Dawn of Titans Chapter 34 - Awaited Return, a Mass Effect + EndWar Crossover fanfic

1-28-2174 1347 hours (Alliance standard time)

Beijing

Earth, New Chinese Republic

State Politburo Auditorium

The UNAS President entered the stage through the left, walking with the brisk step. He walked up to another government official, one from an entirely different superpower. Per common courtesy, President Enrique Aguilar walked towards the New Chinese Republic Primier Ying Xiong. The men graciously shook hands as they stood beneath the symbols that adorned their nations, their flags representing two of the largest and most powerful superpowers in all of human history. The action made by each man decided the fates of over four and a half billion lives and to signify the power each wielded, a horde of reporters arrayed by the Ministry of State Security in their sections.

A cameraman freelancer commonly employed by a minor and relatively unknown news organization avoided colliding with other reporters, his shoulder mounted camera costed too much of a fortune to have it be damaged from accidental falls or collisions. Michael Lang double checked his camera, making sure it was calibrated, optimized, and perfectly focused to capture the two men on stage perfectly. Unlike the other reporters, who worked for established news outlets with authorized press passes, Michael Land had to rely solely on hard-work and grit to have gotten access to the area and by extension to see history unfold before his very eyes.

Once the two men on stage had greeted each other, they retreated to their respective podiums. The press grasp their pads backed up by their photo-drones, the visual media positioned in front of their portable flickering lights. Michael hated the damn things, the drones being able to only mimic the work of a gifted cameraman. While his profession had been rendered obsolete in the past century, many new organizations not well financed or massive such as Alliance News Network or First Citadel Correspondents had to rely on people on the frontline lines such as himself to obtain their portion of breaking news.

"Ladies and gentlemen," President Aguilar began, speaking in Chinese with a North American accent. With the translation software attached to his camera and his communication set, Michael was able to perfectly understand each word. "Premier Xiong and I are honored to stand before you here today on this momentous occasion."

A member of the Ministry of State Security walked up to Xiong and said something in his ear. Afterwards, the guard stood back and it was Xiong's turn to begin speaking. "I've recently been informed that the full handout we've prepared earlier today has been completed," He politely gestured to a couple of his aides standing in the back of carrying two holo-pads.

The aids nodded and began walking among the reporters as the press began digitally downloading the documents onto their own authorized omni-tools. Quickly search for his own data-pad, Michael breathed a sigh of relief as he found the pad belonging to him. It was a cruder, older model with software limitations but otherwise perfectly compatible with hundreds of devices. In his meager budget and pay, he couldn't afford to purchase an omni-tool and pay for the routine fees necessary for data transfer. As a result, a data-pad was his own hope. As one of the aids reached him, Michael made sure to carefully set his camera down and not damage any of the components inside. He transferred the data onto his own pad before setting up his camera again.

While he knew the settings hadn't changed, Michael double checked the configurations. Through the lenses he saw Xiong looking down on something in front of him. He presumed it was a pad, however his image was blocked by the various bots floating around in front of him. To get a better recording, he navigated his way around the other reporters until he had gotten an obstruction free view of both leaders, which coincidently led him to the front of the crowd. He continued his recording, now relieved of his impediment of other reporters.

"The Systems Alliance has often asked for 'resolutions not arguments' in the quest for governance of the newly discovered deposits Element Zero on the colony world of Watson. As you know, and to the disappointment of humanity, the ongoing negotiations in Reykjavik have not made any significant progress for over a year, with each side blaming the other for the lack of results. It is well-known by the peace-loving people in the galaxy that when our species was provokingly attacked during the Christmas War, humanity united underneath a single banner to stave off, what we believe at the time, a new era of war. Fortunately for us this did not come to past and instead entered a new golden age of discovery among the stars."

"Damn," muttered Michael. He truly was watching history unfold and held the camera on his shoulder a bit tighter as he inwardly held back the excitement bubbling within him.

"It is well known neither the UNAS nor the New Chinese Republic wish for war," Aguilar said, taking over from where Xiong left off.

'Did they rehearse this speech?' Michael thought.

"Only a madman would even consider any form of war in this century as a viable option after the sacrifices made in the Christmas War and as we honor the legacies of the heroes that never returned, we cherish the lives that did from the raid on Torfan." (Would this be classified or will it be public knowledge at this point?)

"The time has come for substantive solutions to the ongoing negotiations. The UNAS and New Chinese Republic have come to a comprehensive, sincere agreement for shared ownership of the element zero deposits and create a more unified relationship with our partner across the world."

It was Xiong's turn to take the focus. "Starting three months from now, the New Chinese Republic will begin selling element zero to interested parties with a fifteen percent tax and the UNAS will increase extracting process on commercial New Chinese Republic districts with a forty-eight percent cut and keep ninety percent of all transactions from mining within its territory. This agreement will see the next influx of fourteen trillion credits of profit for both nations over a period of seven years. The terms as outlined in the deal is subject to verification by the Systems Alliance who will ensure all signatories fulfill their terms."

"Please note additional details of the trade agreement is provided in the handout, in case of further questions," Aguilar finished. The explosions of flashes caused both men to look away for a moment.

"Ladies and gentlemen please," he smiled, holding his hand up to shield his face. "A picture is worth a thousand words, so there is no need to have a thousand pictures." A wave of laughter followed preceded by an outstanding for both men.

'They really are dialing up the charm.'

Realizing the potential dynamite, Michael set his camera settings to automatic while he began taking notes. He wondered what would come next, interested in the exact wording of the trade agreement and contemplated how it would affect his current employment. He had covered similar agreements in the past and understood the devil was in the details. General descriptions of proposals, treaties, or agreements could greatly distort the true ramifications.

Making final adjustments to his camera settings, Michael made sure he captured the image of President Enrique Aguilar on the lenses. Inhaling a breath of air, he chose the perfect time and fired the Locust submachine gun hidden within. Upon the first burst, the crowd of journalists scattered as pandemonium struck the room.

Precious seconds ticked by as the kinetic barriers faltered. Michael knew the amount of time he had left; he had calculated all the variables on the note pad he had brought with him. He pulled the trigger again, a monosyllabic of fire ejecting from the camera. In vain, the honorable Ying Xiong attempted to shield his guest, inserting himself in the line of fire. Titanium alloy slugs plunge deep into the Primer's body, perforating organs and delivering fatal wounds and ejecting toxic poison to vital organs.

Had the slugs been crafted from inferior minerals, perhaps Aguilar would have been spared Michael's judgment, but the assassin had undertaken every precaution. These slugs simply tore through Xiong's now shredded corpse before reaching their intended target. Once properly placed, the slugs detonated in perfect unison as they burst opened inside the heart and lungs. Aguilar's left pulmonary trunk and arteries were painfully sheared off while veins where ripped from each other.

Shouts and shrieks followed as two of the world's most powerful leaders laid dead and dying. What had occurred in the span of two seconds seemed to last a life time as Michael delivered rightful judgement upon his nation's false leader.

"FOR FREEDOM'S FIRST!" Michael Moser Lang roared, waving jutting his camera towards the ceiling in a military victory. Lights blinked upon his form seemingly confirming his victory. He viewed himself as a slayer of wickedness and imperialists and thought to himself it would not be long before the Second American Civil War would be continued and this time it would be righteous that would emerge victorious.

Only a few flashes from bots managed to capture clear images of the assassin before he was descended upon by members of the Secret Service and Secret Police like a pack of hyenas. Each organization seemed to operate like a single mind, wrenching the weapon from the assassin and rendering him incapable of targeting anyone else. Simultaneously, those with medical expertise raced towards the fallen leaders and employed every life-saving treatment known to man-kind.

The entire Ministry of State Security seemed to emerge into the area, quarantining it from any other potential assassins while additional Secret Police drove back reporters from the room. Their strict code of silence prevented them from eliciting a response, giving them an aura of chilling professionalism and concentrated dread.

Journalists were evacuated from the immediate premises, but were once again screened and interrogated as elite members of the security's ministry were deployed. With eerie precision, an official investigation seemed to be launched not even an hour after the assassination. Records of each reporter's credentials, expenses, lists of associates were recorded and captured. Everyone held questions, but no answers were offered.

Zelene System, Crescent Nebula

The Goddess' Blessing

Eclipse Station

Ban paused, waiting a few moments while his bodyguards swept the area outside the shuttle. Their confirmation had illuminated his personal omni-tool for a bare moment before he exited the vessel himself. As he passed through the door frame, he checked his own subordinates, noting their position and demeanor. Proud, but not arrogant – strength was useless without control. The Eclipse mercenaries might not have the Exiled Fleet's raw power, but their captive desperation rivaled that of a trapped varren.

A new beginning required a new name, thus the 16th had shed its former title, now bearing the name of the Exiled to signify the fate handed down upon them by the Hegemony. It was not the name that was of importance to Ban, but rather the meaning. Though exiled they were, it sparked a beacon for all lost batarians seeking a rebirth, but also casted a direct warning to the Hegemony.

The Pillars of Conviction spoke the tale of Korak Dheno, a renowned military leader ousted by traitorous nobles. Dheno, exiled from his home, was forced towards unknown lands where he was destined to die, however the opposite occurred. Zken, the god of conviction, told Dheno to walk through the unknown lands to gather strength and return as king. Following the god's advice, Dheno made his way through treacherous land before arriving at a besieged kingdom. There Dheno had used his military knowledge and strength to snatch the kingdom from defeat, but went on to slowly gather allies. Dheno, known to many as the exiled, led his forces to his original home and slayed those who wronged him. What was, but a military officer had gone on to become king.

'One day we will return to Khar'shan.' Bam thought, before he addressed the task before him.

Outside, in the station's docking pipe, he saw the telltale yellow-and-white heraldry of Eclipse employees. He kept a slight curl from blemishing his bland expression. 'They are not soldiers. They lack training and commitment. New paint does not a warrior make.'

One of the mercenaries stepped forwards, covered by his fellows. "Admiral Ban. I have orders to bring you to Captain Vorleon."

"Convenient," Ban acknowledged. "I am here to see the very salarian."

The mercenary shrugged. "I'll have to ask your guards to stay behind."

Ib-ba snarled, leaning forwards only to freeze as two light machine guns and a carbine were brought to bear. His own hulking muscles were powerful, and the battle-scarred armor bore testament to his experience, leading to an intelligent decision.

Ban lazily gestured, signaling Ib-ba to stand down. "While I understand your precautions, this is unacceptable. Four guards, fully armed."

The other man looked away, hand rising to the earpiece contact embedded in his helmet. He turned back. "Two guards, no weapons. This is a negotiation."

"Of course, it is a negotiation, why else would an armed delegation greet me with such … enthusiasm?" Ban's eyes traveled over the full squad backing up the forward elements. It was enough firepower to put down a rampaging Thresher Maw, let alone a simple boarding party. "Four guards, fully armed. And the rest stay in the shuttle, unless you believe your security insufficient. If necessary, I could offer assistance of my own."

The man shook his head. "Eclipse does not need your help, Admiral. We know all about your deal with Aria."

"Indeed," Ban arched an eye ridge, "So you of course are aware of the difficulties therein. What sort of deal do you believe your Captain is willing to offer?"

"Deal? Um, just a moment."

Ban waited, evincing his impatience with tapping fingers. Checking his omni-tool would be to much of a show; hence it was eliminated from his calculations completely. His bodyguards stood stock-still, watching with all the professional decorum the nervous Eclipse marauders lacked. They'd been trained by the best, survivors of the thrice-Befouled Raid years before, sent into the chaos gifted his fleet by the Pillar's will.

Ban shifted his perspective to the dirty walls. A place that worked for a living could not be pristine, but this brought the entire standard down. How could a limited space like a station be considered habitable if the most basic levels of hygiene were ignored?

"Sir, the Captain will allow your guards. He also tells me to make sure you know the station's weapons are trained on your shuttle."

"A hostage? Of course." Ban clicked his fingers once. Four guards took position around him, including the redoubtable Ib-ba. The rest filed back into the shuttle. "Carry on."

Silent now, the man turned while his own companions made a much less coherent withdrawal.

Their passage through the station gave Ban further confirmation. They went past weapons arrays of recent installation, testified by the metallic welding marks. There were more barracks than a station of this particular size required, and mercenaries grunting out routines. Ban observed them all, and said nothing.

In a quarter-hour, the mercenary led them to a larger room, deep in the center of the station orbiting Helyme. Retaining gravity in the absolute center signified opulence, a use of resources that could power other systems.

'Either a show of respect,' Ban considered. 'Or waste. Defer judgement until later.'

He stepped inside, studying the salarian on the far side of the room, multiple guards standing in crossfire positions. Striding forwards, he made his way towards the other being, and stopped the perfunctory distance for optimal communication. "Captain Voloreon."

The salarian remained seated. "Admiral Ban. Your presence is unexpected … in this form. No fleet, no massive show of power. My engineers didn't even find any malware sabotage. I must conclude that you are serious about this."

"A logical thought," Ban allowed. "Potentially even correct. You know the deal Aria and I arranged."

The salarian rose to his feet, wiping a speck of dust from his gauntlet. "The Queen Bitch called me herself. Told me she'd leashed the Devil of Ortun himself to bring me to heel. I admit, I had thoughts of retreat, but once you turn on the Queen you either hold your ground or die in terror."

"Accurate." Ban found an open chair and sat. "You believe I can take on Aria for you then?"

The salarian shrugged. "Possible. Or I can kill you here and now, and give her more pain for her troubles. Make a big enough nuisance of myself and she'll either cut ties completely, or display her anger in an unprofitable fashion. I win either way. The Terminus runs on fear and credits. Kinda hard to not shoot what looks stupid and angry."

"Sound analysis," Ban nodded. "You decided on capturing me then, and killing later."

Vorleon pressed a key on his omni-tool. "No offense is intended, but yes. To think, the great Admiral Ban, despoiler of worlds, Terror of the Terminus, would fall for such a simple trap? It is as they say: the simple ways are the best ways. Complicated becomes confused far too soon to be of use. Would you kindly raise your hands and surrender your firearms?"

A pale orange force-field emerged around Ban and his guards. Ban gave a light chuckle, as if amused. "Clever. But you see, I have a card of my own."

The salarian backed away as Ban reached under his vest, withdrawing a flat ovoid from within. The object gurgled as he moved it, sending the object wobbling when it reached the table.

"Do you know what this is?" Ban gave his opponent a pleasant look. "No? An interesting little development by krogan research and development, ironically enough. I believe its inspiration was the 'fuel-air' bomb they loved so much. In this case it is an explosive device powered by a liquid accelerant, in a pressurized container."

Vorleon bolted for the door, freezing as it closed before him. His guards spun in place, flanking him while focusing on the illuminated cage. "Captain to Security, open the main core-hall door! Now!"

"Now then," Ban chided. "You did not think I would do something like this, and not be prepared? There was very little sabotage. Just a touch. Priority overrides I'm told, although I have no idea how it works. Suffice to say the communications in this room are blocked – as are the Relays out of system."

"Wait. Out of system?" Vorleon looked back. His hands were still moving, coding scrolling past the tiny screen.

"Indeed. In three-two-one …." Ban looked out the main window screen, which happened to be pointing the direction he needed. Bright points of light appeared in streaks across the screen, resolving into distant shapes too far for certainty. "The Exiled Fleet, as we're calling it these days. May I suggest surrender? It would make things ever so much easier for the both of us."

"Surrender? You're in the station! The fleet won't fire on us!" Vorleon gave up on his omni-tool, and started pulling wires out of a socket. One of his mercenaries knelt to assist. "When Security realizes what's going on, I'll be free, and you'll still be in here!"

Ban shrugged. "I'll take my chances."

The floor shook a something struck its shields. It shook again, then jerked upwards. Ban caught the container as it arced through the air, putting it back into his vest with a negligent air. "Careful now. Almost dropped it, Ib-ba."

"Apologies," Ib-ba lowered his head. "It won't happen again."

"Irrelevant," Ban looked at his subordinate. "You're smarter than that. And you were doing so well … ah well. Back to business. Will you not surrender, Captain Vorleon? I can assure you that my mercy will likely be more merciful than Aria's or my common associate's."

Another hit sent the room jolting sideways, dropping the salarian on his backside. Meanwhile Ban remained on his seat, magnetic clamps holding both himself and his guards in place.

"You're just trying to bluff." Vorleon decided. He scrambled to his feet, pulling a machine pistol out. The Eclipse mercenaries alternated between holding their own guns on Ban, and frantically typing at the panels. "You stop that right now. Order the fleet to back off or I'll shoot!"

Ban tapped his chest, the gesture filled with meaning. "And detonate the entire core? You will have killed me, but you will have also destroyed both yourself and this station. Your ships will be lost, and Aria succeeds in relieving herself of both yourself and myself. Giving her the victory in such a puerile act is unbecoming of you, Captain."

Another massive shudder shook the room; sending the lights into emergency mode. The force-field powered down, leaving the small group exposed. Warning klaxons blared, sounding their alarm before too going silent. Ban continued sitting, watching the salarian run calculations in myriad combinations through his head. Finally, he took pity.

"Ib-ba. Now."

One of his guards crossed the room in a blur of biotic potential, seizing the salarian in an iron grip. At the same time the other three of his guards opened fire, spraying precise, accurate shots into the unwary forms of the Eclipse mercenaries. In seconds they were cut down, flopping out the last meager portions of their remaining life on the floor.

The oversized batarian wandered after the biotic, and reached down to put the salarian in a full-nelson, both of the amphibious hands behind its neck, the batarian's own muscled arms locking them in place. "Got 'em Admiral."

"Excellent." Ban raised his own omni-tool, clicking a deactivation sequence. "It appears the core has been separated from the rest of the station. Remind me to compliment the gunners marksmanship."

"You wanted them to shoot at you?" Vorleon's eyes were open wide, staring at Ban as if he were some demon from hell. "While you're carrying explosives? You're insane!"

"Nonsense," Ban smiled, extracting the liquid-filled container from his vest once more. The lid popped open, sending a pungent odor into the room. "This is an old Class Seven Refinery station. Modular by design, one of the Salarian Union's creations I believe? It was created for asteroid fields; if an impact damaged an arm, it could be detached without harming the rest of the station. May I offer a drink?"

Vorleon sputtered. "A trick? It was all a trick?"

Ban tipped the container to his mouth, taking a small sip. He exhaled a sigh of satisfaction. "A good Ulbercht, aged two centuries before they even begin to think of selling it. Unlike modern swill. But in answer to your question, no. Not at all. This was the safest part of the station, and the most likely point where you would hide. I needed to find you, and ensure that you could not escape. Bringing in the fleet would've just given you time to run."

He raised his omni-tool to his wrist. "Captain Gonu, progress report."

"Sir," a hazy voice responded. "Station is inert, and the Eclipse fleet is running."

"Let them go if they wish," Ban shrugged. "All the better to spread the news of Aria's new ally."

"As you command, sir. Captain Gonu out."

Distant points of light grew closer through the cracked view-screen. Somehow the power still functioned enough to bring the information outside to the core. Ban nodded to it. "A good exercise. Perhaps next time we shall employ more traditional warfare, and obliterate the station from long-range, yes? Simple but effective. Food for thought, at any rate."

As subordinates scurried, carrying out his orders, he allowed himself a touch of pride. The station would be intact – with a few extra monitoring systems of course. Aria would know what he'd done, and that he would be aware of her knowledge. She was a formidable opponent, and an even more challenging ally. She would have her station, her refueling platform, and even a refinery, protected by a deadly fleet.

He in turn would gain intelligence on what vessels stopped by the backwaters world, and use her resources to support his fleet. His fleet no matter what Omega's Queen said, and she knew it.

Something changed up ahead, as the pirate vessels scattered, fleeing the overbearing presence his fleet brought. 'Surprising. I expected them to hold out for another five minutes. But then, the station's shields fell sooner too – only to be expected.'

The engineering shuttles departed from the Superiority's shuttle bays, winging their way to the defunct station. The gunners had been very precise, striking weak points to cause as little structural damage as possible. It would be intact within two full days – proving his capabilities in an emphatic manner.

"Admiral Ban to all ships: well done. Pull in defensive formation Kal-me, and stand by." He relaxed in his chair. He had breathing room now, time to rest and repair his ships at greater ease than before the Raid. Things were looking up.

HSS Superiority

Dreadnought

Command Deck

Captain Gonu stood on the bridge, the Superiority's well-tuned engines operating at peak efficiency. There were few slaves on Admiral's Banship – few of the military bent understood how to best take care of their property, following the Pillars injunctions. Disloyal slaves tended to sabotage critical equipment at crucial events; remove the slaves, remove the problem.

Black space with the multi-colored glowing stars shone before his eyes. Sharpened points of light just visible to his eyesight indicated the presence of other vessels, all aimed at the Zelene System. Being credited with a position within the Crescent Nebula did not make such a statement true, however. It occupied a position within the nebula's outer fringes, open to Illium's frequent passers-by – back when tourism was an industry for the misbegotten corner sanity forgot to mention.

A report chirped its presence, highlighting an icon on the back portion of his device. Heuristic tracking programs perceived the intent through his eye movements and pulled it up for review.

Teeth exposed themselves through his smile. "Communications: signal the fleet. Overlord formation, Chel flanking posture."

The helmsmen under his command, a single individual was incapable of piloting a ship more massive than some planetoids, chattered amongst themselves and froze, waiting for the signal. It was a good sign of discipline, respect for their superiors. Years before, in the bad times after the thrice-Befouled Raid, Admiral Ban made do with conscripts. Mercenaries implanted with the usual assortment of enforcing hardware. There had been few executions by comparison until the rest had fallen in line. Now they reaped the benefits of a fully trained fleet, husbanded through dark times by the Admiral's guidance.

"Sir," one of the technicians spoke up, eyes stuck on his screen. It was a breach of protocol, but one the better Hegemony military vessels encouraged. Distractions from critical systems made for disaster. "Sir. All fleet elements report ready."

Gonu strolled back to Ban's chair, a large thing made from repurposed hull plates of the few ships they'd managed to investigate during the Raid. It held power, signaling a majesty no other officer in the Hegemony could boast. Its cold metal met his touch like a respected rival, a promise to fight, and grant no quarter.

He paid it the respect it deserved and stood beside it, and looked to the Superiority's Captain. The other man was loyal, hand-picked for the greatest vessel in the fleet. "Engage."

Around him the mighty dreadnought's integrity protections hummed to life. Magnetic fields pushed his armor deeper into the chair, locking it in place. Beyond his chair the other crew settled deeper under the same circumstances.

Time passed – objectively hours. Relativity did odd things when supra-luminal velocities were involved. Ban tended to ignore the differences outside of calculating strategies.

The important aspects remained intact. Crewmen had been running drills for this exact scenario for over two weeks; Aria had noted the number of ships the rebellious Eclipse captain would be attempting to acquire. By his own estimates, there would be enough pirate ships to make a good raiding party. Not enough for a Core-style world, but a planet of medium importance, perhaps two Secondary Relays away from a Primary. Just enough time in case a gunboat made a physical run for it, rather than depending on transmissions.

"Sir," the communications specialist spoke again. "Lead elements are engaging. Distress signal outgoing."

He did not respond, watching as confirming reports came from other vessels.

"Comm Buoys in place sir," another technician reported. "Jamming is active. We have lost contact with the rest of the fleet."

"Steady as she goes," Gonu rumbled. "Did the Branch of Wisdom send confirmation codes before the blackout began?"

"Sir, yessir!"

"Excellent," Gonu looked out the front panel again. "If I am not mistaken, we are preparing to begin braking procedure?"

"Yes sir. Braking in three-two-one –"

The mighty dreadnought shuddered, directional jets firing. Mere science would dictate such a thing impossible, but then again, science eschewed the possibility of lightspeed travel as a whole. Even as it slowed, he could see indicators lighting up, shields coming online to maximum power, weapon batteries running up charges to full.

Out the viewscreen, the planet he'd seen so often on digital format rendered itself visible; in person for the first time. It was an old world, one that had lost its lifeforms over three hundred thousand years before, due to some massive global-destroying weapon. Gonu idly wished to know what kind of weapon could devastate a planet so, before deciding such knowledge was dangerous. The Hegemony was feared already; granting it a world-breaker? That would goad the entire Council to attack … but at least there would be reprisal on a scale unseen even during the height of the Krogan Rebellions.

"Fleet visual confirmations," one of the technicians, a young officer by the lack of gray streaks in his skin, was staring out the window with magnifiers in hand. His hands swept in slow motions. "Redoubt and Anger's Might are in place; lights signal readiness. Fury is in place, signaling its group is intact and ready. Ninety percent present, sir."

Gonu nodded. "Take us close to the station. I want a laser communication set up with Admiral Ban."

The massive vessel drifted closer, until he could see the station with his bare eyes. It floated within a swarm of angry, defensive vessels; some practically piles of junk. Others were smooth vessels, asari design; in all probability, asari-owned as well. There were more than a few Maidens that spent their frolicking years frittering away their Matriarch's money on good ships and 'exciting' times out in the Fringe.

He growled, deep in his chest. What the blue race considered a mere dalliance of convenience Admiral Banconsidered a lifelong exercise. Arrogance never paid off in the long run – how many Maidens were lost to the vagaries of fate because of such a thing?

"Guns," he directed his voice to the squat, but powerful looking batarian who sat above the targeting systems. "Lock the main gun on that asari cruiser. The rest, take targets of opportunity. Preferably asari."

Hasty acknowledgement received, he turned to the spotter. "Is the fleet present?"

The batarian's face was glued to the windows, twitching around like a yoko bird. "I do not see the Dominance, she's late – no! There she is! All fleet elements present and ready, sir!"

He wasted no time. "Fire one."

Superiority's main gun thrummed under his boots, launching another shell. Five seconds later, another shell screamed down its length, joining the first.

The entire Fleet launched projectiles, predetermined orders replacing commands over the jammed frequencies. Waves of fire launched through the system, targeting the vessels surrounding the clunky-looking space station. Small dots of light erupted, containment fields breaking under the stress, fuel exploding in the presence of oxygen and then dying as it entered vacuum.

Before the Superiority, the main gun quivered, and fired. Its heavy slug met the front end of the asari cruiser, obliterating its shields in a single strike. Panicking, the vessel dove relative to the Superiority, presenting as narrow a profile as possible.

"Sir fusillade One complete."

Gonu accepted the verbal report, turning it into another decision. "Hail Admiral Ban. Make preparations to extract him off the station."

Hands pawed over the screens lower down; one head snapped up. "Answering sir. Putting him on now."

"Captain Gonu? I compliment the aim of the gunners." hissing static interrupted, telltale signs of a poor connection filled the Admiral's voice. "Eclipse will have your eyeballs for this!"

"If they can take them, they may have them with my blessing," Gonu laughed. An air of joyfulness filled the command deck, a break of levity following years of toiled labor.

"Excellent." Gonus saw Ban wave his hand at the guards on the station. "The station can possibly serve us well," Ban's holographic image wandered around the interior of the station, it's images invisible to Gonu. "… but we will need to redecorate."

"I have shuttles ready to escort you off the station." Gonu offered.

"Appreciated, but unnecessary." Ban held out a palm. "We will arrive in the same shuttle we departed." Ban's image blinked out.

Gonu lifted his chin. "Engineers. The station is adrift. Repair shuttles will be launching as soon as cleanup is complete. Communications, signal the fleet; we may remove the blackout jammers."

He in turn would gain intelligence on what vessels stopped by the backwaters world, and use her resources to support his fleet. His fleet no matter what Omega's Queen said, and she knew it.

Trivia:

1. Here we have a minor canon-event being featured in the fic that will have consequences in the story. Combining Mass Effect and other genres can be a little tricky, but in this case the natural blend occurs quite well. Even in Canon Lore, the human nationalities are often referenced as competing. The fact that a president from one nation would try sacrificing himself for another is a touch of nobility we sometimes do see in humanity. We can conclude from this that, in the end, they had no greater friends.

2. Politics is a tricky subject for any story. The assassination attempt depicted in this chapter was actually attempted by an individual in Washington DC; the gun jammed during the attempt and security detained the individual. To this day no cameras are allowed in the visitor's gallery while Congress is in session.

3. My partner V-rcingetorix mentioned the reason why such cameras such as the one Michael carried are not allowed is to prevent things such as this, however this assassination did occur in canon and it does serve to further the plot of the story behind the scenes.

4. The M-12 Locust has less penetrative power in-game, which means the Gun That Killed Two Presidents was modified. However, its baseline model has superior damage output (per clip) than the M-8 Avenger, M-15 Vindicator, and even the M-96 Mattock.

5. The next logical conclusion for Batarian warfare is an evolution in tactics. Many stories make Humanity follow up and destroy anything and everything with four eyes; here, we have tried to keep things to a slightly saner level. if Humanity was not capable of launching a big counterattack into Hegemony space, or able to mount a defense against all the Council Races simultaneously, this chapter helps depict what we believe realistic. Ban is Banned, the Council is impressed and slightly fearful, and Humanity is cautious but confident.

6. Modular space stations, as seen used by Eclipse in this chapter, are currently in use. The International Space Station has multiple parts, each designed to perform a specific function. In the future, this will likely be a continual baseline design.

7. The biggest problem for space stations is their predictable nature. With enough distance, any attacking force should be able to launch enough munitions to destroy it without coming into danger - but that's not really a fun way to write.