Aria T'loak, Queen of Omega, prime warlord of the Terminus Systems and 'secret' lover of Councilor Elana Tevos of the Citadel Council (who was the 'father' of her very, very secret daughter Liselle), was doing the same thing she did every day: lounge comfortably in her private balcony and look out over her domain while drinking the finest alcohol and reading her reports.
It was nice, really, sitting here and listening to the throbbing pulse of the music, which synced so nicely with her own heartbeat, and anytime that she got to revel in her power and influence was a damn fine time. Especially when she could look down into the main floor of Afterlife and watch her old frenemy Wrex, in all his gruff, heavily scarred glory, growling and grinning at the various young idiots (krogan, more often than not) that tried to pick a fight with him.
She almost missed the days where they were chasing each other from one side of the galaxy to another, slaughtering their way through space stations full of pirates, fighting viciously every time they encountered one another. Of course, they had both been quite a bit younger in those days, and she had lacked everything she had now. Things she wasn't willing to risk losing. Her power and her daughter most of all, which is why she and Wrex had hashed out their differences a few decades back…though that didn't stop them from having a particularly enjoyable fight every once in a while. Neither of them had the opportunity to fight with someone equal to them any longer, so it was a moment to treasure when it was possible.
Honestly, life was good, and the only thing that made it less than perfect was the fact that her lover was so damned determined to sit around in the Citadel for the rest of her life instead of being with her. Which would hurt, if Aria didn't know that Tevos would be hers in the end one way or another. Besides, it was cute, how hard Elana worked at being Councilor, trying to keep the galaxy spinning and acting like her efforts actually mattered and her decisions were her own. Poor thing was constantly at the beck and call of the Matriarchy and maintaining a status quo that had existed for centuries.
Oh, there had been a few upsets, particularly in relation to the humans (and there was a species that she could appreciate, even if she hadn't had the chance to meet one yet), but even that wasn't enough to really change the galaxy. Just another race baring their novice fangs and bucking against the establishment, only to inevitably find out that the establishment was an unbeatable, unopposable colossus of bureaucracy. One carefully created and maintained over millennia of effort to make challenging it impossible, or at least as much as possible. After all, it had only been when threats had presented themselves that the asari could not alone defeat (or, at least, were unwilling to absorb the casualties and costs required to defeat) that they had allowed the turians and the salarians onto the Council, and they had worked hard ever since to maintain their primacy over the other two races.
She knew that there was something wicked about that whole situation, something more than simple diplomacy and seduction that the Republics used to maintain their place at the top of the galactic hierarchy, but she had never been able to figure out what it was…and pressing her lover on the subject had been one of the few times that they had truly gone through a vicious, brutal, not-talking-for-weeks fight. She'd let it go when it became obvious that not only was Elana determined to keep the entire matter a secret, but was legitimately worried for the collective safety of their family if she had continued to push.
She had, quite sensibly, stopped pushing, and any investigations she had done since then had been very, very quiet. And involved as few Asari as possible, for the sake of ensuring the security of said investigations. She could have dropped it entirely, of course, but that would require two things: acknowledging defeat, and allowing a potential threat to herself, her family, and her interests exist without being properly identified (and, if possible, destroyed).
Obviously, she was entirely uninterested in either of those options, as neither were in her nature by any stretch of the imagination.
Still, that was all working in the background, something to linger in the back of her mind and her existence for the time being while she focused on more immediate things, such as the rumors that an awful lot of pirates and slavers had been moving and gathering recently. She'd never had much patience for that kind of trash, even on Omega, but…
"Aria."
She blinked, looking up from her datapad, eyes focusing, then narrowing sharply as she saw the visitors that had silently, and without being announced or invited into her presence, appeared at the entrance to her balcony. A quick glance around showed no sign of distress, and no matter how distracted she was by deeper thoughts, there was no way she had missed a gun-fight breaking out.
"It's been a long time. Dare I hope my various minions are still in one piece?" she finally responded, looking back at the figure and meeting their eyes. "They're kind of a pain to recruit, not to mention train up to a decent standard." She tilts her heads towards the silent subordinates flanking the visitor. "Not all of us have easy access to professional commandoes, you see."
"Were you involved? Did you know?" the question was delivered bluntly in a tone that was as even and controlled as anything Aria had ever heard, but she wasn't a fool. There was a threat there, a deadly one, and she knew full well that it was entirely possible her continued existence hinged on her answer.
The only problem was, she had no idea whatsoever what the other woman was talking about. A rarity, for her, she made a habit of keeping her fingers on the pulse of things, but she was currently at a loss…and less than happy about it.
"Hard as it might be to believe, in this circumstance I have no idea what you're talking about. What, exactly, do you want to know if I was involved in? Or even, apparently, tangentially aware of?" she responded slowly, avoiding the temptation to chase herself down a mental rabbit hole.
"There was a slaver raid on the human colony of Mindoir. Hundreds dead, over a thousand taken, including the daughter of Hannah Shepard." Her 'guest' explained briefly, and Aria swallowed slightly at the weight that descended on her shoulders, the weight only Asari would have been able to recognize as dark energy began to bleed into the other woman's aura. "Were you involved, and did you know?"
"No, not a word. I heard that some pirate and slaver bands were on the move for something, but not so much as a whisper about a target or a timeframe, never mind a human world." She answered promptly and honestly, and as the pressure grew thick with the silent expectation -the silent demand- for an explanation, she allowed herself a scowl. "And before you ask why I didn't say anything to anyone, why would I? Pirates and slavers are always on the move, always planning something, and I'm not a member of your precious Citadel fleet. I am the Pirate Queen of Omega, I don't fight for truth, justice, and the Thessian way anymore. If they're not trying to pick a fight with me, they aren't my problem."
"…fine, but if you hear anything, I expect you to inform me immediately. And don't bother my mate with this, she has other matters to deal with." The other woman conceded, seemingly taking Aria's words at face value and as the truth that they were, and the pressure faded away like a switch had been flipped.
"So, you're coming out of retirement for this, huh? You bring that old boat of yours out of mothballs while you're at it?" Aria snarked, falling into more comfortable patterns of behavior now that her name had been cleared, only to falter slightly at the deadpan look she received in response. "You did? Do you have any idea how much shit is going to hit the fan with that? Do you have any idea how much chaos this is going to cause? Not just in Citadel space, but on this fucking station? All those brats wearing your colors…!"
"Not my colors, not anymore. And not after the changes they made." The other rebuked, light playing across the golden emblem on her breastplate as she folded her arms across her chest.
"They're your colors, and that cheeky little shit running things these days has never forgotten it, as much as she'd like to. I'm going to have a fucking civil war on my station, do you know that? It's going to take years for things to settle down again." Aria groused, but her guest only favored her with an amused smirk.
"Please, you'll enjoy it. It's most excitement you've had in thirty years, and you know it." She said airily, turning to leave, before pausing and half-turning back. "Oh, one last thing. Feel free to give that girl of yours a headsup, but make sure she knows not to interfere. I haven't had to make an example out of anyone in a long time, and I'd hate to have to do it with a loyal ship of the Citadel. And I'm borrowing Wrex!"
Then she was gone, and Aria waited precisely three minutes (long enough to give the impression that she was unshaken by events) before snapping to her feet and striding from her booth, growling for her guards to stay exactly where they were (useless fucks. Whether they could have stopped her or not, they damn well should have done something besides just letting her waltz in!) as she moved with unusual alacrity towards her quarters.
Throwing herself behind her desk, she brought her console (or, more specifically, her communication systems) online and punched in the memorized details for the heavily-encrypted, mostly-illegal, extraordinarily expensive system that she had given Elana to facilitate their private communications. She almost immediately received a response, an automated signal that Tevos was busy being a Councilor and would call her back as soon as possible.
The fifteen minutes that followed were interminable, and her ire at the universe in general only grew. She hadn't been exaggerating earlier when she said that this was going to be a nightmare for her to deal with, and cause a hell of an upheaval in her demesne. Running a hand over her fringe, she off-handedly made a note to get Liselle somewhere quiet for a while. Her child wouldn't be happy about it, but her child would also get over it and deal with it.
Her screen flickered and resolved into the image of Elana Tevos. Her soft skin, a lovely and gentle blue with the splash of patterned white that she normally found so entrancing, would otherwise pose a significant distraction, something that she would happily make a perverted comment or two about, but under the circumstances she found herself lacking the same drive to do so.
"I'm surprised to have heard from you, my love. Pleased, of course, but…" Elana started, but Aria cut her off promptly.
"Skip the usual romance, Elana. This is serious, something's happened that you need to know about." She nearly barked, and though abruptly started and briefly seeming a bit wounded, her lover nodded firmly and settled in.
"Tell me everything."
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"We've got trouble. Big trouble." Tevos said the moment the room had been locked down and the dampening fields were in place, and Sparatus huffed, rolling his eyes slightly in exasperation. While it was an uncharacteristically blunt and crude statement from the matriarch, even for a private meeting between just the three of them, it seemed nothing more than that.
"We know about the attack on Mindoir, if that's what you mean. STG assets," he responded, tilting his head towards Valern, who bobbed his head in confirmation. "Are already reporting that Alliance fleets are gathering and preparing for a counter-attack. Probably Torfan and a couple of other hives that the scum are so fond of. They'll indulge in some mutual blood-letting with the pirates and then T'soni will settle them down again, just like…"
"Not this time." Tevos cut him off ruthlessly, pacing slightly, another uncharacteristic action. "You recall, of course, that Shepard's girl moved away from the Alliance's Core Worlds. Normal childhood, that sort of thing?"
Her colleagues nodded at that, vaguely remembering the images of the fiery Fox of Shanxi's daughter from various newsreels and dossiers.
"Moved to the colonies with her grandparents, didn't she? Her father's parents?" Sparatus hazarded, remembering reading something about it. Faolan Shepard hadn't captured the galaxy's attention quite like his wife had, but the knowledge that he was one of the airborne heavy infantry that had led the assault that drove the Turian Legions off of Shanxi and died under The Shield of Palavan's deck-gun bombardment to cover the retreat had earned him more than a few fans as well.
Not that he would ever admit it, but Sparatus himself was appreciative of any soldier that would jump out of a perfectly good transport or frigate a few miles above the ground just to get the (literal) drop on their enemies. In fact, he had spent the last several years personally getting behind the concept and pushing as hard as he could for the Hierarchy to develop similar units. Besides, of the two Shepards, Faolan had been a proper infantryman, and Sparatus would always have a soft spot in his carapace for fellow grunts.
"Yes, exactly. Care to guess which colony they moved to?" Tevos confirmed, and he felt something distinctly unpleasant rapidly congeal in his stomach. From the look on his face, Valern was dealing with something similar, and the bitter smile on Tevos' face (paired with the thinly disguised panic in her eyes damn well didn't help.
"Mindoir. They moved to Mindoir, didn't they. And they were there when the attack happened." He hissed, lacing taloned fingers together and posting his elbows on the table before bracing his forehead, rubbing it with what a human would have called his thumbs as they pressed against his upper eye-ridges. "Please do not tell me that the daughter of the most famous human in the galaxy, the living icon of humanity, was killed by Terminus pirates."
"She wasn't, though her grandparents were, which would be bad enough." Tevos confirmed, and Sparatus started to relax for all of a heartbeat before the last couple of words hit and processed. If her grandparents dying would have been 'bad enough', that meant something worse had happened. Fortunately (or unfortunately, depending on one's point of view) Tevos elaborated before he had the chance to try and ask. "Unfortunately for all of us, Liara T'soni was on-world visiting. From what little information I have, the girls were on a chaperoned date to the movies in Mindoir's capitol when the raid hit."
The string of words that left Sparatus' mouth were as foul and vicious as they were unprintable, and any camera-drone-driving newsie would have been nothing less than thrilled to capture them on tape, while Valern had paled to a shade that would in many circumstances result in an immediate call for a medical team.
"The only good news out of the whole debacle, such as it is, is that Shepard is very much her parents' daughter. She got T'soni into one of the raid shelters and destroyed the access panel so that the raiders couldn't get in. Sadly, that's balanced by some more bad news, as she wasn't able to escape afterwards, and got taken. The ship she was on managed to slip by the joint Asari and Turian fleets that the Alliance 8th Fleet called for help." Tevos continued, mouthing twisting as she looked torn between chastising Sparatus for his language and agreeing with him that it was appropriate.
"Benezia and that mate of hers aren't going to do a damn thing to calm the Alliance down under these circumstances, you're right about that, and they're the only ones that the humans might listen to." Sparatus voiced, leaning back in his chair and dropping one hand to the table, which he started drumming with his talons. "We're lucky that the little Shepard has a heroic streak, or this situation would be a hell of a lot worse, and it's pretty bad as it is."
"I'm not finished yet." Tevos informed him, and his eyes closed in resignation as he slumped back in his chair.
"Of course you aren't. Because it's not as if this isn't enough of a shit-show. Go on then, what else is going wrong?" he intoned, voice having gone straight past any sort of emotion and into deadened incredulity. "And how do you know all of this anyway?"
"Aria reached out." Tevos admitted, not that it was any surprise to the two males. They were well aware of just what kind of relationship that Tevos had with the pirate queen, just like they were entirely aware of who the other parent of Aria's rumored daughter was. Oh, Liselle might not exist as far as most of the galaxy was aware, but they weren't exactly most of the galaxy, were they? "She wasn't involved, which is fortunate for her, because of how she found out about this whole thing."
Tevos paused, and both of her colleagues straightened up and waited with bated breath, sensing the weight looming over them, what the humans would have called 'the other shoe' that was waiting to drop, and their trepidation only grew as Tevos very obviously steeled herself.
"The Silence has set sail."
All was still for a long, long moment, before Sparatus started laughing. The kind of laughter that came from a man that had given up, the kind of laughter that was as bitter as it was loud, the kind of laughter that struck those around it as somewhat unhinged.
"I don't understand. Why is Sparatus laughing? And what is the Silence?" Valern's confused words cut Sparatus' laughter short, both Turian and Asari turning to stare at their compatriot in bafflement. Glancing between them, he arched an eye ridge in query. "What is the purpose of your expressions?"
"You…you don't know what the Silence is? Weren't you in the STG before you became Chancellor?" Sparatus asked, sounding more than a little lost at the apparent ignorance of the Salarian, who glowered back.
"Was a field operative, not Intelligence. If I didn't need to know, I didn't know." He retorted defensively, and Sparatus held up his hands in a gesture both conciliatory and confused as Tevos stepped in neatly with a semblance of her usual diplomacy.
"We're just surprised, Valern, but perhaps we shouldn't be. The Silence hasn't left port outside of maintenance and upgrades in nearly a century, but she is famous. Though perhaps I should say infamous. She's a battlecruiser, heavily customized. There probably isn't another ship like her in the galaxy."
Theshaca had always been a popular pirate anchorage, though perhaps 'anchorage' wasn't the right word ,as it was little more than a stop-off point for pirates to dump their core discharge and, occasionally, transfer their cargo from raiders to 'merchants' from their various organizations.
"A battlecruiser? Unusual class of ship in the modern age, conventional wisdom states design is inherently flawed compared to massed heavy cruisers or dreadnaught squadrons."
Indeed, Theshaca was a meeting place and discharge point for no less than ten major pirate anchorages and slave markets, including more 'respectable' planets like Ilium or Anhur. And so it was, perhaps, unsurprising that the majority of the fleet that attacked Mindoir had returned here to divide their spoils and celebrate their success before moving on.
"True, they're not the most useful in fleet engagements. We Turians abandoned them even before we met the Asari. For the resources required to build on, we can build six heavy cruisers or some seventy-five percent of a dreadnaught. The Hierarchy considered them a dead end, especially given that their standard loadout requires them closing to virtually point-blank range."
"The Asari as well, but the Silence doesn't engage in conventional fleet engagements."
They had taken losses during their attack on Mindoir, and many of those that had successfully escaped the human star system had run straight into the tightening net of a pair of Citadel battlegroups, with barely a dozen escaping entirely…but in the holds of those dozen, nearly a thousand humans lay trapped.
"A pirate ship? Information did come from Aria T'loak. Ah, but you said she wasn't involved. Independent operator? Unusual in the Terminus Systems, usually caught and killed quickly, or forced to join an established organization."
"Not a pirate, though…I suppose you could say she sails independently. At least in the context of pirate groups or mercenaries."
By a grand cosmic coincidence, those dozen ships belonged entirely to a single band of particularly unpleasant slavers known as The Chains and Chips. A small group, but ruthless and known for both their bold raids and the quality of their stock. Which is why they could afford a mass conveyor, with all the appropriate Citadel paperwork, to fly their ill-gotten 'goods' wherever they pleased. A mass conveyor that was even now taking on the last of those 'goods'.
"Not a pirate? Mercenary then? Single mercenary even less likely than single pirate, but understandable. Still, retired for a century? Must be an Asari. And related to this situation in some way?"
"Mercenary wouldn't be the worst description, though I believe she prefers the word 'vigilante', or perhaps 'privateer'. It was always hard to tell with her, and sometimes it really rather depended on her temperament."
Unfortunately for them, they and their fellow pirates weren't the only ones aware of the Theschaca system or it's popularity, and in a flicker of pseudo-motion there were not thirteen ships in the system, but fourteen…and the newcomer was no pirate.
"You are familiar with the Captain of this ship? Word choice and tone indicated personal experience, though not intimacy. Please, no more prevarication. Explain."
The pirates stared out their viewports at the sleek, gleaming, gold-edged black warship, some 800 meters long, that had just introduced itself to the middle of their formation. It's engine oversized, it's body bristling with deck guns, it's spinal mount undersized…and a strange, unusual-looking blister just ahead of the (oddly amidships) bridge. Then their computers began to scream in warning, as it's weapons awakened and targeting systems came online.
"You have to understand, this is unprecedented. She was retired, she had passed on the torch. For her to personally get involved at this point…"
"Tevos. Please. I understand the situation is unusual. Tell me."
The pirates scrambled to their stations, bringing their barriers online and warming up their own weapons as they struggled to prepare themselves to face the threat that had so suddenly arrived…and it opened fire. Coordinated salvos from dozens of deck guns lashed against the small fleet like the tide, rising and falling like a wave as they pounded, pounded, pounded away. Barriers that once would have been able to adjust and maintain integrity against the single shots from the spinal mounts favoured by every warship in the galaxy found themselves overwhelmed and collapsing at the relentless pounding. Some never had the chance to come up at all, precise fire tearing them apart even as their crews desperately tried to defend themselves.
They failed, one by one being hammered into scrap, crippled and leaking air if they weren't destroyed outright, even as the stranger's own spinal mount and a pair of torpedoes surgically stripped the mass conveyor of it's own defenses. Then the ship moved forward, stalking towards it's prey at a pace that could only be leasurely, the strange blister shimmering with energy…before a pulse of white-blue light slammed into the conveyor. It staggered in place, engines sputtering wildly setting it into a slow tumble. The black-and-gold warship stooped down on it, locking their airlocks together. A moment later, the few pirate guards aboard, gathered around the hatch to defend their ship, heard a soft hissing sound…and the hatch was torn apart as a dozen Asari commandoes breached the ship.
The pirates lasted ten seconds. The group after them twenty, and those guarding the bridge, the most forewarned and best equipped? A full minute.
Then black-blue biotics tore the hatch apart, gas and stun grenades detonated in a tidal wave of incapacitating violence, and the conveyor's captain found himself hauled into the air by four carefully applied Lift fields, summoned by the outstretched hand of a woman. A woman dressed in black armor with a golden sunrise splashed across it's chest.
"What Asari is the most invested now, Valern? Think about it, my friend. It's not Benezia, she's on her way to Mindoir with a fleet of relief and aid ships. So who else could it be?"
The woman stepped up to him and removed her helmet, revealing an aging Asari face painted in red and white, a cold look that was all the more terrifying for it's emotionlessness.
"So. You're the one in charge of taking the people of my friend to auction. You're the one responsible for collaring them, torturing them, chaining them, chipping them." She said, examining him from head to toe. Meeting his lower eyes, a grievous insult in batarian culture, she tilted her head to the side (an even greater one) and continued. "Tell me where the rest of them are, and I promise to kill you quickly."
"Fuck you, azure whore!" he responded with a bravado that he might actually have felt, despite the circumstances. "I don't know who you think you are, but my brothers and sisters will avenge…"
"Nothing, captain. Your brothers and sisters will avenge nothing, because I'll kill them to. And their friends, and their comrades, and everything else that gets in my way." The asari cut him off, stepping closer and gripping his head with her hands, holding him still, and he laughed again.
"Going to tell me to 'embrace eternity', bitch? I wouldn't mind going out on a high note, I haven't had one of your kind in years. A pity you're so old…" he tried to mock, only to cut himself off with a yowl of pain as she pulsed biotic energy between her hands, like an electrical current with his head as the conduit.
"Embrace eternity? No, no, I'm afraid not." She nearly crooned, gently stroking his temples with her thumbs in a gesture that could almost have been loving, if it wasn't for the circumstances. "I have a much better idea, something you deserve so much more. So please, embrace oblivion."
His world became pain and pleasure, his world became light and darkness, hot and cold, sharp and dull. His world became an open book, and the mind of his captor was ruthless as she tore out the pages she desired and cast the rest into the fire as his body seemed almost to wither and collapse in her grip, until she finally discarded his ruined corpse on the ground.
"Prepare the ship to move. We will escort the conveyor to safety and signal for escorts." She ordered her subordinates, turning away from the sorry sight without another moment of thought for the man she had just killed.
"Yes, Captain. What did you discover?" the lead Asari behind her asked promptly, not doubting for even a moment that her commander had in fact succeeded in retrieving the information that they required.
"Order the fleet to converge on Anhur. No ship is to exit the system before we arrive." The leader responded, answering without answering, as she started back towards the hatch, sliding her helmet back on. Once again a face that any human would have found familiar was gone, replaced only by the faceless commando.
"Aethyta. Matriarch Aethyta is the Captain of the Silence?" Valern breathed, eyes widening than narrowing. "Indeed, reconciliation impossible. Conflict inevitable. We must move quickly to limit the casualties and the damage, lest a broader war with the Terminus Systems break out."
"It's not going to be that easy." Sparatus sighed, sounding exhausted and admiring both. "Do you know why her flagship is called Silence?"
"Had never heard of it before, so assuming question rhetorical. Will agree, it is an odd name for a warship, especially Asari. No offense meant, Tevos."
"None taken, and you're right. It's not quite correct, given it's actually an ancient Asari word, referring to something from our past as hunters, but Silence is probably the best translation I could give you." Tevos agreed with a shrug, though she didn't elaborate on what the ship's name actually ought to be, and Sparatus took his cue to continue.
"She's called Silence because that is all that remains when she finishes her work."
As the conveyor slowly got underway, it's systems recovered enough from the high-yield energy pulse that had so badly scrambled them, the warship turned it's attention to the drifting wreckage, the escape pods, and the shuttles around it. The tattered remnants of The Chains and Chips, one and all…and it's cannons spoke once again, flaying the star-pricked darkness. Pods and shuttles were vaporized, and drifting hulks shattered from detonations both within and without as the Silence methodically tore what remained of it's prey apart.
"No pity. No restraint. No survivors. Nothing. Nothing but dust, wreckage, and silence. The perfect, unbroken silence of the grave. That's what she leaves in her wake. Nothing more and nothing less. If the Silence has sailed again…a lot of people are going to die, and the only person who can put a stop to it isn't interested in trying."
"…will instruct STG to dust off and update plans for Terminus stabilization and restructuring. Suggest generous overtures made to humanity."