his shields. He charged forward, picking her up by her throat, and dragging her towards the edge. Before he could drop her to her death, she decked the Turian in the face, knocking him to the ground, and allowing her the chance to grab onto the ledge, avoiding a plummet.

As she picked herself up, she saw the Normandy roar overhead. Saren used the distraction to make his escape, flying off on his anti-grav device. She saw Ashley and a few STG rush over, ready to make their escape now that the AA guns were offline. Kaiden’s team were already on board, as were the other members of the STG. They picked a comatose Robert up, and took him towards the open ramp of the frigate. They took off, leaving a nuclear blast to mark their escape.

…

Robert suddenly awoke, unable to move. Jesus, everything burned. He picked his head up to look around, seeing that he had been strapped to the medical table. Upon seeing his awakening, Dr Chakwas alerted someone outside, and began to unstrap him. Once he was free, he sat up, only for his vision to once again tinge with orange, and a message to ring in his head. He spoke the words aloud:

“Harvest Cycle imminent. Prepare yourselves.”

Chapter Text

Shepard marched into the room, only to stand their stunned, by Robert sitting up, muttering an ominous sentence for all to hear.

“Harvest Cycle imminent. Prepare yourselves.”

He sagged slightly after he said it, the normal blue of his iris’ sitting in his eyes. He seemed confused, as if he didn’t know what had happened in the last few hours. She was curious about that as well.

“Robert. Do you remember what happened on Virmire?” She asked carefully, aware of his confusion.

“No, honestly.” He said, clutching at his abdomen. He had taken quite a beating during his fight with the Geth in the facility. His armour had taken the brunt of the damage, leaving his endoskeleton fine, as far as Chakwas could tell. Unfortunately, his synthetic skin was showing signs of heat exposure, some areas coming off worse than others. That wasn’t even including the tears on his skin, especially on his hands and arms. They had wrapped him up in bandages, around his arms and his torso. It was the least they could do to patch him up, if not hold him together. It must ache like hell, she thought to herself. “All I remember was seeing Sovereign, then the world turning orange. I think there was a voice calling out in my head, warning me of a ‘Harvesting’. Beyond that, I…” Robert paused, as if he was recalling something.

His eyes widened, and his jaw dropped. “Shit! The Didact! He was a forerunner! He must have known of the Reapers. And of the Cycles.” He began to pace around the room, no worries of immodesty, despite being shirtless, save for the bandages. “Did I call someone a forerunner after I blacked…oranged out?”

“Yes. You called yourself a forerunner Said you would destroy the Reapers, that it was your legacy. Robert. What do you remember?”

“It’s all coming to me, Shepard. I recall a voice telling me of the protocols. I was to fight indoctrinated individuals, and destroy the Harvester…Reaper presence. That it was my role. That I was a reclaimer for the Forerunners.” He snorted at that, seemingly finding it all absurd. “That was why we were Catalysed! He wanted us to fight the Reapers!” His excitement at answering the century old question soon diminished. “That was…all we were made for.”

It broke her heart to see him dejected like this. He had just figured out the reason for his people’s whole existence, and that was to fight the Reapers. A noble cause, to be sure, but ultimately, an existence designed for a singular purpose. That had to sting.

“Robert, you’re more than what they made you to be. You’re not just a weapon, you’re Robert Hood. Even if you throw yourself into the shit too often.” She punched him lightly in the shoulder, making him wince. “Besides, it occurs to me, why allow you free will if they only intended to use you for the one cause. I’m not saying that’s what the Didact wanted, but it was clear that the forerunners as a whole wished for you to be more at the end of all of this. Why else make machines out of living beings, rather than just programming?”

Robert nodded along “Wait.” He paused “What did you mean by throwing yourself into the shit? I can guess I took a beating, but what the hell did I do?”

“You tore across the facility, fighting the Geth and the cloned Krogan.” She explained, looking poignantly at the bandaging draped over him. “You, or whatever programming was controlling you at the time, took off like a bat out of hell. We only really saw the bodies you stacked, but you moved like you didn’t care about anything but killing, just accepting the hits.”

“I suppose that’s why I’m currently wrapped up like a fucking tortilla.” He tried to jape with, only causing him to wince at the sudden movement. “Still, is everyone alright? Ashley, Kaiden, the STG?”

Shepard looked sincerely at the injured Vektan. “Everyone’s alright. We lost quite a few of the Salarians, but the nuke went off, and we were able to pull everyone out. Because the Geth took off running after you instead.” She turned serious, putting on her officer’s persona. “Is that going to happen to you again? Next time you see Sovereign?”

He shook his head. “I don’t know. I managed to break free of it this time, and I’m aware of what the programming does, so I will try my damndest to stop it. But at this point in time, I don’t know.” He answered honestly.

Shepard sighed. He was right, there was too little to go off. But she would put her faith in him, just like he would her. They were a team, and he was a valued member of the crew. She would not abandon him now, any more than she would abandon any other member of this crew. She accepted it with a nod of her head, and began to head out.

Before she left, she retrieved Robert’s knife, his family heirloom. The blade was bent, the polymer handle cracked, and the brass knuckles had been shorn off. “I really did lose control.” Robert mumbled, shocked at himself. Shepard patted him on the shoulder to comfort him, before turning and leaving.

She passed Tali, who rushed into the clinic, worried for Robert. She heard the distinct sound of a punch, and Robert loudly being winded. “Keelah, don’t ever do that to me again, you Bosh’tet!” She smiled sadly at the display. Tali had been worried sick for her Vektan brother over these last few hours.

Unfortunately, she couldn’t wait long. The Council expected her to report back to the Citadel for debriefing. Hopefully, they would be willing to do what it took to defeat Saren.

…

When he first stood in this spot in the Citadel Council chambers, he witnessed a momentous occasion, an actual event in the annals of history. The First Human Spectre was inaugurated, and he was stood on this exact spot. Now, he witnessed Shepard standing in the exact same spot, with the Council deciding that the best course of action for dealing with the potential end of Galactic Civilisation would be to sit there and wait for Saren to make his move. Of course, they excused it, Saren’s plan was to attack the Citadel, so they would ready the fleet and park it just outside. Never mind that Saren was actually heading to Ilos to activate the Conduit, and was actually being controlled by a galaxy-harvesting machine. No, just let them continue loading the rifle they had aimed at the Galaxy, what’s the worst that could happen.

Not even the Alliance was offering their help. Ambassador Udina, the fucking prick, had even turned to Shepard to say “You’re becoming more trouble than you’re worth, Commander. The Council will handle this matter. With my help, of course.” He smirked at that one, the smug twat.

When Shepard proposed that the Normandy alone could enter the Terminus Systems, she was swiftly rejected. Worse still, the crew were grounded, unable to go of their own accord. Robert stormed out at that one, furious at the ignorance the Council displayed. Sure, sending a fleet into the Terminus Systems could start a war. But, if they allowed Saren to pull off his plans with the Conduit, then it would mean the destruction of all. They had no time left for clever manoeuvres, they needed to move now. Shortsighted bloody fools!

Before he could make it to the elevator, he was grabbed on the shoulder. Ready to tear the head off of whoever decided to play grab-ass with a pissed off ODST, he turned, only to see a familiar face. The same ONI agent who had brought him to the meeting of the Admiralty that sent him on this wild goose chase. With a huff, he followed the agent. “Well. Time to face the music.” He piped up, to no one in particular.

Giving a salute, the screen flashed onto his grandfather and all the other admirals. Unlike before, they didn’t bother to cover up their appearances, all of them looking haggard. “Captain,” his grandfather began. “I’ll keep this brief. Yesterday, something happened across Vektan space. Everyone, including us, received some sort of signal about a ‘Harvest’ being imminent. Just what in the hell is happening, Captain?”

Robert focused on explaining the story of the Reapers, the indoctrination and the plan to use the Conduit. “The signal must have been sent out when I first saw Sovereign. Some kind of dormant forerunner programming. I believe that the ‘Harvesters’ mentioned by the signal, and the Reapers are one and the same, sir.”

Terrence Hood merely sighed at the implication. “That’s a hell of a lot to take in, son. What’s Saren’s current status?” The Admiral focused instantly on the task ahead.

“Currently, Saren is heading to Ilos in order to find the Conduit. It’s parked through the Mu Relay, in the Terminus Systems. Unfortunately, the Council has elected to ground the Normandy, and to hold all fleets to defend the Citadel. Sir, if I may, we cannot wait for Saren to make his move. He currently holds all of the cards, and if we allow him time to fulfil his plans, it will guarantee victory for the Reapers.”

“As I said, it’s a hell of a story, Captain.” Terrence cut in. “It probably wouldn’t stand up in court if you told us that straight off the bat. Fortunately, the signal going out to all of Vekta adds to your credibility, in addition to no evidence of Sovereign being made by the Geth. We’ll move our fleets to Ilos, try to knock him out before he can act.”

Robert let out a breath he hadn’t realised he’d been holding. This was wonderful news. The Vektan navy was poised to hit Saren in short order. They didn’t have to worry about conflict with the Terminus Systems, they were already embroiled in conflict with them. Unfortunately, there was no guarantee they could stop Saren in time to avoid him activating the Conduit. Still, they had to try, and it was worth more than the Council was offering. Terrence’s orders were brief: “Get the Normandy out of dock, and stop this bastard, once and for all.”

After giving a salute, the vidscreen cut off. Surprisingly, the ONI agent was still in the room this time. For what purpose, he didn’t realise. He waited, until the spook spoke up. “You know, I’ve got a family, back on Arcadia. A sister, a niece and nephew. My wife, and two boys.” Robert listened patiently, waiting for him to continue. “If Saren wins, they will die. I’d rather avoid that happening, Captain. So, please, do whatever it takes to win. Please.” Robert only gave the man a nod, before he turned and began to exit. “By the way. If you could avoid ruining your equipment next time, that would be appreciated. These aren’t free, you know.” The agent japed, before leaving the room.

Checking inside the supply box was replacement equipment, for the ones destroyed on Virmire. Shepard and the crew, bless their hearts, had retrieved the equipment, but it was too damaged to be repaired. Instead, he was granted a BR75E, another M6G and an ARC-920 railgun to make up for his losses. His ancestral knife would remain in its sheathe, it was too damaged to be used, but too valuable to replace. It would have to suffice as a reminder, or a paperweight, whatever was more urgent. His armour was only given replacement parts, which he would have to assemble himself. Well, there was worse ways to spend an FTL jump, he figured.

He rushed out of the room, only to bump into Shepard. “Robert.” “Shepard.” They both said simultaneously. “Come on.” Shepard commanded, rushing back through the halls of the Citadel, in a direction that Robert could not ascertain.

“Shepard,” he tried to talk to her. “The Vektan fleets, they’re heading to Ilos to deal with Saren. We’ve got back up.”

“They’re on the move?” She asked, with Robert nodding in affirmation. Without breaking a step, she determinedly told him “That’s where we’re heading as well.”

At Robert’s confused look, she let him know that “Anderson’s dealing with it. Come on, we’ve got to move!”

When they arrived at the Normandy, he saw that everyone had arrived, and were anxiously waiting at their stations, ready for the final effort against Saren. Now, it was all riding on Anderson doing his job.

…

Donnel Udina sat at his desk, typing up a report on shipments of Alliance goods to the Citadel, minor things for a miscellaneous report. Regardless of having to deal with such menial work, he was, at the end of the day, feeling very good about recent events. Sure, Saren was dangerous, but he was facing the might of the Citadel fleets. A hundred Turian cruisers, and the titanic Asari dreadnought, the Destiny Ascension. It was an indomitable force, ever for the Geth. No, he would never be able to defeat the Citadel’s might, despite what trouble makers like Shepard and her alien friends might say. Well, she would be proven wrong in the end. Her kind always ended up on the wrong side of history, and it would be shown that his decision to ground her was the correct one at the end of the day.

He was about to move onto another report, when Anderson barged into his office like a bat out of hell. “Anderson!” He barked out. “What is the meaning of this!”

Anderson simply marched up, and punched Udina in the face, knocking the man out cold. Udina wouldn’t come to for another few hours, but when he did, he flew into a fury. Shepard, damn it all. She had escaped, her ship released from its locks by Anderson. What hell was she going to create for him out there?

CODEX

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektan: Military Doctrine

Vektan Military doctrine bears many similarities to numerous other militaries: They wield an advance reconnaissance and espionage force with the Office of Naval Intelligence (similar to the Salarians STG), they utilise numerous elite forces like the ODST’s and rumoured Spartan soldiers (similar to Asari commandos), their naval assets are best equipped to trade blow for blow with their enemies like the Turians and Krogans, and their forces favour an elastic defence with garrisons being used to delay the enemy in the same vein as Alliance doctrine. Such a doctrine arose from relative isolation, a lack of Element Zero based technology and previously practiced doctrines from Earth.

Currently, there are only three ways to access Vektan space using Eezo based FTL, with the relay at Harvest (the most common route), the relay at Dwarka (although this is currently deactivated, and is thus not used), or short distance FTL from surrounding systems (another route rarely chosen, although such systems are closely monitored by ONI). As such, Harvest has become a focal point of Vektan strategy as the primary military excursion point, with numerous military assets being established around the once minor colony, complete with, refit stations, drydocks and an array of Orbital Weapons Platforms capable of firing rounds with gigatons worth of kinetic energy.

Chapter Text

The Normandy shot out from FTL, instantly slipping into stealth mode. The two fleets in system were already distracted tearing each other apart to notice the diminutive ship, although it never killed anyone to be too careful. Highcom had made good on its promise, sending a fleet to try and take out Saren from orbit. So far, the Geth were blocking their efforts, although they were slowly being worn down by the size and experience of the Vektan fleet. Autumn-class dreadnoughts tore through the Geth cruisers, while the heavy Longswords and agile Sabres focused on the frigates. The Vektan fleet would win eventually, but they had been withheld for too long. The Normandy would have to be the one to deal with Saren, before he could use the Conduit.

Robert had finished putting together his new equipment a few hours ago, now feeling reinvigorated with his repaired armour. Stepping onto the bridge, he could see the titanic blocky ships of the Vektan Navy go toe to toe with the insectoid vessels of the Geth from the viewport of the stealthy vessel, each and every one of them unaware of the Normandy sneaking past.

They approached Ilos, in the hopes of stopping Saren dead in his tracks. Unfortunately, they had little in the way of landing room, which the XO was all too aware of. “The Mako’s needs at least a hundred metres to land! All we have down there is sixty!” Pressly reminded everyone.

“I can make it!” Joker simply responded with.

Coming to a decision, Shepard ordered the team onto the Mako. “Everyone, get down to the hold. We’re going in.” Given how absolutely vital the success of this mission was in the survival of all Galactic civilisation, the whole team was set to drop down to the surface. Garrus, Tali, Robert and Shepard made up the 1st Team, while Wrex, Ashley, Kaiden and Liara would make the 2nd Team. They all boarded the M35 in short order. Robert, once he was strapped in, braced himself. He was perhaps the most experienced in terms of a combat drop like this. The SOIEV pods of the ODST’s were designed to go straight down like a dart, as opposed to the Mako, which was more akin to a bowling ball. This drop would need to be more or less a dead drop if they wanted to avoid slamming into a wall.

The Normandy flew low over its target, and Robert felt the weightlessness as the Mako leapt from its vessel. Robert tucked himself in as best he could; from experience, he knew that once you were in mid-air, there was little else to do but brace for the inevitable impact.

From the internal cameras, he could see Saren and his Geth forces. The indoctrinated Turian honestly seemed shocked to see them. If he was being honest, Robert understood where Saren was coming from. He too would be shocked to see a tank diving straight towards him as well. Saren turned and sprinted towards a massive set of doors, just making it through before they shut. It left their tank with little in the way of a runway. They came down hard, slamming on the brakes, and nearly flipping the entire vehicle in the process. Fortunately, they came to a halt just before they slammed into the wall that faced them.

Without a second’s hesitation, Shepard hopped on the Mako’s turret, and began to pepper the stunned Geth with round after round from the mass accelerator and the machine gun. Unfortunately, they still had a door to deal with, and so the 1st Team went to find some controls to open them, while the 2nd would stay to defend the Mako. It was a firefight from start to finish, all manner of Geth throwing everything at the four-man group. Robert’s BR75 rattled off in three round bursts, taking a Geth each and every time. They found the controls within an area that Saren’s forces were using as a makeshift garage for their armatures. Tali had the idea to tamper with the parked armatures to fight the Geth instead of the team. As the armatures tore the Geth apart and the Geth fought desperately against their own equipment, the team snuck on by, and activated the controls. That was when Shepard began to hear the voices, coming from the console. It sounded like a distress call, although it came through shrouded by static. No one else reacted to it, so she simply shook her head and continued.

They reached the Mako in good time, and began to speed through the vast ruins that made Ilos. Robert looked out from the screens within the Mako, and saw the decayed statues and streets of the ruined city. It must have been a wonder in its heyday, with walls towering overhead, mysterious beams hanging overhead. All of it was now at the mercy of its new residents, the vines and mosses that covered them.

‘My name is Ozymandias, king of kings. Look on my works, ye mighty, and despair.’ Robert thought, quoting one of those old poems Ashley was so fond of.

All of a sudden, the Mako screeched to a sudden halt. Where once, an open track stood before them, a massive golden energy shield stood, wavering form proving immovable. They couldn’t reverse either, being cut off by another shield. The Mako was effectively trapped, the crew alongside it. That was except for a small doorway off to the side. Whoever had trapped them was waiting for an audience. In a similar manner to opening the door, the team split in half, four guarding the Mako, and four venturing off to meet their new captor.

Taking a lift down, they were met with a small room, and a glitching hologram. Approaching, it spoke up. “You are not Prothean. But you are not machine, either. This is an eventuality that was one of many anticipated. This is why we sent our warning through the beacons. You do not have the taint of indoctrination upon any of you. Perhaps there is still hope.”

It must have been a VI, a Prothean one, aged and beginning to fall apart. Still, it hopefully had enough to tell them of its vital message, the one that it had stopped them for.

“How can we understand you? Only Shepard’s been in contact with the beacons, and I’m a synthetic. How’s that possible?” Robert asked.

“I have monitored your communications since your arrival at this facility, and have translated my output into a format you will comprehend. My name is Vigil, an advanced non-organic analysis system with personality implants of Ksad Ishan, chief overseer of the Ilos Research Facility. You are safe here, but that is likely to change. Soon, nowhere will be safe.”

“Why did you bring us here?” Shepard asked, focusing on the pertinent question.

“You must break the cycle that has continued for millions of years. But to stop, you must understand or you will make the same mistakes we did. The Citadel is the heart and head of your civilisation, as it was for ours, and every civilisation that has come before. But the Citadel is a trap. The station is in actuality a Mass Relay, connected to dark space, beyond the borders of our galaxy. When the Relay is activated, the Reapers will pour through, dooming all that you know.”

“That’s impossible,” Garrus argued. “The Citadel was discovered nearly 3000 years ago. Surely someone would have noticed by now. And besides, how would the Reapers even survive that long in dark space?”

“The Reapers are careful to keep their secrets hidden. That is why they created a benign race of organics to act as caretakers. They maintain the station’s most basic functions, while allowing any species to use it without fully understanding how it works. This reliance on the Keepers keeps the dominant race of a cycle ignorant of the Reapers or the true purpose of the Citadel. Not until the Reapers have already begun their invasion, and it is too late. As for the Reapers, my creators theorised that they would enter into a state of hibernation, to conserve energy until it is time to harvest anew. By remaining in dark space, it also allows them to remain safe and secret, away from any who would tamper with them during their hibernation, until the begin another cycle.”

“Then, we have to get moving.” Tali urged them all. “The Reapers could wipe out the Council and the Citadel Fleet in one fell swoop.” “

Yes.” Agreed Vigil. “That was our fate. Our leaders were dead before we even realised that we had been attacked, as well as the control of the Mass Relays falling under control of the enemy. Communication. Transportation. All cut off, leaving systems isolated, making them easy prey for our enemy. With the Citadel in their hands, they had access to all of our records and databases, allowing them to systematically wipe us all out. Most were wiped out; others suffered the worse fate of enslavement by the Reapers. These indoctrinated servants acted as sleeper agents for the Reapers, sneaking into refugee centres and rallying points, only to betray those who had taken them in to machines. Within a few centuries, the Reapers had control of the whole of our civilisation, either exterminated or indoctrinated, harvesting our worlds of all possessions, resources and technologies. Only when there was little trace left of the truth, were the Reapers content to leave, returning to dark space to await the next cycle. This cycle.”

“Why do all this?” Shepard asked, horrified at the tragic fate of the Protheans, and perhaps the fate that awaited them all in future.

“The Reapers are alien, unknowable. Perhaps it is slaves or resources they desire. Or, more likely, their goals and motives are beyond our understanding or comprehension. In the end, it matters little. Your survival is dependent on stopping them, not understanding them.”

“You brought us here for a reason, Vigil. Tell us what we need to do.” Shepard said, patience wearing thin.

“The Conduit is the key. Before the Reapers attacked, we Protheans were on the cusp of unlocking the secrets of Mass Relay technology. Ilos was a top-secret scientific facility, fortunate enough for our location to have been lost when the Reapers attacked the Citadel. Here, we tested a small-scale version of a mass relay, pointed towards the Citadel, the hub for the entire relay network.”

“Keelah, the Conduit isn’t a weapon, it’s a back door.” Tali gasped.

“As the Reapers tore across our empire, we severed all communications and went dark, the researchers taking shelter within the archives. We entered cryogenic stasis in order to conserve resources, while I was programmed to monitor them, and wake them all after the danger had passed. But the genocide of an entire species proved to be a slow process. Years, decades, centuries passed, and the energy reserves dwindled. I was forced to disable pods, choosing the least essential personnel, until only the top scientists remained by the time the Reapers retreated. Unfortunately, it was too few to sustain a viable population. The Protheans were doomed regardless of my actions.” Despite the horrified look on the faces of the team, Vigil continued in his explanation.

“Despite it all, the researchers vowed to find a way to break the cycle, and stop the Reapers from returning. And they knew the Keepers were the key. At the start of each harvest cycle, a signal is sent across the station to the Keepers, making them activate the Citadel’s relay. The scientists were able to discover a way to alter the signal. Using the Conduit, they gained access to the Citadel, and made the modifications from there. This time, when the signal was sent, it was ignored, trapping the Reapers in dark space.”

“So that’s what that bastard intends to do. Use the Conduit to access the Citadel…” Robert piped up.

“… and transfer control of the Relay to Sovereign.” Vigil finished for him. “Sovereign will then open the Relay himself, and extinction will begin again. Fortunately, there is still time. Take a copy of this data file, and upload it to the station from the Citadel’s master control unit. It will corrupt the security of the station, and give you a chance against Sovereign. You must hurry though; use the Conduit to follow the indoctrinated onto the Citadel.”

Taking the data file, the group rushed out. Given the odds, they had nothing to lose. They would have to get to the Conduit, or die trying. Fortunately, the Prothean scientists, who had most likely died, slow agonising deaths, alone and afraid, had given them a chance.

Boarding the Mako again, they shot off at breakneck speed. Tearing across the corridors of the facility, they barely stopped for the Geth left behind to stop them. It was then they reached a large open space, an artificial valley before them. And at the end of it, stood a mass relay. Smaller compared to their spaceborne cousins, but still a massive construct. And between it and the Mako, stood a shit ton of Geth, prepared to withhold them for as long as possible.

…

A fleet leapt out from the Mass Relay, at its head lay Sovereign. He could sense his indoctrinated puppet already aboard, holding the Citadel open until the Reaper reached it. The organics that had talked to him on Virmire, he could admit had made decent progress in following in his trail. But, as was the way of all organics, it would seem as if their leadership had elected to ignore them, instead planning a futile resistance. If he could, Sovereign would have scoffed at such a foolish notion. The organics that thought they were in command of the field, of the Citadel itself, ignorant of what his true intentions were. But soon it wouldn’t matter. Soon, the cycle would begin again. All Sovereign had to do was wait. And, soon, any and all resistance wouldn’t matter. They would be crushed, as all who came before were. Soon, it would be just another harvest.

CODEX

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektan: Navy

The Vektan Military is one that has had to rapidly adapt to the technologies of Element Zero, either adopting or countering it on ground and space. Despite the apparent weakness of a lack of Eezo tech, Vekta has a number of advantages that have proven extremely potent during the Battles of Harvest and the Terminus Skirmishes.

One of the most important is the ability to bypass Mass Relays. Traditional galactic doctrine has had the Relays be a focal point for defence and offence. Instead Vekta has bypassed this need with Slipspace Drives, jumping them to specific galactic coordinates, allowing for an attack to come from any angle so desired. This has the added attritional benefit of forcing the enemy to maintain constant vigilance in case of enemy attack, as has been seen with numerous pirate crews that have collapsed into mutiny due to paranoia of a Vektan attack.

Another key factor has been to the arms and armour of Vektan vessels. Without Kinetic Barriers, Vektan ships have adapted to kinetic defence by armouring their ships in metres of Titanium A battle-plate, making them much heavier than comparative vessels.

Arms wise, Vektans rely on conventional magnetic coils to propel kinetic weapons. This is primarily seen in their bow mounted Magnetic Accelerator Cannons (referred to as MACs), but is also seen smaller, turret-based coil guns. These are generally slower firing compared to Eezo based Mass Drivers, but producing much higher kinetic yields, with the light MACs on frigates producing a kiloton yield greater than that of Dreadnoughts. This has led to the naval tactic of ‘Sucker Punch Strikes,’ where a Vektan ship will focus attacks on a singular target, attempting to knock out enemy shields before using subsequent strikes with missiles and Coilguns to destroy the enemy ship.

After the Second Battle of Harvest, where Vekta took 53% losses, changes were subsequently made. With the comparative few Element Zero deposits within Vektan space, and the success of the MAC when used properly, conventional rail systems were used, with the focus of Eezo use being towards the installation of Kinetic Barriers, and for ground-based assets. Additionally, recent ship designs have put a great emphasis on stealth, as it is hoped that it will allow for ships to strike the first hit, followed up further ‘Sucker Punch Strikes.’

Chapter Text

’Damn it all,’ Captain Austus Kaecili thought to himself. The Turian Captain knew better than to vent his frustrations aloud, lest the crew begin to lose their nerve. As captain, he had a duty and a responsibility to show himself as the example of Turian discipline. Even still, this battle was proving stressful. Already, the Citadel fleets were taking heavy losses, the plasma weaponry of the Geth proving dangerous, melting hulls and venting good men into the void. And that wasn’t even starting on the massive dreadnought that they had. It dwarfed even the Destiny Ascension, and was taking shot after shot without even a hint of a scratch.

Kaecili wondered just why the bastard wasn’t returning fire. The other Geth ships were all pouring round after round against them, while it just floated on through. It didn’t make any sense to him, but he would remain steadfast. Although, it was also odd that it kept closing the gap between their lines. Typically, dreadnoughts stood as far as their effective range allowed, the sheer size of their armaments allowing for this. But this one, just kept on pushing forward. It was only too late that he realised that it was intending to ram them. Given the relative sizes, the Turian cruiser wouldn’t stand a chance.

He began to order his men to intensify fire on the dreadnought. If they could just weaken the shields enough for the other ships to stop it, it would be worthwhile.

They continued pouring fire onto Sovereign, only stopping when Sovereign rammed right through their ship. With its powerful kinetic barriers and sheer bulk, the Turian cruiser didn’t even slow down the Reaper. It just kept on pushing on towards the Citadel, only stopping once it was able to perch onto the Council Tower.

…

Shepard put pedal to the metal, and the Mako roared into the valley. Following the small river that ran through, they swerved from side to side, the plasma rounds of the Geth either turning water to steam around them, or slapped against the kinetic barriers of the hulking vehicle. Everyone inside held on for dear life; there was little point in firing back. For one, there were too many Geth to fight off all at once. Second, it might slow them down, either with recoil or aerodynamics, and they would lose their chance at reaching the Conduit.

Reaching higher and higher speeds, the Mako at last reached a ramp at the end of the valley. If they timed this wrong, it’s likely that they would end up pancaked at the bottom of the massive chasm. But right now, they could not afford indecision. It was do or die, and they needed to reach the Citadel. And so, Shepard made the jump.

Time seemed to slow down within the Mako, as the weightlessness set in. Shepard could see the plasma rounds of the Geth fly past, see the worried faces of her team as the Mako flew through the air. Before she could truly register it, they all shot up into the air. The Conduit did its work, and sent the tank straight to the Citadel.

…

Aboard the Citadel, Saren walked amongst the corpses of those he had worked with before. Simple workers, ambassadors, all the regular jobs in and around the council. It was a shame that he couldn’t have snagged the Councillors themselves, but they had evacuated aboard the Destiny Ascension. He could be content with the knowledge that it wouldn’t matter in the end. Soon, Sovereign would in place, the station would enter lockdown, and the relays would be under his control. Soon, the Reapers would return, and he would show them that he had value. He could save the lives of all the peoples within the Galaxy.

As Sovereign was about to reach the Citadel itself, Saren began to close the gigantic arms, closing the structure off from any who would try to enter. If anyone even could break through, it would be far too late. The Reapers would tear apart any fleet from there on out.

Unfortunately, it was all going too smoothly, and an alert rang out from one of his patrols. Somehow, they were reporting one of those human tanks. He dismissed it as a glitch in the system at first. After all, how and where could Citadel Security get their hands on a tank of all things. Then it hit him, Shepard must have made it through. She must have used the Conduit. Damn it all. He would have to deal with her, before she could prove an unfortunate wrench in his plans. But he would stop her. He was too close now to stop.

…

They had crashed hard, with only the pavement and an unfortunate Geth patrol to cushion their blow. They had then proceeded to crawl out, dazed but unharmed, only to find the Citadel in disarray. Whatever Saren had done, it was not clean, with corpses and husk spikes being dotted around. The Citadel’s VI, Avina, had helped to direct them to Saren. Glitching around, the holographic assistant had directed them towards the Council Tower. Dividing themselves by their respective teams, they had all proceeded up different routes and different elevators.

From the massive windows, Robert could make out some of the colossal battle that was occurring outside. He, alongside Shepard, Tali and Garrus, could only watch as the titanic arms of the Citadel fully enclosed, bathing them all in the orange hue of street lamps, with Sovereign sitting front and centre above them all. It was clear that they had not gone unnoticed, as the elevator immediately stopped in the middle of its shaft. Shepard swiftly ordered the team to prepare for exoatmospheric conditions, before blasting the glass window open. All air was vented out, and the team would have to make the climb up on foot, with the use of magnetic boots.

With each step along the way, they fought Geth and cloned Krogan, all of the forces that Saren could bring to bear upon them. He had even brought along turrets in an attempt to slow them down. But little by little, step by step, the four pushed forward. The other team was facing similar problems, but told them to proceed without them. This was too important for anyone to get bogged down. They only freed themselves from the confines of their EVA protection once they entered the Council Chambers. Robert was once again standing in the spot where history had been made, and would be made again. Except now, there was a little more mortal peril than before. He could see the red tinge that Sovereign gave off outside the massive windows. It was now or never, they had to take control using Vigil’s data chip.

Unfortunately, they were met with Saren, who promptly switched off the console he was toying with, and leapt off the platform onto his anti-grav board. He threw a grenade, scattering the group, who promptly took cover. Saren spoke up.

“I was afraid you wouldn’t make it in time, Shepard. I think we both expected that it would end like this. One final confrontation.” Saren said. “You know you’ve lost, don’t you? In a few minutes, Sovereign will gain full control of the Citadel’s systems. Soon, he will open the relay, and the Reapers will return.”

“I’ve still got a few tricks up my sleeve.” Shepard retorted.

“You may have survived our encounter on Virmire. But I have changed since then. Improved. Sovereign has… upgraded me.” Robert poked his head out, and had a closer look at Saren. He could see the wires running across his body, the blue lights within him. He was even supporting an entirely mechanical arm, similar to the arm of a Geth. Whatever he was now, he wasn’t entirely Turian anymore.

“You let Sovereign implant you? Like a husk?” Robert called out from his own piece of cover. How could the man be so insane as to not see what had been done to him?

“I suppose I should thank you, Shepard.” Saren said, ignoring the Vektan. “I couldn’t stop thinking about what you said. Of Sovereign manipulating me. Indoctrinating me. The doubt began to eat away at me. Sovereign sensed my hesitation. I was implanted to strengthen my resolve. Now my doubts are gone. I believe in Sovereign completely now. I see that the Reapers need organics. Join us, and we shall find a place for you too, Shepard. And all of your crew. Even the Vektans have a place.” He offered, trying to seem benevolent. Unfortunately, it wasn’t fooling any of them. It wasn’t Saren trying to deceive them. It was Sovereign.

Shepard attempted to reach Saren, instead. “Sovereign’s controlling you through your implants! Don’t you see that?!”

Saren attempted to dismiss her. “The relationship is symbiotic. A union of flesh and steel, synthetic and organic intertwined. The strengths of both, the weaknesses of neither. I am a vision of the future. The evolution of organic life. This is our destiny. Join Sovereign and experience a true rebirth!”

“Sovereign hasn’t won yet. I can stop him from taking control of the station, and the invasion won’t happen. All you need to do is step aside.” Shepard tried to reason.

“We can’t stop it. Not forever.” Saren argued back, although it seemed as if his resolve was breaking. “You saw the visions. The Protheans couldn’t stop them. The Reapers are just too powerful.”

“They can be beaten!” Robert again called out. “The Protheans and the Forerunners were able to escape the cycle. They were able to sabotage the Reapers’ plans, or else we wouldn’t be here.” Referring to both Vekta and the Citadel council. “They aren’t invincible!”

Shepard capitalised on Robert’s arguments. “You can fight them, Saren! Some part of you must still realise this is wrong. Join us, instead.”

“Maybe you’re right.” Saren’s mind looked to made up. His resolve had faltered, and he began to see that the Vektan and the Spectre had a point. “Maybe there is still a chance for-Ugh!” He yelled out, in agony.

“I can’t!” He gasped out. “The implants! Sovereign won’t let me!” Sovereign’s influence attempted to reassert control, as it had to Benezia. Saren was losing this fight.

Shepard persisted, standing up. Saren was still in there, there was a chance for him. “It’s not over yet. You can still redeem yourself.”

Saren, for a second, returned to himself. Not a puppet of the Reapers, but a Spectre, a protector of the galaxy. “Goodbye, Shepard. Thank you.” He said, before putting a gun to the bottom of his head, and pulling the trigger. He fell unceremoniously to the garden beneath, smashing lifeless through the glass.

Shepard ran over to the console, using her omni tool to send through Vigil’s data file. It worked just as intended, giving control of the station and the relays over to Shepard. They had made it just in time. She opened the station’s arms, in the hope that the flee may be able to turn its guns toward Sovereign. Instead, all she was met with were distress calls, the most prominent coming from the Destiny Ascension.

“This is the Destiny Ascension,” her comms crackled. “Our main drives are down! Kinetic barriers are down to 40%! The Council is onboard! I repeat, the Council is onboard!”

A different voice began to call. “Normandy to Citadel. Normandy to Citadel. Tell me that’s you, Shepard.” Joker called out. Upon Shepard’s confirmation, Joker told her that the Alliance’s Arcturus Fleets were holding in the Andura Sector, and awaiting orders. She could either save the Council and the Destiny Ascension albeit at the risk of losing some ships, or focus the fleet on dealing with Sovereign. She called it in. It would take more than the Alliance to stop the Reapers, but all of the Galaxy. The Council may be bull-headed, but they stood a chance at helping to unite people in the face of the new threat.

“I hope the Council appreciates this.” Tali said.

…

“This is Hackett. All ships, save the Destiny Ascension.” Steven Hacket ordered from aboard his flagship, the Everest-class dreadnought SSV Fuji. The fleet leapt through the Mass Relay, and began to race into the battle space, with the Normandy taking the lead. He surveyed the battle, seeing the devastation that Saren’s forces had reaped onto the Citadel Fleet. Although they had put up a good fight, all sense of command and control had clearly broken down, with the Citadel ships fighting in individual pockets. The enormous Destiny Ascension was on her own, isolated and being swarmed by Geth ships. Shepard had made the call, the Alliance would move in to aid the vessel, and save the Council.

As the Alliance vessels poured in, they began to take losses, with the plasma fire of the Geth taking down a few unfortunate cruisers. The massive asari dreadnought was able to make its escape, bloodied, yet still alive. He had lost a number of ships, before they had even focused on Sovereign, but they had no other choice. The Council, at the very least, were safe. Unfortunately, the Geth ships disengaged from picking the Citadel Fleet apart, and prepared to engage the Alliance fleets. He readied himself to engage, when he saw bright blue flashes appear on the edge of the nebula.

“This is Admiral Keyes of the Vektan 15th Fleet. All Alliance vessels, focus on Sovereign. We’ll handle the Geth.” A voice appeared over open airways. He could see clearly now, the blue lights were portals, each bringing an enormous ship through. Some were massive blocks, while others were more akin to rifles in their shape. Regardless, he could see the bright orange flashes as their bow mounted cannon began to fire upon the Geth reinforcements. These strikes were followed up by a wave of missiles and cannon fire. The Geth were wiped out in short order, leaving the route to the Citadel clear.

The Alliance vessels pushed on, seeing the arms of the Citadel opening, and the massive dreadnought simply sitting there. It looked to be a simple turkey shoot, Sovereign being boxed in and unable to escape. Unfortunately, it would not be so simple, as a red beam shot out of one of its tentacles, tearing through a cruiser in a single blast. Worse still, there seemed to be no damage done to Sovereign’s barriers, as it just kept taking the hits. He realised with dawning horror that they were now the ones stuck in a turkey shoot, with no room to manoeuvre. Still, they had no choice anymore, they could only continue to fire upon the dreadnought in the hopes of wearing it down.

“This is our only chance, take that monster down.” He ordered, calmly as possible. It was all he could do to keep his fleet in line.

…

As the battle raged outside, Shepard ordered Robert to check on Saren’s body. “Make sure he’s dead,” she said, her words tinged with spite. He looked down at the dead Turian, and felt some level of understanding of the indoctrinated spectre. He had, after all, only wanted to save lives. He may have been a cold-hearted bastard, living off the principle of the Greater Good for his career. But his intentions were somewhat noble, seeking the survival of all species, albeit under the yoke of the Reapers. And there was the fact that he was indoctrinated himself. It was an insidious thing, a horrific weapon that turned oneself against their own, and without them even realising it. A subtle, cruel weapon. Saren had, in the end, been a victim of the Reapers. The first casualty in this war.

Suddenly, a loud, synthetic roar was heard, and red lights began to flash around the room. Saren may have been dead, but his body was beginning to convulse and twist, as red energy ran across it. The entire room began to shake, causing Shepard and the rest to fall into the garden alongside Robert and Saren. Like a zombie, Saren began to rise, despite being dead. His limbs began to twist and stretch, the hands became long talons, and his flesh began to boil away, leaving only a stretched, metallic skeleton. It had even gone the lengths of tearing his jaw off, leaving only his skull. If Robert had to guess, Sovereign had assumed direct control of his puppet, and was attempting to regain control of the Citadel’s controls. Saren wasn’t kidding, this was a vision of the future under the Reapers.

Breaking out of his shock, Robert stood, and began to fire on the monstrosity. It leapt out of the way, using its springy new form to reach the ceiling. The team formed up into a circle, ready to hit it when it made its move. Unfortunately for the puppeteered creature, Robert spotted it first, and shot at with his railgun. He missed, tearing apart the ceiling instead, causing the creature to slam into the ground. Saren’s body recovered quickly, and bounded from wall to wall. While it had agility, the team themselves were relentless. It would try to snipe them from a corner, only to be hit with rifle fire. It would attempt to bound close, only to met with the blunt force of a shotgun. On and on it went, until, at least, Saren’s body truly lay dead, killed by a burst from Shepard’s rifle.

As soon as it went down, it burst into red flames, and burned away into ashes, leaving nothing but a blackened mark. Something strange occurred outside the tower. Sovereign began to shut down. It seemed as if by killing Saren, they had overclocked the Reaper, and it was left defenceless, if but for a few moments. But the bloodied Alliance fleet capitalised on their window, the Normandy racing upwards, only to spin around, and fire into the belly of the great beast, tearing it apart.

While it was all well and good for the Alliance fleet for Sovereign to be ripped apart, it was an unfortunate truth that the debris from the Reaper was now floating freely in space, with nothing to stop it. Much of it began to rain back down into the streets of the Citadel, tearing neighbourhoods apart.

For Shepard, Robert, Tali and Garrus, it was a terrible fact that a large chunk of Sovereign was now careening towards the Council Tower. Shepard ordered them all to run, but they did not make it far, before the debris slammed into the building, covering them all in rubble and rebar.

As Anderson, some marines and Team 2 reached the room, it looked as if their compatriots hadn’t made it. All they could see was ash and rubble. But slowly, the team appeared. They pulled an unconscious Tali out, with the help of Garrus, who was bleeding from a blow to the head. They helped Robert lift a piece of rebar off his chest. Unfortunately, they couldn’t find Shepard. Just as Anderson began to lose hope, out she popped, walking over the debris, and into the light.

Commander Jane Shepard. Hero of the Citadel.

…

Hours later, as the Alliance and Vektan marines, in conjunction with the remnants of C-Sec, began to work to restore order to the stricken Citadel, Robert sat on a crate, drinking a bottle of fresh water. At the very least, it would wash the taste of dust from his mouth. An ONI agent had just told him some good news about the Council offering Vekta an embassy for their efforts against the Geth. While he was happy for his country, he couldn’t help but somewhat lament that he was now speaking to a different ONI agent than the one he had before. When they ran through the bodies in the tower, the prior agent was amongst them. It was evident that he had been trying to save as many as he could, before taking a bullet to the face. Robert could lament that they had been too slow, but they had done what they could. If Shepard and her team had been unsuccessful, then the agent’s sacrifice would have been in vain. It was a small recompense, but it was something. He thought about visiting the family of the agent in order to offer condolences, but he could see that the Office was unlikely to give out such details.

He was broken from his thoughts when Shepard approached. He stood to attention, despite her not officially being his commanding officer. He supposed he was free once again, could choose to return to civilian life. Despite this, Shepard had earned his respect, his admiration. If anyone deserved it, it would be her. Still, all he got for it was a swat to the shoulder.

“Come on, walk with me.” Shepard simply ordered. He followed obediently. “So, what’s next for you, Captain?” She asked, a slight smile gracing her face.

He thought to himself for a second. While yes, he could re-enter the civilian world, return to a world where he wouldn’t have to dodge bullets and fight monsters from beyond the stars. Speaking of which, the Reapers were still coming. Although they no longer had control of the relays, Vigil had noted that the enemy was patient. Regular FTL would be far slower, but still allow them to return to the galaxy. In a year, a decade, a century, he could be looking at fighting regardless. It would be a war they would all have to fight.

But they could fight it, now that they had been given time. Thanks to Shepard, they now had the chance to prepare, to ready themselves for the oncoming storm. Yes, there would be hurdles and hardships that they would have to face. But, for now, they had a chance. All thanks to Shepard.

So, decision made, he turned back to her. “Well, Commander, if you’re willing, I would like to continue my service aboard the Normandy. If you’ll have me.” He said, determined in his choice. A smile spreading on his face, he continued. “Besides, I never received orders about transferring anywhere else. I’m still technically under your command, ma’am.”

She returned his smile with one of her own. “Well, Captain, welcome aboard.” The pair shook hands, and continued on their way back to the Normandy.

They still had a job left to do.

Chapter Text

THREE WEEKS LATER…

Robert sighed as he packed his kit up. He made sure to run through a checklist, to be sure that he hadn’t missed anything. Rifle? Check. Armour? Check. Datapad? Check. A knocking at the door broke his train of thought. Turning round, he saw Shepard, looking curiously at him. “Going somewhere, trooper?” He flashed her a smile. “Indeed, ma’am.” Standing, he handed over a data pad to Shepard. “Fresh orders. I’m needed back on Vekta, they’re wanting an ‘expert’ on Reapers.” He said, air quoting when he said expert. “And, I’m about the closest thing that they have to one. It ain’t much, but they’re wanting some intel to gear a war around. So, I’m the unlucky son of a gun who has to stand at attention while the admiralty questions every single little thing.”

“Well, at least it’s something more than constantly patrolling for Geth.” Shepard said with a sigh. Ever since the Battle of the Citadel, the Alliance, now a part of the Citadel Council, was laser focused on wiping out the Geth threat. Shepard and the Normandy crew, during the fight against Saren, had effectively blunted their noses, and the Battle of the Citadel had wiped out a large swathe of the Geth forces, Vektan and Alliance fleets wiping out the Geth ships that were present at the Citadel. While it slowed the fighting to a crawl, it meant that the Normandy and other ships were constantly patrolling for any other Geth forces. The most interesting thing that had happened wasn’t even against the Geth, but against Batarian pirates, who aimed to crash an asteroid into the human colony of Terra Nova. Shepard and the crew had promptly stopped them, but were now back to the tedium of searching for a non-existent Geth Fleet.

Hell, the Attican Traverse was all but entirely clear of Geth. The only action in recent memory would be Vekta annexing some Geth colonies, as well as leading a raid on the former Quarian colony of Kar’Den, now a major Geth industrial hub. The Vektans were able to make off with a Geth dreadnought, as well as a number of other technologies. Other than that, it was silent all around.

That was why he was being recalled, Highcom was looking to begin preparations against the Reapers. They all knew that it was only a matter of time before their return, the Forerunner programming had warned them all of it. So, he would be there to advise them on what to do against their mortal enemies. Already, ONI had begun to scrounge around for Forerunner ruins and relics on Vekta. He had his own theories on what to do, but he would save that for Highcom. For now, he needed to say his goodbyes.

“Well, Shepard, you know how it is. Duty calls. At least you’ll have some support from Vekta, God knows that the Council are dragging their feet.” He grumbled. It was true, that the Council was showing itself to be unwilling to deal with the Reaper threat. He could grant, it was an earth-shattering truth, to realise you were caught in a trap of galactic proportions. But they were fast enough to stop the trap from closing. They had time to move, but it would require them to get off their asses to do so. Still, if anyone could, it would be the sheer force of will of Commander Jane Shepard. That was a name people could rally around. He was just happy to have the fortune to meet with her, let alone serve alongside her.

“What will you do, Robert?” Shepard asked curiously.

“Well, I’ll be with you until the Normandy returns to harbour, and then I’ll make my way to Vektan space from there.” He answered honestly. Hesitating about saying farewell, he steadied himself, and spoke up. “Shepard. I…uh.” He stumbled.

Shepard tilted her head, awaiting expectantly at the words he was about to say. “Thank you, Shepard. I know that we didn’t exactly start off as close compatriots, but I’ve grown fond of the Normandy, all of you on board.” He began pacing, focusing on how best to put his feelings into words. “You took me on, a Vektan, without hesitation. You treated me like an equal, when all I knew was scorn from the other races of the galaxy. And…” He chuckled at what he was about to say next. “You’ve taken me on the best damn adventure I’ve had in years. I mean, I’ve locked myself in a coffin and shot into orbit, but this last couple of months. I’ve seen worlds I could never dream of, met so many great people, and served alongside the greatest commander I’ve ever known.” He readied himself for this last bit. “I mean it, Shepard. You are a sheer force of will in this galaxy. You’re going to rattle the damn stars, and kick the shit out of the Reapers when they rear their ugly heads. And I…I’m just proud to have stood next to you.”

Shepard stood stunned. She hadn’t expected such from the ODST. Sure, he had been a fairly open book to her, but damn. She was flattered that he thought so much of her. “Robert, it’s my pleasure to have taken you aboard. You’ve proven yourself to be a damn good soldier, and a damn good friend. It’s an honour to have served alongside you.”

“The honour’s all mine, ma’am.” He said offering his hand, which was promptly taken. He felt lightening shoot through his fingertips at her touch, and a faint blush appear on his cheeks. He admitted to his admiration of her, but he decided to put such things aside. There would be time later for it all. When they separated, all he had to offer was a simple statement. “I hope to work alongside you again in future, Shepard. Probably end up with you dragging my ass out of the fire, knowing my luck.” It earned him a chuckle, and the two parted, Shepard heading towards her office.

Suddenly, the ship shook violently, with enough force to throw him off his feet. He expertly rolled, and checked himself. Alarms began to blare all around, and Joker’s voice followed it over the intercom system. “Attention! Abandon ship! I repeat, abandon ship!” Robert leapt to, guided the disoriented crew towards escape pods. Fire began to spread across the deck, and structural beams began to bend and crack, a few even collapsing onto the ground. Shepard had rushed to seal her armour, and send out a distress beacon. Ashley appeared, asking whether the Alliance would make it in time. Shepard confidently told her that they would be there. Robert focused on lifting a beam off of a stricken crewman, allowing her to drag herself into an escape pod. Unfortunately, it was too late for others, as an explosion killed a crew member, her body crumbling in an instant.

Shepard rushed to the stairs. “Robert, I’m going after Joker. Get to a lifeboat.” She attempted to order.

“With respect, ma’am, two will be quicker in getting him out, and I don’t need the EVA suit.” He said, refusing to follow her orders. Technically, he was no longer under her jurisdiction, so he chose to join her.

One of the stairs was blocked by debris, so the other would have to be taken. Upon the doors opening, what little air remained in the room vented out, banging a box into Robert. It didn’t hurt, but it did make him grunt. Looking out, he saw that entire ceiling of the command deck had been torn completely off, leaving a view of the planet. It would have been a beautiful sight, had it not been for the dire conditions. They stepped on through, the zero-gravity environment offering chairs and rebar to push aside. Far off into the distance, Robert could make out a tiny, brown dot that stood in contrast to the sea of black. That must have been the ship that had struck the killing blow. Just how it had tracked them, he could not tell, but it must have had some advanced hardware to see a ship like the Normandy.

Ahead stood the cockpit, behind a shield protecting Joker, who was doing his best to keep the stricken ship on a decent course. Unfortunately, with the enemy hounding their heels, it was too late to do anything for the ship, despite Joker’s protests. “I won’t abandon the Normandy! I can still save her!” Joker yelled out.

“The Normandy’s lost. Going down with her won’t change that.” Shepard told him. He agreed to leave at that.

“Ow! Watch the arm!” Joker cried out, his brittle bones disease meaning that he couldn’t stand too much pressure on his arm. Robert helped to ease him up, taking his right side with his left arm. They managed to drag him towards the cockpit’s escape pod, only for the enemy to fire again without warning.

The edge of Robert’s vision began to show static. He could not say he exactly felt the pain at that moment, registering it in a mixture of agony and sheer numbness. The yellow beam of energy had flashed right next to him, just as the three reached the escape pod. He looked over to see the bridge spin away from the body of the vessel, and noticed that his right arm was missing. He looked around, trying to find it, but it wasn’t floating around anywhere. It was as if it had just vanished in a flash. He suddenly felt extremely tired, and collapsed onto the floor of the pod. He swung his head around, noting Joker strapped into his seat, and Shepard on the other side of the room. She shouldn’t be there; she should be in here with them. He weakly raised his remaining arm in her direction, as if offering her a hand. “Shepard.” It was all he was able to groan out. She looked over, one last time, and hit a button. The door slammed shut, blocking his view of her, and the pod shot out of the wreckage.

As Robert laid his head on the floor in shock, unable to register all that had just happened. The only thing he took note of was Joker’s cries.

“SHEPARD!”

Chapter Text

Shepard walked through the slums of Omega, surrounded by mercenaries taking potshots at some apartments just across the street. She stretched a sore spot in her right arm. Ever since she had been revived under the Lazarus Project, there had been a twinge in that part of her arm. To be fair, it may have been the biotic implant embedded into her, curtesy of Cerberus. While she retained her skills as a soldier, she had to admit that some biotic abilities did come in handy. So far, she had shown a preference towards merely slamming her enemies into the floor. Not exactly the most impressive of tricks, but it was effective enough. A broken back or neck would put a damper on anyone’s day, after all.

Speaking of which, the whole Cerberus angle was quite a shock to the system. The dangerous rogue black ops cell that she thought she had destroyed while she hunted for Saren had popped up again. Surprisingly for her, however, they didn’t seem to bear too much of a grudge against her. They had gone to the lengths of spending enough credits to construct a fleet, all just to bring her back from death. They had gone further, reconstructing the Normandy, not as she was, but in a new upgraded form. The Normandy SR2. Complete with the latest of technologies. New weapons, a new Eezo core, and a hull twice the length of the original.

Plus, they had brought along a vibrant new crew to help her. There were some old faces, including a return for their expert pilot, Joker, as well as their loyal Doctor Chakwas. But there were also new faces. Jacob Taylor, a good man, loyal to the mission, and Miranda Lawson, the ship’s XO and loyal to Cerberus instead.

It would take a while to get used to working with Cerberus, but they had given Shepard her life back, her ship back, and something more. The opportunity to take the fight to the Reapers. She had visited Anderson at the Citadel, having an unfortunate meeting with the Council. “Ah yes, Reapers.” She recalled the Turian Councillor Sparatus spitefully mocking her. “We have dismissed such claims.” He had definitively dismissed her with. Those bastards. Two years, and all they had done was bury their heads in the sand. Worse still, the Alliance didn’t seem to have done much to counter such ignorance, afraid of losing their comfortable positions within Citadel governance. She sighed, acknowledging that it wasn’t entirely Anderson’s fault. They were dealing with very little evidence, she supposed, and the cover story was a convincing one for those who were not there. It hadn’t been an entirely fruitless visit; her Spectre status had been reinstated, and she had been able to recruit the thief, Kasumi Goto. But it wasn’t the military support she had wanted.

Cerberus, however, was willing to do what it took to help. Although focused primarily on aiding humanity in its quest for human superiority, its goals aligned with her, for now. They had pointed her at the Collectors, who were kidnapping humans from colonies within the Terminus Systems and the outskirts of the Attican Traverse. If the Collectors were, as suspected, working for the Reapers, then they needed to be dealt with. Reaper presence within the Galaxy already could prove disastrous, as Shepard had already seen in the abandoned homes of Freedom’s Progress.

She intended to take the fight to the bastards, but to do that, she would need a team, which brought her here, to the slums of Omega. Cerberus had given her a pile of dossiers for team members who would be an asset for such a mission. One of which included a mercenary named Archangel. Very little info to go on, but he had apparently pissed off each and every one of the Terminus System mercenary groups. Now, they had him trapped within this apartment block, all preparing for one final assault, and Shepard was there to break him out.

She, alongside Jacob and Miranda, had sabotaged much of the equipment the three mercenary bands had brought along, including the Mantis Gunship and the YMIR mech they had brought along. Before long, she was expected to join in the frontline assault on Archangel’s spot alongside the Eclipse. From the outside, there seemed to be only one route through, across a narrow footbridge. However, the Blood Pack had apparently found a back route in, and were willing to use it. If all else failed, the Blue Suns were going to use the gunship to smoke him out, while snipers would pick him off if he made a run for it. It would be a hell of a firefight, but Shepard was ready to pull this off. Archangel had already held these guys off for so long, with the four of them, they may just be able to repel them for good.

She joined the charge, only to begin firing into the backs of her supposed fellow mercenaries. They soon attempted to fire back, only to be hit by Archangel’s accurate sniper fire from the back. However, something unexpected happened. A blue armoured Batarian fell down onto the street, lifeless and broken body still clutching his sniper rifle. He must have been part of the sniper team the Blue Suns set up. Before long, she rushed towards Archangel’s building, aware of the firefight occurring on the rooftop opposite.

She was surprised to see none other than Garrus Vakarian sitting there, sniper in hand. “Garrus! What are you doing here?” She exclaimed. For what it was worth, he didn’t look too shabby. He’d traded in his C-Sec uniform, that much was evident, but was still the same Turian she had fought alongside, blue face paint and all. “Just keeping my skills sharp. A little target practice. I admit, I’ve been better, but I can’t complain about seeing a friendly face. Killing mercs is hard work, especially solo.” He panted out. He was clearly exhausted at this point; if they hadn’t showed up, he likely wouldn’t have made it through. Although considering the continuing firefight on the roof across…

“We got in easily enough. Don’t suppose you have a way out of here?” Shepard questioned. “Got a friend helping out?” She said, nodding towards the gunfire outside.

“Unfortunately, all of my team are… gone.” He said, likewise nodding towards a line of body bags, each one filled. “I just assumed whoever’s outside was with you.” Now that was intriguing. This stranger belonged to neither party, but was still fighting against the mercs. He was definitely after Archangel, why else would they be here. However, he wasn’t here for to kill Garrus, else why fight against the mercenary band. It didn’t change much at this point, since they were focused on the snipers up top. The rest of the defence would be on the four of them in the house.

“Regardless, what’s our plan of attack?” Shepard asked, focusing their attention back to matter at hand.

“So far, the bridge has been my saving grace, funnelling those witless idiots outside into my scope.” Garrus explained. “But it works both ways. They’ll massacre us if we attempt that way.”

“So, we just sit here and wait for them to take us out?” Miranda piped up; her Australian accent filled with scorn.

“This place has held up so far. With the three of you here…” he said, looking to Shepard, Miranda and Jacob. “I suggest we hold this location, wait for a crack in their defences, and take our chances. Their numbers won’t help them here, anyway. Here, take a look.” He said, handing Shepard his sniper.

“Eclipse. Scouts by the look of things.” Through her scope, she saw LOKI mechs, their robotic bodies approaching. She blew one of their heads off, causing it to detonate, and take a squad of them with it. “Those look like more than scouts, Garrus.”

“Indeed. Let’s get ready. I’ll stay up here; I can do a lot more from this vantage point. You…do what you do best. Just like old times, Shepard.”

Jareth’s Eclipse mercs began to push along the bridge, alongside their robotic LOKI’s. There wasn’t much in the way of a coordinated attack, just them sending in their weakest units in order to soak up the bullets, before sending in their toughest units. However, even their heavier, shielded troops were going down under the accurate hail of fire coming from Archangel’s position. Getting frustrated Jareth went forward, hoping the cover of his YMIR would be enough of a distraction to reach the house. His advance stalled when it turned on him. Shepard smiled at that, a neat little trick of hers. The mercs should have probably checked it before sending it.

Another body slapping against the walkway was enough to remind her of their mysterious ally. It sounded as if he was wrapping up. They would be meeting soon, she reckoned. Shepard was broken from her thoughts when she heard the sound of metal crashing to the ground, looking up to see the YMIR lying lifeless and riddled with holes. Jareth, having survived his encounter, stepped over its body, standing well in the open. Shepard took the opportunity, and shot the salarian. She managed to knock out the shields, but was too late to confirm the kill, as he took cover. Just as the Salarian was about to recharge his shields, a large black shape fell onto him. The unfortunate mercenary was killed in an instance; whatever had fallen on him must have weight a ton, as it had cracked the metal and polycrete underneath it. Jareth’s two guards, bedecked in armour and shields, raised their guns to fire upon the new threat, only for it to charge them. In a flash, it cracked its weapon into the face of the human guard, before twisting it to fire upon the asari commando. Both of them slumped to the floor, one with a missing jaw and the other with a crushed face. All in the span of two seconds. It began to pour fire upon the other mercenaries, holding them for a moment. It would allow Shepard to deal the Blood Pack, who would attempt to breach from the garage.

She left Garrus behind, with Jacob to support him if things got hairy. It was unlikely, as their black clad ally was making mincemeat of the surviving Eclipse. So, Shepard and Miranda went down to the garage, and shut the blast doors on the encroaching horde of Krogan, Vorcha and Varen. With that one access secure, the pair returned, only to be hit with a shockwave, as the hulking Krogan form of the Blood Pack’s leader Garm burst into the room, massive M300 Claymore primed. Garrus took cover, narrowly avoiding getting blown away by a swarm of slugs being fired at him. Shepard and Miranda began to fire on Garm, distracting him. Unfortunately, he was decked head to toe in armour, and was currently being fuelled by pure blood rage. He charged down, smashing through the crate Shepard had taken cover behind, and knocking the Spectre to the floor.

Before he could smash his shotgun over Shepard’s head, a hand reached out to grab it. It was a grey metal thing, standing in contrast to the black armour of her saviour, who proceeded to throw the hulking Krogan a good metre backwards. Garm stumbled, shocked, but quickly refocused and charged his dark opponent. Garm must have felt a surge of confidence for a second, for who could stop a pissed off Krogan at such close range. Unfortunately, reality hit him square in the face, as the stranger simply pushed back against him, and the pair had come to a dead stop in a second. Garm could barely comprehend this, before the massive Krogan felt something grab onto his head. The grip on his neck felt like a vice, squeezing hard on the softer flesh in the spaces between his armoured plates. He felt his head be smashed into a marble countertop, saw little chips of his plated head flake off, and witnessed it be repeated over and over, destroying the counter, and leaving him to lay with water pouring onto his head from a broken pipe. Just before it all faded to black, he saw his blood mixed into a small puddle beneath him. He instinctively used the last of his energy to prod at where the blood was leaking from, only to find that his skull had been dented in. His arm fell alongside his vision.

Meanwhile, Shepard witnessed this stranger take on a full sized Krogan battle master, and kill him with a counter top. The rest of them swept up Garm’s allies, wiping out the remnants of the blood pack. Even still, it was a horrific show of brutality. Their ally had made went toe to toe in a battle of strength against a Krogan, and had come out on top. Evidently, he was strong, just based on that. From what she had seen, he was also fast, having taken down two elite mercenaries in under two seconds. He was a power house, that was for sure. With the fight having paused for a second, she could finally get a good look at him. He was tall, standing about 6’11”, and his armour was like no style she had ever seen. All black metal plate, with a black suit underneath. His helmet was fully enclosed, with only a small camera on the front for vision. Even still, it all looked like it weighed a ton, like a Krogan in human form. The only notable exception was his grey metal right arm. Entirely robotic, in contrast to the more muscular and black clad left. It was most likely that it was a prosthetic, to compensate for an injury.

Before she could ponder it any more, a slow whirring engine was heard outside. She turned around in time to the blue Mantis gunship take off. Evidently, Tarak had gotten tired of waiting, and had flown up to confront them. ‘At least his shields are down’, Shepard thought to herself. Unfortunately, his guns and missiles weren’t, as Garrus unfortunately found out, being splashed by cannon rounds. The guns began to rake towards her, afterwards. She prepared to dodge, only for a shadow to appear in front of her. The stranger had leapt in the path of the rounds, which were repelled by a gold-coloured barrier. He responded in kind with a weapon on his back, which she only noticed just now. It fired a bright red beam, which simply melted through the craft, most likely right through the Batarian piloting it. Its engines sputtered for a second, and then shut down completely, sending the Mantis plummeting straight down like a brick.

She rushed over to Garrus who was coughing up blood. The cannons had done a number on him, and she desperately called for a medevac. “We’re getting you out of here, Garrus. Radio the Normandy, tell them to prep for launch.” She ordered Miranda. “Hold on,” said the black clad stranger. “I’ve got something that’ll take the edge off, Garrus.” He said, jabbing a needle into the stricken Turian, before sealing the wound with medigel. “It’s dextro friendly. It’ll keep him stabilised.”

He picked up Garrus gently, surprising for a man who had the strength to crack a Krogan’s skull. As he carried Archangel towards a shuttle, ready to return to the Normandy, all she could think about was the voice. The accent was familiar, the voice was familiar. The weapons, the gear, the methods. Even the missing arm. It hit her then and there.

She knew just who the stranger was.

Chapter Text

TWO YEARS AGO…

Robert stood, dressed in his ODST dress uniform, hearing the crowd around him, but not truly listening. He was content to merely look at the large picture framed of her. Of Shepard. They had chosen one of her fresh out of boot camp, decked out in her uniform, trying to maintain a serious face despite the mirth and excitement hiding themselves within those emerald eyes. He too had worn such an expression, it something they all felt after boot camp. You spent weeks being broken and reformed into something new by your drill instructors. You emerged from it knowing that you didn’t break or fold. You’d been through hell, and walked out the other side. They all felt that sense of excitement, the feeling of accomplishment. Looking, at the picture, he found another connection to Shepard.

Except, it wasn’t her. It was just a damned picture. The real Shepard was gone, and he had been there to see it. Like the last man watching a star fade, he had been there to witness Shepard float off into the void. There wasn’t even anything left of her to collect, most likely a pile of ashes on some moon now. They couldn’t give her a coffin, so they had instead relied on a gravestone, with her name on it. All he could look at today was this stone and this picture, and tomorrow, all he would have is the stone.

He idly scratched at his right arm, only to find himself grabbing at nothing. Phantom limb, they called it. The blast from that enemy ship had taken his arm clean off, another thing turned to dust in the void. It had also done well to burn his right side, and left a large pale patch where the new skin had been grafted on. He was eligible for a prosthetic arm, which would allow him to continue his service, but that would be a while until he could get that. For now, he would have to deal with his head still trying to work with an arm that simply wasn’t there.

Although he couldn’t hear what they were saying, he felt the crowd begin to disperse, more and more, until he was left alone at the grave. At least, until someone else approached, standing next to him, mirroring him. He turned to see a woman with dark hair and an Alliance uniform, with a familiar set of green eyes. “Mrs Shepard.” He greeted Shepard’s mother courteously. “I’m sorry for your loss, ma’am.”

She gave him a tired smile. She must have heard that a thousand times today. By the looks of things, she had been crying, naturally. But now, it looked like she had no tears left to shed. “Thank you,” she whispered. She continued to stare at the grave.

Robert, trying to offer her condolences as best he could, turned his head to look at her. “I was there, with her, when she…” he didn’t say the last part, although it was enough for Hannah to turn to look at him. He fiddled with the fingers on his one hand, trying to think how best to put it to her. Taking a breath in, he continued. “She went out doing what she always did. Saving me, and Joker. The pilot. Putting her crew above all else.”

“Yes. That was always Jane. Trying to do her best to help others.” Hannah wearily said. “Thank you, young man. For being with her, at the end.”

“If there’s anything I can do…” He offered.

“No, no. It’s quite alright.” She turned him down. “There’s not much left to do but come to terms with it.” Hannah said, turning to depart. Robert let her go, unable to think of anything else to say.

“Yeah.” He said to no one in particular. “Come to terms with it.”

…

TWO MONTHS LATER…

He downed another glass of ryncol, needing to drown his feelings. The unique mixture of rage, disgust and exhaustion mixing together in the pit of his stomach. He wasn’t usually a heavy drinker, but today, he needed to numb himself in this dingy little bar on the Citadel. Head rested in his hands, not noticing the figure walking up to his booth.

“Hey, stranger.” Ashley said, slipping into the seat opposite. She looked worried for him. To be fair, he probably did look like hammered shit, he thought solemnly. To be fair to himself, he had a decent reason to get shitfaced.

“Hey Ash.” He said, barely looking up at her. The vidscreen in the corner started a news story on the Council’s latest decisions for repair to the damages of the Geth attack. Ash could see Robert hatefully glaring at it, as if he could destroy it with looks alone. She elected to turn the conversation to other corners. “Did you hear about Kaiden?” When the Vektan shook his head, she continued. “He resigned earlier this week.”

It was enough to make Robert lift his head. “Really?” He asked. “I never would have expected Kaiden to do something like that. What made him do that?”

“Disagreements over Alliance policy.” She answered. She didn’t have to go into too much detail for Robert. In the wake of Sovereign’s attack, the Council had elected to disavow the idea of Reapers as delusion, and instead focused entirely on Saren and the Geth. And as the latest branch of the Council, the Alliance had no choice but to go along with it. Robert chucked another shot down his throat.

“Yeah, figures.” He sighed. “It’s a fucking travesty what they’re doing to her.” Ashley didn’t need to ask who he was talking about. Nearly all the survivors of the Normandy were stunned by the death of Shepard, which was only exasperated by the Citadel working to unravel her work. It seemed as if the efforts of all the non-humans on the Normandy had been forgotten by the Alliance, while all of the work that Shepard had made in trying to prepare for the Reaper threat seemed to be demolished with a wave of the Citadel’s hand.

“That why you’re down here?” Ashley asked, looking at Robert with concern. Robert and her, as some of the last of those present on the Normandy, had done their best to remain in contact. Robert had taken Shepard’s death hard. Looking at him now, he looked worn down. She knew that even without the stench of ryncol, he would look tired. Perhaps it was the loss of his arm, perhaps the fact that he had witnessed it, but he was taking the whole thing hard.

Robert shook his head at Ashley’s question. “Nah. Fucking Council. I tried to tell them what we need to do, that we need to be getting prepped for the upcoming war.” He began to rant. “But lo and behold, I get sent packing. Of course, why pick your head out the sand, easier to sleep at night when you can ignore the truth. Fuck it, just let the train run us all down.” He slammed his head onto the table, making a loud bang. With a sigh, he muttered aloud. “How the hell would she have done it?”

Ashley rolled her eyes. He had been like this for a while now, and she was getting sick of it. “You finished?” She asked rhetorically. “Or are you going to keep sucking this pity dick?” He began to glare at her, but she was not perturbed. “So what if they blew you off again? We’ll find another way, someone else to convince.” She grabbed his hand. “I’m not saying this to hurt you, Robert. But we can’t just give up.”

“But how?” Robert sat back up. “How the hell am I…are we going to get things moving. Especially against people who don’t give enough of a shit to listen? The Council’s made their decision.” A dark look grew on his face. “The Alliance made their decision.”

“The Alliance has its problems, but we can’t just dismiss them.” When he didn’t look convinced, she continued. “Surely, it’s better to work within the system to change it. And we’ve got some allies to work with. Anderson- “

“Anderson didn’t do shit to go against the Council!” Robert shouted, slamming his fist onto the table. “And don’t talk about ‘working in the system!’” He gestured mockingly. “You may be a part of that system, but all they’ll see of me is a fucking machine! A computer on legs!” He yelled, his temper rising.

“Don’t give me that shit! It’s taken me time to rise to my rank! Don’t act like you’re special!” Ashley retorted.

“Exactly. They hated you for a fucking name! How the hell can we make changes, when a name is enough to fuck you!” He argued back. “How the fuck can we do anything?! We could save a million systems, fix a thousand fucking problems, and they’d still sweep us under the rug! Just like they did to her.” He said, slipping back into melancholy.

Ashley had had enough. “Fine!” She snapped, standing up and beginning to leave. “Goodbye, Robert! Good luck fixing everything!” She said, stomping off.

Robert merely glared at her back. “Yeah! You know what, I will.” He muttered to himself, slamming back another shot.

…

FIVE MONTHS LATER…

Robert was listening intently to his grandfather over the comms. He had been allowed one last phone call before he could begin the procedure. The enhancements offered today were a lot safer than prior generations, but were not 100 percent guaranteed safe, as much as any surgery would be. As such, he had elected to call his grandfather. Although the conversation was work related, it was a lot more amicable, being between just the two of them. None of the admirals, generals and others to stop them from talking like grandfather and grandson.

“So, you’ll delighted to hear that Avalon’s going well.” Grandpa Terry said. “Everyone seems to be on board, since they can’t deny that the Reapers are a real presence.” Robert smiled at that. After his last meeting with the Council had proven fruitless, he had turned to the last source he could rely on. The Vektan Republic. Apparently, a message from the Forerunners had hit all of the Vektans, although his had been the only experience of a total loss of control. So, they had no choice but to accept the reality of the situation. With the help of his grandfather and his uncle Jacob, he was able to push through a plan that had the potential to counter the Reapers. It wasn’t foolproof, but it gave them a chance.

That being said, Vekta needed to be as secure as she could be before the Reapers had the chance to invade. Given that they had no time scale for when the enemy would arrive, they would need to be as prepared as soon as possible. That was why he was currently waiting for the surgery to augment his body.

A new branch in Naval Special Warfare Command had recently been opened, the Spartan IV program. From what he understood, it was a super soldier program, that was looking for the best troops they could find. As an ODST, he didn’t know how to feel about having the Troopers lose their status as the best of the best. But if Vekta called for soldiers, then he would answer. They were at war, even if the rest of the galaxy couldn’t see it.

“It’s good to hear progress is being made, Pop.” He said to his grandfather, using his childhood moniker for him. It was a nice memory from a simpler time, before he was looking down the barrel of an intergalactic gun. “Anything else happening on your front?”

“Nothing you have to worry over, you’ve got enough to handle with this surgery.” His grandfather said, only half-jokingly.

Robert brushed it aside. “Bah, don’t worry about it. They wouldn’t put us through it if they didn’t think we could handle it.” His grandfather was silent at that, and Robert knew better than to ask. It was already an open secret that there were prior generations of Spartans, and no one was particularly eager to discuss their origins, especially in both the face of new enemies and the numerous accomplishments of the Spartans, hushed up in the media, but abound amongst the rumours.

Still, if it could improve the odds for Vekta emerging from this war, then he would take any risk to see it through. He had already faced a starship sized genocide machine, what was a couple hours on a surgery table. After all, he would have needed it anyway, he thought as he looked down at his missing right arm.

Suddenly, he was called into the room. He quickly said his farewells to his grandfather, and followed the orderly. There was no other choice now, the decisions made and the consequences thereafter had brought him to this point. Here was where he was to be given a new lease on life, a new body to wield, and a new mission to be bear.

“Just another jump into hell.” He said to himself, as the surgical arms whirred to life.

…

SIXTEEN MONTHS LATER…

Robert swept through the shadows of the rooftops, the bright neon lights of Omega both shielding him and threatening to betray his location to the enemy. But they were all preoccupied. For a bunch of trained mercs, they were surprisingly unobservant.

Of course, the Spartan had a few tricks up his own sleeve that aided him. His suit of Mjolnir Mk. V armour, despite weighing a few hundred kilograms, was moving about light as a feather. The clever little sensors and systems built within made it feel like a second skin. To be fair, after so many missions, he had begun to feel more accustomed to it than without it. More seamless and more powerful than his ODST armour had ever been, he had wielded it with the lethality the armour deserved.

Since his surgery, and the few months it required to get a handle on his augmented body, he had been sent from mission to mission by ONI. By his own volition, he had elected to join the Headhunters, and sent on the highest risk, highest reward missions, and he had joined with fervour. He had even elected to go Lone Wolf for most of them, hoping to only risk himself. They would need as many soldiers as they could against the Reapers, and if only he were at risk, then that saved another body from a mission not even against the real enemy.

That included this mission. With Vekta seeking to be as secure as possible, then the opposing forces within the Terminus System would have to remain subdued, especially with worrying news about a potential risk with the Collectors. He had been sent by ONI to secure a High Value Target known as Archangel. He had been hitting the largest three mercenary groups in the Terminus Systems, and keeping them off Vekta’s back. However, recently, they had received information that said mercs had trapped him, and were planning to kill him. Since the Office wanted some thorns to remain embedded in the sides of the Terminus forces, he had been sent to rescue Archangel. It would be easier said than done, with an army of mercs in his way. But that was why they sent a Spartan to deal with a problem. They were known for the impossible, after all.

He crept up towards the mercs, their attention entirely focused on the street below them. Or perhaps it was more the building opposite. They were at too high of an angle to get a shot off at their target, with only the barrel of his sniper rifle visible. That being said, the grenade launchers they were preparing could still knock out their target yet, if hit at the right angle. And, given that one of them was wielding a heavy M98 Widow sniper rifle, they might be hoping to get a shot off yet.

The mercs appeared to have a sense of humour, as they had elected to give such a heavy implement to a Salarian, whose arms were already shaking just aiming the damn thing. So, Robert decided to be helpful, and relieved the poor Salarian of the rifle. Although, he soon turned it on the Turian at the far end, blowing his throat out as the heavy rifle tore through his barriers.

The world began to slow to a crawl, as Robert’s augmentations kicked it. A simulated adrenaline rush, commonly dubbed as Spartan Time, meant that his reaction time decreased into the milliseconds. He slammed the rifle into the head of the Salarian, who had only just registered where it had been taken. The poor bastard was killed instantly as the rifle broke apart inside his skull. In a mere flick of his wrist, Robert brought up his M7 submachine gun, and sprayed the remaining few mercs on the rooftop, who had only just begun to react to his presence.

The roof was now clear, except for a pile of dead mercs surrounding him. It wasn’t exactly a subtle introduction, but it would take some of the heat off of Archangel. God knows how long the poor bastard had been going on for, but he must have been running on fumes by that point. He would have to get down there and join him.

He was about to do so, when something stopped the super soldier dead in his tracks. Three mercs on the ground had just fired on their own. The two in black and white led him to believe that they were Cerberus operators. Vekta had its own run ins with the rogue organisation, often finding some level of cooperation. But it was the third one, the red and black armour, the red hair. It couldn’t be. Could it?

He was broken from his own thoughts when a shotgun blast slammed into his energy shields. Damn it! He shouldn’t be acting so sloppy. He had been trained better than that. He was at least thankful for the fact that the Mjolnir Mk. V was armed with energy shields over the standard kinetic barriers. The eggheads at R&D had dabbled in plasma-based shielding after capturing Geth equipment. It had been hoped to upgrade it to a starship scale, but for now, he was just content to have it for himself.

He turned around just in time to catch a Batarian attempting to tackle him. It was a brave attempt, but ultimately futile, Robert standing still at nearly thrice the alien’s weight. He quickly snapped the brave fool’s neck, used his body as a convenient shield, spraying other mercenaries with his M7. Those who were left were taking cover in the stairwell they had come up from, so he was given a moment’s reprieve. He chucked the Batarian’s corpse over the ledge, watching it slam into the ground still clutching its weapon. The red and black figure turned to look at it after dispatching the other mercs on the ground, allowing him a glimpse of her from the front.

Yep. It was her alright. Somehow, Shepard had managed to take on the vacuum of space and come out on top. He felt a little numb about seeing the impossible. He had given up a lot of hope, but there she was. The icon herself. He snapped to attention immediately. If Shepard was in this fight, maybe it wouldn’t be such an impossible task after all. Bringing his shotgun to bear, he charged towards the Blue Suns emerging from the stairs. If Shepard could secure Archangel, he would secure the other fronts, just like they had operated all those missions ago. Just like a lifetime ago.

Chapter Text

Robert could only stand to attention as he watched his superiors argue between themselves. The Quantum Entanglement Device that the spooks had in their Omega safehouse allowed him to talk to his commanding officers from across galactic space. Unfortunately, it meant that he now had to stand here and listen to them go back and forth about how best to tackle the involvement in Cerberus.

Admiral Jacob Keyes turned to him and asked him “Hood. Were you able to find out why Cerberus wanted Archangel?” Robert stood a little straighter. It was always a treat to see Uncle Jacob, he had been a key presence in his life, having been almost adopted by the Hood family as a member of their own. But like with his grandfather, he would have to treat him as if he were only his superior officer.

“Sir. I believe that there was mention of dealing with Collectors, as I helped to drop Garr…I mean, Archangel off to their medical bay. He had taken fire from a gunship, and had to be treated at a medical facility.” He clarified, lest anyone accuse him of aiding and abetting a foreign entity.

The information shifted the direction of the conversation. “The Collectors have been a growing pain in the ass for a while now. We’ve had rumours of human colonies going dark within the Terminus Systems, and if the Collectors are going on a warpath, we’ll want them out of the way ASAP.” Keyes took command of the conversation, focusing everyone’s attention onto the issue at hand.

“But, Admiral, are we willing to work alongside Cerberus?” A young officer piped up. “You know how they operate. Are we to gift wrap them the opportunity to spy on our methods and tech?”

Keyes contemplated this point. It was a valid concern. They couldn’t afford to be seen helping an organisation as shady as Cerberus, and they likewise couldn’t afford to put their best tech on display for Cerberus to steal. Robert, however, saw an opportunity.

“If I may, sir?” He said, with Keyes giving his affirmation. “Commander Shepard is on her way to deal with the Collectors anyway, and from what she’s said, Cerberus is giving her free reign to operate as she wishes.”

“How can SHE be so sure about that?” Another officer pointedly asked.

“I don’t know what sort of wizardry that the Illusive Man pulled to bring her back, but I’m guessing it wasn’t cheap, sir. That’s in addition to rebuilding the SSV Normandy. He wants Shepard again, most likely due to her power as a symbol against the Reapers. We know he has the same aims as us in that regard. If I were him, I would avoid adding anything to her head that could compromise her. That’s just my reading on it, sir.”

“So, what is your suggestion, Spartan?” Keyes asked.

“I can offer my assistance to her in fighting against the Collectors. She already knows me, and Cerberus would know the usefulness of a Spartan operative, so they should accept me willingly. This safehouse should have some scramblers that I can take aboard, avoid any spying on my Mjolnir armour. With that, I can keep an eye on Cerberus and hit the Collectors hard.”

With nods across the table, Keyes agreed to the plan. “Alright, Hood. Proceed with the plan. I can’t offer much in the way of assistance, but I’ll help wherever possible. Good luck, soldier.” Keyes dismissed him with a salute, which was likewise returned. The QED shut off, and Robert packed up equipment he would need on this mission.

He couldn’t lie to himself; this mission was very much a selfish one on his part. He had defended Shepard to his superiors, but he wasn’t honestly sure of it himself. He had to be sure that they hadn’t done anything to her, or even if it was truly her that he saw on that ship. He had to see for himself that Shepard was back.

‘Will you be the same as the day I lost you?’ he asked, to no answer.

…

Shepard paced around the meeting room. She had taken quite the shock today, if she was being honest with herself. Two of her old crewmates, Garrus and Robert, now two entirely different people. Garrus had gone from disgruntled C-Sec officer to merc assassin. Meanwhile, the Helljumper she had worked alongside had transformed into God knows what. For her, it had only been a few days, but for them, it was two years. She could understand it, but it was nevertheless a shock to system.

It had been evident that the black-clad stranger had been Robert. His voice, although somewhat augmented by his helmet, and the way that he referred to Garrus by name, it was clear that the Vektan was back. However, he hadn’t exactly been the friendliest when he brought Garrus back. His answers had been short, clipped, and he had departed as near swiftly as he had arrived. He hadn’t even had the decency to remove his helmet for her. It had been an awkward reintroduction, and she was left unsure just how to feel about it. Had her crewmate, her friend, changed that much in two years? How much had the rest of them changed?

That was when she heard the footsteps approaching from outside. Garrus walked into the room, alongside Jacob. “He’s a tough son of a bitch, I didn’t expect he’d be up so soon.” Jacob said.

“Nobody would give me mirror, how bad is it?” Garrus said, his voice light for a man who had taken a rocket to the face.

“Hell, Garrus, you were always ugly. Slap some face-paint on it and no one will even notice.” Shepard retorted to the wise-ass Turian.

“Ha!” He laughed, before wincing. “Ooh, don’t make me laugh. My face is barely holding together as is.”

A silver hand clapped him on the back, as a familiar black armoured individual walked in. “Bah, women love a good war injury.” Robert said, swaggering around the Turian. “Well, most of them are Krogan, but I’m sure you can handle it.”

Jacob dismissed himself, and left the three old comrades to themselves. Robert took the liberty of removing his helmet. His brown hair was shorter now, and he had a few new scars across his face, but otherwise he was the same Vektan as before. If you didn’t count an extra few hundred kilograms and another foot in height.

“Frankly, I’m more worried about you, Shepard.” Garrus started. “I’ve heard bad things about Cerberus these last few years. Not to mention our own run ins with them, while we were hunting Saren.”

“That’s why I’m glad you’re here Garrus. If I’m walking into hell, I want someone I can trust alongside me.” Shepard said, smiling at the injured Turian.

“You do realise this plan will have me walking into hell too, right?” Garrus joked.

“Well, won’t make too much of a change when it comes to Shepard’s usual plans.” Robert piped up.

“I’ll be settling in the forward battery if you need me, Shepard, and I’m ready whenever you need me.” Garrus said, dismissing himself, leaving the pair alone.

They settled in to a comfortable silence, both trying to think on how to start. Robert couldn’t help but look at her. She was exactly as she was on that day, bar a few scars, some cybernetics if he had to hazard a guess. He surprised himself by speaking first, breaking the silence. “Sorry, Shepard. For earlier. Walking out without a word.” He rubbed the back of his neck. “Two years since I saw you getting vented. It’s quite the shock to the system.”

“I’ll bet.” She said, looking at his right arm. She recalled vaguely seeing it shorn off him by that bright golden beam. Now, in its place stood a crude robotic arm, more akin to a droid than the synthetic tissues of his previous one. It stood out as silver compared to the black of his armour, and looked especially scrawny compared to the rest of his bulk. However, she had seen how he had moved in that last firefight, and she had no doubt about its power. “See you’ve made some changes. Want to tell me about it?”

“Just as long as you tell me how you came back from the dead.” He responded, looking inquisitively at her.

“Cerberus brought me back. The Illusive Man said that he spent a fleet’s worth of money just to do it, a Project Lazarus. Wanted me back as a symbol of humanity, to push back the Collectors.”

“Joined the Spartan IV program. Took a little bit of surgery, got some augmentations and a set of Mjolnir Mk. V. Just your everyday super soldier program. Joined it to prepare Vekta against the Reaper threat.”

They both thought about what the other had to say, settling in to another silence. Robert again broke it. “So, the Collectors, hmmm?” He asked.

“Yes. They’ve been attacking human colonies within the Terminus Systems. Saw it myself, or at least the aftermath.”

Robert nodded. “Yeah, the spooks told me something like that was happening. If they’re kicking up trouble in the Terminus Systems, then Vekta may be next on the chopping block.” He straightened up.

“So, permission to come aboard, Commander?”

Shepard skirted around the table, to stand before him. “Always, Robert.” Taking his hand, she shook it, just like she had two years ago. “You’ll have to find a room for yourself though. I don’t think they expected you to join.”

“Don’t worry, I’ll set myself up in the hanger. Should be enough space to do maintenance for my armour, plus I can help configure the Kodiak, try to make it run in top shape.”

He began to head off, when he turned around to look at her, his eyes only able to look into hers for a second. “By the way. It’s good to see you again, Shepard.”

…

He marched out of the elevator, into the hanger bay, his steps reverberating against the metal plates. It brought him back to kinder days. That feeling of unity, of kinship with a crew from across the stars. Even now, he could see it. The Mako sitting there, ready to dive out into orbit. Ashley would stand in the corner, fixing a rifle here and there. Garrus would be tapping away at that console of his. Wrex would be sitting there, arms folded, minding his own business. Just around the corner, he’d see the drive core, with Engineer Adams and Tali tinkering away in their work to keep it humming away. The rest were merely a short elevator ride into the other two decks. He himself would find a spot somewhere, and wile away the hours cleaning his armour to where he could see his reflection on it, the face of a kid ready to take on the galaxy with his team behind him.

But the memories were just that. He stared at is helmet, the heavy Gungnir model of the Mk. V, without any glass to stare into. He looked further, his arms and body augmented and stretched to become more efficient killing implements. His right arm was now just as robotic as any other piece of machinery. He didn’t need to see his reflection to know what he looked like now either, to know that the smirk would not be there, not as it once was. There was none of that sense of kinship there anymore, none of that naivety. He had to bear the weight of the galaxy on his shoulders, even if it chipped away at him.

When he looked up, he could no longer see those phantoms of the past either. The Mako was gone, only a Kodiak sitting comfortably on its raised platform. Garrus was in another part of the ship, as were Chakwas and Joker, but the others were all gone, off to live their own lives. If he had to regret one thing since the day Shepard died, it was that he really had let those relationships whither. The old crew of the Normandy had split apart with the death of the SR1, he was not unique in that. But over time, even his friends and family from before Eden Prime slowly lost contact with him. Tali, Miranda, his brothers and sisters, his parents. Hell, even his grandfather and Uncle Jacob, he rarely got into communication with, and mostly to discuss missions and reports. It wasn’t as if he wasn’t answering calls, he justified. He was often on mission, but he would talk to them when they called him. But he would never call them. He sighed, before focusing his resolve. He had a mission, a war to fight. So, what if he didn’t call anyone or send a message, he had to save Vekta. He had to save civilisation from a threat that it was willingly ignoring. He had burdens to bare that only he could carry. Why let them worry about him, he could take it. He had to, because if he failed, then the Reapers would win.

He set his equipment down with a heavy heart. Being here was both a comfort and an agony. Like putting on an old boot, only to find you’d outgrown them.

The heavy stomping alerted him to a new presence. Training had him instinctively turn towards the target, only to find a Krogan marching towards him. In an instant, he began to analyse this new figure. Krogan, male. Adolescent based on the lack of defined head crest, but surprisingly well developed in muscular strength. If he had to act as a fortune teller, he foresaw that this one would be able to tear mechs in half when he reached maturity. But he had a long way to go before he got there. For now, he was dangerous, but not enough to threaten the Spartan.

The Krogan got up in his face, staring him down. Robert stared back just as intently. “Never expected to see one of your kind. The tank talked about Vektans, but it mentioned only specifics. Like comparing the measurements of rifle.”

“Guess your info was a little out of date, huh?” Robert retorted, not willing to back down.

“My information was right up until the death of my creator. Warlord Okeer.”

“Fucker was just being ignorant then?”

It earned him a chuckle from the Krogan who immediately backed off. It seemed as if the test he had been put under had been passed. “Got a name, kid?” Robert set, relaxing as much as one could in the presence of a giant Krogan.

“Kid? You call me a child?” The Krogan growled. Robert knew he would have to walk a fine line now. It was clear that he wasn’t a Cerberus hire, being an alien, and must therefore have been Shepard’s choice for a team. But he also couldn’t show cowardice against a Krogan that was probably pumped full of teenage hormones.

“You are still an adolescent, to be fair.” He coyly noted. “Besides, kid is more of a friendly term for someone younger in Veka. Robert Hood, Spartan.” He introduced offering his hand.

The Krogan brushed passed it, although he looked more confused about the name Spartan. It made sense, he supposed. It was quite a referential name, just like an Asari naming a ship after Athame. That being said, it seemed as if the Krogan was more interested in the armoury Robert had brought along, which was quite an extensive one, to be fair.

He had brought along a variety of arms and ordnance in order to match any situation he may have faced, standard choices such as an M45 Shotgun for close quarters, a BR55 for mid-range, a Stanchion sniper for range. But the more unique options were granted thanks to him being a Spartan, both in his status and his ability to wield it, including an M6 Spartan Laser and an M247H machine gun. The Krogan inspected the little cache, surrounded by the scramblers and the maintenance gear for his Mjolnir.

“I thought Vektans were similar to humans, and yet, you bring such a heavy weapon with you.”

“It’s designed more as fire support,” Robert began, walking up to the machine gun. “A marine can carry it, but he can’t wield it efficiently until he has it set up on a tripod. Spartans, like me, are augmented, so we can wield it by ourselves.”

“Like Krogan, then.”

“Yeah. Like a Krogan, except more dangerous.”

The Krogan turned to him. “You think that you can outmatch a Krogan in a battle of strength?”

“Yeah. I’ve taken my fair share of Krogan.” Robert said simply. He didn’t feel the need to elaborate on it.

The adolescent gestured to the wider space further into the hanger. “Then show me what a ‘Spartan’ can do, Vektan.” Robert obliged him, under the offer that it would be fists only. He didn’t want to blow a hole in Shepard’s fancy new ship. Joker would murder him if he was the cause behind losing another Normandy.

The two started going through the basics. They circled around, tested each other’s reflexes. They would push, charge and feint against one another. But it became clear to Robert the issue with Grunt’s fighting. It was all there, the technique, the reactions, the ferocity. But it was simply Krogan in fighting style, focused on the charge and overcoming with sheer strength. It would work against most, for sure, but it would not overcome everything. So, Robert decided to end things quickly.

He pulled off a couple of feints to rile the youth up, to force him into a charge, which the Krogan obliged. However, using his Mjolnir’s strength, he halted the charge dead in its tracks. When the young Krogan used more force, he simply let go, sliding to the left. With the increased force of his own push, the Krogan threw himself off balance, which the Spartan took advantage of by sweeping his legs out from under him. The Krogan landed with a loud thud, followed by the Spartan pinning him to the floor. It had taken a matter of seconds, but it would have been a fatal loss for the Krogan. Panting, the Krogan began to speak. “So, you are pretty strong.” Robert merely shook his head. “No, I merely put in a little non-Krogan technique. Let me help you up, and I’ll explain.” He stood up, offering his hand, which the teenager took up. “Very well, Robert. Explain.”

“You’ve got the technique, and the muscle to back it up. But it’s all a Krogan methodology. People know you’re a Krogan, just like they know I’m a Vektan. They’ll think you’ll fight like a Krogan, and if you keep up like that, they’ll always prepare for a Krogan. Just like they prepare to fight a Vektan. Except I fight with speed and ferocity. I can move swift, and I can hit with power, more than they expect, and I’ve won with that.” He stood, and made his offer. “I can tell you haven’t had many who can train you as a peer, most probably worry about you breaking like a twig. But, I’m willing to train you, push your boundaries a little. What do you say?” He offered his hand again.

“You would help someone you’ve just fought, a potential rival, a potential enemy?” The Krogan asked, confused.

“We’re on the same team right now, Krogan. We’re working with Shepard. And frankly, a good soldier isn’t worth jack if they die in the field. I’m willing to turn you into the best soldier I can, for the sake of the mission. And frankly, because I see that you are willing and able to learn.”

The Krogan merely nodded, taking in his words, before taking Robert’s hand. “Agreed then. Call me, Grunt.”

Robert smiled at that. Progress had been made today. “Very well, Grunt. Fancy a few more rounds in the ring?” He asked, earning a throaty laugh from the eager youth.

…

Shepard let out a breath she didn’t know she was holding. Her and her yeoman/psychologist Kelly Chambers had watched the fight go off on camera. Kelly had picked up Grunt going down to see Robert in the hanger, and had almost run down there to break them up when it seemed as if the tank-bred Krogan was issuing a challenge to him. She nearly made it to the elevator when the clash started happening, only for Kelly to point out that it seemed more like a training match than an actual fight, both testing the other. After what she had seen Robert do the Krogan warlord in charge of the Blood Pack, she had no doubts that he could steamroll the young Krogan. Instead, the most intense part was merely pinning him to the floor, instead of smashing him against it. It seemed as if the two had formed a bond after that, simply talking before going back to training.

“Well, at least it’s nice to see Grunt getting along with someone.” Kelly piped up, breaking Jane from her thoughts. She agreed to the thought, having someone who could check the strength of Grunt could prove beneficial to all parties involved in the long run.

“It might also prove to be good for Robert, as well. I think being back on board the Normandy, as well as seeing familiar faces, might be bringing up some negative emotions for Robert.” Kelly concluded, which shocked Shepard. Kelly raised her hands, seeing Shepard’s shock. “Don’t get me wrong, he is happy to see you all, and I can’t be certain without a case file, but he looked fairly morose when he first entered the hangar space. Possibly remembering older days?”

Shepard could understand. She was a little shocked by it all herself, with the Normandy’s new layout, and the Cerberus uniforms replacing Alliance ones. But for her, it had only been mere moments, a flash and a change. For Robert, it was two years of God knows what. The differences between Robert before and now were startling, with his apparent Spartan augmentations changing him physically. But more subtly, Shepard noted that he had lost some gleam to his eyes, as if it had been dulled a little. Not to say that he didn’t smile, laugh or joke, but merely that it didn’t carry the eagerness or the simple happiness it did before. God knows what had happened to Robert, but she would be there to support him in the near future. Offer her help in any way she could.

She thanked Kelly for letting her know, when the yeoman added something that caught her off guard. “If I had to hazard a guess, I believe he has a crush on you. I can see it in his body language, the subtle hints on his face, and how he tracks your every movement around the room. It’s fascinating watching a Vektan, how they’re so human and yet, distinct in their own biology.” Kelly began to ramble on, although Shepard didn’t hear a word of it in light of this new revelation. Could it be true? Could Robert have feelings for her? She felt her face growing warm at the thought.

Kelly finished up her thoughts, and went back to her job of handling the crew. Shepard just stood there, stunned at the revelations of today. Like sliding on a pair of old boots, and finding a nugget of gold therein. It just brought up more questions than answers at that point. So, she elected to get down to the task at hand. She had more people to rally to her cause. And the Collectors would not wait for her. And she would deal with Robert in her own time, while allowing him to focus on himself, giving them both time to process things.

Another bump on the walk into Hell.

Aliens: Non-Council Races: Vektan: Spartans

The Spartan super soldier is a branch of the Vektan Navy’s Special Warfare branch, a group of elite super soldiers tasked with the most dangerous and daring of missions. Their origins lie with the original goal of creating superior soldiers under the ORION Project. Although Vektans are synthetic beings, augmenting themselves is dangerous, as it can lead to malfunctions within in their artificial nervous systems, and cause death. As such, while the program showed some success, it was ultimately abandoned, as the adult nervous systems rejected their implants and killed their users.

However, in the wake of growing tensions within Vekta’s colonies over self-governance, a class of special forces operatives was required in order to provide lethal strikes against rebel leadership. This led to Doctor Catherine Halsey beginning the Spartan II project. Instead of adult test subjects, children were instead chosen, in hopes that they would be more accepting of such implants. The project involved rigorous training of the children into adolescence, before subjecting them to the Spartan implants, improving their physical abilities, their reaction time and processing speeds. Although close to 50% of the Spartan II’s were made casualties of the implants, the remaining soldiers left were the most formidable in Vektan history.

While the tensions were calmed within the colonies thanks to serious political and legal reform, the Spartans proved their value in the capture of a Krogan dreadnought during the Second Battle of Harvest. As such, a new project was formed in order to combat the greater threat of the Terminus Systems. Under Colonel James Ackerson, children orphaned by the Battle of Harvest were chosen to be trained and augmented with lessons learned from the Spartan II project, dubbing them as Spartan III’s. Three full companies were formed, from this with a 100% survival rate during augmentation.

Most recently, developments in augmentation ability have allowed for adults to become Spartans. Recruits selected from all branches of the military have been trained and augmented, becoming the Spartan IV’s. While other branches may fill their own respective niches, it is the Spartans that have entered as the most elite of branches within Vekta, earning them both scorn and admiration in equal measures.