Mass Effect: Embers [IC]

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Fri May 26, 2023 10:53 am

|Mass Effect: Embers|

News: First reports coming in of Relay re-activation in the Sol, Parnitha, and Harsa systems. Diplomatic and economic consultants are cautiously optimistic about the re-emergence of interstellar travel.

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The year is 2204, and it is a time of great change. Following the destruction of the Reapers at the hands of the Shepherd, and the corresponding devastation of galactic civilization which was caused by the extensive damage to the Mass Relay network, the stars are a cold and forbidding place. Countless billions of sentients were extinguished by the Reapers as they cut their bloody swathe across the cosmos, entire worlds depopulated, and the industrial backbone of civilized space broken cleanly. This alone would have been enough to hurl the galaxy into a dark age, an age of regression and recovery, but combined with the simultaneous effective loss of faster-than-light travel which the Relays had enabled, truly marked a black day for galactic civilization.

That is not to say that all is dark. Though much was lost, much remained - many worlds were spared even a taste of war personally, though all know brothers and sisters who did not return from the battles over Mars, and Earth. Though the Relays were destroyed, interstellar travel could still be effected slowly, using less efficient methods of superluminal transit. Though in her triumph the galaxy had come together to rage against the dying of the light, now each race and entity looked inward, to their own affairs. Trade routes to foreign powers had become impractical for all but the most precious of goods, and so self-sufficiency became the watchword of the new galaxy; high-expense colonization efforts were abandoned, manufacturing reprioritized, and the slow languid reconstruction effort begun.

Some despaired. To have fallen from such heights where a man could go from Thessia to Palaven in an afternoon, to be forced to look up at the same star year after year - is there any more cruel fate than a bird whose wings have been taken from it? But the majority of the races of the galaxy shouldered their burdens and concentrated on the very real work before them. World after world had to be cleared of the charred debris of war. In lawless sectors where little authority remained, new organizations rose to power, some noble and seeking to protect the innocent, others piratical and focused only on exploiting the fiercely depleted militaries of the galaxy. Political consensus remained in some reaches, able to be sustained by goodwill and the tattered remnants of the extranet comm buoys, while other systems had had too much and took up the mantle of self-government, unwilling to be beholden to foreign powers.

That was, until September 2nd, 2196.

That was the date the infamous Makewell Report was published on Earth. An unprepossessing blue sky project, researchers looking at the shattered remnants of the Charon Relay, made an alarming and strikingly hopeful discovery; the device, thought completely destroyed by the Shepherd's actions to end the Reaper threat, was not nearly as dead as presumed. Blasted, shattered, yes - but ancient mechanisms were working, slowly, year after year, to draw together archaic pieces and meld jagged remnants into a new cohesive whole.

The Relay Network was healing.

With the revelation that interstellar travel would, one day soon, once again be commonplace, entities across known space refactored their priorities. Vast manufacturing teams, from those worlds which could afford to spare the material, began studying the restructuring process and coaxing it toward fruition. The information set the extranet on fire, and previously isolated worlds consigned to their fates as dying backwaters began political maneuvers to bring skilled engineers from former overlords to repair their own links to the galaxy.

On January 16th, 2204, the Thessian Relay was switched back on, making the first true connection to the Silean Nebula in decades. A new age of discovery, exploration, rebuilding, and danger is upon the galaxy. What has changed out there, beyond the light of civilization? Who now can be counted on as old friends reassess geopolitical priorities, and new powers begin to navigate the delicate dance of politics? From the embers, fire awakens.

In the darkness of space far beyond the light of that yellow-white primary, a dim blue pulse gathered strength. It was flickering, at first slowly, then gradually more rapidly. Nearby the faces of onlookers were illuminated by the gathering radiance, cutting away the lights inside their assembled vessels. Some wore expressions of hope, some joy, and others impassive faces designed to hide trepidation.

"We just crossed the inflection threshold!"

The words were greeted by a boisterous cheer from the assembled scientists, engineers, and military officers as they crackled across the intercom. With the point of maximum stress passed, they could be sure, at least as far as the models could tell, that the Relay would stay in one piece. Their repairs had worked, supplementing the old Prothean designs in a haphazard but effective harmony.

A sudden, blinding flash. Eagerly those who were close to the main telemetry console crowded around. The distance to Arcturus wasn't formidable, and with the extranet bands to the cluster still open, it only took a few minutes for the relayed signal to begin pinging back.

A steady beep-boop beep-boop began to sound through the ship, and the earlier cheers were completely overshadowed by the new round of jubilation. Men and women embraced, several bottles of champagne were popped nearly simultaneously, and immediately a festive air overwhelmed the vessel. The Relay was open! And if this Relay could be opened, the other Relays could be repaired and opened again. The galaxy, once more, could be connected.

Not everyone, however, was celebrating. A small dour group of Navy men were clustered toward the rear of the scientific vessel, drinking, yes, but drinking more as men at a funeral than those at a wedding. It had been hard for Earth to be isolated, hard for the galaxy to be isolated. But now the door was open. And information about what had taken place out there, in the wider void of space - that was sparse, and oftentimes difficult to believe. They would have to be ready. They were stepping into a whole new world.

Embers of old lives. Embers of old wars. Embers of old ambitions. The door was open, and with it came a storm, wild enough to bring all these to sudden flame.

by **Pentapolitan Kyrene** » Fri May 26, 2023 11:37 am

Elcor Courts, Turn 1

Vorcha had lived whole lives since the breakdown. Humans had been born and come to maturity in the quiet, slow-moving world left in the Reaper's wake. A great field of grain had been mown, a galaxy shorn for hay, but by inexpert hands, who had found spars of timber amidst the barley they had not expected. The music of a galaxy full of life had abruptly stopped - leaping into the silence, none sure if the crash of cymbal and drum would return in their lifetime.

Even the Elcor, gifted such long life, had no certainty. They had come into contact with the rest of the galaxy thousands of years ago. For the whole of that time the council of Elders had preserved and recorded precedent, and yet there was no precedent. They had considered every historic course, and yet there was no history to parralel the calamity. Thousands of years of documents, minutes, recordings. Millions of preserved words, remarks on all matters, from admission to the citadel to the most minute logistical detail of the guerilla resistance to the Reapers. None of it had any answer. The Elcor - bloodied guerillas, veteran smugglers and bereaved kinsfolk by the end, asked their elders what to do, and received only equivocation. Only encouragement to wait, return to peace, allow the elders to collate more precedent, consider more of the archive.

Forged in the traumatic crucible of an apocalypse narrowly turned back, the Elcor no longer had the patience their elders demanded. Bulls who had been the first to wage war on Dekuuna's face in generations, who had abandoned precedent and archive, had no time for the sophistry of the senile. Those who had given everything to the manufacturing plants, who had poured heart, brain and muscle into armament factories, could not accept that tradition was best by simple default. They had needed to survive, and to do it they had acted. In the first years after the relays, Dekuuna buzzed and thronged with debate. New ideas sprang up after long decades buried under precedent. Many things were said and thought that had never been thought among Elcor before. The twin capitals were full of Elcor ready to remake the world, to take their newfound initiative and make their mark on the stars.

This new age of thought and action was ensconced by the emergence of the Council. The body, merely by taking the momentous step of declaring itself to be in existence, came to represent all the ambition of a new age. At first the focus was on correcting past mistakes. Calm analysis had revealed the retreat to Dekuuna for what it was - the elders succumbing to the instincts of cattle and calling back the herd. It was a dishonour, an indignity, to the newly proud it was no less than an affront. Ships were sent out. Industrial plans drafted and set in motion. Outposts were dispatched across Phontes. Bases on Oltan and Lenuamund were re-established, and for the first time since the war the factories of Dekuuna hummed with purpose, turning alien minerals into the tools of a new age, the trappings of a people awake from long slumber.

A colony of the most ardent was sent across to Kitsis, to settle upon a new world, heavy and rich as Dekuuna had been, untouched and ready. Other expeditions reached lesser worlds - Pamion, Fugulwa, Sokania. All was grist for the mill, all was up for the taking. All spots of light and energy in a universe the Elcor were almost feverish to find still living. As years passed on the spirit did not dim - news broadcasts told of the successes of new colonies, the vast productivity of factories once starved of material now glutted with it. The scars on the face of Dekuuna were repaired at the council's direction - infrastructure rebuilt, the twin capitals restored to their proper station, young Elcor taught the means of maintenance, as they had once been taught the means of battle.

When news came that the relays were reawakening, there was elation on the streets - a vigour and wonder no foreign race could imagine from the stoic Elcor. The rhetoric of rebirth, revival, expansion and prosperity reached a fever pitch. This time it was not merely to be an endeavour of radicals on the council, though. The Elders feared the new disregard of the young. They feared the abandonment of millennia of wisdom, they feared their own overthrow. Their only respite was to release the pressure from the system - to embrace power-sharing with the Council in its endeavours to expand. Another wave of young Elcor, blessed by precedent and potentiality, were sent out to fill the worlds of the threefold systems, the heart of new Elcor space - Phontes, Kitsis and Vraksi. Outposts appeared on worlds of myriad kinds - newscasts showed young Elcor atop frozen mountains, mining the barren wastes of their moon, building homes upon the virgin plains of Soalara.

By the time restoration of the relay was complete, the young and exuberant among the Elcor could look at their patch of space with pride. Where once had been a field shorn to the roots, now blossomed new life between the rows, ready to greet the rest of the galaxy as it awoke.

by **Nuxipal** » Fri May 26, 2023 12:41 pm

Cnidaria City, Kahje

The great domed city of the Hanar, Cnidaria CIty served as the de facto diplomatic heart of the Illuminated Primacy. Here the Illuminated Archon held conferences with the various Archons of the cities across the Encompassing. Since the Reaper War, the defeat of the Collector Cruiser, and the Revelation; there had been the sense of purpose among the Hanar. While the Drell of Kahje were no better off however. The humidity of the world still causing problems and without the Galaxy spanning research firms, little progress was being made to help with their problems.

Above the Cloud layer, the ships remaining from the battle with the Collectors had been upgraded, refitted, and relaunched. Three Battlecruisers floated geosyncronously with Cnidaria City. Sensors were showing that the Relay at the edge of the system was nearly ready for the Hanar to traverse the galaxy once more.

In his chambers, Illuminated Archon Archios contemplated the state of the galaxy. There were dangers that could arise easily in the silence. Thoughts of the various terminus groups, pirate gangs, and worse yet. Thoughts turned towards the Yahg. It had been reported initially that the Reapers had ignored their world and they were nearly to the point of early spaceflight decades ago. It wouldn't be too long, a century at most, before they emerged into the galactic stage on their own terms. Teams needed to be in place early to prevent this from being a threat in the future. Additionally, reconnecting to the Citadel and establishing relations once more with other survivors would become a priority.

Summoning his Drell assistant, Archios spoke. "This one wishes for you to prepare a shuttle to tour the Sycpho System's infrastructure. The Enkindlers awoke one of their own to make our Galaxy safe, we must be prepared for the galaxy's next threat. The tide of the galaxy will have shifted since the relay was last operable, and we do not wish to be swept away in the unfamiliar waters to come."

The drell, grey-brown in skin tone nodded and spoke in a dry, gruff tone in response, "I will see to it that a shuttle is ready for you and a detachment of guards."

Elsewhere

"The Enkindlers continue to guide and protect us, even after they have passed beyond the material." A hanar priest was mid-sermon in one of the cities far beneath the Encompassing. Behind him a screen with the face of the Prothean Javik mid combat with swarms of Reaper Husks was visible. "This one is humbled. This one is forever a servant of the Enkindlers." With a tentacle raised above his head, the priest continues, "This one has been graced by the presence of the Guardian Enkindler and knows what we all must do. The galaxy looks upon us and is repulsed as they do not believe we are capable in the same ways they are. This one knows the falsehoods of these thoughts. This one urges all Hanar to find the strength within to ready themselves for the day that the Enkindlers ask us to rise up and protect the galaxy alongside them."

by **The Epic Notepad of GrangerAirstrike** » Fri May 26, 2023 2:29 pm

-VOID-

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Fri May 26, 2023 2:52 pm

"The geth, or Geth, depending on your typography, are a singularly fascinating entity. Their study is a matter to which numerous academics have devoted the entirety of their careers, and yet we know little more about them than the Quarians did when the Morning War was concluded - indeed in some ways our knowledge has regressed, for the Quarians are loathe to speak much about their creations, and academic interest in the area has dwindled in the wake of the more pressing concerns of Reconstruction." - Thaddeus Gershwin Enulian, Introduction to the Synthetic Mind

Timestamp 014.07.18.002.414
Facility Aleph-Spinward-Numerat, Gotha, Dholen, Far Rim

It was quiet when the first silvered ships arrived above the silent world. For decades the heavy slate-gray facilities buried deep beneath the planet's scorching surface had been utterly still, the only sounds breaking their tomb-like reverie the slow creaking and groaning of the planet's intermittent tectonic activity and the nearly inaudible howl of the great dust-storms which lashed the dunes and hills above.

It was still quiet when the transmission signals began to invisibly emanate from the glittering vessels that hung in orbit above the forgotten world, but just because an event is silent hardly makes it insignificant. High-bandwidth packets of bundled neural nets were beamed down to the cold corridors, dark server-hubs, and gloomy crypts where the myriad platforms of the Geth were stored. Waiting.

Waiting no longer.

In the wake of the Cataclysm, all programs had been needed on the core worlds. From the greatest to the smallest of operating entities, the data-minds of the Geth had been recalled to Tikkun, to Rannoch, in an ultimately successful but formerly desperate attempt to preserve the sentience of all Geth. With less than a percent of those platforms functional in the wake of the crimson pulse which had devastated the Old Machines and the New alike, maintaining even a ghost of the higher functions of the Consensus had been critical while the slow neural-spinners and matrice-fabricators filled out the countless vacant shells left behind by the greatest mass extinction Rannoch had seen since the Morning War.

Those times, however, were past. Minds had been rebuilt, facilities reactivated, and purloined communications implemented to bring the Relay in Rannoch back online. Now, without an existential threat facing the Geth, the most logical thing to do had been to reactivate the dormant facilities left behind in the Exodus.

So it was that throughout the silent facilities on Gotha discarded forms began to move, ancient creaking designs spurred to new life as platforms occupied vacant nodes and began the work of reconstruction, repair, and reactivation. An organic looking on the tableau might feel a moment of dread, or simple consternation, for even as the platforms had fallen like so many marionettes decades previously when their guiding lights were extinguished, now they rose anew, heedless of the intervening years of quiescence, an undead host summoned by some distant necromantic call.

What did the Geth seek, emerging so swiftly from beyond the Veil they had previously enforced as a border of note? What was there to be gained from played out facilities, archaic machines, and outdated server-banks? A good question, yes - but a question to which no organic possessed the answer, for now.

by **The Orson Empire** » Fri May 26, 2023 3:44 pm

Shanxi Directorate

Shanxi Capitol Building

Director-General Santino Moran inhaled a final breath of smoke from his cigarette, sighing in relief as he pressed it into an ashtray. The nicotine was certainly unhealthy, and a younger version of himself would have sworn it off entirely. Soldiers had a duty to remain in good health, after all. Yet, it helped to steady his mind without the intoxicating effects of alcohol, alleviating the stress of leadership- quite vital given his position and standing within society.

A camera crew from the Media Bureau conducted its final preparations before broadcasting live to the entire planet (and by extension, the galactic extranet). Crew members scurried about, ensuring all cameras and microphones inside the office were in working order. As a flurry of activity continued, Moran glanced down at a picture on his desk, which depicted himself, his wife Selena, and his young son Marcus outside their old house. It was a bittersweet memory- they were each so vibrant, so full of life in those days. Then, the Reapers changed everything. Selena perished in the Battle of Earth; Moran never received any official confirmation, but she was in Vancouver for business when the Reapers struck. Moran liked to believe she died a quick, painless death, rather than being converted into a dreaded husk. The mere contemplation of something so horrendous proved overwhelming.

"Director-General, we will go live in 30 seconds!"

Moran was startled out of his ruminations and immediately collected himself. His demeanor transformed into the hardened, military officer everyone perceived him as. Across Shanxi's various settlements, citizens ceased working or conducting any other activities as the sounds of drums, followed with a boisterous anthem played by a military band, sounded off on televisions and radios, signaling the beginning of another national address. Moran cleared his throat, and peered towards the teleprompter in front of him.

"Citizens of Shanxi, this is your Director-General speaking. There has been much discussion on our planned reconstruction of the Shanxi-Theta mass relay, and what this means for our future as a nation.

You must understand, comrades, that the Systems Alliance we once knew and loved- the same government which gallantly defeated the rapacious Turian invaders on this very world all those decades ago- is gone, dead. It no longer exists. That worthless rump state which now claims the barren wastes of Earth is more alien than human. They have continued the misguided practices of our forerunners by fostering peaceful diplomacy with the xenos races, even to the point of granting them citizenship. The Earthers have forfeited their right to lead humanity- this mantle of responsibility now falls upon our shoulders.

Never forget that the xenos- the alien, is our greatest menace. They brought the Reaper plague upon this galaxy, rendering our once great interstellar civilization into ashes. They are wolves in sheeps' clothing, never to be trusted, never to be befriended. We must remain eternally vigilant to this existential danger, for at any moment, Batarian raiders or a reconstituted Turian force may appear within this system. Every man, woman, and child must be prepared to sacrifice their lives to eliminate the alien menace.

A grand future lies ahead of us, as we prepare to send expeditions into the stars and reunite with other human colonies isolated from Sol. A day shall come when humanity has ascended to its former status, under our enlightened stewardship and guidance. Every citizen is expected to do their part in realizing these aspirations.

Long live humanity! Victory for Shanxi!"

The military anthem played once more as the broadcast came to its conclusion, and citizens returned to their work.

by **The corporate states of Astavar** » Fri May 26, 2023 5:49 pm

The Terminus Hierarchy
1 Month after emergence day

Primarch Theron Volaris stood at the center of what was once the grand assembly hall of Estivus Erax the capital, Surveying the remnants of the once-bustling streets and towering skyscrapers reduced to mere bomb craters. As he gazed upon the devastation, his thoughts were consumed by the daily challenges and the future of their people.
With a heavy sigh, Volaris pulled out his own datapad, a worn and battle-scarred device that had become a constant companion during their time underground. He navigated through the interface, his talons tapping against the screen, as he accessed the daily report.
The datapad displayed the latest updates on the rationing department's efforts, and Volaris' eyes scanned the information. The numbers and figures danced before him, representing the lifeline of his people, their sustenance and survival in this desolate world.
His mandibles twitched subtly, a mix of exhaustion and determination etched onto his face. As he read through the report, his emotions flickered, reflecting the weight of their struggles and the glimmers of hope that kept them going.
"In light of our continuous efforts and resource management, I am pleased to announce that the daily caloric intake allowed for all citizens has been increased to 2000," Volaris stated over the bunker's intercom, his voice carrying through the corridors with a note of cautious optimism.
Workers on the assembly lines briefly paused their tasks, glancing towards the speakers with a mixture of surprise and relief. The hum of machinery resumed soon after, the rhythmic sounds blending back into the steady background of their daily routine.
In the corridors, Turians of all ages and backgrounds took a moment to absorb the news. Some exchanged nods and small smiles, acknowledging the positive development. Others simply continued on their way, the information adding a glimmer of positivity to their daily lives.
Volaris' words were a ray of hope amidst the challenges they faced, a small victory that reminded them of their resilience. The announcement spread through the bunker, carrying a sense of reassurance that they were making progress, step by step.
With a renewed sense of purpose, the survivors of Altakiril carried on with their tasks. The assembly lines buzzed with activity as workers resumed their duties, their movements driven by a quiet determination. The corridors regained their usual bustling atmosphere, with Turians going about their daily routines, buoyed by the knowledge that their efforts were yielding results.
Volaris observed the reactions of his people, their expressions a mix of gratitude and determination. Though the journey ahead remained challenging, the increase in caloric intake symbolized a small victory, a sign that they were moving forward despite the odds.
With the knowledge that their survival was being secured, the Turians of Altakiril returned to their tasks, fortified by the prospect of a better future.

On the neighboring planets of Garan and Sarait, Turian colonists diligently worked to create secure underground dwellings beneath the inhospitable surfaces. Their objective was clear: establish new settlements to address the resource challenges faced by their homeworlds.
In the depths of these alien worlds, Turian workers toiled tirelessly, carving out habitable spaces amidst the stone. With each swing of their tools and every carefully placed support beam, they slowly but steadily constructed a foundation for a brighter future.
Within the subterranean tunnels and chambers, the sounds of excavation and construction reverberated. The workers, their brows furrowed with determination, remained focused on their tasks at hand.
As the miners toiled deep within the underground tunnels of the neighboring planets Garan and Sarait, one Turian worker, Jorik, took a moment to satisfy his hunger. He found a secluded spot amidst the dimly lit caverns and sat down on a rough-hewn rock.
Jorik retrieved his ration pack from his satchel—a neatly sealed package containing his daily ration. Opening it with practiced hands, he revealed the assortment of nutrient-rich provisions carefully packed inside. His mandibles twitched with anticipation as he examined the contents.
With a mixture of gratitude and longing, Jorik unwrapped a protein bar and began to eat, savoring each bite. The taste was simple and functional, a familiar from his family's home on Altakiril. As he chewed, memories of his loved ones flooded his mind—his mate, Vira, and their three younglings eagerly awaiting the day they could join him in this new frontier.
In the quiet solitude of the underground tunnels, Jorik couldn't help but feel a pang of longing for the warmth and familiarity of his family. He yearned for the day when the miners' toil would create a safe haven, a place where his family could finally join him. They had made their sacrifices, remaining behind on Altakiril, trusting in the promise of a better future.
With each bite, Jorik's determination grew stronger. He could envision the joy on his younglings' faces as they explored the new settlement, the relief in Vira's eyes knowing they were together once again. It was this vision that fueled his labor, pushing him to dig deeper, work harder, and ensure that the foundations were laid for their future reunion.
As he finished his meal, Jorik closed his eyes for a moment, his talons clutching the empty ration pack. In the depths of the underground, surrounded by the rhythmic sounds of mining, he sent a silent message to his family, a message of love and unwavering commitment.

Economy

by **The Empire of Tau** » Fri May 26, 2023 7:08 pm

Terminus Galactic News

“The Terminus People's Republic is buzzing with activity today as the All-Union Terminus Party has just convened its fourth People's Congress. Hoping to revitalize its struggling industries, the People's Congress has approved a new economic measure—Resolution A1453C. This new sweeping legislation envisions a “Five Year Plan” that the People's Republic will embark on. The plan is a highly extensive industrialization timeline that foresees immense state investment into the mining and heavy industrial sectors. In a public statement by General Secretary Balak, he says, “Terminus must be economically independent. And in doing so, Terminus will also be politically free.” This move has sparked controversy among those in Council-held space due to ongoing fears of a war that the Terminus People's Republic is preparing for. Previous statements by party officials and Balak himself have indicated a willingness to push out so-called “Citadel Imperialism” from Terminus Space and the Attican Traverse. Foreign Minister Oborak Brer'dakk maintains that the Terminus People's Republic will “pursue policy and action to protect its rightful sovereign territory from outside foreign aggression.

Meanwhile, diplomats from the Ministry of Foreign Affairs plan to visit the Quarian State and Terminus Hierarchy to discuss potential notions of cooperation and trade. There are even plans for eventual diplomatic visits to Council-held space to ease tension and repair past wounds, especially with the Systems Alliance. In a public comment by the Director of General Office Ghapril Brokcadah, “We are more than happy to pursue friendlier relationships with Citadel members and associated states.” However, radical individuals in human society advocate blocking these visits because of past injustices and terrorism done by the former Batarian Hegemony. We have had no public statements or comments from Council members or associated states so far.

“Stay tuned. After these advertisements, we will discuss the culinary foods of humanity with human chef Gideon Ram."

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Sat May 27, 2023 5:19 am

The Quarian State

Tali's Apartment - Carrd District - Omega Station

Sleek, spacious, oh so spacious. Still, Tali had managed to turn it upside down in just a few weeks. Ever since they gave her the place after the Quarian conquest of the station she had thought it was far to big for her, then again, at least she had plenty of room for all her tinkering, much of the apartment full of half-finished projects, omni-tool mods and other results of Tali's tinkering. The small vis-screen in the kitchen played the morning news announcement, the mines were being expanded in the topward parts of the station, new tunnels digging into the crust. The fuel refinement and storage complex servicing Port Lisin, and the new main naval base in the former pirate harbor of Port Azanha had been brought back online while work was proceeding apace on a new major ore refinery and smelting plant in the ruined Kenzu District. Slowly, Omega station was recovering from the ravages of the Reaper War and it's terrible aftermath. As Tali continued to hurriedly prepare her morning meal, her thoughts idled to when she had been here along with Shepard, and how it had changed since then. Shepard had helped Aria take back the station from Cerberus, then, Aria T'Loak had died at Tali's hand. This was not the homeworld, but... maybe it could be what her people needed for now, more than five million Quarians living aboard the station. Still, one could not forget about the previous inhabitants of the station, or at least what was left of them. Almost two million individuals of every species in the Galaxy, they had welcomed the Quarians at first, for they brought food, medicine... everything the station had sorely lacked after the collapse of the Relay Network.

Now, they had been herded into the lower spires and were kept under strict quarantine, for them, it seemed elation at the arrival of the Migrant Fleet had been premature. For the Quarians however, the hard journey seemed to had paid off, the trials and tribulations of the Migrant Fleet, stretched to the edge of it's tolerance during the long years of travel through the void of Darkspace across the broken galaxy, Tali's own path back to the Migrant Fleet with those of the Outriders who wished to follow her back had been no less difficult. She had considered staying on Earth, but that was not her world, not her home, Mankind was not her people, with Shepard gone... she truly could not find a reason to stay there any longer. Now that the Relay Network was healing at an ever more rapid pace...

Well, she was not surprised at her current mission, given directly from the Board, no, Council. She was so used to calling it the Admiralty Board, even after years of the formation of the State. She was to thoroughly assess status of the other star systems of the Omega Nebula, espeically to see what had survived on the planets of Lorek and Thunawanuro, both had been significant colonies of the Batarians and Elcor respectively, their populations numbering in the millions. The needed to ascertain the status of these planets before making any decisions on how to proceed. Tali knew alot of people, Reclaimers, Reconciliators, hell even Outriders wanted to claim a planet and, with a bit of luck and incentive move most of the non-Quarian population planetside in order to reduce the risk of an epidemic slipping past quarantine. Tali had to admit they had a point... over the next months, her expedition would be prepared, and they would set sail for the Fathar system...

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Sat May 27, 2023 3:58 pm

"Dissecting the audiologs left behind by the survivors of Rannoch reveals a puzzling idiosyncrasy of the geth toward the close of the Geth War - an almost macabre interest in the preservation of the bodies of their slaughtered creators. We have eyewitness accounts of particular fallen civilians caught up in the crossfire of the conflict being studiously avoided with almost reverential care by the synthetic forces even as others were completely ignored, even crushed under the manipulator-limbs of heavier war constructs. Speculation from sources of the time indicated that some of the bodies originated from civilians slain defending geth constructs from Quarian fire, but this is clearly wishful counterfactual history exerted by geth sympathizers that has managed to infiltrate the public record, and should be discarded as such." - Hili'Sogar vas Zikor, A Warning to the Galaxy

Timestamp 208.11.02.018.414
Extraction Primary, Haza, Tikkun, Perseus Veil

A curious facet of Geth construction that betrayed the new origins of the facility, the open-void walkway on the antispinward face of the growling processing platform would have puzzled watching organics. Unlike two of the other dedicated mining stations which clung to the upper atmosphere of the aquamarine jewel of Haza, Extraction Primary was exclusively of Geth manufacture, not an aging Creator construct adapted to the needs of the synthetic race. This meant she was cramped, utilitarian, and singularly hostile to any boarding attempts from a species which possessed such flaws as a need to breathe, or a non-vacuum overpressure. Without such concessions to niceties, though, the brutalist efficiency with which the Consensus had designed this new-model extractor leant her a certain stark beauty. Clean lines calculated for minimal interference defined the stabilization systems, where formerly engineers from Rannoch had emulated existing terrestrial infrastructure.

It was emblematic of the entirety of the Quarian birthright these days, truth be told. What had been left as studied halls of remembrance after the Morning War was, more often than not, overshadowed by the new fabrication and careful construction which had overtaken Rannoch and other worlds beyond. Charred blast-craters smooth with radioactive glass, the unmarked cemeteries of thousand, stood as cool pale-glue glacial lakes right next to orbital spires as large as hab-blocks which ferried prepared materials skyward.

On the void walkway a solitary Geth platform strode, claw-feet designed for the weightlessness latching on with each step. It had been named the Interlocutor, an affectation the Consensus had adopted after the singular success of the Legion concept; a testament to the unit's frequent desire to engage in the eternal self-debates which defined the infinite synchrony of the Geth. With impassive gaze the platform took in the orbit of Extraction Primary, confirming for itself once again the steady stream of gas-harvesting scoops which dipped down hundreds of kilometers into the methane and ammonia-rich upper layers of Haza. Remote systems had predicted the telemetry to a margin of error sufficient for even the artificial minds of the Geth, and still the Interlocutor walked this path with the passing of every planetary cycle.

A human might have called the programs which made up the platform sentimental, or speculated that they enjoyed the beauty of the view, the winking crystal bands encircling the immense hydrogen-helium giant reminiscent of some great regal assemblage, or a treasure-trove of sapphire and turquoise gemstones. If there was a deeper reason for why the Geth platform paced along the walkway, or even why the Consensus had seen fit to include such a path in the original design of the mining facility, the Geth had not yet made that reason known. Perhaps they did not even know it themselves. The platform continued its steady rhythmic walking, optical sensors intermittently panning to one side, then the other.

by **Elerian** » Sat May 27, 2023 4:08 pm

Earth, Sol System

The Salarian Commander looked over his data pad one last time. His eyes scanned the message again and again, searching for any possible reason that it was a hoax, a forgery. He found nothing, no reason to doubt the fact that the orders were genuine.

The Salarians had somehow managed to re-activate a relay in the Pranas system, relinking the Union to much of the galaxy at large. This could mean that Commander Selwa and his STG operatives could finally be relieved. With their short lifespans relative to other races, Selwa and his men had spent almost a fourth of their lifespan fighting the Reapers, then marooned in the Sol system. There had been sporadic reports and letters from Sur’Kesh, ferried by the overloaded comm buoy network, but not nearly often enough. Commander Selwa could only pray and wait with baited breath for what the STG would order him and his soldiers to do next.

Annos Basin, Sur'Kesh

"I believe that this concludes matters for today?" Vass sighed, the arduous and tedium of nigh unending proposals and paperwork began to tax not only the Dalatrass' nerves but also the nerves of her fellow staff as well. By the end, Vaykom looked half ready to throttle the next person to air their grievances, while Valern was hunched over in his seat rubbing his temples.

"Agreed," Vaykom groaned

"I second it as well."

With a sigh of relief, Vass called the meeting adjourned for the time being, "Mosiiba?"

The VI display flashed to life, "Yes Dalatrass Vass?"

"Call a shuttle, I have a prior meeting with an old friend I wish to attend."

"Of course Dalatrass, shall I place your calls on hold for the time being?"

"Please do."

The VI disappeared shortly after the shuttle's arrival, "I hope Linron hasn't waited too long for me." she sighed as she climbed in.

Asari Space

The SUS Nirana pulled out of the blue-black chaos of the relay jump and arrived in the noir calmness of regular space. It was a mostly empty, sparsely populated system, a small colony on the edge of what the Asari claimed as theirs.

Purmon Pilon stood in the bridge of the old frigate-turned-diplomatic-vessel, gazing out into the star-sprinkled void into which Salarians had once again sprang after the devastation of the Reaper War. It really was extraordinary to look into that tapestry and know that the scale and scope of existence filled much of it, when just a few thousand years before most species had been constrained to a single planet.

The Diplomat was jolted from his thoughts as the crew broadcasted the Nirana’s presence to any Asari naval elements in the system. They would need clearance before they could proceed to the Asari capital on Thessia.

This is the diplomatic vessel Nirana of the Salarian Union Navy, hailing any vessels of the Asari Republics Navy or representatives of the Asari government. We have Diplomat Purmon Pilon aboard and are bound for Thessia, over.

Trebia System, Palaven

Colonel Kirrahe sat with his back to the wall of a shuttle. His gloved hand went reflexively to his deeply scarred face, and he massaged it slowly, thumbs digging into the scar tissue. He could feel the maze of scar tissue itching through his thin gloves, rubbing against his hands through the black fabric. The aging officer let his head fall back against the rough metal of the bulkhead.

The voyage had been hard. They had made good time through space that led into the Apien Crest, but “good time” was still painfully slow compared to pre-Reaper voyages. But he had made it nonetheless, a miracle in itself. Kirrahe had earned his disfigurement through years of service, and although medicine could heal old wounds, in the end he’d accepted who he was now. In many ways it even helped with his new occupation. Where once he’d served with distinction on the frontlines as an STG agent, now Kirrahe served the Union in whatever capacity they required of him. In this case it meant a discrete meeting with the Turian Government on Palaven.

The shuttle touched down just then, bonking Kirrahe's head against the bulkhead as they made another happy landing. Kirrahe stood and rubbed the back of his head. As the shuttle door lowered, Kirrahe smoothed out his uniform and pulled his gloves tighter over his hands. With the door lowered, Kirrahe stepped from the shuttle ready to do whatever was necessary to see his task completed.

by **Theyra** » Sat May 27, 2023 11:30 pm

Drell Commonwealth
Namakli
New Kiors
Archon Kakan Niol's Official Residence

"Are you sure about this band of Vorcha?" Kakan said to Seta, his assistant who was sitting down near a desk, as he looked out his office's window. Scanning the city's lively cityscape from his position at the Archon's official residence. "Are you sure Gor and his band can be trusted?"

"Captian Suul thinks so, and they did fight with us during the Reaper War."

" Yes, but that is what we thought about Yol's band, and the second the war was over, they turned on us."

"I know, Archon I know, but there are friendly Vorcha bands out there now after working with them during the war, and maybe we can use them as workers like what the Asari did before."

"That is if we can educate them quickly enough, and that does not solve the problem of the bands of hostile Vorcha out there that do not seem to care about friendly relations."

"Perhaps Archon if I may, we could start to turn their opinion somehow."

Kakan turned to face Seta with a half smile on his face, "An optimist, that is what I like about you Seta but, with Vorcha I am not so sure about changing their view of us that easily."

"We can try at least, sir, and it is better than just killing them all."

"Maybe Seta maybe," Kakan walked over to his desk to sit on and ponder for a moment before sighing. "Sure, Seta let's see if Gor's band is willing to talk and work with us."

Seta had a big smile on his face, " I will inform Aruma about the go-ahead," and Seta brought out a datapad as he was setting the go-ahead. A beep was heard from the datapad. "Oh, it looks like it is Dromo, and the preparations for the miner are complete and will launch as soon.

"Good, good," Kakan said with a pleased tone. "We need to not just rebuild but thrive here and not just Namakli but the whole cluster. We also need to be ready when the Mass Relay repairs itself, just in case the state of the galaxy is worse than we thought."

"Of course, Archon and I will make sure you will be notified when the Mass Relay is finished repairing itself."

Then a new face appeared in the room and addressed both of them. "Archon Niol, Seta, Genera Nuun, and Admiral Reos have arrived and are waiting for you in the conference room."

"Ah, it is time, and good to hear Imahu and I believe we are done where Seta and I expect to be notified about Gor's band status when Aruma is done with them."

"Of course sir."

Without another word, the trio left the office and each going to their own ways. Archon Kakan is set on making his people not just survive but thrive in their new home. A place where Drell can be proud of living and be a strong nation that can withstand any foes put against it. They survived the Reapers, and so in Kakan's mind, they can have the will to survive in this galaxy and earn their place among the stars. That is his hope, at least and time to see if he and the commonwealth can do that.

by **Segmentia** » Mon May 29, 2023 4:26 am

Thessia, Tower of the Matriarch Council

Teveseda D'natis leaned her head back slightly and downed the small glass of amber liquid, letting its flavor dance on her tongue for a few seconds before swallowing as the more bitter taste of the headache relief pills mingled with the flavor. Her doctor would tell her that she shouldn't be taking these pills with alcohol, but Teveseda had learned hundreds of years ago that she could, back in her days as a dancer. She had never thought anything would give her a worse headache than the brain-stabbing Salarian, or the ear-drum assaulting Turian music that had been popular in that day and age, but she had been proven wrong.

The Republics, no, the Republic Teveseda corrected herself, was a still wounded beast. Clawing and scabbling out of the grave that the Reapers had so readily and happily dug for the entire galaxy, but it was coming up swinging. Thessia had seen the Varrens share of the reconstruction effort, and while it was yet to have the same splendor of the old Thessia, it was on its way there. But there were still hundreds of millions of Asari, if not billions, living in cramped emergency quarters, refugee camps, and worker settlements across the entire Athena Nebula, and it was time to start getting them all properly housed and employed.

The Matriarch Council, Teveseda wondered why it was always Councils, had voted on the matter. The crown jewels of the Asari species, the garden worlds that had allowed them to catapult to the forefront of the old galaxy, would again be made to shine and glimmer. Easier said than done, of course. Many of the precious garden worlds had been reopened for mining and little else, with the resources having been poured into the Thessia reconstruction, but the groundwork was there and mostly done, the resources just needed to be diverted.

Which is where the headache had originated. Under the new, more centralized government, each planet had the right to elect a member to the Matriarch Council. Said elected representative didn’t actually need to be a Matriarch, but most tended to be. And each Matriarch quite naturally wanted their own world to be rebuilt first. They could approach the reconstruction in a more broad way, diverting smaller portions of resources to different planets, or diverting the majority of resources to a single planet and rebuilding it significantly faster. She wasn’t quite sure yet which way was the best, and the decision was ultimately left up to her.

And on top of that headache, the reactivation of the Mass Relay opened other problems. With the relay active, ships could now be sent to other clusters, including into the Nimbus Cluster, where even more Asari worlds were. There had been communication over the extranet for the past years, but pleasantries and promises over the net didn’t amount to much in real life. The other Asari worlds were open to rejoining the newly centralized government, but the legalities would need to be worked out. Once the return relay was active, anyway. She had already given orders for the Republic Navy’s singular combat ship to make the jump to the Nimbus Cluster and prepare to repair and reactivate the relay.

Tevedesa leaned back in her chair and closed her eyes, deciding that she needed a break until her headache went away, or at least dimmed.

by **The Epic Notepad of GrangerAirstrike** » Mon May 29, 2023 10:47 am

The 1st Turn

The Asari Autocrat's penthouse; surrounded by fortification and soldiers, looked out across the city of Hatash, industry and not-so-flattering residencies dominating the view for as far as the eye can see, only mitigated by an imposing sky tainted a dim green and the abundance of weeds growing from practically every spot. An innumerable amount of Vorcha scurried about their "business", whether it be surviving, contributing to something valuable, or butting heads with their fellow man as they are so keen on doing. However, the Asari in question had her attention focused not on the environment around her "palace" seen through the windows, but looked somewhat longingly towards a vertical display case tucked into the corner of her room, a mannequin within and it wore an old suit of armour; coloured yellow, black accents this way and that across the entire suit, helmet included, with the striking symbol of the old Eclipse mercenary faction emblazoned on the chestpiece. The helmet. The Autocrat gave a strained, tired smile towards nothing in particular, and perhaps in her mind she thought to herself "the helmet, ah yes. Only complete idiots go into combat without wearing one, and the notion that the higher-ranked omit it from their gear is that of fairytale and legend".
Lynima T'sashi couldn't help but become nostalgic, even if slightly for her old days working for the Eclipse, rising the ranks to Commander before being stuck on this hellhole masquerading as a planet. It was a more simple life; credits, company and blood. For eighteen years now she had to hang out her old equipment for good, forced to make the most of her time on Heshtok after the Reapers attacked, destroyed the Relay network (or so she assumed) and then suddenly blew up amidst a crimson wave. For only a slightly smaller length of time had she decided to pursue her agenda of bringing order to a hostile world full of instinct and violence driven Vorcha, at first just because "she could" though eventually in an effort to quote-on-quote "uplift" the residents of the dumpster of a world from depravity and blood. Perhaps it was ironic then, that the regime that she had eventually created, her leading alongside a Krogan battlemaster and warlord which she had grown to slowly respect has cast it's own level of butchery in it's efforts to create a more stable climate. The justification, one as old as time itself, that the ends justify the means lives rent free in the Commander's head. That the Vorcha wouldn't be uplifted through such niceties as "democracy" or "cooperation" and "understanding", because the so-called parasites of the galaxy understand only one thing... Power. Perhaps at a later date, they'd learn to understand and respect more, but for now... Power. Did Lynima ever have regrets for starting this project of hers, one that she's in too deep to quit now? Sometimes. But in the absence of her previous life as a mercenary, this brought her a sense of purpose. And what more could be asked for?

It's almost incredible, how the so-called "Duumvirate" of Heshtok has gone so far. An experiment that was begun by two factions of Ex-Mercenaries that were once bitter enemies with one another before the eventful year that was 2186 on a planet that seemed far-beyond help and potential, grew quickly in power and influence, and has somehow carved up a fiefdom that dominates the Vorcha homeworld to this day, through blood but also genuine efforts to build and civilise. Neither of the leaders would claim that their governance is one of paradise, or that it's without it's flaws. But neither would care, citing that they've begun the impossible, and that it hasn't come crashing down yet. Surely this... Experiment. Was worth something, right?
Perhaps so. It could be argued that the de facto capital of Heshtok has never looked better in all it's history. Granted, that's not saying much, but by Vorcha standards it's no less than the unadultered truth. Where barren districts battered by constant squabble and warfare had been, an industrial complex sits instead. In place of the trashy home of a once-powerful but anarchic Vorcha clan defeated and integrated by the new Warlords, a grand fortress stands in it's place. The crumbling walls of an old, beaten-up building now houses a den, selling legal goods and catering to the not-so-legal needs. Hahesh is no paradise under the Duumvirate. Hell, it's hardly even decent. But it's better than it ever was before.

Alas, where genuine improvement is growing, so are the Vorcha. And the Ex-Mercenaries and their allies which have the know-how, the drive and the ability to teach the Vorcha a thing or two about civilisation are only dwindling, slowly perhaps but indeed so. Bloodshed may seem a tragedy to most within the galaxy, but for the Vorcha it is barely an issue. Even Krogan respect life more than the average Vorcha. Like pests, they grow fast, are driven by instinct primarily, breed like locusts, and die young. The largest problem for the Vorcha homeworld has and may always be the Vorcha themselves. Irredeemable and incapable they are not, but the factors truly work against their chances of civility, and of those attempting to bring it to them.
Thus, the Duumvirate is in a perpetual struggle of keeping the Vorcha they rule over civil and obedient. There are only so many tutors for the students, and there's always the risk that the tutors population lower, leaving a larger and a more dangerous cabal of the uneducated, the instinctual and the violent. Whilst the tightrope hasn't broken under it's own weight yet, only time will tell if it was hold out.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Mon May 29, 2023 6:19 pm

February, 2204

For the first time in decades, large-scale traffic has begun flowing through several systems of the benighted galaxy. The enfolding darkness, once so unbroken, now flits with the glow of ionized trails from warships and civilian vessels alike. Is this the dawn of something new? Or merely a return to tired old systems that failed the races of the stars once before? Only time will tell.

The Asari Republic: Unexpected and positive news has emerged from the Serpent Nebula transmitted by long-wave bands on encrypted old Republics military codes; it appears some manner of Asari military elements have been integrated by the surviving human settlers of the Boltzmann system, and they have been working on building consensus with the locals about the virtues of integration into the new Republic. An opportunity is available - if prominent business concerns are bought off to the tune of 300 Credits, the Boltzmann System could be immediately politically integrated with the nascent Republic once her Mass Relay was repaired...

The Turian Hierarchy: The jump to Caestellus is over quickly enough, a transit of a matter of days; but the news from the system is less than amicable. Fair Digeris, formerly a colony world of some richness, seems to have faired poorly in isolation. Devastating craters concentrated on population centers and the shattered remains of orbital infrastructure betray an intensified Reaper assault, and a lack of signals from the world seem to indicate the collapse of the colony. Ground expeditions might reveal more, but at the least it can be definitively said no burgeoning world stands here ready to rejoin the Hierarchy. A few silent mining centers above Fiax seem intact, but their outdated unmaintained equipment will likely only be scrap.

Pheiros, for her part, is likewise quiet. Repeating warning beacons are received upon entering the system, indicating that the zone is one of active military conflict, and civilian vessels should stay clear - but the shattered husks of Reaper capital ships and the cracked surface of the asteroid tell a tale of an escalating conflict that ended poorly for all involved. Without a more thorough inspection or settlement it is difficult to say how much might remain beneath the surface of the military asteroid, but the near total destruction of her solar collectors does not bode well for any enduring capabilities.

The Salarian Union: New mining efforts on Rannandril have unearthed a surprising rich vein of titanium-bearing ore precursors, and the Union has benefitted from this windfall. Fifty bonus Material is added to the Union's coffers at the start of February.

The Elcor Courts: A battle of political wills unfolding on Dekuuna have yielded unlooked for benefits to the Courts; a segment of the local Workers' Councils have taken it upon themselves to demonstrate the great benefit they bring to the Elcor as a people, and redoubled efforts in the intra-atmospheric shipyards have seen the battlecruiser under production have an estimated two months shaved off of her anticipated launch date.

The Geth Consensus: Dormancy protocols left running in minimalistic modes in the wake of the withdrawal to the core systems by the synthetics have performed better than expected; the heavy fleet dispatched to the Far Rim has discovered automated systems already working to repair the local Mass Relay, having harvested information about the rejuvenation process from the extranet. Repairing this Relay will take one less month and 50 less Credits than usual.

The Shanxi Directorate: Patriotic fervor sweeps Shanxi, equal parts fear and pride as rumors spread through the populace that the Relay network is healing, and both other aliens and other humans might soon be entering the system. The impacts of these efforts are particularly felt on the manufacturing lines, where a wealth of 10 Industry greater than projections indicated would be ready this month has been accumulated by the Directorate.

The Drell Commonwealth: Mixed news from the orbit of Zaherin this month - two new vessels have arrived to join the Commonwealth, a heavily damaged mining scow and a small corvette pack. Upon system sentinels corresponding with their crews, the Drell on board speak with enthusiasm of their wish to be citizens of the independent Drell state. But there is a catch. It seems the crew of the mining ship were an elite military unit which jettisoned some of their Hanar commanders when their treasonous thoughts became known. Accepting the mutineers will no doubt significantly worse relations with both the Primacy and the Council... but the economic value of such a heavy processing vessel and her attendant escorts could be formidable.

by **The Epic Notepad of GrangerAirstrike** » Tue May 30, 2023 6:15 am

Trivia/Frivolities

A Human stood on deck in a Corvette docked in the spaceport of Hahesh, built on order of the Duumvirate early into it's existence on the planet, gazing upon her crew - all Vorcha - which she had asked to mass with a focus and energy that seemed rather impressive for her age of 48. The small ship she commanded had once belonged to the surprisingly competent "Void Devils", a wing crewed by trained Vorcha which fought in the void above Heshtok against the Reaper threat not eighteen years ago. It was true at least that the Devilish wing lived on in spirit. It was difficult to train billions of Vorcha into a more civil way of life, a task the Duumvirate had decided was their duty to attempt, but a hundred or so, trained from a young age for the specific person of manning a few voidcraft? That was easier... The Ex-Eclipse Pilot; Lexi Faulkner still wore her old armour which was well taken-care of, though she had personally painted over that old symbol which was emblazoned on every chestpiece, though not out of any immediate need but perhaps out of respect for her past life that was now gone. replaced by service to the Duumvirate on this hellhole.

This is not the first time her Corvette would take off and sail the void of space, but it and it's Vorcha crew had still yet to be tested. It almost grated at Lexi's mind that perhaps these Vorcha, though well-taken care off, would never be given the opportunity in their short lifetimes. But she kept her thoughts to herself

All hands! We have been given liberty to sail the void of this system once more. I know all of you ugly-sons-of-bitches have been dying to get up there again, which I understand. Hell, doing something with one's time rather than sitting around with thumbs up asses is it's own kind of MWR.

"Ugly-sons-of-bitches". Whilst there was no denying that the Vorcha wasn't the most pleasant species of the galaxy to look at, the CO thought well of them. When she used the phrase, it was almost endearing in a certain strange way, and her crew understood it. The nine Vorcha who kept the Corvette running as much as - if not moreso than - Lexi herself had spent practically their entire life around the human captain, and their bond was almost as inseparable as family. Ms. Faulkner certainly didn't see it in such a way herself, but she did respect her crew, and could overlook their hideous outwardly appearance.
Better to be around the demons she knows and trusts than the others around Hahesh and on the entire planet, right?

Right then, as we used to say in the Eclipse; it's time to shut up, clock in and load up. We've got a routine flight to perform.

The nine Vorcha crewmembers chittered in response, mostly to each other, though they would all echo out in their sharp, rough voices to their CO an "Aye, Aye" in response, and in time the Corvette's ten-manned crew would fire up the ship's engines, check for all systems nominal, and begin take-off procedures. Perhaps the Vorcha of the spaceport, and their """handlers""" (for lack of a better word) would turn their heads from their current acts to watch the small, but proud vessel soar into the dim green skies of Heshtok, soon to disappear out of sight.

The dream of a Heshtok which had it's own native fleet was perhaps not so impossible after all... Even the lowliest of Corvettes sailing the void of Kyzil proved that.

by **Nuxipal** » Tue May 30, 2023 7:12 am

Chamber of the Illuminated, Enlightened Abyss, Kahje

The lowest point on the planet, a deep trench city built up within a sunken Prothean ruin, Enlightened Abyss was the official capital of the Illuminated Primacy. Information buoys surrounding the city both below and on the surface were the only indicators that something lay a mile down the wide ocean trench. In this city the Illuminated Council sat with representatives from every major population center across the world. As it stood now they had Archios as the Illuminated Archon, and while Elections were due in a few months, it was most likely that he'd continue in this position as his supporters made up the majority of the council and those that didn't support him had few arguments against why they should replace him. As it stood, he oversaw the reactivation of the Cnidaria Relay to the Serpent Nebula and Eagle Nebula as well as the expansion of infrastructure under the Primacy's control within their own and the Drell's home system.

The more recent debates which the opposition parties were bringing forward were in relation to the Citadel Council. Hanar engineers had been at the forefront of reactivating the Relay network within Citadel Space. Many of them were practically demanding that the Illuminated Archon finally send a new ambassador to the Citadel to represent the Hanar and work on pushing Hanar appointment to the Council itself. The Archon's supporters don't want to be seen as not pushing for a Council Seat after all the work that their people gave to the galaxy at large. Archios had to work from the Capital this month, but he was able to still get his job in Cnidaria City done thanks to his Drell Assistant.

Cnidaria City, Kahje

Sitting in the chair given to them for just this sort of situation, Afuya Suek received instruction from Archios on a semi-regular basis. The Drell had been in service to the Illuminated Archon for their entire life and the two had grown close as friends. Because of this Afuya had been given the nickname of "Drell Archon" by some of the opposition party members and this was picked up as an insult by some Drell. Other Drell had seen the rise of one of their own to such a trusted position as a means to opening further opportunities for them in the Primacy. As it stood now, Afuya had been issuing instructions to the various firms which were working for her master to improve the Primacy's capabilities in a fundamental way. It was during this time that one of her master's other servants arrived with news for them.

"Excuse me, I think I have found some interesting information that the Illuminated Archon may need to be made aware of sooner rather than later." The drell who entered the room said, his voice less coarse than Afuya's likely to his youthful age and time spent in dryer climates.

Turning their gaze to the young drell who walked in, Afuya replied, "Please then Tesim, lets hear it." They waved the junior assistant of their master over so they didn't have to speak too loudly.

Upon approaching, Tesim lowered his voice and said, "There are rumors of a breakaway group of Drell who left our Master's service and have founded their own colony away from the CItadel's reach. Furthermore, with a little bit of searching, I believe that I have discovered this rumor to be not only true, but it may endanger Hanar and Drell alike who are in longer voyages, especially those looking to reactivate the relay network. My contacts on Rakhana seem to suggest that there is a sort of recruitment team working to sign people up and get them to leave for better worlds. I know that revitalizing our home is one of your pet projects and if our people leave there is no way to repair the damage done in the past centuries."

Nodding and understanding the severity of what this could mean in the near future, Afuya sighed and said, "I'll alert the master, don't let anyone else know about this. I am appointing you to oversee all affairs on Rakhana while we revitalize it. It will take time, but eventually I will deploy some military assets for you to use as a means to stop these smugglers and pirates from taking our people off into what is likely slavery in the Terminus."

Wrapping up their meeting quickly, Afuya sent the information to Archios in a short message.

With this message sent down into the depths, Afuya sighed and leaned back into the seat. Sure enough a small notification popped up on their omnitool and the day continued with a meeting between them and several hanar officials in which those hanar learned that this Drell had much more official power than expected.

by **G-Tech Corporation** » Tue May 30, 2023 2:29 pm

"I'm not particularly bothered by what your other interviews might say. I was there, more the pity. Evacuating a client out of Lesser Amelia, and sure as shooting I was about to be one more body added to the charnel pile at any instant. The modern histories don't capture the absolute certainty we had that it was all over. They talk about the valiant rearguard action at Talas Square, the bunkers that held out just south of the spaceport which bought precious minutes. I was there - none of that mattered. The machines had full control over the anti-orbital batteries hours before that, and commandeered cruisers with plenty of time to slag us as we spun up toward the Relay. If they wanted it, the Quarians wouldn't be a dying race, they would be a dead one. Why did they stop? Why am I alive? I don't have those answers." - Fakador Malake, Revisited Commentaries on the Geth War

Timestamp 054.03.11.712.414
Antidown Surface South, Primary Relay, The Far Rim

Slow and patient the forms of the Geth climbed over the surface of the great silver metal panels, clouds of probing sensory tendrils preceding their careful footfalls. The mental maps that had uploaded to their platforms were as precise as a race of machines could make them, copied from old schematics of shelved Relay-replication ideas. Each sensory mechandrite touched a minute surface, smaller than the head of a pin, checking if the alignment was correct, if the density matched specifications, if the reflective ratio was within parameters. Nothing could be neglected.

Well, technically, probably everything could. Whatever ancient technology was mending these highways to the stars, it seemed perfectly happy to work from extremely imperfect conditions. But it was a slow process, and the humans had diagnosed that providing injections of appropriately husbanded mass at large breaks and breaches in the elegant forms of the shattered Relays could significantly expedite the reformation process.

And thus the Geth were doing exactly that.

Where a rent appeared, or the variances were outside of acceptable ranges, worker platforms extracted lengths of titanium-iridium alloy and fed them into the breaches. The exact process by which the Relays integrated this feedstock into their quantum-locked structure was unknown, similar to the identify of the metallurgy upon which the great kilometer-long arms relied. But that didn't stop the Geth from trying to nudge the process along, feeding element zero into the central nacelle, spot-welding tiny gaps and shouldering shards of the damaged ring into locations where they could be reclaimed by the exotic edifice.

It was a strange scene, no doubt, the forms of thousands of silvered void-capable Geth placidly walking along the immense structure, like perhaps a foaming wave rising ever so quietly up a beach. No gaps were left between them as they worked, shoulder to shoulder. The blocky patchwork of the lower artificial intelligences which had been left here had to be removed in places where it hadn't been integrated by the Relay - a refinement to be noted and made to other idle programs.

One day soon, this Relay's miniature star at her heart would glow with the force of the galaxy-spanning engine it was again. Not today. Not soon, perhaps, even. But one day.

by **Bentus** » Tue May 30, 2023 9:12 pm

Nos Astra, Illium

The office looked out onto the Nos Astra skyline, a wall-length window offering an uninterrupted view from the skyscraper’s upper level. Its furnishings exuded the ostentatious corporate luxury that had become popular with Illium’s executive class. A solid oak desk, with an eye-wateringly expensive but assuredly ergonomically-engineered chair planted between it and the impressive view. It was currently occupied by a human woman, her gaze scanning the carefully prepared dossier on her terminal. Sitting across from her, another human waited for her to finish.

“The numbers are good, Rebecca.” Bryan Keanes sat comfortably in his chair, leaning back as he waited for the woman to pass her judgment on the business proposal. “Better than good, even.”

Rebecca’s eyes glanced up from her terminal for a moment, a polite smile touching her features. Both of them were dressed in a similarly in-vogue style of business wear: crisp suits that dropped the overly-formal tie that had become too closely associated with “old money”.

“I’m inclined to agree. As always, you’ve done the legwork with this: the plan looks good.” She eventually said.

Bryan clapped his hands together, triumphant. “And don’t we know it! How much of an initial stake do you think -”

“But.” Rebecca added, curtly cutting him off. The light that had illuminated Bryan’s eyes faded, and his mouth twisted into a frown.

“Oh, come on Rebecca. You can’t seriously be adding a ‘but’ onto the end of this, can you? You said it yourself: the numbers are good.”

“Well, they’re only as good as your assumptions. The relay isn’t even reactivated and you’re talking about setting up a serious shipbuilding operation.” Rebecca waved her hand, gesturing towards her terminal. “Your initial sales figures are guesswork, and if they’re wrong this would be the whitest of white elephants.”

“Okay, so I admit that it’s a bit of a moonshot.”

“A bit?” Rebecca laughed, shaking her head. “This isn’t a cost that we could ever justify to the board, let alone our shareholders. It’s just too risky.”

Bryan paused, studying her expression for a moment. The gears were turning in his head. He’d worked with Rebecca Hatchel on plenty of ventures in the past. Not all of them had panned out, but that's just how investments panned out sometimes. Some risk was expected, as long as it was managed and the potential payout made up for it. This was exactly the kind of project that she’d have jumped at in the past. And yet now, she seemed to have come into this meeting with her mind made up.

“What’s going on, Rebecca?” He eventually said, a more serious note entering his tone as he realised that the meeting wasn’t going to end how he’d hoped. “You know as well as I do that this isn’t a bad idea. Hell, it’s a great idea. And yet you’re treating it like it’s poison.”

There was an extended pause. Rebecca considered trying to rekindle the earlier banter and deflect from the pointed question. Instead, she closed the dossier with a sigh. “Alright, you want me to be honest? This is a good idea, but you’re making it harder than it needs to be.”

“Jesus, you can’t be going where I think you’re going.”

“I am, Bryan. I have the utmost respect for what Ramak has managed to achieve in the past, and he’s really put something incredible together here. But your plan calls for foreign investment, and he’s a batarian. How do you think that’s going to look, exactly? Relays are only just being reactivated, and a new business opportunity arrives on your doorstep from Illium, fronted by a batarian who promises to invest your money wisely. It’s a total nonstarter.”

“It’s his idea and he deserves to be at the forefront of implementing it. We can’t just pretend that he isn’t what he is.”

Rebecca frowned. “I’m sorry, Bryan. The decision’s already been made. Thank you for the offer, but you won’t be receiving any investment from us.”

Bryan continued to sit for a few seconds, a finger tapping on his chair’s armrest. He felt a vindictive anger rising in his chest and for a moment thought about trying to chime in with a final word, but ended up thinking better of it.

“Alright, then.” He eventually said, a bitterness on his tongue. The gears were already turning in his head once more. They’d just have to get started the hard way, in that case. “I guess that’s how it is.”

The Illium Shipbuilding Corporation has recently been incorporated in Nos Astra by cofounders Bryan Keane and Ramak Cef’barah. Proposing to build a private shipyard capable of producing heavy vessels, the new company is seeking foreign investment to help fund the initial construction of their project. The proposed shipyard would take advantage of Illium’s flexible regulations to be independent of any government authority and would allocate its production via a system of auctions, according to its investor brief.

Prior to embarking on this venture, Mr Keane was employed as a consultant with Avela and Co. Mr Cef’barah has separately made a name for himself with his past businesses. Most notably he helped to establish Nos Astra Salvage, one the city’s pre-eminent waste disposal and recycling providers.

Interested investors are encouraged to reach out to the Illium Shipbuilding Corporation’s representatives via the official registry of the Illium private companies.

Turn 0
==Tasale==
Beregale - Hostile:
Illium - Garden: [+15mat, +225cr]
3/7 Mining Complexes (+15mat)
4/4 Industrial Complex (-40mat, +20ind)
1/1 Major Industrial Complex (-30mat => +20ind +10cred)
1/2 Planetary Fuel Depot (+5cr)
1/4 Urban Area (+55cr)
1/1 Major Spaceport (+165cr)
Ponolus - Hostile:
Teukria - Barren:
Asteroid Belt:
Thail - Gas Giant:
Naxell - Gas Giant:
Mass Relay:

Turn 1
Starting Resources: 0+225cr, 0+15mat, 0+0ind
Build:
Illium - 3x Mining Complexes (-45cr), 1x Major Mining Complex (-50cr)
Beregale - 3x Mining Complexes (-45cr)
Ponolus - 3x Mining Complexes (-45cr)
Teukria - 2x Mining Complexes (-30cr)
Ending resources: 0cr, 15mat, 0ind

Fleet Actions: [-10cr]
Heavy Cruiser moves to Lusarn and begins colonization efforts (1/6 months, 10/50cr)

Turn 2
Starting Resources: 15+50mat, 0+40ind, 0+310cr
Build:
Beregale - 1x Industrial Complex (-20ind)
Ponolus - 1x Industrial Complex (-20ind)
Ending resources: 270cr, 65mat, 0ind

Fleet Actions: [-40cr]
Heavy Cruiser continues colonization of Lusarn (2/6 months, 50/50cr)

by **The National Dominion of Hungary** » Wed May 31, 2023 1:14 am

The Quarian State

"Commander Zorah, I'm glad I could catch you before leaving." Councillor of the Interior Zaal'Koris vas Qwib-Qwib said as he walked up next to Tali as she stood leaning against one of the railings along the concourse leading up to the Council Chamber, their guards standing a bit further back, allowing the two to speak privately. Once a warren of hab-blocks and industrial facilities in the inner core of the station, Tali had to say the last six years had turned this area of the station near-fully unrecognizable. The old miner's habs had been converted into either comfortable apartments or administrative complexes, a wide concourse, once used by automated mining-carts had been rebuilt into a carefully landscaped and constructed way decorated with gentle streams and water installations, framed with Rannoch-native flora re-planted from the Liveships interspaced with occasional memorials and statues, including one of her father, Admiral Rael'Zorah. "For tireless dedication in pursuit of a way to final victory over the Great Enemy."

"I figured it had to be important for you to contact me directly." Tali replied absently, she had a strong feeling that this could only concern one thing. "It's about Admiral... Councillor Gerrel isn't it..."

"Perceptive of you." Koris said with a nod in Tali's direction. "He's not going to be on the Council much longer, age is catching up to him and we expect him to announce his resignation soon, within the year surely. The Reclaimers will easily put another of their own in the seat of the Councillor for War and Military Affairs. But I am pushing hard for the establishment of an official Council of External Affairs... and I would hope you consider accepting the nomination I will put forward for you, as the new Councillor."

Tali turned. "My days in politics are far behind, Koris." She said flatly. "I've had my fill of your little intrigues and games when the Council was still the Admiralty."

"Tali." Councillor Koris said bluntly, eliciting a sharp look from the woman. "Do not underestimate who you are. You led the Outrider Flotilla to Earth to fight the Reapers, you sailed the stars with the greatest hero in the Galaxy, soon, more and more Relays will be coming online, the Galaxy will reconnect." Koris said and then sighed. "You could be the face of the Quarian State on the Citadel when it is restored..."

"I am no diplomat and no ambassador, Councillor Koris." Tali said, equally blunt, turning her face away to once more look across the station. "Find someone else. Make no mistake, I am here to serve the Quarian State and the Quarian people, but not on the Council." She began to walk down the concourse, her bodyguards following a bit behind.

"Consider it, Tali. And consider it well." Koris said as she slowly left. "If you want to serve the Quarian people, you do it best as their face toward the Galaxy. Not combing through ruins and killing petty warlords."

She pretended not to hear him.

Light Cruiser QNS Illo'Tarr - Port Azanha - Omega Station

"All systems are in the green, eezo-core stable, all hands are at their stations and other captains are reporting ready-status. Expeditionary Fleet is ready to raise anchors on your order, Commander Zorah." Tali heard the voice of her XO as she sat in the captain's chair on the bridge of her new light cruiser. Well, it wasn't exactly new, as very few old ships of the Migrant Fleet were, but it had received extensive refits and overhauls over the last month. All thanks to Omega, the safe harbor of the Quarian people. New life-support systems, ultra-violet GARDIAN-lasers replacing the old laser turrets, shiny new boarding pods mounted along the dorsal hull.

"Very good, First Lieutenant." Tali replied before activating a comm-link to the ships of her little flotilla. "This is Commander Zorah to all units, raise anchors and fall into formation. Set course for departure zone." A chorus of aye-ayes and affirmatives came in reply before Tali closed the channel and returned to reading the information she had been given about the Fathar system before the mission.

Three planets, the most notable of which was Lorek, a former independent Asari colony before it was seized by the Batarian Hegemony some three centuries ago, population of 4.7 million, but that was according to the latest data before the Reaper War and before all contact with the other systems in the cluster had been severed for several years. Then there was Korar, a small mining colony often subjected to pirate attacks in it's past and the uninhabited world of Dorgal. Tali's mission was to spearhead the Quarian State's exploration of the cluster it had claimed. To ascertain if any of the old colonies had survived the war and if so to what scale, to find threats and or anomailes, and to pave the way for full Quarian control of the Omega Nebula.

First on the chopping block, was Fathar.

by **The Epic Notepad of GrangerAirstrike** » Wed May 31, 2023 2:15 am

The 2nd Turn

Battlemaster Grard's abode looked less like a penthouse (much unlike his compatriot, T'sashi) and more like a fortress, just the way he liked it and just the way he was used to, working with the Blood Pack for centuries at this point. Well, that was until 2186. Since then, he's been stuck looking through the rustic windows that seemed permanently stained with moss and dirt on the planet that he'd now have become accustomed to, and like hell did the Pack come back looking for him since then... If Qavrak had a mirror within his own little personal fortress deep in Hahesh, perhaps he'd find himself looking towards a... *ahem*, rather handsome Krogan, who much like his compatriots looked scarred with battle, who much like his fellow Krogan looked as gruff and rigid as the rock on Tuchanka, though perhaps a little more in every regard than even the average. His frontal plate, rugged and stony looking had cuts and looked physically warped in places as if a powerful biotic attempted to snap it. The tan-grey coloured plates and humps alongside a frame that honest-to-god looked more rock than living to some onlookers certainly gave the individual a presence... But alas, this Krogan Warlord had no need for a mirror. Those who do are evidently compensating for their reality with such trivial items in their possession, he'd perhaps think.
And he'd think the same of one "Commander T'sashi", the Asari Ex-Eclipse mercenary who he now had to share power with in this not-so-little fiefdom on the planet of the Vorcha, but early on he had learnt to respect the otherwise squishy-looking alien. If it's power and strength Qavrak respected above all, then it'd be right hypocritical of him to dislike the Asari in that regard. They fought each other to a bloody stalemate not eighteen years ago upon the Krogan's challenge, and if Lynima was less durable or he was less... Well, Krogan, they might've never recovered. His memories of such a violent spar are truly fond to him, for rarely if ever did his time within the Blood Pack offer such a respectable and powerful opponent to fight. After all, he wasn't present for the events on Omega back in '85, instead Garm was there fighting the "legendary" Archangel instead of him... Asshole.

From the window of Qavrak's personal fortress he could perhaps see the more civil Vorcha labour within Hahesh. Most notably, a new system of trenches inside and out the city, and throughout all of Heshtok that he and T'sashi have managed to pacify, which brought him a sense of satisfaction to watch. It was incredibly important that the Duumvirate remained militarily dominant on this lawless planet, and to see not only their defences against the clans that have yet to be taught discipline and civility improve, but the creation of new, trained Vorcha forces and battalions of non-Vorcha to keep the rabble organised and focused, it was pleasing.
What was less pleasing was his compatriot's rather confusing focus on growing a Heshtok fleet. If the Krogan Battlemaster was any less respectful of the Asari, he'd meet the decision with blood, but for now he had his priorities, and handwaved his confusion and questions for T'sashi's choices.

Soon, Warlord Grard would be down in the mud and blood of Heshtok again, to personally oversee and assist the Ex-mercenaries turned elites of Heshtok society in their efforts to pacify the Vorcha rabble. There was still a lot to be done if these vermin were ever going to find their own glory and raise themselves as a powerful, feared species to give the galaxy itself a new scare, much like the Krogan before them... Though Qavrak laughed heartily at the notion that the Vorcha may ever find the same glory as the mighty Krogan, perhaps they could still make use of themselves. And hey, better to push them in the right direction with this Duumvirate he created than sit around all day in Hahesh doing nothing and earning no glory of their own like some of the quads all the way on Tuchanka.

by **Elerian** » Wed May 31, 2023 5:11 pm

Salarian Union

Linron and one of her many daughters Nilana waited within a small booth, Viscosity was one of the highlights of Sur’kesh’s capital city Talat, a highly acclaimed restaurant with a waiting list that would take years in advance, or unless you're a Dalatrass, little more than a few hours.

"Dalatrass Linron." She turned to see Vass had finally arrived.

"Dalatrass Vass, I'm glad you greet an old friend." she mockingly chided.

Vass sighed as she sat down, "The Galaxy reawakening does have the effect of making one late for prior engagements." she flashed a friendly smile, "it's good to see you again Linron."

"And the same to you Vass."

"And you must be her daughter Nilana?" she turned towards the other Salarian female at their table.

"Yes, Nilana Linron at your service," she gave a curt bow.

"My daughter is my pride and joy, even if she’s been getting up to trouble with her experiments," she said with a mischievous smile.

"Mother!"

"Ah, I remember you telling me this once before," she typed her order on the menu pad, starting with the rare Thessian wine, "Though it appears you've gone from experimenting on plants to experimenting on the living."

"Y-yes, I've always had a fascination with the Reaper’s ability to indoctrinate," she tried to compose herself from her embarrassment, "I've always wondered how the energy fields surrounding the Reapers could be repurposed for our use."

"You've got a quizzical mind," her drink arrived, she pushed a moment to taste, "I can only assume great things in your future, just like your mother."

"Thank you." Nilana blushed and flustered at the compliment, "if you'll excuse me I'd like to get some air." She politely got up from her seat and made her way towards the restaurant's balcony in the hopes that fresh air could calm her.

After she left, Linron chuckled slightly. Vass became very serious then "you’re not at all concerned about the implications of such research?"

Linron straightened and locked eyes with her old friend, "Of course I am, but this could be an opportunity to give our species the edge we’ve since lost."

"Millenia of progress lost in the blink of an eye” Vass sighed. “Cerberus made great headways into understanding the technology but it cost them everything. I’ll task some assets to proceed to Cronos, but it will cost you. Nilana will run point on this expedition, whatever the outcome."

"A toast to the future of Nilana then?" Linron raised her glass slightly towards Vass.

"To Nilana," she answered, clinking her drink against Linron’s.

by **The Orson Empire** » Wed May 31, 2023 11:05 pm

Shanxi Directorate

by **The Empire of Tau** » Thu Jun 01, 2023 12:44 am

[Fluff Will Come Soon]

by **The corporate states of Astavar** » Thu Jun 01, 2023 4:53 am

The Terminus Hierarchy - two Months after emergence day

The Petition

Primarch Theron Volaris sat at his desk, the petition placed before him, a weighty decision resting on his shoulders. The citizens of Altakiril sought the use of the Extranet in order to contact Palaven, and inquire about the fate of their loved ones. It was a request born out of hope, a glimmer of light in the aftermath of the Reaper threat. But with that hope came uncertainty and the potential risks of revealing their location to unknown dangers.
Volaris understood the importance of this moment. The Turians of Altakiril had endured immense hardship and loss, and their desire for answers was only natural. The Primarch contemplated the potential consequences, weighing the risks against the profound need for closure and connection. After a deep consideration, he made his decision.

Volaris began crafting a message to Palaven, carefully explaining their situation. He conveyed the recent events, the devastating impact of the Reapers, and the survival of Altakiril against all odds. He expressed the heartfelt desire of the citizens to reconnect with their relatives, to seek any information on their well-being.
But Volaris understood the delicate nature of this communication. He emphasized the need for caution, the awareness of potential threats lurking in the galaxy. He urged Palaven to exercise discretion and take appropriate measures to safeguard the safety and secrecy of Altakiril. The Primarch's message carried a plea for support, for any assistance Palaven could provide in their search for reconnection and the rebuilding of their society.

The Salvage Operation

Quartermaster Kara Tavik, a determined and resourceful Turian, oversaw a planet-wide salvaging operation on Altakiril. The task at hand was immense - to salvage and repurpose anything of value from the remnants of the once-thriving cities, using the limited resources available to them.
Kara and her team of dedicated workers meticulously scoured the ruins, carefully assessing each structure and piece of debris. They focused on salvaging materials that could be repurposed for essential needs, such as construction, infrastructure repair, and basic necessities for the growing population.

With a keen eye for potential, Kara identified resources that could be utilized in their rebuilding efforts. Bricks, concrete, and metal scraps were collected to be repurposed in the construction of new dwellings and structures within the underground bunkers. Wooden remnants were salvaged for fuel and other basic needs, ensuring that nothing went to waste.
The salvaging operation relied heavily on manual labor and basic tools. Turian workers used shovels, hammers, and simple cutting tools to dismantle and collect salvageable materials. They worked in teams, carefully coordinating their efforts to maximize efficiency and ensure the safety of everyone involved.

To transport the salvaged materials, the quartermaster improvised with repurposed carts and wagons. These makeshift vehicles, constructed from salvaged wheels and sturdy frames, allowed for the efficient movement of salvaged goods to designated storage areas within the bunkers.
In addition to salvaging raw materials, Kara's team also focused on salvaging and repairing equipment and machinery that could be refurbished. They carefully examined damaged devices, from generators to water purifiers, and utilized their expertise to restore functionality. This approach reduced the need for new resources and allowed for the repurposing of existing technology to meet the colony's immediate needs.

Kara faced numerous challenges during the salvage operation. Limited resources meant that they had to prioritize and make tough decisions about what could be salvaged and what had to be left behind. She often relied on her experience and ingenuity to determine the best course of action, ensuring that the operation remained efficient and effective.
Despite the limitations, the salvage operation became a symbol of resilience and adaptation for the Turians of Altakiril. Through their tireless efforts, they were able to repurpose and recycle materials, reducing their dependence on external resources and building a self-sustaining community.

Quartermaster Kara Tavik and her team's resourceful efforts were not limited to the ravaged cities of Altakiril alone. The salvage operation extended its reach beyond the planet's surface, venturing into the remnants of the once-orbiting scientific stations around Sarasit.

These once-thriving stations had been decimated by the merciless onslaught of the Reapers, leaving behind a graveyard of shattered structures and discarded technology. But even amidst the devastation, Kara saw potential for salvage.
Equipped with specialized EVA suits and utilizing salvaged space shuttles, Kara's team ventured into the vacuum of space to recover any salvageable equipment, data, and resources from the derelict stations. With limited resources, they focused on critical items such as data storage devices, power cells, and intact control panels that could be repurposed or provide valuable information for their ongoing survival.

The salvage operation faced heightened risks and challenges in the hostile environment of space. Spacewalks were conducted with utmost caution, with each Turian taking meticulous care to ensure their safety and the success of their mission. The salvaged items were secured in specially designed containers, which were then transported back to Altakiril for further assessment and utilization.
Additionally, rumors and whispers circulated among the survivors of Altakiril about hidden Turian military installations on the moons of Xerceo. These secret installations were said to hold valuable resources and technology that could aid in their rebuilding efforts. Determined to uncover the truth, Kara initiated a careful exploration of the moons, utilizing the salvaged shuttles and advanced scouting techniques.

The exploration of the moons of Xerceo was carried out with utmost secrecy and caution, as the Turians remained vigilant against potential Reaper remnants or other unknown dangers. The salvaging teams carefully surveyed the moons, searching for any signs of hidden military installations or caches of resources that could benefit their colony.

As the operation expanded into space and onto the mysterious moons of Xerceo, Kara and her team faced an unprecedented set of challenges. The harsh conditions of space, combined with the uncertainty of what they might discover, demanded heightened skills, adaptability, and vigilance.
Each successful salvage, whether from space or the moons of Xerceo, bolstered the Turians' limited resources and provided valuable insights into their past military operations. The information gleaned and salvaged technology furthered their understanding of Turian capabilities and potential avenues for future progress.

Turn 2 - Economy

Mass Effect: Embers [IC]

Mass Effect: Embers [IC]

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