Chapter 1: Preparation
One and a half month after pause in hostilities and founding of Eden Prime – established home world of the Dôji.
Location: Utopia system; Nirvana; Maginot line.
This is where we hold them...
Words spoken by Vice during the process of dredging up defensive plans for the unavoidable war with the species of Citadel space. It was the product of a complicated situation between Dôji desperation, the Kurozu's sheer hostility to all life, and alien prejudice against synthetics in general. How different would the world had been today if it was not for the arrival of aliens on Earth?
Rage, aspect of Wrath, shook his head at the useless thought of what could have been, and focused as he overlooked the construction effort across what has come to be called the Maginot line on the planet that just as recently were named Nirvana – the irony of it did not quite escape him.
"Forty bases arranged across the equator and meridian, each with an anti-orbital cannon protected by two barriers – a defensive and an aggressive. Surrounded by a fortress, trenches, barracks, the works. And finally an underground command base on the southern pole." he droned out and gestured outward at the base around them, one of the aforementioned forty defensive installations on Nirvana's surface – each an oasis of activity on a barren world as thousands of dôji milled about, busy in the construction effort that needed to be finalized with great haste without waste. "Combined with the future relocation of the local mass relay, and the support from our burgeoning fleet – we got a solid defense the aliens will have no choice but to funnel themselves into. If they want Eden Prime, they must get through all that first."
Several similar bases are being built on Eden Prime, supervised by Sophia, with a notable lack of ground defenses, but with a reactor capable of giving off the energy signature equal to that of a city – bullet magnets in other words to keep the rapidly growing habitat Capitol; Yggdrasil, from being hit as much as possible.
"Reassuring the young ones are you?" the very rugged Vice, the Grand Aspect who represent human capacity for Evil, glared jovially at him, gesturing at the small gathering of minor dôji around them – primarily com dôji who facilitate communications with their Engrave-based semi-Noh ability. All of them quite respectfully silent as the more ancient aspects conversed. "Cause I sure as hell don't need to be told what I already know."
"I guess you don't." Rage smirked – but only with twitchy effort, infinitely more used to his almost permanent frown.
"Oi oi." Vice extended an arm and grabbed the aspect's pompadour, pulling at it lightly. "What do you mean 'I guess'?"
Rage yelped and clawed at his superior's gauntlet, "H-hey hey hey, it was a joke, a joke!"
"And what do someone say when a joke's taken a bit too far?" the other teased.
"I'm sorry!"
Vice grinned widely, and looked like he was going to rip it off, but let go of it at very nearly the last moment, "That's a good boy."
"M-my lord," the closest com dôji serving Vice approached him with a peculiarity in his claws. "we just received the first shipment of the new firearms."
"Mm, they've gotten round to mass producing it at last huh." Rage observed, carefully nursing his pompadour.
With bare interest, Vice took the gun from his subordinate – not a single word said as he examined the thing. Dôji did not need guns normally, their gauntlets were far more powerful and versatile. But many agreed that it would be overkill against the aliens, and thus developed less powerful firearms. "We got to be the only power in all of existence to deliberately downgrade our weaponry in the face of an invasion..."
Outwardly, the weapon – aptly named Gnat 2.0 – strongly resembled the ancient Uzi... with a length to match, and a hugely extended handle so dôji can hold it with their gauntlets... and reasonably adaptable so it can fit in any grip. Vice tightened his fist around the handle, and it conformed accordingly to fit.
All of this made the gun look absolutely puny. Vice pointed it skyward as he decided to pull the trigger. Its rapport loud and harsh. "More bark than bite."
Rage chortled, "An important part of our plan to more conventionally arm our army. Though It'll be the mainstay only until the Gungnir is placed into mass production."
A much more impressive weapon that would be, and Vice visibly agreed. "How long till those are ready?"
"It'll take some more time. For understandable reasons, firearms aren't a high priority. It will only take a little longer to ready tactical vests for production on the other hand."
The Grand Aspect shrugged disinterestedly. "Not at all what I await with bated breath, but Ultimo will be overjoyed."
"Obviously the logical progression of the plan is to not only develop guns but also protective gear. It lacks sophistication... but..."
"It will have the right psychological effect at least." Vice leaned in and whispered, "Much easier to stand up and fight when you feel safer around your chest."
Being dôji, the critical area is not the head but the marble-round core within their chests. If it's destroyed, the dôji dies. Any other damage they can eventually recover from – including the loss of one's head.
Rage rolled his eyes, "Indeed."
"My lord." Jin interjected with a curt bow, "I must remind you that Milieu desires to see you before the meeting six hours from now."
Subtract an hour from that time, and it was pretty much how long it'll take to get back to the Tenjo - the great ship that made their escape from Earth, and now the construction of their newly spacefaring civilization possible. "Yes yes." Vice hissed. "Have my shuttle readied for launch."
"Aye lord." the minor dôji nodded and sprang away, leaving Rage in his curiosity to ask:
"So how are things going on Eden Prime, Vice?"
"Little beyond the usual." was his reply before an elaboration came, "That meeting Jin referred to concerns an imminent extra-solar excursion to find a suitable system for a mining colony - to avoid taxing this system too much. Avaro's idea. Just needs our stamps of approval now, and tedious as all gets out about it, I gotta be there."
Our little rodent's been a busy tycoon of late it seems. I suppose him being productive is good, but if he decides to start bringing a cigar and glass of Chianti to our meetings, I'll be really cross. Rage thought sourly, "Anything else?"
"Nothing big. Except the occasional obstacle, altercation and problem, everything's going swimmingly." Vice turned slowly to walk away as Jin gave a wave from the distant landing pad, signaling the small and block-like craft's readiness. "Only peculiarity is, quite a few of our veterans have decided to start farms on the countryside."
"Farms?" Though synthetics, dôji can just like organics replenish energy through consumption of organic goods. The facilities they brought along could produce food just fine, though they were largely engineered foodstuff – meaning they aren't the originals but approximations courtesy of past cook-robot Eater's effort. Otherwise, farms had been proposed far beyond the capital where they would cultivate native edibles, but thought those wouldn't be made a reality before Eater and his cadre finish mapping the planet's biosphere. So that was definitely a surprise. "Really?"
"Really." the Grand Aspect confirmed, and looked back at him over his shoulder, scanning for the reaction with a sneer. "Call me when you get back, I'll save some good booze they've already figured out how to brew for you."
Mm, booze. Rage thought in anticipative delight. He missed drinking some good and proper beverage these last few weeks, "Looking forward to it. Have fun with the meeting now."
"Yeah yeah..." replied Vice in a sarcastic shout as distance grew, no more needed to be said and the shuttle rose the moment he came on board, leaving the aspect to look out across the literal queue of com dôji forming up in front of him in the wake of the greater aspect's departure. Reports likely having piled up sky-high while his attention was elsewhere.
And as the first came to him to unload the messages in his mind, Rage smiled at what his superior had seen fit to mention. Farms huh...
Location: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.
"You're really sure this is what you want to do?"
"Dad... no matter how many times you ask that, I won't change my mind."
Lyta Lyle looked over his beloved son, and sighed at the inevitable sense of loss. No matter how many children he had over his centuries of life... could not quite get used to the moment when his offspring would leave the safety of his father's side.
Looking back at him expectantly, Sullivan was just a few inches smaller than the one who raised him. His childhood had ended, and a rich life awaited. It was too bad that he had been brought up on stories of the battlefield, and would settle for no less than joining the army – a more sedentary lifestyle just did not suit him.
With deliberate slowness, as if to savor the moment, the older dôji straightened up his boy's clothes with careful jerks. "Yes, I guess you won't."
They were just two among a crowd of sixteen, waiting for the transporter visible on the horizon with the sun's light at its back. It was a sober sight. "We enjoy different things, but the fact that I love my father doesn't change."
"I love you too, son. Just make sure to stay in touch, and don't hesitate to give me a call if you're having problems. Don't forget to eat at the right times and stay safe, it's not a shame to duck when you're under fire – therefore do not treat fear as your enemy, make it your ally instead. It's your alarm system telling you to be careful, so no matter what; don't ignore it."
"Aye dad, I know." Sullivan grinned widely, "You've told me that a hundred times since before breakfast."
"Make sure to find a lot of friends." Lyta Lyle continued heedlessly, giving only a shrug to his son's interjection. "And down the road you'll inevitably fall in love, but make sure the first contract's with an older more experienced person. But if you go and marry a son of Avaro, I'll come and murder you. Understand?"
Slowly, the transport slowly set itself down before them.
Sullivan giggled. There has been slight contention between the sons of Avaro and Slow respectively – though it was centered around economics alone. "I understand."
"That's a good boy." Lyta Lyle said and embraced the smaller dôji with all his paternal warmth, and was responded to in kind.
Several among the crowd were now climbing aboard to the background noise of the farewells of those who simply accompanied them hereto. Mostly adults seeing their kids off. Lyta Lyle was not at all alone in this.
"I gotta go now." Sullivan said, breaking slowly out of the hug. Backpack hefted onto his back, he slowly backed away, and halfway turned as he stepped through the hatch – the last to come aboard. "Goodbye, dad. And thank you for the life you've given me."
"Goodbye, son. And good luck." Lyta Lyle barely mustered, barely able to stand and watch as the hatch shut closed, and the transport rose to leave. And continued to watch as it flew away with his latest offspring, a sensation that brought tears to his eyes.
"Haha, funny isn't it?" a nearby dôji asked, mirthful even though his expression was just as sad. "No matter how many times we go through it, the departure of a kid ready to stand on his own two feet still hits us just as hard."
"Nothing funny about it Hyde." he mildly chastised his neighbor. "For now we got to get used to living alone again, without the tripping of little feet."
"Aye, I hear ya."
"..."
"So..." Hyde leaned in a little, a hint of his posture showed a slight intent to flirt. "how about coming over to my place for a while?"
"No thanks." Lyta Lyle sighed and strode away up the path he and his kid came.
Rejected but not dejected, Hyde waved, "Alright. But if you wanna have some company, the deal's open."
Rather sullen from the farewell, and increasingly along as he wandered outward, the walk was inevitably a quiet one. Along the road of gravel he passed a bridge underneath which a pristine river ran, and numerous fields that were either untamed, already cultivated, or in the process of being worked over. A few looks directed at him from faraway fellow farmers, mostly of mixed sympathy and interest.
None of them bothered him so soon after his son's departure, so he walked in peace, and only slowed as he reached his property – a considerable stretch of land in the outskirts – but only for long enough to open the gate and close it in his wake.
In contrast to the city, most of the buildings here in this village were composed of relatively roomy prefabs, though a large number of wooden structures have sprung up along the way since. The fence that surrounded his patch of land and intersected through sections of it for example was fully wooden, same with the buildings around his house. His fields were rather meager, and most of it had yet to be cultivated – logical considering how little time has passed since they arrived at this world. Some lengths of naked dirt lay stretched out in the corners here and there, with no visible growths as it was only days ago since he put in seeds of a couple of the newly discovered species of vegetables – one of them roughly this world's equivalent of Earth's Potato, so it was therefore named Tater.
So because of this lack of progress, much of the farmers' activities revolved around the tending to and studying flocks of animals they have been able to catch and rein in.
Placidly, Lyta Lyle approached and leaned on of the enclosures, a very wide area surrounded by fences taller than the others – a requirement considering the animals within that were unceremoniously named Gas Bags right off the bat.
The creatures bobbed and hovered about just a scarce couple of feet off the ground without a care in the world, and useless at first glance... not to mention ugly. But even these animals have uses, the most predominant being a type of drug they produce internally to discourage any second predator that comes by in close succession. A key reason they haven't died off yet despite their innate lethargy.
One of the things came close by, and Lyta Lyle gently prodded it, making the beast jiggle and wobble in the air until it straightened itself, stopped as if to glare at him with its five eyes, and drifted away – though not before it lowered itself and probed the grass for food with its tentacles.
The Gas bags were easy to handle, so now he only had to know how often they could be 'milked' of the drug without negatively effecting them – to which end he frequently scanned them.
"Hm, looks like it'll take a while longer..." he observed. The creatures had swelled up, but not nearly enough yet. Slightly over a hundred of the things frolicked within the pen, and none were ready... so Lyta Lyle pushed himself off the fence and went back to his house. There were a couple of other herds, but at the moment he just wanted to relax and think, thus he went back to his house.
It was a humble abode with just five rooms; two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen. The dôji took special care to scrub his shoes before he entered and made a slow beeline for his bedroom, but not before he booted up the television – a little music would liven the atmosphere a little. Lyta Lyle then sat himself down before the mirror situated next to the bed, a thing big enough for two, and briefly examined himself in its reflection.
He was not a particularly tall dôji, rather petite but lean and elegant with cerulean optics and a beauty mark on his right cheek. Not the prettiest in the world, though enough that he was oft enough visited by potential suitors. Something he both liked and disliked to various extents.
Gracefully, as though reassured, he managed a smile and brushed his long black hair past his shoulder – blanketing a large swathe across the front of his green and eccentrically patterned kimono with matching sash just as effortlessly as it did his back simply flowing like gravity and wind dictated. Slowly he brought a comb through it. Not at all needed, but it was a positively relaxing exercise. Almost as though every move combed away a little bit of mental grime.
And as a sense of normalcy returned, the music radiating from his television seemed all the clearer. So far as he could recall, the current song hasn't been sung in forty years, a product of the aspect of Generosity's usage of the vast entirety of mankind's ginormous arsenal of musical scores – making sure not to repeat the same ones too frequently. Privately, Lyta Lyle did not mind if certain songs came more often... like this one, in which he deepened his immersion with each tune and syllable.
Unfortunately it did not last for long as a knock came on the door, "Excuse us, is this Lyta Lyle's residence?"
"Who is it-?" he almost snapped, vexed by the interruption as he rose and sauntered out to meet whoever had decided to visit, and found them standing at the far end of the living room – looking about. One who was of small stature, average in looks aside from dôji glasses shaped like goggles. The other was fully two heads taller, plus a few inches more if one included that Mohawk-styled hairdo. "Was it too hard to simply wait at the door?"
"Sorry about that," the small one bowed profusely, "but we'd like to have a word with you. My name's Cain, and this is Lyo."
Lyo echoed his compatriot's motion, "Pleasure to meet you."
Total strangers who decided to pay him a very untimely surprise visit, enter without approval, then act all politely. Lyta Lyle could not help but be annoyed, enough that politeness he would normally had displayed fell on the wayside. "Welcome... Now what is so important that you felt it justified to enter without approval?"
Cain nodded, "There are some of us greatly worried about a detail of recent times... and for that are looking for counseling."
He furrowed his delicate brows, "Counsel? I'm a farmer, not a psychiatrist."
"We know that now, but you are still the oldest living son of Slow, his seventh. Please!"
Fellow sons of Slow... Lyta Lyle thought as he held their gazes at length before a sigh left him, and eased himself onto the nearby couch – with an air of almost patriarchal sensation. "Fine, sit then... tell me what troubles you."
Relief rolled off the two in waves at the older dôji's acceptance, and each said their thanks while sitting at each their chair. Lyo pointed out the subject; "It is about the honored Slow. His continued absence worries many. We fear for him."
Ever since his lineage and father were brought up, Lyta Lyle had the suspicion that this would be all about him. According to official sources, Slow departed for a mission on Mars, then went and dropped off the radar entirely just before everything truly went to hell.
"Everyone fears for him Lyo – the council of aspects all the more who've known him since long before any of us were born. Had any of them known of his current location, they'd rush to get him before any of us could even react."
"B-but," Cain stuttered – almost terrified of going on. "w-what if he... what if he..."
So that's the thing. They want reassurance. Lyta Lyle inwardly mused. "Do not even think like that, stripling." he growled and clasped a fist like he intended to use it; "Slow is the weaver of fate. He will not fall, and he will return to us." he stated this in a manner that invited no doubt that he believed that Slow will come one day with all his core. "It's not a mere possibility but inevitable."
Reassurance did not seem to be all that was needed though. The two had become slightly more relaxed, but something seemed to be missing.
Cain's lips had turned a little upward, but still sounded concerned when he parted them, "Your words ring of truth. M-maybe we were too rushed... but even so, he has been absent for so long, and could for so much longer. What would he want us to do? What can we do?"
Lyta Lyle quirked an eyebrow as some realization dawned. Lyo and Cain's group must be composed of mostly youngsters just a little older than Sullivan. When dôji grew confused with what to do, they oft looked to the aspects they were aligned with for inspiration and direction. Oldest of dôji, intelligent, strong and wise beyond all others... they are role-models that striplings will readily emulate either wholly or partially.
And that led to another realization. Because of Slow's prolonged absence, new generations of dôji aligned with him were born and raised with their aspect nowhere to be found. The effect of this is now starting to show.
"What you can do, child," Lyta Lyle admonished them mildly, but not without fire in his voice, "is to follow his example. He is the aspect of Diligence. Persistence, effort, ethics, and rectitude are all part of that virtue he embodies. To never give up, to never shirk from duty, to uphold your conviction. To act, not tarry."
It was as though both of them were entranced by him as he spoke. "So what we must do-" Lyo did not his finish his sentence, but stared with a creeping smile. Apparently getting.
"-is to do your part, exactly." the older dôji punctuated and grew a grin; "See? It is that simple." then sensed a question for further specification was incoming. Less clairvoyance and more a gut feeling from knowing how dense youths can be; "As for what type of work, it doesn't matter which. Naturally preferable is to find a job you like, but choose whatever is available if you can't. By doing your part, your duty, you help others as much as you help yourself. Do this and you do Slow proud."
Lyta Lyle continued after a pause, "Do you understand?"
Cain and Lyo exchanged looks that told him quite clearly that they did, as if a heavy fog had been lifted from their eyes. No words left them, practically speechless until the smaller one stood, "How could I be so blind to this truth?"
"You will find, striplings, that life hold many tribulations." Lyta Lyle's grin turned to a clever smirk; "Do not be too hard on yourselves, even the simplest of truths can elude the wise."
"And I am glad it did not elude you," Lyo stood, positively beaming as he bowed deeply. "Thank you truly for your words of wisdom."
Cain bowed as well, "Thank you, thank you!"
The older one nodded simply, "You're welcome. Now if that was all you wanted to know, I believe it is time for you to leave. I need some time by myself."
"Of course. We won't bother you any longer."
"Take care." Lyo said his farewell sincerely as he joined his comrade, "And thank you again for your counsel!"
Lyta Lyle gave a curt nod as they left, "My pleasure." and once again was rendered alone in his humble abode, with a passing thought to go back to his comb in the living room. A temptation that was considered, but easily swept aside as duty came to mind when he heard some distant roar over the music, "Oh right." at which he rose to head out, "Need to go and feed my Gargants."
As he went to do his self-imposed job, the rest of his day already planned without any expectation of deviance along with thoughts for the future – far beyond the atmosphere of the recently settled world, the ancient machine that is the mass relay was about to hum with the intent to cycle something through.
Author notes: This story is the interbellum one could say, between Dead Earth and the arc that will follow this one. Rising Eden sets up things for the sequel with at least one segment each devoted to characters from the manga, and one+ segment(s) for OCs and eventual Mass Effect characters that will join in. Because of this, Rising Eden will feature less combat and more slice of life - though with some suspense and drama of its own.