Mass Effect: The Fifth Age

Garrus, datapad in hand, stood in the communication room, Iciria standing beside him as she fed him information on the status of the crew and ship. Luckily, she reported, all repair and resupply orders for the Menae had been completed on time, even with their leave cut short as it was. Slightly worrisome was that two of the crew, Seiana and Pavus down in engineering, were drunk.

“They’ll be fine,” Garrus reassured Iciria, “Those two are top experts, they can work through anything.”

Iciria didn’t agree. “I’ll write them up for violating regulation 32a concer-”

“Iciria,” Garrus interrupted, “The crew had been promised one month’s worth of leave, it’is not their fault they only got a quarter of that. That the crew dropped their leave and time with families to report for duty is enough for me. If it bothers you so much,” he added when he saw her remain unconvinced, “Tell them to report to med bay for sobriety pills.”

“Noted.”

Whatever quip Garrus was about to say died in his throat when Proceus’ voice came over the room’s speakers.

“Commander, incoming transmission from the Council.”

“Thanks Proc,” Garrus replied before handing back the datapad to Iciria, who saluted and walked out of the communication room. A second of silence passed.

“Does she still have that stick up her ass?” Proceus’ voice inquired. “You’d think that she-“

“The Councilors,” Garrus cut him off, “Are you really keeping them on hold to gossip?”

Proceus must have gotten the message through his head, because a second later the holographic images of the three Councilors materialized in the room with him.

“Councilors,” he greeted their images.

“Spectre Vakarian,” Councilor Sparatus began, “We’re sorry to cut your crew’s leave so short, but events are unfolding that require your immediate attention.”

“Spectre,” Garrus’ gaze shifted to Councilor Valern, “I’m sure you remember your mission on the planet Haestrom and the scientific inquiries headed by the Quarian Tali’zorah.”

“Yes,” Garrus nodded, remembering one of his best friends, “She mentioned something about the sun aging rapidly but…” he shrugged, “Honestly Councilors, it was far above my head.”

“Not to worry,” the Salarian Councilor responded, “Information is being sent to XO Iciria and your science officers; they can brief you in greater detail. But the situation is simple; the Dholen star was shedding stellar material at an accelerated rate, causing it to enter the red dwarf stage much earlier than expected.”

Garrus nodded, slightly irked at the Salarian Councilor. When he’d mentioned that the science was above his head, he didn’t mean that all the science was beyond him. He at least understood the basics of the situation.

“Approximately 48 minutes ago, the situation changed. With the disappearance of Dholen, we are authorizing you control of the Fo-”

“I’m sorry,” Garrus interrupted, confusion evident on his face. “We must have missed part of your briefing, could you repeat that?”

“What Councilor Valern is glossing over,” Councilor Sparatus said, “Is that Dholen is gone. It disappeared right under the nose of an STG ship. No, it was not a supernova or any other natural event.”

Councilor Tevos, whose hologram indicated that she was reviewing a datapad throughout the entire conversation, spoke up. “Spectre Vakarian, we suspect that this is the work of outside forces. Several minutes after the star disappeared, the STG ship moved closer in-system to gather more information at great personal risk to themselves. They were able to capture these images before the Geth discovered their position.”

A new holographic projection appeared before the Councilors. A solid cube with objects at each point. Readings, captured by the STG ship, appeared all over the image, though most of them were labeled UNKNOWN.

“We believe that what you are looking at is Dholen,” Councilor Tevos continued, “Or what is left of it. The cube, now refered to as Object 1, is anywhere from 10 km to 1 AU on each side. And was shrinking in size.”

“That’s a pretty big error margin.” Garrus quipped as he tried to make sense of the situation.

“It is.” Councilor Valern agreed. “The sensors aboard the ship are some of the most advanced in existence, equipment error probability is low. Both readings are correct.”

“What we are most interested in,” Sparatus went on, “Are the objects at each point of the cube. No information was able to be gathered on them. Since you have had the most experience with the Reapers,” Garrus’ head snapped up at that, “We hoped you could shed some light on these objects.”

Garrus’ stomach nearly dropped. Reapers? Now? He wondered if the invasion had started already, if this was a preamble to a full blown attack. Perhaps this is how the Reapers conducted warfare, simply removing stars from their systems and letting the lack of a gravitational center do the rest. The STG readings had already revealed that the planets in the Dholen system had lost their orbits and were beginning to speed off into space, no longer bound by the stars’ gravitational well. How do you fight something like that?

Focus Garrus. One problem at a time.

He concentrated on the shapes around Object 1, the report labeling them all Objects 2 through 9. They were completely unknown designs to him, not resembling any Reaper ship he’d seen so far. Those all looked like some sort of sea-creature, and Collector ships all appeared to be hollowed out of asteroids. These appeared to be needles that pinned the cube into space itself. Gold and gleaming bronze, blue lights tapering into the object’s point.

But the Citadel and mass effect Relays didn’t look like Reaper designs either. They’d been made with the intent to lure all of galactic society into a sense of security and peace. Perhaps these things were also Reaper designs, made to appear completely unrelated to their master’s wishes?

“What was the Geth reaction?” Garrus asked finally.

The Councilors seemed to be thrown off by that question, before Valern answered.

“By all indications, they seemed to be an unprepared for these events as we were. The STG ship noted several Geth warships heading towards each Object 2 to 9. Their interaction wasn’t captured as the STG ship had to flee the system to avoid pursuing Geth ships that had detected them.”

“I remember your report mentioning the Geth aboard your ship,” Valern began, “It suggested that there are two factions of Geth, those that obey the Reapers and those who oppose it, correct?”

“Yes Councilor,” Garrus responded, “I trust Unification with my life and I trust his information.”

Sparatus nodded, “Then, I suggest you question Unification. If the Geth truly oppose the Reapers then perhaps he,” Garrus noted that the Councilor was trying to be as polite as possible, “may have information for us.”

***

The Councilors cut communication with Spectre Vakarian, who promised that he would contact them again shortly after conversing with the Geth aboard his ship.

“Are you certain we can trust the Geth?” Tevos asked, Valern looking at the two of them out of the corners of his eyes.

“Spectre Vakarian’s hunches have proven invaluable in the past,” Sparatus commented as his omni-tools beeped with notifications. “We can no longer afford to ignore his warnings, however far-fetched they may sound.”

“Disappearing stars is far-fetched.” Valern commented.

“Exactly,” the Turian continued, “And we have evidence to corroborate this Unification’s words. We’ve all seen the reports near the Veil, Geth-related incidents have been at their record low, in one case even repairing a stranded ship’s engines.”

“This still may be a Geth ruse,” Tevos persisted in her doubts, “We must maintain caution when dealing with synthetics. We are not fully aware of their capabilities.”

“Tevos, please,” Sparatus commented in a dry voice, “Let’s not forget that the cover story we fed the public about the Geth super-dreadnought is just that, a cover story.”

“The Geth may be as uninformed as we are.” Valern cut in, hoping to prevent on of Tevos and Sparatus’ famous disagreements.

“We should hope not, because if they are as clueless as we are then we’ve got nothing.”

***

“Perpetrators unknown. Method unknown. Purpose unknown. Capabilities unknown. Intent unknown.”

Garrus sighed, Iciria frowning beside him. “Commander, what exactly is going on?” she asked while keeping her eyes on the synthetic.

“No clue.” Garrus admitted, Uniifcation’s face plates shifting in a rare emotional display. “It looks like no one has any clue. Anything else Unification?”

“Vakarian-Commander, the Dholen system is destabilized. We are moving to extract all Geth presence from the systems and salvage what resources we can. The unknown presence is still in system and is making no further hostile actions. No response to our hails.”

“The Geth has nothing,” Iciria commented, “Commander, we are wasting our time here.”

“Damn.” Some days Garrus felt much older than he really was. “Anything else?”

Unification stood still for a second, enough time to have a conversation with the Geth Collective.

“Vakarian-Commander, the Geth Collective will allow safe passage into the system for you. Perhaps you can see a consensus that we cannot.”

“Commander, I suggest we ignore that invitation,” Iciria’s dislike for Unification and Geth was well known among the crew. “It could be luring us into a trap.”

“Iciria, why would the Geth destroy their own star system? One rich in minerals?”

“Vakarian-Commander.”

Garrus turned to look at Unification, its face-plates flared.

“I give you my word.”

***

UPDATE: Geth programs 834-x – 2017-x [Unification] conversing with Priority Organic 1 [Vakarian-Commander] > Negotiation of safe passage through Geth Collective Space > Priority Organic 375 [Liciril-XO] voicing Objection > Priority Organic 1 [Vakarian-Commander] accepting Geth programs 834-x – 2017-x [Unification] assurance > Outcome: Negotiation Successful.

Geth programs 834-x – 2017-x [Unification] > Requesting Open Communication > Granted. Geth programs 12.911-k – 90,021-z receiving Stand Down Order. Approach Vector collating > Approach Vector collated. Consensus Reached > New Directives: Geth prog-

-PRIORITY-

UNKNOWN Radiation spike from Stranger-Objects 1-8.

Dholen-Object Critical Existence Failure.

Scanning…

Scanning…

Scanning…

Collating…

Consensus Reached.

Consensus: MORE INFORMATION REQUIRED on UNKNOWN STRANGER-OBJECTS INTENTION/CAPABILITIES/ENERGY PRODUCTION/MATERIAL CONSTRUCTION/STELLAR MANIPULATION/…. [9,238,012,755 STRANGER-OBJECT INFORMATION REQUESTS APPENDED]

***

Garrus stood at the Menae’s bridge which was bustling with activity. The STG ship that had reported the situation had returned to the system after his personal word that the Geth would not attack them. Garrus’ reunion with Kirrahe wasn’t as happy as he had wished it could be and it certainly wasn’t under the conditions he would have liked. True to Unifications’ word, none of the Geth ships had made any hostile actions toward his or Kirrahe’s ship. Much to their surprise, and even Unification’s, the Geth Collective was feeding them every bit of information they’d managed to gather on the strange shapes that had entered the system.

Which was almost nothing.

Garrus looked out of the bridge windows, Proceus hands moving around the helms as he kept an eye on the nearby Geth ships.

“Commander,” the pilot spoke up, “What are we doing with the STG, surrounded by Geth, and staring at nothing?”

Garrus looked down at Proceus, then back out into empty space. Empty space that, up until a few hours ago, had an entire star in it.

What the hell is going on?

***

Alternate timeline, Garrus isn't a SPECTRE because of the events from the 3 games, he's a SPECTRE because he's the one who caught on to Saren because humans never met the Council like they did in the original timeline. Also, doesn't look like you caught on that this is a crossover, so that explains what happened to Dholen.

Lidanya bit her lip as she surveyed her bridge crew. The Destiny Ascension boasted the top crew of all the Citadel Fleet, screened by several Matriarchs and ultimately selected by herself. The top of the top of the top. Most of the asari here had centuries of experience in their fields, all of the rare Turian members had seen heavy fleet action in the Terminus-Batarian Incidents. The Destiny Ascenion’s pilot, a matron by the name of Sasara, could and had flown the ship on patrols of Citadel defense space with her eyes closed, never missing a navigation beacon in the process. Her targeting crew regularly double checked the weapon computer’s targeting solution in their heads. The engineering crew held the Diasan together long enough escape from the Battle of Niya. With such an illustrious crew and the Destiny Ascension’s considerable technical specifications under her command, there was very little Lidanya worried about. First contact situations were historically quite peaceful. Of course, the Rachni proved to be the violent and costly exception to that rule, but as a whole there was no worry of hostilities breaking out. She could point to several xenosocial studies that have plotted the dangers of first contact situations that showed, quite conclusively, that the probabilities of hostilities between the Citadel species and newly discovered species dropped dramatically after a peaceful first contact situation. She had been assured that the visiting Gaians are peaceful. That didn’t mean she wouldn’t be cautious, her training overruled any misguided sense of optimism. If these friendly neighbors turned out to be not-so-friendly her crew would personally feed them Asari-made kinetic slugs with a relativistic feeding fork.

And if things did go terrible for the Citadel Fleet, Lidanya was at least comforted by the fact that anything that could breach the Destiny Ascension’s barriers would almost certainly instantly kill her. No pain, no fear.

No, what really scared her was politics.

Contrary to some of the opinions of her anti-military, galactic peace blue sisters, military careers did not turn her into a maiden-esque gun loving club-dancer airhead. And military personnel, even one as high on the ladder as she was, weren’t out of the grasp of politicians who’d strip her rank faster than she could blink if she managed to offend their guests. So she’d read and reread the Council report on the Gaians so as to avoid any sort of cross-species etiquette blunder.

If today was to be her last day, she’d prefer it be due to combat instead of politics.

She glanced at a timer that had been set to the supposed meeting time and wondered how non-mass effect travel could be achieved. And how military strategy would have to adapt from here on out.

To her crew’s credit the Destiny Ascension was already being reoriented by a few degrees to put the new alien ship square in its sights only moments after it appeared. Her eyes roamed over the image of the golden ship, her mind attempting to discern any form of offensive capabilities on the ship. Unfortunately there was nothing recognizable on the craft, expected given the Citadel report. While she pondered the ship’s capabilities, her bridge staff wasted no time in opening a communication channel.

“Greetings Gaian ship Sampson, this is Matriarch Lidanya of Destiny Ascension, Commander of the Citadel Fleet.”

-Matriarch Lidanya of the Destiny Ascension, this is Captain Ramiro Diaz Alvaro of the Sampson, we come in peace representing the people of Gaia.-

Her crew, which had already known about the peculiar communication method the Gaians employed didn’t flinch when they received a response. Lidanya wondered if the extranet audience would suffer the headaches or if the VI moderators would add in their own subtitles for the alien voices. She was slightly disappointed that their ship couldn’t relay any sort of visual images.

“Captain Ramiro Diaz Alvaro of the Sampson,” Lidanya began, hoping her translation software would smooth out the alien name that she had no hope of pronouncing, “The Destiny Ascension and a special honor guard of the Citadel Fleet will now guide you to the Citadel. Once again, we welcome you and look forward to peace and fruitful relations with your people.” Cutting off the communication channel, she ordered her bridge crew into action, several Turian ships falling into position ahead and behind the golden saucer ship as they began their short trip to the Citadel station, the Destiny Ascension looming protectively over the entire procession.

“Matriarch,” one of her officers announced, “All ships are on formation, reserve ships are covering all possible angles of escape. Possible attack vectors are also being considered.”

"Wonderful,” Lidanya replied as she schooled her voice. “Remind the ships that the capabilities of the Gaian ship are unknown, standard formations may not be enough. We must be ready to adapt.”

“Yes Matriarch.”

Lidanya continued, “Make sure we keep the press ships and all civilian traffic at a respectable distance. Keep a line open on C-Sec, I don’t care if a petty smuggler chooses now to steal a ship or some anti-alien extremists show up in protest, nothing will breach our security field.”

Wonderful. Lidanya stood up as straight as ever as the alien craft approached her ship and the Citadel, its security escort on pace and on all sides. Once they dock, they’re C-Sec’s problem.

***The Filth is everyone's problem, Sweetling.

And now they’re our problem.

“SPECTRE Popiana.”

Her omnitool’s VI sees that she’s about to respond, and answers Executor Pallin’s call.

“Popiana here

“Status update.”

The Executor is well known for his disdain of SPECTREs and it has showed in all of their conversations. She’s had a status update every five minutes for the past half hour, and despite the fact that she is not under any obligation to answer to the Executor, she’s always seen the value in working with C-Sec than against them.

“Sir,” she begins, beginning to pace from her command post overlooking the docking bay, the golden alien ship coming to a halt near the docking clamps, chatter between the craft and C-Sec Port Authority informing her that some technicalities were being worked out in securing the craft. “The alien ship is docking now; I expect the foreign dignitaries will disembark when their preparations are complete. Along with their security detail.”

“Good,” the Executor’s voice acknowledged in her ear. “Perimeter secure?”

Popiana continued among her impromptu command center, several of her officers hand signaling the status of their officers. She double checked their reports with a quick scan through her helmet’s magnification scope. “All secure sir, the Hanar that was causing a stir has calmed down thanks to his friend. He won’t be a problem.” She spied that particular Hanar amidst the crowd, who was seemingly having a calm conversation with his Turian friend. “The Krogans were removed after one of them was found to have a report with us.”

“Charge?” Pallin inquired.

“Unpaid parking tickets.”

“Good.”

A murmur began to rise up out of the crowd of civilians, press and Citadel officials as the craft began to open up.

“Activity at the craft, Executor.” Popiana began to signal to her command staff, who began to relay orders to the C-Sec security teams stationed all over the docking bays. From her vantage point she saw SPECTRE Vakarian and his team taking ready positions around the Citadel delegation. Of course, no one was going to be pointing guns at the alien visitors, several days of deliberation had already established a certain amount of trust between them and the Citadel. Security was simply here to make sure both delegates from either government were safe and sound. She certainly was under no orders to terminate the alien delegates if they did become hostile. There were no SPECTRES strike teams waiting in the shadows if such an order was needed.

The crowd fell silent as the first of the aliens, the Gaians, marched down the disk’s opening ramp. Batarian build, though she could not discern any actual features beneath the uniform they were wearing, black with gold trim and hexagonal patterns that shimmered between visible and not, and a gold mask which she assumed was molded to the features of their race. Going off of that mask, she guessed that they looked like male Quarians. More importantly her eyes roamed over the weapons the Gaian guards were carrying, a form of rifle cradled in their hands and what looked like sheathed swords on their hips. Ceremonial? She wondered. Next to these soldiers were others, though they appeared unarmed. They each held what appeared to be some form of datapad in one hand, while their free hands hovered over collections of trinkets strapped to their belts. Officers? Do they wear medals on their belts? They carried themselves in the same way as the armed guards, perhaps they were political officers or some sort of religious official similar to a Krogan battlesinger or the old Turian standard bearer from old. Popiana did a quick count, four unarmed and sixteen armed soldiers. “Thoughts?” she whispered into her comm’s special channel.

“Unarmed officers? If so, five man squads.” A Salarian SPECTREs’ voice offered.

“Could be medics of some kind.” Another SPECTRE chimed in. “Or religious leaders.”

“Could be drone controllers,” the voice of the sole Krogan SPECTRE came in like gravel, “Datapad could be controlling those soldiers, might be little robot men. That’s a big one.”

Popiana looked back to the craft’s ramp, something that looked like a giant Volus on steroids stomping down the ramp. Unlike the previous guards this one was armored in some sort of heavy powered-armor, visible gears spinning in some sections and small puffs of steam belching out of pipes on its back. A single blue eye sat dead center on its’ small head. It simply walked down to the bottom of the ramp and stood, turning its torso left and right as it surveyed the area. The guards all snapped to attention. Twenty guards, plus one giant… something. One officer and twenty soldiers, or four officers in command of a five man squad, four squads in total. Or two dual officers per eight soldiers for two ten man squads. Or maybe their command officers were all safely aboard the craft. Popiana hoped they’d do something to give away their command structure; you couldn’t decapitate fighting forces if you don’t know who the leaders are.

More aliens walked down the ramps, these seemed to be the Gaian delegates themselves if their more relaxed uniforms were any indication.

“Quarians.” The Salarian SPECTRE’s interrupted. “Amazing similarities to Quarians.”

“Asari, you mean.” Another SPECTRE. “Their females look Asari.”

“Asari don’t have hair,” the quick talking SPECTRE rebutted, “Quarians do. Admittedly, body structure similar to Asari in the females, but facially they share more similarities with Quarians: eyebrows, ear structure, and prevalence of hair on the tops of the head. Simi-”

“This is not the time to discuss this. Get your fucking game faces on.” Popiana threatened into the channel. “Vrel, I want you to get some heavy weapons trained on that big guy. Watch for any sudden moves; be ready to initiate a strike on them if hostilities break out. Nyiyme, be ready with biotics to put some space between us and them.”

The rest of the SPECTRES acknowledged her orders as the C-Sec officers coordinated with their own department around her. Popiana focused on the delegation as they met in the center of the docs, cameras in the distance flashing as the press recorded another history formal first contact. There was enough security here to prevent any sort of nonsense anyone could try to pull. And Vrel was currently aiming more ordinance at that big guy than an IFV could handle. But she was still uneasy. The security detail was working off of so many assumptions, none of which had to be true. And she’d talked to Vakarian when he’d returned from his secret mission, hidden even from other SPECTREs, and he was spooked.

And if the Hero of the Citadel was spooked, then she was too.

***

Garrus idly wondered how everyone would react if they knew these Gaians had literally vanished a star only a few days ago. He had of course protested when the Council had decided to keep that information secret even from his own fellow SPECTREs. They thought the SPECTREs had enough on their minds organizing this security detail without also being burdened with the knowledge of their capabilities and actions at Dholen. He disagreed and secretly let fly a few details to Popiana, though if she was just as nervous as he was then she wasn’t showing it. Or STG had intercepted his message and she was as blissfully ignorant as everyone else. He hated cover-ups… though he admitted that they were sometimes useful. The Reaper cover-up came to mind, the increased militarization in preparation for those damned machines was being carried out in an orderly, timely fashion. Perhaps this operation was being carried out flawlessly because of that withheld information.

He still didn’t like it.

It didn’t help that these Gaians seemed to be bringing the news of another cosmic horror from beyond, one that they had been completely ignorant of until now, though at the very least they had claimed that they would be open to working with the Citadel on containing this new threat, this Filth. He had to admit, that the Gaians seemed normal, no more different than any other race he’d encountered. The visual similarities to Asari and Quarians perhaps made interactions with them go smoother. Everyone seemed to have noticed this, including the Gaians themselves, and would no doubt be a topic of conversation once some of the Salarian delegates got to talking.

“This one finds your physical appearance interesting,” one of the Hanar delegates began, slowly moving along with the group, “This one suggests it is only another facet of the grand plan of the Enkindlers.”

Garrus fought to keep his face schooled, the last thing anyone wanted now was some sort of diplomatic incident caused over religious differences.

“The Enkindlers?” one of the Gaians asked, a female of darker skin coloration than the others. “Are they your deities?”

Garrus and Tevos ahead of him, seemed to relax, the Gaian’s tone sounding genuinely inquisitive rather than offended. Garrus wondered how much they had managed to learn about Citadel culture before Dholen. It seemed like they had only gathered very basic knowledge, the general names of each species, the name of the government, some basic translation software. He wasn’t much for talking, but he was glad to know that their diplomats wouldn’t be holding all the cards in these talks, both sides would be learning about each other.

“The Enkindlers raised this one’s kind from a mindless, animal existence. They gave this one’s kind the gift of language and thought. This one is of the belief that the Enkindler’s have had similar hands in the development of all kinds. From the creation of the mass relays and the Citadel, even the appearance of the Quarians and Asari. This one sees their hand in your appearance.”Amusing conjecture.

Alright, now the Hanar was getting dangerously preachy.

“Ah, a theologian at heart.” The dark Gaian smirked, the similarities to Quarians and Asari more evident in their facial language. “I’m sure our religious figures will have… interesting conversations with yours.” The Gaian looked up, admiring the artificial sky of the Presidium. “These Enkindler’s built this station? Where have they gone?”

“The Prothean disappearance is a great mystery to our historians,” Councilor Tevos jumped in, hoping to steer the conversation into a less religiously charged direction, “No one conclusively knows what caused their disappearance 50,000 years ago,” Sparatus and Garrus shared a quick glance, “But of course we have many theories. But our Hanar colleague is quite right; all mass effect technology is derived from Prothean technology, this very station is of Prothean construction. Without the Protheans galactic civilization would not be possible.”

Garrus caught two of the Gaians lean into each other and whisper.

“Third Age.”

One of the Gaian delegates, who seemed to be blind yet moved as if he was not, had a confused look on his face.

“Excuse me Councilor… Tevos?” the Gaian asked, stumbling over the Asari’s rather common name. “But could you have not simply developed an analogue to the -Spirit- Drive?”

Garrus and the rest of the Citadel delegation looked oddly at the Gaian, though of course he could not see their looks.

“I’m sorry Ambassador Suhiro, I didn’t quite catch that. A -Goddess- Drive?”

“Councilor, he said -Spirit- Drive,” a Turian delegate mentioned.

“This one heard -Enkindler’s Dream- Drive.” The Hanar glowed with pride.

“Perhaps we are experiencing some translator troubles,” Valern interjected, several of the more technically savvy delegates nodding along, one of them opening their omnitools and fiddling with their translation software. “But are you referring to your particular method of faster than light travel? If so, we admit that we are quite interested in your method. Our own research into alternate FTL has yielded no results, mass effect is, until we saw your vessel, the only method we’ve known.”

“Fascinating,” the blind Gaian said, a smile on his old face. “So many new things to learn. So much to take into account.”

The procession stopped at the Citadel’s conference building, a great building dwarfed in galactic importance only by the Citadel Tower, one where all the Council races could be heard equally. Garrus smirked, he always appreciated the conference building much more than the Tower which gave the impression of groveling to the big three races. This is probably why the Council seemed to dislike it so much. It was much more faux democratic than the Tower could ever hope to be.

It was time to go in, and time to get some answers.

*************ZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZZ

Garrus’ omnitool auto-updated his translation software, adding in several new words picked up during the conversation.

“Gaia-clan,” the Volus ambassador Boda wheezed, “your species is not called Gaians?”

“That is correct,” again it was the blind Suhiro who spoke, Garrus seemed to think he held some informal respect among his kind. “Our species is referred to as human. We use the term Gaians for two reasons, solidarity to our fellow allies back on Gaia and out of respect for Gaia Herself.”

“Mentioned multiple species on Gaia,” one of the Salarian scientists mentioned, his eyes scanning over his notes, “You’ve mentioned satyrs, ghouls, spirits, faeries, an-excuse me, I’m having trouble with these pronunciations. But there are multiple intelligent species here, all with their own cultures and societies, several of which predate humans?”

“Yes ambassador,” another Gaian-human replied, the dark color female from earlier. “However, the Sampson is mostly crewed by humans and our sole satyr crewmember refused to step outside. He claimed the atmosphere was hostile to him.”

“Interesting,” the scientist went on, Garrus agreeing with him. Garrus hadn’t heard of several intelligent species evolving on a single world. They were a Citadel all in their own right.

“What do you think?”

Garrus turned, Popiana next to him in her black armor.

“They are… interesting. Friendly enough so far.”

“But?” she proded.

“But I get the feeling that we’re about to get a lot of headaches.” Of course Popiana knew nothing about Dholen, about the Filth.

“Really?” Popiana leaned on the railing, “These critters don’t seem the type. Even the big guy outside their ship seems harmless. You should see the extranet news, Haliana from NNN has been trying to get an interview with it for the past few minutes.” She smirked, “The guards don’t seem well armored either. We could take ‘em.”

“Maybe.” Garrus halfheartedly agreed.

“Politics are so stressful,” Popiana purred, her tone catching Garrus’ attention. “Maybe we can have another sparring match later to… de-stress. I wonder if you still have reach.”

Garrus’ acceptance was cut off when the Gaian delegation whispered among themselves after Councilor Tevos asked a particular question.

“I think we’ve hit another cross-cultural snag Councilors,” Suhiro smiled, “While Miss Gambaryan is right in that Gaia is the central figure in a few of our religions, Gaia herself is very real. As real as you or me.”

Oh, a religious conversation. Garrus blithely thought.

The Councilors looked unconvinced.

“She goes by many names, the BioTech Computer, the Mother Goddess, the Immaculate Machine,” Garrus’ head snapped to the speaker, the word machine triggering something in his mind. “It was Gaia Herself that gave us -Spirits-, that gave us the -Spirit- Drive, Her actions that turned the tide in the Purge and Gaia Herself that caused our meeting. Like the Enkindlers for the esteemed Hanar ambassador, Gaia is a known fact that all Gaians embrace.” The conference chamber was silent, the Citadel officials unaware how to respond to the human’s impassioned religious preaching. The old Suhiro seemed to hesitate for a moment and shared a look among his own kind. “There may be many assumptions we are coming from that we may have to re-examine.” His group murmured in agreement. “Perhaps, we should explain ourselves more clearly.” Garrus leaned forward in anticipation, as did all the Citadel officials. “I will begin anew,” Suhiro cleared his throat, “And tell our whole story.”

And then he told them everything. And their minds shuddered under the scorching truth.

***

Tokyo on the Eve of the Golden War, moments before the Eight Now Six purged the island beneath boiling waves. Retrieved from an unknown agent's phone before escaping through the nearby Anima well.

The turian’s remains hadn’t even hit the ceiling before Telesetea ducked behind the counter, a massive biotic wave from one of the girls in the back smashing into the turians and krogans in the front. She reached into a secret compartment and pulled out a heavy pistol, one of her favorite weapons, along with a medical kit. She turned to look at Amese, who was still struggling in pain but valiantly holding on, she reached over, pulling back as a turian landed between them, firing an assault rifle into the back before turning to look at them, his gun snapping in their direction. Telesetea didn’t give the turian a chance, she reached out and warped his face, the turian’s face suddenly distorting in a painfully loud crunching noise as his skull caved in, next she slapped away the rifle and rushing upwards and catching the turian while putting her back to the girls, knowing they’d be able to distinguish her from a hostile. From over the turian’s shoulder she faced the front of the diner, her eyes immediately drawn to a krogan suddenly smashing through the counter, Telesetea blinked and suddenly the elderly woman was on the krogan, trading furious punches with the downed lizard that should have killed her.

She tore her eyes from the impossible sight, rifle rounds shredding her turian bodyguard; she reached out with her pistol and fired several rounds into the screaming turian that was firing at her, his yells cut off by gurgling sounds as a bullet punctured his neck. Behind her she could still hear the elderly woman and krogan exchanging punches. She turned and put several rounds into nearby turian before the butt of a rifle slammed into the side of her face, her entire world exploding in pain as she realized the blow had fractured bone. Through the pain she saw her attacker was a pale white turian, throwing her shredded shield at him with all her strength, Telesetea took the chance to turn around and fire several rounds into a krogan that was advancing on the girls, gaining his attention in the process before he was kicked backwards by a biotic push, one of the girls focusing her barriers down on the krogan while several of them concentrated their fire onto him. She whipped back around, the turian she’d thrown her bloody corpse shield at pushing barely pushing the body off of him, Telesetea raised her gun to put him down for good before the turian delivered a kick to her leg, bringing her down on top of him. She landed hard on the pale turian, receiving a headbutt almost as soon as she did, pain temporarily blinding her before she felt herself thrown off of the turian and then straddled, clawed hands raining down on her as struggled to bring her gun up, the pale turian batting her hands away whenever she got a bead on him. Just beyond her she could hear a turian taunting her, a quick glance showed the turian that had shot Amese was still alive, arm badly mangled. Anger shot through her and Telesetea screamed before landing a terrible hit with her pistol to the pale turian’s face, knocking him off of her in an instant. Telesetea jumped on him, pressed her gun to his temple and fired, the pale turian’s head exploding against her before she aimed at the turian with the broken arm and put several holes in his chest. She felt something brush against her and snarled, her gun whipping out as she looked for a new enemy. It was only the old lady, covered in krogan blood, dragging away her husband.

She’d almost shot her.

She faced the entrance of the diner, firing several rounds at a retreating krogan, the Nazacus girl yelling threats from behind him as she was pushed out by her mercenary. Through the now open doors she could see three cars pull up, several more turians and krogans rushing out of them, guns blazing, bullets slamming into their diner’s front, shattering windows and punching through the blinds to hit the chairs, tables and counters inside.

“Shit!’ Suiir cursed as she jumped behind the counter, a medical kit in one hand and a shotgun in another, bullets just missing her by seconds.

“Who’s still here!” Telesetea yelled out over the sounds of gunfire, hoping none of her girls had been killed in those few seconds before firing her heavy pistol over the counter, a hail of return fire making her pull her hand back.

“All of us!” Amenra yelled out from somewhere in the back. “Seiyes is tits up, took a nasty punch from a charging krogan. How’s Amese over there!”

Telesetea wondered too, she couldn’t see the youngest girl from here.

“She’s just being a bitch,” Suiir yelled out from behind the counter, “She’ll be fine.”

“You keep her safe!” Telesetea yelled, “We’ll go deal with the Nazacus girl!” Receiving a near the diner’s front doors, her barrier flashing blue as supersonic razer hail impacted against it. As she slammed into the wall she saw her girls surge forward, their own guns barking return fire as they moved up. Irel took a hit to her leg, dropping her as she yelled out in pain, Amenra pulling her into cover.

Telesetea heard the telltale thuds of heavier caliber weaponry and felt impacts on the other side of the wall, felt herself be pulled backwards by someone near her as the wall she was using as cover exploded, showering her face with shrapnel. She fell hard, blood and pain washing all over her face. Blinking through the sweat and blood she saw two krogans, armored like tanks and sporting heavy machine guns slowly advancing on her diner, streams of bullets bouncing off of their barriers and armor as if they were simply flies being swatted aside. Caepia was hiding behind one of the cars, her cackling, yelling and cursing nearly drowned out by the heavy gunfire.

“FUCK!”

Telesetea turned, barely making out the elderly couple from their hiding spot near the restrooms. Both of them. The elderly man, who by all accounts should be dead yet lived, and the elderly woman, who should not have been able to beat a krogan to death yet did.

Again she didn’t have time to wonder how that was possible, more concerned by the near unstoppable krogan duo who was advancing on their position, their near endless stream of heavy firepower wearing away at her diner’s walls. Off in the distance she could hear the sounds of sirens, though Telesetea worried that the police force on Lluvia, which hadn’t grown alongside the city itself since its founding, would be unable to do anything except die. Her fears were proven right when a police vehicle arrived, one of the krogans turning on his heel and firing up at the flying vehicle, the heavy rounds punching through the craft without difficulty. Telesetea saw blood splatter from inside the craft, and then watched as it slammed into the street, skidded along and smashed into another storefront further down the road. She heard cheering out in the street, Caepia leading the cheer.

A cheer that abruptly died when one of the krogans exploded.

A blindingly bright bolt of lightning had arced out and turned that walking tank into nothing more than a rapidly expanding ball of flesh and blood, the krogan’s armor razer shrapnel. The violence of the blast took the nearby krogan’s left arm off at the elbow, the muscled beast yelling out in pain and bringing his gun up, firing several shots into the old man who had brought the thunder. He fell to the ground, his chest blown open.

The elderly woman shot out from her position, faster than Telesetea could track, and was suddenly in the surviving krogan’s face, fists flashing green as she delivered violent blows onto the armored lizard. Caepia’s group hadn’t recovered and Telesetea gave the order to push their advantage. Several turians died before Caepia’s group found their sight again, Telesetea ran out into the street, intent on closing the gap between the two groups, rushing past the elderly lady who ripped the krogan’s head-crest off with her bare hands, the krogan screaming out in pain in a way she’d never heard before. She fired two rounds through the nearest car’s window, killing a turian inside, the corpse slumping over and hitting the horn with half a face. Amenra ran up beside her, her assault rifle barking cover fire, her hand flashing biotic blue as she slapped a grenade out of the air and redirected it towards a group of turians being led by a krogan. The car they used as cover exploded as the grenade landed under it, flipping the entire craft over and landing on the surviving krogan, who yelled out in pain and anger as he was trapped under the flaming wreckage. Shots from her girls ended the lives of the single turian survivor as Telesetea ran forward, using her free hand to biotically hold the screaming krogan in place, slowly cooking the beast under the flaming wreckage and firing at Caepia with her pistol. The turian bitch didn’t have the decency to die, her krogan bodyguard taking every shot aimed at her, his shields and armor unaffected as he shoved the slaver’s daughter into their sole remaining car, several of the turian mercenaries rushing into the vehicle after them as it began to speed off. Only two turians remained, instantly cut down as they were left out in the open.

All the nearby hostiles dead, Telesetea turned around in time to hear the Krogan die screaming as the elderly woman shoved her fist through his brains and the elderly man, completely fine, run up to her and telling her to get into the car while tossing a turian corpse out of the driver’s seat, the horn finally falling silent.

“What? We’ve won, she’s gone!” she replied, her mind struggling to understand what was happening. “If the bitch wants to run, let her.”

“You think she’ll just run?” the elderly woman said, most of her body now orange with krogan blood, “I don’t think she’s learned her manners, she tracked you down once, what stops her from doing it again?”

Amenra walked over to them, hearing the conversation. “She’s right boss. You remember what the Nazacus family was like, she’ll carry that grudge her whole life.”

“So let’s make sure her life is short!” the elderly man said from the driver’s seat, “Bitch shot Amese. Sweet girl. I like her.”

Telesetea nodded, realizing that they were right. She’d deal with Caepia now rather than let her become a problem later on. “Alright girls, listen up!” she called out to her group, “Me and Amenra are going to hunt down the bitch that shot up our diner. Stay here and wait for the cops, show them our security footage if we’ve got any, if not… we’ll, don’t cause any more trouble. This was all self-defense, no reason to get on the wrong side of the law.” She saw one of the girls running into the back before coming back out with some portable kinetic barriers, handing them over to her.

“Here boss, some protection.” She said, her face bloody and her clothing torn in several places. “I don’t think the Gaians would consider going after her to be “self-defense” boss…” she trailed off, alluding to the quite clear legal issues she and Amenra were about to undertake.

“I know. I don’t care either.” Telesetea said, before muttering “Make sure to send a report along with any security footage. Stay safe.”

“We’re losing her!” the elderly man complaining, the car humming with power, “Let’s go!”

Telesetea nodded to her group and jumped into the backseat with Amenra, the car speeding off as soon as the doors were closed.

***

The elderly man drove like a madman, the streets zooming by past them at breakneck speeds. Telesetea wondered how they hadn’t hit anyone before seeing several crashed vehicles along the road, several people running and screaming. Caepia must have scared everyone off of the streets and she could hear more sirens in the distance, the police force evidentally mobilizing in greater force after they learned how heavily armed their group was.

“Wait!” Telesetea yelled, “How are you still ali-“

Bullets tore through the windshield, one of them finding their mark in Telesetea’s shoulder. She screamed out in pain as Amenra leaned out her window, assault rifle returning fire with the two turians who were firing at them from Caepia’s escape vehicle. In the front seats the elderly man yelled for his wife to take the wheel as he turned in his seat and grabbed ahold of her,

“This might hurt!” he yelled over the gunfire, glass shattering and bullets flying around them. “Never tried on a blue girl before!” He jabbed his fist into her shoulder, his hand glowing brightly as he did so, Telesetea screamed out in pain before her yell caught in her throat, her body began to feel fantastic before the euphoria was over. When the elderly man leaned back, her shoulder was fine, no evidence of the wound that existed only moments before.

“What?”

“Get your head in the game!” the elderly man yelled.

Telesetea was done asking questions, instead she popped out of her window, aiming her heavy pistol at one of their attackers, her shot missing wide as Caepia’s car suddenly made a hard right, their own car barely making the turn in time to continue the chase.

“She’s heading for Monte Vista!” the elderly woman yelled.

Being jerked around by the insane driving maneuvers, swerving to avoid the few cars on the driving paths, the chase continued. Telesetea cursed before finally drawing a bead on one of the turians, shooting him in the shoulder, the mercenary dropping his rifle in the process before being smashed into an uncoming tailer, the top half of his body being flung out into the road. Telesetea grinned as she heard Caepia berate the driver for costing her a bodyguard. The other turian responded by tossing a grenade in their direction. The elderly man only just managed to swerve out of the way of the self-guiding explosive, though the blast did manage to blow out Amenra’s door, the girl hissing in pain as her ear drum was blown out, the car violently buffeted by the shockwave. The elderly man reached out, lightning flying out from his hands and hitting the backend of the car, flaying open the entire back end of the car in a shower of sparks and light. The turian disappeared in that blast and Caepia’s car began to belch fumes and fail.

Telesetea yelled to the elderly driver, “Ram that bitch out of the air!” The car’s engine strained as it speed up, the poor vehicle struggling to continue functioning after all it had been through. It pulled through however, and soon the elderly woman told everyone to brace themselves as they slammed into the back of Caepia’s car, both cars falling out of the sky as they both finally failed. The front of Telesetea’s car crumped forward, killing the elderly couple, Amenra yelled curses as she was flung out of the car and somehow Telesetea held on to her seat long enough to fire off a few shots at the rival car, miraculously hitting Caepia in the leg as she gripped her seatbelt, the krogan bodyguard cursing his employer as they all fell to the earth. Telesetea could hear both cars engines whining and the altitude warnings blaring as they both smashed into the ground.

***

Every single part of Telesetea screamed in pain at her. She dragged herself out of the wreckage of the car, flames eating away at the entire car and stumbled out into the ground. Gasping for air through a punctured lung and attempting to stand on a broken leg, she heard the crack of rifle fire. Raising her pistol she saw Amenra, who looked as bad as she felt, being carried off by the elderly woman, tough bitch that she was, while she fired wild shots somewhere. That somewhere groaned in pain and Telesetea turned, the elderly man incinerating the krogan with a directed stream of fire that seemed to burst from his fingers.

But what drew most of her attention was the sound of a female turian whimpering. Telesetea drew herself up to her feet, pain shooting through her and letting her realize that she needed immediate medical attention, and shambled over to the crashed car, sparks and small explosions still cooking off from its engine block. The Nacazus girl was there, crushed and pined between the dashboard and a broken seat, barely able to move. Telesetea looked down on her, the young turian girl looking incredibly pitiful, tears streaming from her eyes as she attempted to look up at Telesetea in defiance. Telesetea put her heavy pistol up to the girl’s head, causing her to sob harder.

Suddenly Telesetea was struck by just how young Caepia must be. Only barely an adult.

It didn’t matter. She still pulled the trigger.

The door slid open, revealing the strange alien face.

“Uh, hello…” the boy shifted under her gaze, “I, we live there,” he motioned behind him, to the room across the hall, a woman standing in the doorway. “We don’t know if… are there rules about cutting off utilities at night? I mean, do you still have power?”

Riah shook her head, her eyes never leaving the boy’s face. “No,” she answered in a heavy accent, “The landlord on this level doesn’t want to lift a talon or spend a credit on fixing the wiring here. Power outages are normal.” The boy’s eyes fell at that, before he turned to relay the information to the woman, who simply nodded that she’d heard.

“Are they…” the boy stuttered, and Riah wondered why he had such trouble speaking, “How long do they usually last?”

“Sometimes days,” Riah answered, “We pay for what we get.” She shrugged her shoulders. She was a little confused as to why the boy and woman seemed to be so surprised at the state of this level. “You might want to go to a hardware store or some pawn shop,” she motioned further up the hall, off in the distance where the glow of several advertisement panels were barely visible, “There’s a volus up there that-”

“Riah, who is it?” her mother called, her voice coming from the kitchen.

“It’s the humans from across the hall.” She’d answered back in Khelish, her translator turned off.

“What do they want?” her mother shot back.

“They are asking about the outages, I was telling the boy about Var-”

“Invite them in!” her mother cut her off, walking towards her as she wrung her hands with a rag. “Hello there!” she welcomed the boy, “Your power is out?” The boy nodded. “Oh, is that your mother there?” she asked before waving the woman over, “Please, come in, come in!” the boy and mother seemed to hesitate, unsure what to say. Riah nudged her mother.

“Why are you inviting them in?” she asked in a whisper, keeping her eyes on the two humans. “They are humans! They are da-”

“Extranet ghost stories don’t scare me,” her mother snapped in her native tongue. “Everyone is equal in the slums; we have to help each other.”

Riah ground her teeth, knowing that that was that, her mother had spoken and made a decision. Still, she was wary as the boy and the mother walked into her home, their eyes darting around, the boy’s eyes widening as he saw the bundle of cables and power generators stuck to their space-side window. Her mother introduced herself to the woman.

“Thank you for inviting us,” the woman said, her voice musical and warm despite the awkwardness of the situation. “My name is Katja and this,” she patted the boy’s shoulder, “is Santi, my son.”

Riah’s eyes narrowed. In her state of alertness she seemed to catch the short moment of hesitation that her mother apparently missed. That woman, Katja, was not the boy’s mother. She caught how quick this Katja was to change the topic.

“Welcome to our home,” her mother went on, “My name is Yili and my daughter here is Riah. Please, sit down sit down. You’re the new neighbors we’ve been hearing so much about, if you don’t mind me saying, you two are the first Gaians we’ve seen in person. I thought your kind had horns and hooves?”

Katja laughed while Santi snorted, the contrast between the lyrical laughter and socially-awkward snort grating on Riah’s ears.

“No,” Katja smiled, “You’re thinking of the forest people, or the satyrs. Us humans are just like you quarians or asari.”

“You are!” Yili said, amazed as she looked Katja and Santi up and down, noting the facial similarities. “Except for the legs and fingers,” she said, causing the humans to glance down at their hands and legs, “you are near identical to us! Amazing.”

Riah drowned out the conversation that her mother made with the woman, angry that her quiet evening had been ruined by the appearance of these humans. Frankly, she didn’t want them in her home. Who knows when they’d start proselytizing about their mother goddess or some other absurd cult? She looked over at the boy, catching him staring at her before he turned away, his eyes roaming every which way but on her. Riah grew angry, and crossed her arms over her chest, once again cursing her people’s need for these suits, for the leers people would throw at quarrian females. She reached over the couch’s armrest, pulling a small blanket and covering herself with it in an attempt to hide her figure from the boy. The boy seemed to notice her intent and kept his eyes off of her after that. She scoffed inside her helmet, wondering if all humans were as shameless as he was. He appeared to be around the same age as she was, if the similarity to quarrian appearance held true at various ages, maybe slightly younger, and furthermore was an alien, a human. How she could be attractive to him baffled her, and wished he’d kept his disgusting xenophilic gaze to himself.

Several minutes passed by where her mother conversed with the human woman, informing them that most of the tenants dealt with the power outages in their own ways, small power generators were sold by a volus merchant some ways down the hall, while people who lived against the hull like they did could try to rig up some solar generators. Her mother commiserated with the two humans, who hadn’t been informed of the outages and had no way to deal with them yet. She commiserated with the fact that, as new tenants that had been mostly ignored due to their species, they hadn’t had time to properly prepare for the outages, for the cold and for the lack of light. She nodded, before offering to let them stay for the night and -

“What?” Riah asked, looking at her mother as if she had grown krogan’s crest, the same question coming out of Santi’s mouth.

“Hmmmm,” her mother hummed, her bright eyes visible beneath the blue visor of her helmet, “If you two want, that is,” the two human visitors looked at each other, “We have space here, and our solar collector is still working, which means we have temperature controls.” She leveled the woman with a stern gaze, “It will get quite cold at night. These buildings weren’t well insulated.”

The pair looked at each other, Santi’s eyes flicked over to look at her before turning back to Katja, the two talking in some human language that the translators couldn’t decipher. They looked incredibly hesitant to take her mother up on her offer, and she wished to all the ancestors that would listen that they’d refuse. Decent people would refuse. Finally, they answered and her stomach dropped.

“Well,” the woman began, looking sheepish; “if it isn’t too much trouble… we would appreciate staying out of the cold tonight.”

“Wonderful!” her mother chirped, “You two dears can stay in the living room. And listen, maybe we’ll get lucky and the outage will only last a few hours and you two can sleep in your own beds tonight…” her mother trailed off, both her and Riah knowing that the nights without any form of power were common. “Oh…” her mother suddenly looked crestfallen, and Riah hoped she’d remembered something that would mean the human’s stay would be impossible. “I’m not sure if humans can eat our food,” she muttered.

“We have our own foo-oh shit.” The woman said, turning to Santi, “Go get our food some of our food out of the fridge, and something to drink.” The boy stood up before she began again, “And some plates and napkins!” she called out to him as he left their home and walked across the hall. She turned back to look at her mother and smiled, “So… why are you two wearing space suits?”

***

What had followed had been a long, tiresome dinner and night spent with two complete strangers, the two women talking and easing themselves into something that Riah suspected would lead to the two beggars taking more from them alongside some cross-cultural exchange she’d expect out of children. Why do you wear those suits? What is it like being new to the galaxy? Why do you have three fingers? Why do you have five? Riah may have found it interesting to see and talk to two humans in some other time, somewhere other than in her home in her living room while cutting into her personal time, but presently found herself cursing the two people and her mother for inviting them in. Even discounting the fact that they were humans, they were still complete strangers; it was madness to invite them in to spend the night.

Sometimes her mother’s bleeding heart made terrible decisions.

Riah looked around her house.

Terrible decisions.

***

“You are not going out tomorrow.”

“What? Why?” Riah asked. “I was going to go buy-”

“I don’t care what you were going to go buy, you were incredibly rude to our guests today.”

“Why did you even let them in?” she asked, her voice a harsh whisper, “We don’t know anything about humans, don’t you know they are dangerous? It’s not even legal for them to live here!” Her mother simply stared. “Citadel law hasn’t been ratified on them, they haven’t been cleared to live anywhere outside of a few systems and this isn’t one of them. And what if they have some disease that hasn’t been discovered yet?”

“Don’t give me any of that.” Her mother waved off her concerns, “And remembers that I’m your mother, I’m not as blind as you think I am.” She threw over a blanket, which Riah recognized as her favorite. “We’re quarians,” her mother muttered. “Don’t you forget that.”

Riah pulled her blankets over herself, turning away from her mother.

“I know what we are,” she whispered. “And how little we have.”

***

Riah woke up earlier than usual that day, silently walking into the living room and looked around the room to check for any missing items. Nothing. The woman was sleeping on the couch, the boy beside her on the floor, her hand protectively running through his hair. It was a bit of an odd sight, especially since Riah was sure they weren’t related. She wondered if they were perhaps lovers and frowned, disgust boiling in her mind.

It was so early in the morning and she was already angry. She walked into her kitchen, still able to keep her eyes on the two sleeping figures and searched for her favorite snack; that always calmed her down. Finding her sweets, she attached it to the custom made quarian food port, clamping the seals to her mask, a straw pressing against her cheek. She sat in the kitchen, drinking her favorite sweet, as she opened her omni-tool, searching for information on humans and hereditary appearance. From what she could tell, Gaians were similar to every other race in the galaxy with children that took after their parents.

She found another one of her drinks and attached that one to her mask, finding that a single one of the sweets was not enough to get over the irritation she was feeling. She glanced down at her omni-tool again, checking the station’s internal clocks. Just before 0600. Riah found it rude that they didn’t wake up as early as she did, that they hadn’t already thanked her mother for allowing them to stay the night and heading back to their apartment. Instead they were sleeping in.

Third sweet should do the trick.

“If you were really worried about your weight you wouldn’t be drinking those.”

Sometimes Riah really hated her mother.

“By the way, you are still grounded.” She reminded her, a yawn escaping her lips as she opened the refrigerator, searching for her own breakfast. “And you are going to help Katja and Santi connect their unit to our solar collector.”

“What?” Riah hissed. “We are going to let them leech off of our solar power too? When will this end mother?”

“It will end when they have enough credit to buy a power generator of their own.” She stated, clearly she was not in the mood for an argument so early in the day. “Keep your voice down,” she added, “You’ll wake them up.”

“I am not helping them,” Riah argued. “You can help them all you want, I won’t share what meager things we have with these dirty-”

That was as far as she got before her mother slapped her, her open palm hitting the mouth of her helmet and causing it to bump painfully into her lips. She looked at her mother with wide eyes.

“If I ever, if I ever hear you say such a hateful thing again…” Her mother held her tongue, nearly shaking in fury. “You are grounded for a week and you will help these poor people hook themselves to my solar collector so that they can have power like every decent person does. Do I make myself clear?” she asked, the food pouch nearly bursting open in her tight grip.

Riah nodded. Turned on her heel and left, walking back into her and her mother’s shared bedroom as she fought back tears and the pain her lips still felt, she cast a dirty glance over at the human pair, angry and ashamed to see the woman awake, their conversation probably overheard. She angrily punched in the keypad commands to close the bedroom door before taking to her bed and pulling the covers over her.

She angrily cursed the two humans, cursed the bias quarians faced, and more importantly, cursed her mother for bringing them to these slums in the first place.