16 Interesting Times - Chapter 16

August 21st, 2167

14:58 SET

Metrea-System

Alliance listening post

Petty Officer First Class Lilian Adwill

"Are you sure you wanna do this?"

"Yes, no matter what you say."

"Alright, I go with you, and I wanna see."

Lilian heard something shuffle behind her as she halfheartedly concentrated on the monitor before her.

"Full House, take that," said the second voice, Petty Officer Lucas Doren.

She didn't even had to turn around to know that Doren had the biggest shit-eating grin on his face right now. Lilian also knew that he would probably lose it in another few seconds.

"A Full House, never expected that," said the first voice, Lieutenant Sarah Maringold.

"Yet still not good enough to beat my four-of-a-kind hand."

There it was.

If there was one thing that Lilian had learned in this far-off listening post, then it had to be the fact that you just couldn't beat the lieutenant in any card game.

Doren slapped his hand on the table in frustration and exclaimed:

"How the hell! We're playing for an hour already, and the only time I won was when I got a Royal Flush. You got a four-of-a-kind six times already. You gotta be cheatin'!"

Lieutenant Maringold chuckled and said:

"I am cheating, but until you can prove it, I won't stop."

At that, Lilian had to chuckle as well. It was an open secret among the crew of the listening post that Lieutenant Maringold cheated in poker games since she openly admitted to it. Yet, none of the crew ever found out how the lieutenant was cheating. Lilian had once asked why she was cheating, and Lieutenant Maringold had said that it was her way of making things more interesting. And since she never played with money on the table, nobody held any ill-will against her.

A notice on the monitor in front of her took Lilian's attention away from the argument behind her. With a quick swipe, she opened the link and looked at the incoming data from the relay.

"We got another incoming ship," Lilian called out to the two bickering people behind her.

Without much further ado, Doren and Lieutenant Maringold stopped arguing, and the lieutenant went to stand beside her.

"Do we know from which direction it's coming?" she asked, her tone devoid of her previous amusement.

"Seems like it's coming from the direction of Hegemony space. Can't be sure that it is a Hegemony ship, though. At least until it is in-system and sends its identification," Lilian answered.

"Keep me posted. Doren, be ready to send a message to the nearest patrol fleet. Probably only a trade-ship, but protocol is protocol," ordered Lieutenant Maringold.

Doren snapped a sharp salute and went to his post to rouse the communications equipment from its standby mode.

"Ship is through the relay and flies slowly towards the colony. Two minutes until the results of our scanners come in," informed Lilian.

Not that it will show something out of the ordinary thought Lilian.

Her deployment to this listening post neared the six months mark, and nothing interesting had ever happened during this time.

After it was clear that the Citadel Council intended to approve the petition of the Batarians to open the relays into Alliance territory, the Alliance constructed hidden listening posts in all systems that bordered the Batarian Hegemony. They were supposed to keep an eye on the ships coming from the newly opened relays.

Nine months had gone by, and nothing but trade ships had come through.

Every listening post had only one task: monitor the relay and inform the nearest fleet if something out of the ordinary happened.

The listening post that monitored the Metrea-system was hidden in an asteroid belt. The Alliance hollowed out an asteroid and built a small base inside it. Due to the composition of the asteroids, the base needed special scanners to monitor the relay since the standard ones had problems penetrating the unique magnetic fields of the asteroids.

While that had caused problems when setting the base up, now it was an additional layer of defense so that the base stayed hidden.

Still, due to the fact that the listening post was inside an asteroid, there wasn't much to do when not on duty. After all, leaving the base and exploring the surroundings, like at other bases, wasn't something one could do.

In the end, Lilian used most of her free time to learn since she wanted to sign up for the engineering courses the Alliance offered after her deployment ended.

A ping signaled that the results were in, and Lilian opened them, not expecting anything different from the last ten times.

"The results are in," she called, getting Lieutenant Maringold's attention.

"What do they say?" the lieutenant asked as she leaned forward to look at them by herself.

"It's a Batarian trade ship, the Igonek. Our registers show that it came to this system to trade some luxury goods once before, three months ago, to be precise."

But before Lieutenant Maringold could ask further questions about the ship or tell Doren that he could put the communications equipment back on standby, Lilian noticed something in the saved data from the Igonek's last visit to the Metrea-system.

She subconsciously let out a "Huh" that got the lieutenant's attention.

"What is it?" Lieutenant Maringold asked instantly.

Before Lilian answered, she changed the display so that the scanning results from today and three months ago were displayed side-by-side.

"There's an inconsistency, right there," she said, pointing at the displayed information.

"Every time a ship arrives through a relay, there is a change in the gravitational forces around the relay. This change is related to the mass a ship possesses. Some even suggest that the change is unique to every ship since no starship has the exact same mass, but our scanners aren't sophisticated enough to recognize such minuscule differences."

"And now there is a visible difference, that's what you're saying, right?" asked the lieutenant.

Lilian nodded slowly but without any hesitation.

"There is enough difference to think that another ship arrived in the wake of the Igonek. If I had to guess, it's a small scout ship."

"Probably here to make sure that no patrol fleet is nearby," mused Lieutenant Maringold.

"Very well. Doren, send a message to the closest fleet. The 21st Patrol Fleet should only be a few systems away. Tell them we got an observer. The actual attack should happen in a week or less."

"Attack, Ma'am?" asked Doren.

"Yes, an attack," confirmed Lieutenant Maringold. "I'm sure that we will soon get a visit from independent slavers and pirates. And we would be poor hosts if we didn't prepare for their arrival."

Lilian heard the mocking tone of the lieutenant loud and clear when she uttered the word independent. There was no such thing as an independent slaver or pirate close to Batarian space. They were either on the payroll of the Hegemony or dead since the Batarians tolerated no pirates that didn't belong to them.

"What are our orders, Ma'am?" asked Lilian.

"Try to find the scout ship. Our scanners should be good enough for that, but make sure that they don't detect you. Also, keep an eye on the relay. While I'm sure that the attack isn't going to happen as long as the Batarian trade-ship is here -plausible deniability and all that - I'm not going to take any chances."

"Couldn't it be that it's just the STG noising around?" asked Doren while tipping at his console to establish a connection to the closest fleet.

"Only if the STG sent rookies," scoffed Lieutenant Maringold. "And that's not something they would do. Nothing against your abilities, Lilian, but trained STG agents wouldn't make such an amateurish mistake."

"None taken, Ma'am," said Lilian nonchalantly.

"When you finish contacting the patrol fleet, I want you to establish a connection with our garrison on the colony. I'll talk to the major myself," said Lieutenant Maringold to Doren, who nodded.

"And then," continued the lieutenant, "we wait and enjoy the show that follows. It will be great to see these slaver scums taken down a peg or two."

Lilian could only agree with her. There wasn't much they could do but observe the battle that was sure to come.

At least we got the best seats in the house for that, thought Lilian before concentrating on her new task of finding the scout ship.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

August 27th, 2167

16:23 SET

En route to the Metrea-system

SSV Madrid, Patrol-Carrier

Hangar bay

Flight Lieutenant 2nd Class Mitchel Everdeen

Mitchel closed the diagnosis program with a satisfied nod. Everything was running as it should, and all systems were in order. Nothing was more embarrassing than dying because of a system failure in the middle of battle.

A look around the hangar bay revealed that he was one of the last to finish but still in the allotted timeframe. The pilots that had already finished their pre-flight checks stood in neat rows, waiting for the flight commander to give his orders. Mitchel looked over his A-Wing fighter one last time before making his way to the line that belonged to Gold-Squadron, his squadron.

When he arrived, he took his place as the third person in the line befitting his designation as Gold-3.

Now it was a waiting game.

Fortunately, it didn't take long for the rest to finish their pre-flight checks and find their own places in the rows.

Mitchel could see how the flight commander came towards them with quick steps.

"Attention!" called Flight Commander Berson when he arrived, and Mitchel, like everyone else, straightened up.

"We're ten minutes out, and all reports indicate that we the slavers have almost arrived at the outer perimeter of the colony. By the time we arrive in the system, the Colonial Defense Force will have already engaged these slaver scums, so check your targets when you're out there. The CDF will keep them occupied at the front while we hit them from the flank. Red- and Gold-Squadrons, you're taking the fight to them," said FC Berson while looking at Mitchel's line and the one left to them.

"Sir, yes, sir," everyone called out at the same time to an unspoken command.

With a nod, the commander continued giving orders to the remaining two squadrons: "Blue- and Silver-Squadrons, your task is to keep enemy forces from getting too close to our ships. If something that our IFFs don't recognize comes close, take it down."

Another "Sir, yes, sir" echoed through the hangar bay, and Commander Berson allowed himself a small smile.

"Alright," he called out. "Get to your fighters. I want them ready for take-off in two minutes. And Godspeed out there."

It took Mitchel not even twenty seconds before he arrived back at his fighter, opening the cockpit with a command of his Omni-tool before arriving. He climbed onto the side of his fighter and was inside the cockpit within three steps. With one hand, he grabbed the handle to close the cockpit, and with the other, he started the warm-up sequence of the engine.

In less than a minute, all starting procedures were finished, and, just to be sure, Mitchel started the diagnosis program once again.

A melodic ping notified him that the diagnosis was finished. It showed a slight imbalance in the power distribution between the two propulsion units, a problem that was solved with a flick of the wrist.

He took the helmet to his left and put it on, sealing his combat suit. If his cockpit got damaged during the fight, it would keep him alive until he could return to the SSV Madrid.

The HUD started up in a brilliant blue tone, and within seconds, it appeared as if he wasn't even wearing a helmet at all. The small cameras on the outside of the helmet creating a full view inside it.

On the right side of the HUD was a countdown with less than 80 seconds on it, the remaining time until the SSV Madrid arrived in the Metrea-system.

All his preparations were finished, so the only thing that Mitchel could do was wait.

He closed his eyes to relax and mentally prepare for what was to come.

A crackle echoed inside his helmet as Flight Lieutenant 1st Class Roger Wenden, also known as Gold-Leader, spoke to his squadron over the radio.

"Twenty seconds till entry. We'll be out there in twenty more. We'll approach enemy forces in V-formation. After engaging them, Gold-2 and Gold-3 will keep close to my wings. We concentrate on taking out the shields of their heavy hitters. Gold-4, Gold-5, you keep an eye out for anyone coming too close to us. Understood?"

"Understood!" replied Mitchel and the other three members of Gold-Squadron.

The next minute passed like a blur to Mitchel. One second he was still waiting for the SSV Madrid to arrive in the Metrea-system, the next, he was firing up his engines to fly out of the hangar bay.

His HUD showed him where Gold-Lead and Gold-2 were flying, and he steered his fighter into position to the left and slightly behind Gold-Lead.

They accelerated their approach to the fight in the distance the moment Gold-4 and Gold-5 were in formation.

"Do we know if the slavers have already made landfall?" asked Gold-2.

"They haven't," replied Gold-Lead. "The CDF-Fleet and the ODPs have done an admirable job keeping the pirates away. They're taking losses, but with us here now, the outcome of this fight is guaranteed."

"Ten enemy fighters are coming towards us," called Gold-4, and Mitchel could see how they were highlighted on his HUD.

"Gold-4, Gold-5, accelerated by 5% and go up. Gold-2, Gold-3, 3% and down. I want them to meet in X-formation."

"Copy that."

Mitchel gave more energy to the propulsion units and directed his fighter slightly down. With a quick look, he saw that the enemy fighters were in no kind of formation and just flying towards them.

"Engage!" called Gold-Leader the moment Gold-Squadron was in range to use their weapons with precision.

Mitchel had already picked his first target and had lined up his shot to take the fighter down. Thankfully, with the help of the HUD and its integrated programs, there was no confusion about who would take which target.

His thumb pushed the fire-button on his controller, and the guns on each side of his fighter did the rest. Almost simultaneously, five enemy fighters exploded in a fiery spectacle.

While the explosions were completely silent due to the vacuum of space, Mitchel could hear them inside his head.

With another acceleration of their fighters, Gold-Squadron passed the enemy line and continued towards the pirate ships still engaged with the CDF. A few glancing blows had hit Mitchel's fighter, reducing his shields by a small margin, but nothing too serious since they were already climbing back to their previous levels.

"Should we turn back and take care of the rest?" asked Gold-5.

"Negative," replied Gold-Lead. "Red-Squadron was directly behind us. I'm sure they clean up after us."

Gold-Lead was proven right. Moments after he said it, Mitchel's HUD displayed the destruction of four fighters, and the last one survived only a few seconds longer.

A small smirk of satisfaction appeared on Mitchel's face at the end of these scums.

"We have to hurry," called Gold-Lead. "The second ODP is down, and the CDF cruiser is almost dead in the water. We concentrate on the outmost frigate to start."

The only answer that Gold-Lead got was the return of Gold-Squadron into the V-formation and the steady approach towards the enemy.

"Begin attack now," called Gold-Lead when they were only a hundred kilometers away. Gold-4 and Gold-5 broke the formation and would circle around, keeping an eye out for more enemy fighters since they couldn't do much against the Anti-fighter batteries on the frigate.

Mitchel steered his fighter closer towards Gold-Lead, and Gold-2 did the same.

A glancing blow hit his fighter, and Mitchel looked worriedly at his shield energy.

"Be careful," he said. "I just lost a fourth of my shielding to a glancing blow. One or two direct hits, and that's it for us."

"Understood, Gold-3," replied Gold-Lead. "My target computer finished its calculations. Rockets away in five."

A blue line appeared on Mitchel's HUD to show the attack vector he was supposed to fly to shield Gold-Lead from stray attacks.

"Rockets away," called Gold-Lead when they neared the end of the displayed line.

While Mitchel couldn't see the impact of the rockets, he knew how it must have looked. A red-orange explosion intermingled with blue streaks.

The blue originated from the traces of E-Zero that were used in the production of the shield-breaker rockets.

The purpose of these rockets wasn't to completely take down the shields of a ship, instead, they just opened a hole big enough for the targeting systems of the larger starships. This was possible due to the fact that when the shield-breakers exploded, the eezo in them disrupted the frequency of most shield emitters.

"The SSV Attila is targeting the hole, we should put some distance between us and their target," said Gold-2.

"I'm on board with this plan," quipped Mitchel.

"No time for jokes yet. Our next target is the cruiser. Red-Squadron lost Red-2 and Red-5 taking down the other frigate. We take down the cruiser, and the battle is as good as won," reprimanded Gold-Lead.

"We follow you, Gold-Lead," said Gold-2.

They increased the distance between us and the pirate frigate, and a few moments after they cleared the minimal safe distance informed them Gold-4 that the SSV Attila fired upon the frigate.

It didn't go down in a fireball like the fighters they destroyed on their approach. Rather, it was a quiet death, as the shots of the SSV Attila destroyed the hull of the pirate frigate and hit the life-support systems. The atmosphere inside the ship was vented into the unforgiving emptiness of space, and the slavers died a death by suffocation.

"The Cruiser is mostly occupied with keeping the CDF and the SSV Cesar at bay, so we should fly under their radar," said Gold-Lead. "Follow the attack vector."

Another blue line appeared on Mitchel's HUD, and the three fighters followed their respective vectors.

They were halfway to the cruiser when suddenly the anti-fighter batteries increased their rate of fire.

While none hit Mitchel's fighter directly, the shots were too close for comfort, and with a worried look, he saw that his shield's energy fell into the lower levels of the yellow zone.

Before he could inform Gold-Lead that he had to abort the attack run, Gold-Lead's fighter exploded directly in front of him.

Without waiting for any order, Mitchel wrenched the controller up to get out of the line of fire.

"Fuck," he cursed, "what the hell happened?"

"I think they diverted the energy from their engines to the shield and weapon systems," Gold-2 guessed. "They probably don't think they can escape, so they want to go down fighting."

"Never thought pirates capable of something like that."

"Don't forget, they're probably pirates sponsored by the Batarian Hegemony. This isn't about glory, it's about covering their tracks."

A short moment of silence passed between them, and Mitchel watched as his shields climbed back up after they dipped shortly into the red.

"Just got a message from command. I'm now Gold-Lead," said Gold-2, now christened Gold-Lead. "The SSV Attila flies into a position where she can hit the cruiser from below. We're breaking the shield there. The underside should have fewer anti-fighter batteries."

"Should?" questioned Gold-4, who just positioned himself on the right side of Gold-Lead as his second wingman.

"Yes, should," said Gold-Lead in a tone that didn't tolerate any backtalk.

"Let's do this," interjected Mitchel. "Those assholes scratched the paint job on my baby, I want payback!"

A chuckle was shared between the members of Gold-Squadron, and Mitchel smiled in satisfaction. His joke was meant to lift the mood of his squad, even if just slightly, and he succeeded in that.

"Gold-3 has the right of it," agreed Gold-Lead. "Attack vector is computed, let's show them why Gold-Squadron is one of the best the Alliance has."

They flew in a tight formation, and while the enemy fire was heavy, it wasn't as bad as before.

"Rockets away," called Gold-Lead, and at his call, Mitchel steered to the left, away from the pirate cruiser.

Taking advantage of the newly-opened hole in the cruiser's shields, the SSV Attila mercilessly fired its main cannon, and the shell punched right through the cruiser, coming out on the other side.

It seemed like it hit something vital, and an explosion blossomed inside the cruiser, breaking it into two pieces.

"Our job is done, gentlemen," said Gold-Lead. "Let's get back to the Madrid, first rounds on me."

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September 3rd, 2167

15:34 SET

Arcturus-Station

Oscar Denebren's office

Oscar Denebren, Minister of Economy

"In the course of the last week, four different human colonies came under attack by pirate and slaver groups operating out of the Terminus systems. The attacks on the colonies, Lovell, Mindoir, and Concodia, were stopped by the Alliance Navy before the pirates could land on the planets. Sadly, the attack on the farming colony of Beka couldn't be stopped there. A handful of pirate ships slipped by the blockade of the CDF and made landfall. The local marine garrison was understaffed and couldn't prevent the slavers from attacking civilians with the intention of capturing them. After the 37th Patrol Fleet arrived in the system and annihilated the remaining pirate presence in space, the onboard marine contingent took it upon themselves to make sure that the fighting on the planet ended. Military representatives commiserate that it came to civilian losses but emphasize that no human was enslaved.

The backgrounds of the attack are still being investigated.

This was Antonia Wencroft for ANN."

The moment the report finished, I silenced the TV and turned towards Andrew, who sat in the armchair beside me.

"The news has no new information, do you?" I asked with a raised eyebrow.

Andrew snorted and answered: "Of course I have."

He didn't say anything else, and I kept my eyes on him until he relented with a sigh.

"You take all the fun out of it, you know?" he sighed. "It's as we guessed. The Batarians sponsored these raids. We followed the money trail back to a Batarian noble with a passion for exotic slaves. He's the one who paid the slavers, but other nobles financed them too. We're still collecting information on them."

"We can't let this attack go unpunished, but open warfare isn't the way I would want to go. Micheal, too, doesn't want open war with the Batarian Hegemony. Our relationship with the Citadel isn't strong enough to prevent them from interfering in this event. The Batarians have been a part of the Citadel for more than a century and kept the Terminus systems in check for the Council. The Council won't want to lose this for a species that hasn't been part of the Citadel for long. The Turians would stay neutral, they have no love left for the Batarians," I said.

"They would probably support us," mused Andrew. "They wouldn't speak out about it to avoid conflict with the Asari and Salarians."

Andrew lifted his glass and took a sip of water to drench his dry throat. For three days, Andrew had to fight a slight cold, and it annoyed him greatly.

After he put his glass back down he continued: "From our contacts on the Citadel, I've heard that there are voices in the Salarian and Asari government that call the attack on us predictable, for foolishly colonizing planets close to the Attican Traverse."

"Foolish, you say?" I scoffed. "If I'm not mistaken, they have colonies right at the border to the Terminus systems, and they have the gall to call us foolish. Only the hope that the Batarians gain a Council seat in the future keeps them from attacking these colonies. In any other case, they would have been attacked by pirates and slavers almost constantly."

"Yes, you're correct," agreed Andrew. "And the few pirates that dare are fended off by the Turians. Their arrogance and stupidity surprise me again and again. They can't even defend their own colonies without outside help. Sometimes I can't help but wonder why the Turians are allowing this."

I had wondered about this, too, ever since I played the Mass Effect games. Why would the strongest military in the galaxy let themselves be treated like this? Only after the Alliance joined the Citadel, and I took the time to read more about Turian culture, I understood why.

"Duty and dependence," I answered Andrew's unasked question.

"It's an integral part of their culture to accomplish the tasks they're given, and right now, they're tasked with defending Citadel space. That is a duty they won't shirk for anything. And their dependence is self-explanatory. The Volus are responsible for their economy, and they connected it to the Asari and Salarian economies that it would take half a millennium to gain their independence."

"I see," said Andrew. "But it seems like we strayed from our original topic. I have a proposal for which I would like your support when I present it to Micheal."

"What proposal?"

"While we can't have a hot, or even cold, war with the Batarian Hegemony, we can still launch shadow operations inside their territory. SpecOps-Teams trained in clandestine operations and asset denial take care of the Batarian nobles that dared to finance the attack on us. It should be easy to cover our tracks for this."

"And with the blackmail, we have on the Council for breaking the treaty and sending a Spectre without informing us, they will keep quiet even if they learn about it. But I don't think that this is all you thought of."

"Of course not," said Andrew with a wolfish grin. "I recently came across some interesting information. The leadership of the Batarian Hegemony may pretend that the Batarians are united under their banner and that everything is under their control, but nothing could be further from the truth."

He held up a datapad but made no move to hand it to me. I had no intention to take it since I knew that Andrew would tell me himself what was on this datapad.

"There are two factions inside the Hegemony that protest against their current way of life. One of them is composed of Batarians that want to do away with slavery altogether, mostly Batarians from the middle-class castes and minor nobility. They are heavily influenced by the Citadel."

"Probably as an attempt to weaken the Batarians from within," I mused.

"To keep the Batarians from amassing too much power, I thought so too. Anyway, this group pops up every now and then and is put down just as quickly. Ultimately, they're of no concern. At least, I wouldn't support them without finding a leader among them who can last longer than a few months."

"So, I guess you would rather support the second group then? What do they represent?"

Andrew turned towards me, grinned, and said: "Religion."

A shiver went down my spine at his words.

"Are you sure you want to do this?" I questioned apprehensively. "Religion isn't something that you can underestimate. One wrong move and you create religious fanatics that can hurt you just as easily as the enemy you want them to fight."

"Don't worry. I will take care of anyone that walks in that direction. Furthermore, even the fanatics would treat their slaves better than the Batarian nobles do right now. I found this old religious text, written in an older dialect of Karshan. In it, they describe that a slave owner as something like a shepherd, and his duty is to make sure that his flock is taken care of. I want to use this to create tension between the castes. If the Batarian leadership has to concentrate on avoiding civil unrest, then they will have less time for planning attacks on us and, even more importantly, their relations with the rest of the Citadel."

"So, that's your plan," I exclaimed. "You want to isolate the Hegemony from the Citadel so that they lose favor with the powers that be."

"And if all goes well," grinned Andrew, "make them leave the Citadel altogether."

At this, I couldn't help but return Andrew's grin. In my opinion, the Batarians had too much influence on the Citadel. They could send pirates and slavers into our territory, and no matter how much evidence would turn up, their allies would help them to make it seems like they had nothing to do with it.

During the few times I had been to the Citadel, there was one thing I learned. One needs allies and friends on all levels.

The Citadel Council may be the highest authority, but even they couldn't do everything by themselves. It didn't matter if the government was a democracy, an oligarchy, a tyranny, or even a monarchy. It also didn't matter if it was just a small country or an empire spanning the whole galaxy.

In the end, there would always be paperwork and those working behind the scenes to make the government work smoothly. And it was those people that could get you what you want faster than most, more discreet too.

For now, I had only a few contacts in the bureaucratic machine of the Citadel, a circumstance that I wanted to change in the near future.

Already, a low-level clerk owed me a favor that I would use to find out who I could approach for a special exception permit.

"Still," I said, concentrating on the conversation again, "I think you have to be careful if you go the religious route. As I said, fanatics could be as dangerous to us as for the Batarians. And there's no guarantee that they would only pop up on our side. There's a chance that we could create die-hard fanatics that want to enslave the species of the galaxy even more than the Batarians already want. I don't want to be the guy that dooms a part of the galaxy by accident."

"Don't worry," laughed Andrew, "I'll keep a close eye on the situation. And if it's necessary, I'll call the cavalry."

While I still wasn't convinced by Andrew's plan, we had no feasible alternatives, and to do nothing would sit wrong with me. So, after I took a generous gulp of my water, I answered the question that Andrew had asked close to the beginning of our conversation.

"Alright, I support you when you bring your plans to Micheal."

"Wonderful," said Andrew, clapping his hands.

"But we still have to talk about how these attacks affect the upcoming elections."

"What is there to say?" I asked annoyedly. "They came at a most inopportune timing. Personally, I would have preferred if the attacks came a few months later. I had expected that the Batarians had at least enough self-control to wait more than e year before doing something like this. And now? Now, Terra Firma is using the attacks to spread its influence. Especially among the outer colonies. After the elections, they will have enough power in the parliament to make things difficult for us."

"Yet, we're coming out of this election as the winners, our candidate will be president."

"Yes, Amelia May will make a good president. I have no doubts about that. It's just that I won't continue as Minister of Economy under her leadership."

"That's news to me," said Andrew, both his eyebrows rising in surprise. "How did that happen?"

I shot him a smirk and said: "Amelia does not have the support Micheal did. Micheal could decide even unpopular things despite the protest from the other two factions inside the Alliance Parliament, Amelia can't do that. Furthermore, we want to prevent people to think that our party is too powerful. She wants to show that our party can work together with the other two and that their opinions matter. So, I said I would step back from my position after the next election. I won't disappear from the political arena if you're worried about that. I just want to change my battleground."

"Let me guess," Andrew said, "you want to go to the Citadel, built up your connections there."

"Correct," I agreed. "I think that I need to be on the Citadel for the next few years. I'll try to support Anita as much as I can from the background while trying to establish my own connections with the political and economical players of the other species. Besides, it's time to concentrate on my business again. They have not seen much growth in the last few years, at least if we take into account that the galaxy suddenly became so much bigger."

Andrew and I shared a chuckle at my attempt at a joke.

"I think you will do well on the Citadel," said Andrew. "And Anita can use all the help she can get. I met the guy she got as an understudy. Donnel Udina. I don't like that man. He jumps from overly aggressive and demanding to ass-kissing in the blink of an eye."

I just smiled at Andrew's description of Udina, holding back my own thoughts on him.

When I played the games for the first time, there was no person that I disliked as much as Donnel Udina, but that had been when I was just a boy a few months short of being sixteen. The older I got, and the more I thought about Udina's actions in the games, I grew to understand some of them, at least from a certain point of view.

Not that it made him a more likable character, I just could understand some of his motives.

"Is there something else to discuss?" I asked, turning towards my desk where a small light was blinking, signaling that I had a new message, or probably a dozen new messages.

"Only one more topic," said Andrew, and as he leaned forward, I could see that it was a serious topic.

"Cerberus," was all he said, and I knew that this topic was indeed serious. Since Andrew showed me their manifest years ago, I hadn't really thought about them, trusting Andrew to keep them in check. If he was the one to bring it up, then it must be important.

I leaned back in my armchair, trying to relax, and said: "Shoot."

"Fortunately, they didn't do anything overt that could put us in a bad light with the other members of the Citadel. Most of our own citizens don't even know they exist. Yet, it is those that know which worry me. Our agents inside Cerberus informed me that after the attacks, large amounts of money found their way into Cerberus's hands, materials too. Furthermore, they're recruiting more and more people. They have always been cautious of who they asked to join, and it was only one out of ten that actually joined. Now, that number is up to four or five out of ten. I've got a feeling that it won't be long before people are actively searching for them with the intent of joining."

"That's something we can't stop right now," I said, my displeasure visible on my face. "Officially, the Alliance doesn't know that Cerberus exists, or, at least, hasn't acknowledged its existence. Until we do, there's nothing we can do. Besides, at this point, we can't even claim Cerberus to be a terrorist organization or a criminal one. As far as I know, they haven't committed any crimes. What is the general attitude towards the Alliance among their personnel? That's something I'm interested in."

Andrew took a moment to think about what I had said. At one point, he looked ready to interrupt me but didn't do it in the end. Instead, he leaned back inside his armchair, took a sip of water, and answered my question.

"It depends, one the lower level, there's some grumbling about the Alliance joining the Citadel. They think we're too close to the aliens and that we're losing our independence to them. After the pirate attacks, they were more outspoken about it, but nothing of significance. It's nothing surprising since the lower levels are composed of people inclined to xenophobia. Still, in the end, they think they're thinking that the Alliance is doing its job well enough. If we hadn't reacted to the attacks as well as we did, they would sing other tunes, but well."

"And what about the middle-level, or even the leadership?" I asked curiously.

"My agents haven't infiltrated the higher levels yet. They hear rumors but don't know much. The middle levels are not so different from the lower ones. It's just that they understand that joining the Citadel is a move to get more safety for our people. They don't like it, but they understand it."

"Heard anything about their leader? This Illusive Man?"

"You mean Jack Harper?" asked Andrew with a cocky grin.

That took me by surprise. I hadn't expected anyone would find out the Illusive Man's name. My surprise must have shown on my face since Andrew's grin grew even bigger.

I cleared my throat and asked: "You found out his name? How? Do you know anything more about him?"

Andrew's grin dimmed a bit.

"I didn't find out much about him. I heard from a rumor that he was on Shanxi when the Turians invaded and that he fought against them. I checked the registers of the people that were on the planet at that time. Most of them could be accounted for, dead and survivors. A few were missing, presumed dead, so I started there. I found a report by a lieutenant of the local marine force that died in the defense. It spoke of a mercenary trio, among them one Jack Harper. When I tried to find out more about him, I discovered that someone was deleting everything concerning Jack Harper. Public records, medical files, even his birth certificate. He covered his tracks well. Basically, he doesn't even exist anymore. But I'm up to 90% sure that he's our man."

"If he's mentioned in one military report, shouldn't there be others mentioning him as well?" I questioned.

"Yes, there should be. If he worked together with our forces on Shanxi, then there should be some. Orders, after-action reports, and the like. Yet, I found his name in only one. The only option to how that's possible is that he has friends or agents in the Alliance military," answered Andrew.

"We got people in his organization, he got people in ours. Seems like a fair deal to me," I quipped.

"Yep, that's how it goes," sighed Andrew. "Don't have to like it, though."

"Anything else?" I asked.

"Yes, one more thing," said Andrew, leaning forward. "You said that Cerberus hasn't done any crimes that we can pin on them. And that's a reason why they get so many recruits at this time. They portray themselves as the guard dog of humanity. Well, we're about to show the world that they're not as good as they like to think of themselves."

My hand stopped on its way toward my water glass when I heard that. Until now, there had been no action against Cerberus from the side of the Alliance. Something that was about to change, it seems.

"What's going to happen?" I asked, my water completely forgotten.

"My agents got back to me about a facility researching how biotics develop in people. She hadn't any more detailed information than that, just that what was happening there wasn't something that we could condone. I coordinated with Admiral Wright that a team of N5 would lead the raid. The team is already in place, and the operation begins in less than three hours."

"Why haven't I heard about that before?" I asked, a little annoyed that I only heard about it now.

"We got the information only yesterday. Time was of the essence, and you were in meetings the whole day. Besides, it isn't your field of expertise, and you hadn't a need to know," chastised Andrew.

I rubbed the back of my head sheepishly.

"Sorry, you're right. There's nothing I could have done anyway. I just like to be kept in the loop."

"I'm keeping you in the loop right now," said Andrew before a grin appeared on his face. "Besides, when you become the Alliance's ambassador on the Citadel, you'll be informed of such things right away."

"Me, ambassador?" I exclaimed. I never told Andrew or anyone else that I had my eye on this position.

"Sure, why else would you go to the Citadel after the next election? If you just wanted to expand your business, you could've done that from Terra Nova just as well. And those connections you spoke of, while they will help Anita, you will get even more out of them. Furthermore, you know my opinion of Udina. I would rather see you in that position than him."

"That's not as big a vote of confidence as you seem to believe," I said with narrowed eyes. "You would rather have the janitor as an ambassador than Udina."

Andrew threw back his head and laughed at my joke.

"That's true," he said after he calmed down again. "But still. I think you would make a good ambassador. You got my support when you throw your hat into the ring after Anita retires. As far as I know, she would support your candidacy too."

"Great," I said, relieved that I already had one person in my corner when the time came.

A short moment of silence passed between us before Andrew stood up from his armchair to say goodbye.

"We both still got work to do. I want to keep an eye on the operation and start to prepare our plans for the Batarians. I'll send you a message when I'm ready to talk with Micheal about it."

"Well then, see you later, Andrew," I said and held my hand out after I stood up from my chair.

He shook it and, after a friendly nod, left my office. I turned towards my desk and saw that the color of my message notification light had turned yellow, signaling that there were a lot of new messages for me.

I couldn't help but sigh. Perhaps I should take a short vacation after the next election instead of heading to the Citadel directly.

----------------------------------------------------------------------------

September 3rd, 2167

18:54 SET, 03:54 Local Time

[Classified]

Lieutenant Amanda Keyes, N5, [Classified]-Team

Breath in, hold it, breath out. Slow and careful so that nobody, not even those standing beside her, could hear it.

It was one of the many things that Amanda had learned during her training. All for the sake of reducing your very presence.

Some would find it ridiculous that she took such care that her breathing couldn't be heard when the only people in a hundred-meter radius around her were her two teammates, Lieutenants Birch and Goswell.

Amanda would have scoffed at those precautions, too, at least, before she joined the N-school.

Training at the N-school wasn't like basics, far from it. To compare those two is like comparing a jog in the park to a triathlon. Both have something to do with running, and that's it.

After every level of the N-school, you either carved the training into your being or left the N-school altogether.

Amanda had seen recruits that scored higher than her after the pre-training course, also called the N-0 course. Yet, those same people often only finished the N-2 or N-3 course.

Her drill sergeant once told her that while the first two levels of the N-school would forge good soldiers into great ones, its true purpose was to see who had the potential to go even further.

She knew exactly what he had been talking about.

While it was true that only the best passed the N-0 course, and were invited to the N-1 course, physical prowess and being a good soldier wasn't enough.

Their trainer looked for those that kept some of their independence that basics tried to stamp out. Furthermore, a flexible mind was needed to pass the hidden tests that were given to the trainees. These hidden tests were often the reason why many people dropped out after finishing the N-2 course.

The N-school had no need for meatheads.

A short vibration at her wrist yanked her from her memories to the here and now.

Amanda, just like the others, got the signal from overwatch that the operation was a go.

Slowly she changed her position from lying on the forest floor to a crouch. Her rifle, the AR-Wright-2S, at the ready, she glanced quickly to her left to see that Birch and Goswell had done the same.

Goswell gestured with his left hand that they would make their way to the complex in front of them slowly, its lights almost blinding in the dark of the night.

The forest around them may not have been the densest, but there was enough cover for their team to approach the building complex unseen.

When they arrived at the edge of the forest, Goswell gave the signal to lie down again. They observed the building carefully, and Amanda could see four guards patrolling the perimeter. Two on the ground and two on the roof. Their silhouettes were colored red by her HUD to show them as enemy forces. A quick look at the mini-map in the lower-left corner of her HUD showed her that there were four more guards on the other side of the building. She didn't concern herself with them, they were the problems of Alpha and Bravo.

Suddenly, one of the red silhouettes started to pulse, telling her that overwatch had decided to assign this target to her for neutralization.

Amanda observed how her target moved during his patrol before she gave the signal that she was ready. She scoffed internally at the guard's repetitive pattern.

Sloppy, she thought.

It took another minute before all nine dots in the upper-right of her HUD changed to green, signaling that everyone was ready to take their shot.

A countdown appeared in front of her, announcing the last seconds of her target in this life.

When the countdown neared zero, Amanda took a deep breath and held it. She lined up her shot, and when the countdown showed zero, she pulled the trigger.

Three muffled shots sounded simultaneous, the noises, which the silencers on their rifles couldn't completely negate, were absorbed by the surrounding foliage.

While she could see how her target fell to the ground after getting shot in the head, the only information she had about the others were the dots on her mini-map.

She watched the body of her target for a moment longer, to make sure he was neutralized before she signaled that her target was dead, his dot on the mini-map disappearing with all the others.

Amanda and her team moved towards the building until they stood by the wall. Goswell pointed his index finger upwards, indicating that they would climb on the roof.

Their job was to secure an escape route while Alpha and Bravo would search the building. At the same time, they would make sure that the inhabitants of the building had no access to any kind of long-range communication, keeping the complex isolated. For that reason, Birch carried a mobile jammer on his back.

Amanda took a small tube from her belt and pointed it toward the roof. After pressing the button on the side of it, a cable shot out of it, and its tip buried itself into the roof. She pulled a few times to make sure that the cable would hold her weight before she looked towards Goswell, who gave her a nod.

They climbed fast but silently, arriving on the roof in mere seconds.

Immediately, she turned towards the forest, scanning for any enemies that may have followed them.

Behind her, Goswell hurried to the other side to give Alpha and Bravo the signal to proceed, while Birch went to the middle of the roof to place the jammer down and activate it.

Now it was a waiting game until they got the confirmation from Alpha and Bravo that the building was secured.

Briefly, her thoughts turned towards what they would find in this complex and if it was worth sending so many N-5s, but she discarded the thought quickly. Instead, she tried to get comfortable in her position, after all, who knew how long they would stay here.