Karakuridôji Ultimo/機巧童子ULTIMO, Mass Effect 1. Chapter 1

**Chapter 1: Preparation**

* * *

_One and a half month after pause in hostilities and founding of Eden Prime – established home world of the Dôji._

_Location_: Utopia system; Nirvana; Maginot line.

_This is where we hold them..._

Words spoken by Vice during the process of dredging up defensive plans for the unavoidable war with the species of Citadel space. It was the product of a complicated situation between Dôji desperation, the Kurozu's sheer hostility to all life, and alien prejudice against synthetics in general. How different would the world had been today if it was not for the arrival of aliens on Earth?

Rage, aspect of Wrath, shook his head at the useless thought of what could have been, and focused as he overlooked the construction effort across what has come to be called the Maginot line on the planet that just as recently were named Nirvana – the irony of it did not quite escape him.

"Forty bases arranged across the equator and meridian, each with an anti-orbital cannon protected by two barriers – a defensive and an aggressive. Surrounded by a fortress, trenches, barracks, the works. And finally an underground command base on the southern pole." he droned out and gestured outward at the base around them, one of the aforementioned forty defensive installations on Nirvana's surface – each an oasis of activity on a barren world as thousands of dôji milled about, busy in the construction effort that needed to be finalized with great haste without waste. "Combined with the future relocation of the local mass relay, and the support from our burgeoning fleet – we got a solid defense the aliens will have no choice but to funnel themselves into. If they want Eden Prime, they must get through all that first."

Several similar bases are being built on Eden Prime, supervised by Sophia, with a notable lack of ground defenses, but with a reactor capable of giving off the energy signature equal to that of a city – bullet magnets in other words to keep the rapidly growing habitat Capitol; Yggdrasil, from being hit as much as possible.

"Reassuring the young ones are you?" the very rugged Vice, the Grand Aspect who represent human capacity for Evil, glared jovially at him, gesturing at the small gathering of minor dôji around them – primarily com dôji who facilitate communications with their Engrave-based semi-Noh ability. All of them quite respectfully silent as the more ancient aspects conversed. "Cause I sure as hell don't need to be told what I already know."

"I guess you don't." Rage smirked – but only with twitchy effort, infinitely more used to his almost permanent frown.

"Oi oi." Vice extended an arm and grabbed the aspect's pompadour, pulling at it lightly. "What do you mean 'I guess'?"

Rage yelped and clawed at his superior's gauntlet, "H-hey hey hey, it was a joke, a joke!"

"And what do someone say when a joke's taken a bit too far?" the other teased.

"I'm sorry!"

Vice grinned widely, and looked like he was going to rip it off, but let go of it at very nearly the last moment, "That's a good boy."

"M-my lord," the closest com dôji serving Vice approached him with a peculiarity in his claws. "we just received the first shipment of the new firearms."

"Mm, they've gotten round to mass producing it at last huh." Rage observed, carefully nursing his pompadour.

With bare interest, Vice took the gun from his subordinate – not a single word said as he examined the thing. Dôji did not need guns normally, their gauntlets were far more powerful and versatile. But many agreed that it would be overkill against the aliens, and thus developed less powerful firearms. "We got to be the only power in all of existence to deliberately downgrade our weaponry in the face of an invasion..."

Outwardly, the weapon – aptly named Gnat 2.0 – strongly resembled the ancient Uzi... with a length to match, and a hugely extended handle so dôji can hold it with their gauntlets... and reasonably adaptable so it can fit in any grip. Vice tightened his fist around the handle, and it conformed accordingly to fit.

All of this made the gun look absolutely puny. Vice pointed it skyward as he decided to pull the trigger. Its rapport loud and harsh. "More bark than bite."

Rage chortled, "An important part of our plan to more conventionally arm our army. Though It'll be the mainstay only until the Gungnir is placed into mass production."

A much more impressive weapon that would be, and Vice visibly agreed. "How long till those are ready?"

"It'll take some more time. For understandable reasons, firearms aren't a high priority. It will only take a little longer to ready tactical vests for production on the other hand."

The Grand Aspect shrugged disinterestedly. "Not at all what I await with bated breath, but Ultimo will be overjoyed."

"Obviously the logical progression of the plan is to not only develop guns but also protective gear. It lacks sophistication... but..."

"It will have the right psychological effect at least." Vice leaned in and whispered, "Much easier to stand up and fight when you feel safer around your chest."

Being dôji, the critical area is not the head but the marble-round core within their chests. If it's destroyed, the dôji dies. Any other damage they can eventually recover from – including the loss of one's head.

Rage rolled his eyes, "Indeed."

"My lord." Jin interjected with a curt bow, "I must remind you that Milieu desires to see you before the meeting six hours from now."

Subtract an hour from that time, and it was pretty much how long it'll take to get back to the Tenjo - the great ship that made their escape from Earth, and now the construction of their newly spacefaring civilization possible. "Yes yes." Vice hissed. "Have my shuttle readied for launch."

"Aye lord." the minor dôji nodded and sprang away, leaving Rage in his curiosity to ask:

"So how are things going on Eden Prime, Vice?"

"Little beyond the usual." was his reply before an elaboration came, "That meeting Jin referred to concerns an imminent extra-solar excursion to find a suitable system for a mining colony - to avoid taxing this system too much. Avaro's idea. Just needs our stamps of approval now, and tedious as all gets out about it, I gotta be there."

_Our little rodent's been a busy tycoon of late it seems. I suppose him being productive is good, but if he decides to start bringing a cigar and glass of Chianti to our meetings, I'll be really cross._ Rage thought sourly, "Anything else?"

"Nothing big. Except the occasional obstacle, altercation and problem, everything's going swimmingly." Vice turned slowly to walk away as Jin gave a wave from the distant landing pad, signaling the small and block-like craft's readiness. "Only peculiarity is, quite a few of our veterans have decided to start farms on the countryside."

"Farms?" Though synthetics, dôji can just like organics replenish energy through consumption of organic goods. The facilities they brought along could produce food just fine, though they were largely engineered foodstuff – meaning they aren't the originals but approximations courtesy of past cook-robot Eater's effort. Otherwise, farms had been proposed far beyond the capital where they would cultivate native edibles, but thought those wouldn't be made a reality before Eater and his cadre finish mapping the planet's biosphere. So that was definitely a surprise. "Really?"

"Really." the Grand Aspect confirmed, and looked back at him over his shoulder, scanning for the reaction with a sneer. "Call me when you get back, I'll save some good booze they've already figured out how to brew for you."

_Mm, booze_. Rage thought in anticipative delight. He missed drinking some good and proper beverage these last few weeks, "Looking forward to it. Have fun with the meeting now."

"Yeah yeah..." replied Vice in a sarcastic shout as distance grew, no more needed to be said and the shuttle rose the moment he came on board, leaving the aspect to look out across the literal queue of com dôji forming up in front of him in the wake of the greater aspect's departure. Reports likely having piled up sky-high while his attention was elsewhere.

And as the first came to him to unload the messages in his mind, Rage smiled at what his superior had seen fit to mention. _Farms huh..._

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

"You're really sure this is what you want to do?"

"Dad... no matter how many times you ask that, I won't change my mind."

Lyta Lyle looked over his beloved son, and sighed at the inevitable sense of loss. No matter how many children he had over his centuries of life... could not quite get used to the moment when his offspring would leave the safety of his father's side.

Looking back at him expectantly, Sullivan was just a few inches smaller than the one who raised him. His childhood had ended, and a rich life awaited. It was too bad that he had been brought up on stories of the battlefield, and would settle for no less than joining the army – a more sedentary lifestyle just did not suit him.

With deliberate slowness, as if to savor the moment, the older dôji straightened up his boy's clothes with careful jerks. "Yes, I guess you won't."

They were just two among a crowd of sixteen, waiting for the transporter visible on the horizon with the sun's light at its back. It was a sober sight. "We enjoy different things, but the fact that I love my father doesn't change."

"I love you too, son. Just make sure to stay in touch, and don't hesitate to give me a call if you're having problems. Don't forget to eat at the right times and stay safe, it's not a shame to duck when you're under fire – therefore do not treat fear as your enemy, make it your ally instead. It's your alarm system telling you to be careful, so no matter what; don't ignore it."

"Aye dad, I know." Sullivan grinned widely, "You've told me that a hundred times since before breakfast."

"Make sure to find a lot of friends." Lyta Lyle continued heedlessly, giving only a shrug to his son's interjection. "And down the road you'll inevitably fall in love, but make sure the first contract's with an older more experienced person. But if you go and marry a son of Avaro, I'll come and murder you. Understand?"

Slowly, the transport slowly set itself down before them.

Sullivan giggled. There has been slight contention between the sons of Avaro and Slow respectively – though it was centered around economics alone. "I understand."

"That's a good boy." Lyta Lyle said and embraced the smaller dôji with all his paternal warmth, and was responded to in kind.

Several among the crowd were now climbing aboard to the background noise of the farewells of those who simply accompanied them hereto. Mostly adults seeing their kids off. Lyta Lyle was not at all alone in this.

"I gotta go now." Sullivan said, breaking slowly out of the hug. Backpack hefted onto his back, he slowly backed away, and halfway turned as he stepped through the hatch – the last to come aboard. "Goodbye, dad. And thank you for the life you've given me."

"Goodbye, son. And good luck." Lyta Lyle barely mustered, barely able to stand and watch as the hatch shut closed, and the transport rose to leave. And continued to watch as it flew away with his latest offspring, a sensation that brought tears to his eyes.

"Haha, funny isn't it?" a nearby dôji asked, mirthful even though his expression was just as sad. "No matter how many times we go through it, the departure of a kid ready to stand on his own two feet still hits us just as hard."

"Nothing funny about it Hyde." he mildly chastised his neighbor. "For now we got to get used to living alone again, without the tripping of little feet."

"Aye, I hear ya."

"..."

"So..." Hyde leaned in a little, a hint of his posture showed a slight intent to flirt. "how about coming over to my place for a while?"

"No thanks." Lyta Lyle sighed and strode away up the path he and his kid came.

Rejected but not dejected, Hyde waved, "Alright. But if you wanna have some company, the deal's open."

Rather sullen from the farewell, and increasingly along as he wandered outward, the walk was inevitably a quiet one. Along the road of gravel he passed a bridge underneath which a pristine river ran, and numerous fields that were either untamed, already cultivated, or in the process of being worked over. A few looks directed at him from faraway fellow farmers, mostly of mixed sympathy and interest.

None of them bothered him so soon after his son's departure, so he walked in peace, and only slowed as he reached his property – a considerable stretch of land in the outskirts – but only for long enough to open the gate and close it in his wake.

In contrast to the city, most of the buildings here in this village were composed of relatively roomy prefabs, though a large number of wooden structures have sprung up along the way since. The fence that surrounded his patch of land and intersected through sections of it for example was fully wooden, same with the buildings around his house. His fields were rather meager, and most of it had yet to be cultivated – logical considering how little time has passed since they arrived at this world. Some lengths of naked dirt lay stretched out in the corners here and there, with no visible growths as it was only days ago since he put in seeds of a couple of the newly discovered species of vegetables – one of them roughly this world's equivalent of Earth's Potato, so it was therefore named Tater.

So because of this lack of progress, much of the farmers' activities revolved around the tending to and studying flocks of animals they have been able to catch and rein in.

Placidly, Lyta Lyle approached and leaned on of the enclosures, a very wide area surrounded by fences taller than the others – a requirement considering the animals within that were unceremoniously named Gas Bags right off the bat.

The creatures bobbed and hovered about just a scarce couple of feet off the ground without a care in the world, and useless at first glance... not to mention ugly. But even these animals have uses, the most predominant being a type of drug they produce internally to discourage any second predator that comes by in close succession. A key reason they haven't died off yet despite their innate lethargy.

One of the things came close by, and Lyta Lyle gently prodded it, making the beast jiggle and wobble in the air until it straightened itself, stopped as if to glare at him with its five eyes, and drifted away – though not before it lowered itself and probed the grass for food with its tentacles.

The Gas bags were easy to handle, so now he only had to know how often they could be 'milked' of the drug without negatively effecting them – to which end he frequently scanned them.

"Hm, looks like it'll take a while longer..." he observed. The creatures had swelled up, but not nearly enough yet. Slightly over a hundred of the things frolicked within the pen, and none were ready... so Lyta Lyle pushed himself off the fence and went back to his house. There were a couple of other herds, but at the moment he just wanted to relax and think, thus he went back to his house.

It was a humble abode with just five rooms; two bedrooms, a living room, a bathroom, and a kitchen. The dôji took special care to scrub his shoes before he entered and made a slow beeline for his bedroom, but not before he booted up the television – a little music would liven the atmosphere a little. Lyta Lyle then sat himself down before the mirror situated next to the bed, a thing big enough for two, and briefly examined himself in its reflection.

He was not a particularly tall dôji, rather petite but lean and elegant with cerulean optics and a beauty mark on his right cheek. Not the prettiest in the world, though enough that he was oft enough visited by potential suitors. Something he both liked and disliked to various extents.

Gracefully, as though reassured, he managed a smile and brushed his long black hair past his shoulder – blanketing a large swathe across the front of his green and eccentrically patterned kimono with matching sash just as effortlessly as it did his back simply flowing like gravity and wind dictated. Slowly he brought a comb through it. Not at all needed, but it was a positively relaxing exercise. Almost as though every move combed away a little bit of mental grime.

And as a sense of normalcy returned, the music radiating from his television seemed all the clearer. So far as he could recall, the current song hasn't been sung in forty years, a product of the aspect of Generosity's usage of the vast entirety of mankind's ginormous arsenal of musical scores – making sure not to repeat the same ones too frequently. Privately, Lyta Lyle did not mind if certain songs came more often... like this one, in which he deepened his immersion with each tune and syllable.

Unfortunately it did not last for long as a knock came on the door, "Excuse us, is this Lyta Lyle's residence?"

"Who is it-?" he almost snapped, vexed by the interruption as he rose and sauntered out to meet whoever had decided to visit, and found them standing at the far end of the living room – looking about. One who was of small stature, average in looks aside from dôji glasses shaped like goggles. The other was fully two heads taller, plus a few inches more if one included that Mohawk-styled hairdo. "Was it too hard to simply wait at the door?"

"Sorry about that," the small one bowed profusely, "but we'd like to have a word with you. My name's Cain, and this is Lyo."

Lyo echoed his compatriot's motion, "Pleasure to meet you."

Total strangers who decided to pay him a very untimely surprise visit, enter without approval, then act all politely. Lyta Lyle could not help but be annoyed, enough that politeness he would normally had displayed fell on the wayside. "Welcome... Now what is so important that you felt it justified to enter without approval?"

Cain nodded, "There are some of us greatly worried about a detail of recent times... and for that are looking for counseling."

He furrowed his delicate brows, "Counsel? I'm a farmer, not a psychiatrist."

"We know that now, but you are still the oldest living son of Slow, his seventh. Please!"

_Fellow sons of Slow..._ Lyta Lyle thought as he held their gazes at length before a sigh left him, and eased himself onto the nearby couch – with an air of almost patriarchal sensation. "Fine, sit then... tell me what troubles you."

Relief rolled off the two in waves at the older dôji's acceptance, and each said their thanks while sitting at each their chair. Lyo pointed out the subject; "It is about the honored Slow. His continued absence worries many. We fear for him."

Ever since his lineage and father were brought up, Lyta Lyle had the suspicion that this would be all about him. According to official sources, Slow departed for a mission on Mars, then went and dropped off the radar entirely just before everything truly went to hell.

"Everyone fears for him Lyo – the council of aspects all the more who've known him since long before any of us were born. Had any of them known of his current location, they'd rush to get him before any of us could even react."

"B-but," Cain stuttered – almost terrified of going on. "w-what if he... what if he..."

_So that's the thing. They want reassurance_. Lyta Lyle inwardly mused. "Do not even think like that, stripling." he growled and clasped a fist like he intended to use it; "Slow is the weaver of fate. He will not fall, and he will return to us." he stated this in a manner that invited no doubt that he believed that Slow will come one day with all his core. "It's not a mere possibility but inevitable."

Reassurance did not seem to be all that was needed though. The two had become slightly more relaxed, but something seemed to be missing.

Cain's lips had turned a little upward, but still sounded concerned when he parted them, "Your words ring of truth. M-maybe we were too rushed... but even so, he has been absent for so long, and could for so much longer. What would he want us to do? What can we do?"

Lyta Lyle quirked an eyebrow as some realization dawned. Lyo and Cain's group must be composed of mostly youngsters just a little older than Sullivan. When dôji grew confused with what to do, they oft looked to the aspects they were aligned with for inspiration and direction. Oldest of dôji, intelligent, strong and wise beyond all others... they are role-models that striplings will readily emulate either wholly or partially.

And that led to another realization. Because of Slow's prolonged absence, new generations of dôji aligned with him were born and raised with their aspect nowhere to be found. The effect of this is now starting to show.

"What you can do, child," Lyta Lyle admonished them mildly, but not without fire in his voice, "is to follow his example. He is the aspect of Diligence. Persistence, effort, ethics, and rectitude are all part of that virtue he embodies. To never give up, to never shirk from duty, to uphold your conviction. To act, not tarry."

It was as though both of them were entranced by him as he spoke. "So what we must do-" Lyo did not his finish his sentence, but stared with a creeping smile. Apparently getting.

"-is to do your part, exactly." the older dôji punctuated and grew a grin; "See? It is that simple." then sensed a question for further specification was incoming. Less clairvoyance and more a gut feeling from knowing how dense youths can be; "As for what type of work, it doesn't matter which. Naturally preferable is to find a job you like, but choose whatever is available if you can't. By doing your part, your duty, you help others as much as you help yourself. Do this and you do Slow proud."

Lyta Lyle continued after a pause, "Do you understand?"

Cain and Lyo exchanged looks that told him quite clearly that they did, as if a heavy fog had been lifted from their eyes. No words left them, practically speechless until the smaller one stood, "How could I be so blind to this truth?"

"You will find, striplings, that life hold many tribulations." Lyta Lyle's grin turned to a clever smirk; "Do not be too hard on yourselves, even the simplest of truths can elude the wise."

"And I am glad it did not elude you," Lyo stood, positively beaming as he bowed deeply. "Thank you truly for your words of wisdom."

Cain bowed as well, "Thank you, thank you!"

The older one nodded simply, "You're welcome. Now if that was all you wanted to know, I believe it is time for you to leave. I need some time by myself."

"Of course. We won't bother you any longer."

"Take care." Lyo said his farewell sincerely as he joined his comrade, "And thank you again for your counsel!"

Lyta Lyle gave a curt nod as they left, "My pleasure." and once again was rendered alone in his humble abode, with a passing thought to go back to his comb in the living room. A temptation that was considered, but easily swept aside as duty came to mind when he heard some distant roar over the music, "Oh right." at which he rose to head out, "Need to go and feed my Gargants."

As he went to do his self-imposed job, the rest of his day already planned without any expectation of deviance along with thoughts for the future – far beyond the atmosphere of the recently settled world, the ancient machine that is the mass relay was about to hum with the intent to cycle something through.

* * *

**Author notes:** This story is the interbellum one could say, between Dead Earth and the arc that will follow this one. Rising Eden sets up things for the sequel with at least one segment each devoted to characters from the manga, and one+ segment(s) for OCs and eventual Mass Effect characters that will join in. Because of this, Rising Eden will feature less combat and more slice of life - though with some suspense and drama of its own.


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter 2: New Encounter**

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Orbit around Mass Relay; Mind's Eye Station.

"Checkmate."

"Honestly... when did you ever get this good at chess?" Regula lamented, his five-hundred games winning-streak had been utterly shattered – undefeated until this fateful match with the beaming Ultimo who now raked in the goodies the two of them had wagered with a ruby gauntlet.

It was a little bit of a surprise visit to have after weeks of being cooped up in this little satellite that was for the time being his home. It only had about ten rooms/sections, but included an observation deck that provided an excellent view to the native mass relay, an alien artifact among many identical twins of unknown make. Some might call ten sections to be rather roomy, but not when you shared that space with thirty others.

Those thirty were all his assistants for when something passes through the relay, alien ships which crews he had to use his Noh to disable and make sure they return to wherever they came from without memory of ever seeing anything unusual in this corner of the galaxy. The rest of it prepared to bring war upon them even now, so secrecy was of utmost importance until they prepare sufficiently to ward off the inevitable invasion.

Ultimo giggled softly, a musical tune that made the cores of those who listened flutter with every syllable. As always the red-maned dôji was a being of stunning beauty. Almost irresistible a treasure to behold. "I have been practicing a bit."

"No doubt." Regula groaned and kept his gaze on the king of his that Ultimo had so neatly cornered, as if the Grand Aspect that represent human capacity for Goodness could bewitch him with a look – that was not too far from the truth. It was fortunate that Ultimo was rarely inclined to be flirty or he'd be unstoppable – they already had one of those. "My crew's probably in a riot right now. I can almost hear them now..."

"Even the most immovable can't remain so forever Regula." the other noted fairly with a raised claw, regal like a great lion.

He dipped his bald head a little further, "Truer words cannot be spoken."

"What an exaggeration~"

"Sir!" the voice of his adjutant Elia called in via the intercom.

...

"What is it?" Regula glared at the device in question.

"A reaction. The relay is reacting, something's about to come through!"

His expression dominated by a frown, he turned to the view and watched as the rings at the relay's heart span a little more rapidly – speeding up almost imperceptibly. "Oh... bloody."

"Language." Ultimo noted with a slight look of disapproval. Ever a paragon.

Regula rose from his seat, gauntlets splitting at its nonexistent seams as he hastily approached the window. Powering up his Noh, memory manipulation, while he waited for whatever would come soon.

Abruptly, the relay's rings quickened and span around one another till something blasted into real space in a storm of pure blue light that for a fleeting second after transit enveloped the craft that just came through – a large ship that amounted to the hull of a cruiser. In general outline it faintly resembled the relay through which it traveled, only reversed and much smaller.

But there was something wrong with it, which was the only reason Regula had not yet deployed his Noh.

Ultimo stood up at the scene of a ship on the verge of breaking into pieces, explosions rippling through its bullet-ridden hull as it careened past the satellite. "Dispatch a rescue, immediately!" the kindhearted Grand Aspect demanded urgently.

"Sir?" Elias voice came again.

"Do i-" Regula seconded before the rings on the relay's rings span again and disgorged another cruiser in a show of riveting light – this one quite pristine. Neither of these had come here to explore. It was a chase.

Question was though, what was it about?

For a moment, this newly arrived one just stopped and seemed to stare at them... until it started to turn. Apparently in an attempt to retreat through the relay again. But Regula was adamant that they would not do so, and reached out with his Noh to their several dozen crew members and in the ensuing memory sweeps canceled all that they intended to do over a minute of hard effort, "Ship captured. Move in and secure it."

Below, his adjutant rapidly organized both a rescue attempt and a capture mission. And soon after, both of their shuttles detached and went on each their respective missions. One of these however seemed to be doomed as the wounded ship, before the shuttle could reach it, suddenly jumped away in a burst of light and movement.

"One just got away!" Elia reported.

"How reckless." Ultimo sadly said as he looked in the general direction in which the wounded ship went. "Their ship cannot take any more!"

"Elia, send a broadcast to the Tenjo." Regula went and ordered, "A ship slipped away, so be on the lookout for it."

"Aye!"

A suspenseful thirty minutes passed by while the other alien craft was taken hold of and all its crew herded together. More people whose memories he had to alter. It did not take long before it was gleamed why these people chased that other cruiser. It's a pirate ship. Criminals, outlaws and terrorists.

That ship saw this relay and plunged through heedless of wherever it might take them. And according to duty, its pursuer followed.

"Tenjo Command found it." Elia called in, "It just entered Eden Prime's orbit."

"Quite fast. But why there?" Regula wondered.

"It's the only habitable planet here." Ultimo told him. It made perfect sense. "If they plan to disembark, that is the only place they could go to. Have a team pick them up and..."

"No longer possible, my lord. Tenjo Command just reported a massive explosion on board the alien ship... it's falling into the planet's atmosphere, and breaking up."

Though crewed by less than reputable people, the Grand Aspect lowered his head in brief despair. "Any survivors?"

"Not that we can detect, my lord."

"We weren't quick enough." Regula whispered, "I apologize for that."

Ultimo sighed, "You are not at fault, old friend." as he slowly walked to the hatch. "I will be going back to the Tenjo... see what we can salvage from this tragedy."

He smiled sadly as the Grand Aspect quietly left. "Good luck, but do come back again. Got to pay you back for beating me."

The tender smile Ultimo went on to give him before he left was like a star in the sky. Such that no farewell was needed to be said. Once again in a fight to keep his composure, Regula turned back and focused on his task.

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari Village.

Gargants are wonderful beasts. Huge, heavy and exceptionally meaty. Every part either edible or could be used for something unrelated to the filling of innumerable hungry bellies. They were powerfully built, difficult for native predators to take down, and rather slow in all but brief bursts of movements that still required great forward momentum first.

Unfortunately they could be rather aggressive and would severely smash anything they happen to catch up to – either by luck or accident. The current apparent Alpha had tried to run Lyta Lyle down, but all he needed to do was to dig his heels in and extend an arm against its hammer-like forehead to stop the cumbersome beast in its track.

What happened to the last Alpha? He cooked and ate it, almost every ounce of its twenty thousand pounds of weight, and built up a hefty arsenal of viable recipes doing it. A regular organic would have gotten enormously obese at such an amount of food, but as a dôji the kind of fuel all that material was converted into took much less space.

If anything, it made him more energetic. Not something to complain about.

"Down boy..." Lyta Lyle demanded as he twisted his gauntlet and in that motion tilted the beast onto its side. The beast eyed him angrily, but mellowed slightly as he pulled along a cart full of a menagerie of vegetables and other greeneries along with the occasional small animal. Gargants were omnivores to an extent. It stacked itself back in its six legs and gaped its jaws to dig in. "Good boy." the dôji cooed, "Grow nice and fat for us."

To house such beasts required more solid accommodations, so the fences used in this enclosure was the only part not made of wood. Much more solid things were needed for the fifty or so Gargants he had managed to acquire.

Much of his work in regard to these though revolved around the study of their life cycle and see how long carriage lasts among other things. If the information on animals that used to exist on Earth is anything to go by, the time between generations could be rather long.

Meaning they can't eat too many at once. Needed to be done rather sparingly.

"Now then... with all the beasts fed. It is about time I make some plans for myself." Lyta Lyle spoke to himself as he wandered in among the herd and took away the carts that were eventually emptied. "No matter what, the kid I'll have with whoever the next guy will be, I gotta raise him not on stories of the battlefield and war... but on the virtues of agriculture so that he's more likely to stay with me."

He turned to one of the female gargants that could not possible care less about the dôji's family plans, "Isn't that a wonderful idea?"

It merely chewed disinterestedly on a ton of lettuce-equivalents, and ignored him flatly.

"Fine, be that way." Lyta Lyle dismissed as he dragged the pile of carts out of the large pen. "I got a guy in mind... too bad he's already taken. It's so infuriating." If he had a handkerchief in hand right now, he'd tear at it like crazy. Instead he simply fumed. "How annoying."

He was halfway to the barns when the peace of a perfectly normal day was rudely interrupted as a slight red tinged the sky. Lyta Lyle looked up searchingly at whatever it was and spied as several trails of fire blasted through the skies, with massive trails of smoke billowing in their wake. Some of the pieces were coherent enough, even from this distance, to identify as artificial construct and not a meteorite.

Most of these passed into the extreme distance, some came a little closer. All universally passing to the south, all but one fragment that seemed to have split from the main one. The dôji watched with strange fascination as a pillbox-shaped object came spinning hap-hazardously to an area beyond his village. But even as it seemed as though it'd come for an abrupt and very rough landing, something radiated from the thing a ghostly blue.

It crashed merely a second after that – just a short distance from the far side of his farm if his estimation was right – with a noted lack of dramatics. There was not even a boom or other rapport of impact.

A safe landing probably.

Rather interested in whatever this could be, curiosity driving him, Lyta Lyle lit his thigh-mounted boosters and shot himself off to see whatever had come on down so close to his property. The dôji kept himself low as he crossed the distance, with no one else apparently interested in this strange thing – if they had even noticed at all.

He arrived there shortly, and set down at the edge of a small burning crater that was dominated by the pillbox item. It was not all that big. Lyta Lyle went in close to check up on the deceptively undamaged machine, until he found the hatch, complete with a little but fortified window... peered inside, and saw that its interior's on fire.

And in there, he also spied a body. A body collapsed in its harness, apparently unconscious. It was covered by both armor and helmet with one-sided visor... so he stood no chance in identifying the creature without at least removing the latter.

Except that it would die unless help is forthcoming.

With a little yell, Lyta Lyle tore his claws through the hatch and in a screech of tortured metal ripped the hatch out, tossed it away, and reached in to rip off the harness and pluck the body out... which he put on his shoulder before he turned to run when ominous beeping echoed from the apparent escape pod.

He barely got away before the thing shorted out and exploded fiercely, sending fragments of utterly ruined metal and electronics everywhere. All that was left whole, was the body that in its current state could only grunt and groan in a notable baritone accent incoherently.

"You're still alive, huh?" Lyta Lyle smiled as he comfortingly patted the being, "That's good."

One immediate idea was to bring him to authorities, but another idea occurred to him that he ended up liking a whole lot more. And following it, the dôji smiled rather smugly and turned to head back home with this alien in tow – leaving behind a rather scorched landscape.

Back and forth is just as far they say. It's the truth in terms of raw distance, but not if one took traveling speed into account. With an alien slumped over his shoulder, he took caution and went homeward on foot... which logically took a while. But he handled it and wandered without complaint, only briefly sighing in relief when he finally arrived and went through the routine of scraping dirt off his shoes – and checked if the alien's armor was clean as well - which it thankfully was if slightly scorched – before he stepped inside and put the alien onto the bed of what used to be Sullivan's room.

"Now then, I wonder if you have some sort of identification." Lyta Lyle muttered quietly as he sat next to the alien, probing the suit for any hint. But who was he trying to kid? It was a spacesuit, not some jacket with a bazillion and one pockets.

Thankfully the being's breathing was even, with little hint of pain or discomfort. It was jostled, but not damaged.

Only one way to really know for sure though, so Lyta Lyle very carefully and experimentally attempted to undo the suit safely. But it had no visible locks or bolts, which rather annoyed the fair dôji. So after a few attempts he felt as though he'd like nothing more than rip the thing open by force when he lifted the right arm and was abruptly startled by a holographic interface of green light popped into place.

"Mm, you got a few surprises there and there~"

Surprise soon replaced by interest, he tried to interpret the information which the tool so helpfully displayed... except there was one critical problem in this investigation. One that Lyta Lyle recognized as he finally withdrew his gauntlets from the comatose form.

"Oh. I can't read it." he lightly cursed at himself and got to thinking of a way to solve this difficulty, "But that does not necessarily mean all is lost. If I remember correctly... there's a wandering salesman downtown with just the goods I need."

Brightened by the possibilities he went to collect a few select stuff, but not before he put down a mug of water in the bedroom and locked the door so that the alien won't go wandering if it woke before he came back. "Right! I'll stop at nothing!" Lyta Lyle psyched himself up as he left for town.

* * *

_What a sleepy town..._

Bill lamented quietly as he sat in a corner of the newly sprung Oinari village. As a son of Avaro, it was in his nature to seek opportunity, and this had seemed to be it. With goods important to the widespread construction effort prioritized it was hard to get everyday commodities. Trinkets of interest and some such that would eventually be mass produced and made available as soon as sufficient industry's built to support it.

That in mind, the wiry dôji had secured what few of these special interest items he could gather and set out to places where it'd be even harder to get such items – places that are all on the frontier or across the countryside such as Oinari village. Except... it did not prove as lucrative as he had once hoped with only one thing sold to a little kid before a parent had come and pulled him away with some admonishment. In short, that was the brightest part of his experience here.

"How annoying." Bill complained as he pushed himself off the ground and hefted the big bag, where all his goods' are kept, onto his back – so big it looked almost comical on his short frame. Shrugging off the few odd looks he got, Bill started to make his way for the transportation point so he could try again elsewhere. So far as he was concerned, he and this village was through.

"Hey, shop still open?"

He was almost there when some person came towering over him from the side. One not that much bigger, but so pretty already with just a look from the periphery of his vision that he pushed his gaze to face this one fully. As a whole, the village only had a few hundred people. But even then he did not remember many faces, but one had to try hard to forget a figure like this one.

Bill nodded slightly, remembering the name that belonged to this person, "Ah, Lyta Lyle I presume?"

"That's me." the dark-haired dôji smiled dazzlingly, "So are you open for trade?"

"Pardon, but I am rather closed." he was almost hesitant to say no, "About to leave."

"Do make an exception." Lyta Lyle pleaded calmly and inclined enough that they met eye to eye, "There's something you might have that I'm interested in."

Unable to tear his gaze from the other one's eyes from this close, Bill stuttered as he almost lamely let his sack hit the ground, "W-why of course. Name what you need."

He smiled a little wider, "I would like to have linguistic information on languages of known alien species. I believe you had a data pad with that information."

"Oh that." the wiry dôji's narrow eyes widened with recognition as he turned – without letting his newest customer out of his sight. Almost blindly he opened the bag and dipped his claws inside, rummaging the space until he pulled out the data pad in question. "Such information has spread widely, thanks to the diligence of com dôji. And it will eventually be open to everyone. But not everyone has it yet, so you now have the chance to catch up and impress friends that don't have it." he flipped it around from claw to claw in his palm, "Aiming to become a linguist?"

"I'm just a farmer with a few hobbies."

Bill mentally drooped. If Lyta Lyle said he'd use it for future business opportunities it would allow him to push up the price. It was a simple but clever answer that he could not freely challenge. Clearly the customer was not one to take lightly.

"Alright..." he ran the delicious numbers in his head, which were somewhat tainted by unclean thoughts about parts of Lyta Lyle's curves that appealed to him the most. "That will be a thousand credits."

Out in the galaxy, it'd sound miniscule. But the dôji economy is very small at the moment. Right now such a sum amounts to a small fortune.

"How about I pay you five hundred credits." Lyta Lyle offered, smiling as he hefted something out of a bag at his side: A seemingly uninteresting frozen package. "Along with it I offer this. A full thirty pounds of treated Gargant meat. Perfectly preserved and likely to sell well as it will take some more time before it becomes available for widespread consumption. Real honest to father meat, not an approximation."

Bill was about to balk at such a small offer of coins, but came instead to stare at that package which was complete with its own simple self-preservation mechanism. He clasped his jagged teeth and free fist tightly as the offer did have great merit. The wiry son of Avaro had to fight the temptation of having that for himself.

Right now such a food was worth its weight in gold.

Great enough in value that if he offered it up to the right aspect... Bill's cheeks grew fiery red at the very thought of the possibilities.

"Hoh.. all red are we?" Lyta Lyle asked, a smirk on his hips as he had come even closer then the smaller without Bill noticing it. The realization sent the salesman up against the nearest wall in a moment of burning heat.

"N-no, no no no!" he protested, "I'm p-p-perfectly fine!"

The taller dôji put his free gauntlet against a hip, "So how does the offer sound? Not good enough?"

"It's fine. Perfectly fine!" Bill almost shouted, "A-actually... I'm feeling rather generous at the moment... so three hundred credits along with that packaged meat."

Both five hundred credits _and_ the meat was on the table, yet he made this reduction in price anyway. It was like an impulse, a desire to see what happened if he decided to make such a decision. A desire not at all disappointed, his core fluttering as the cut-down offer clearly delighted the other.

"Why thank you~" Lyta Lyle said as he fished out a number of coins and put them atop the bag along with the package before he came onto the wiry salesman and leaned in close, "But I guess I can't let such an abrupt cut-down come along without a proper 'thank you'."

Bill felt as though he could break out in hives by sheer heat of the moment if he had been an organic as the more regal-looking Lyta Lyle pressed and trapped him against that wall with that sultry gaze he gave. "W-what," amazingly his voice still worked, "do y-you offer?"

"This..." the taller dôji leaned fully in and the son of Avaro had to fight to make sure he did not lose control of himself as the son of Slow kissed his cheek. It was not on the lips, but right now it made no difference. Bill was lost in his bliss, and sagged almost limply to the ground as soon as the other broke contact. Looking on lamely as the haunting dôji accepted the device from his grip and turned to leave.

Lyta Lyle sang to him, "Glad to do business with you~"

"Please come again..." Bill barely stopped his voice from breaking into a plea. He could barely believe a son of Slow could be so seductive in a casual setting, "J-just one question... who was your father?"

"It was Slow, of course."

"And the other...?"

The farmer smirked, "Désir."

With that, it made a whole lot more sense. Bill slumped with sudden exhaustion and rested. For the moment unable to care that a transport had touched down and left during their negotiation, mind momentarily drowned in an old urban myth that existed between those two aspects as he watched the departing farmer.

* * *

What a lucky break.

"Here I thought I'd be spending most of my money." Lyta Lyle stated in triumph to himself when he got back home and stowed away the two hundred credits he ended up keeping after the deal was done. "Was ready for it, but never expected him to turn that way. Pleasant surprise."

And he kissed the guy for it.

"Oh my, better focus on what I went all the way there for..."

Quick to put all that behind him, Lyta Lyle stepped over to the currently used bedroom and entered after a twisting of lock. Luckily the alien was still there, and still sounding healthy despite all the trauma it went through.

Once again he sat on the bed and brought up his newly bought device to activate and browse through its pages, made a few queries and accessed language files – bringing up several sets of scripts and symbols.

The alien's interface was set on next, the fabled Omni-tool that the alien civilizations most commonly used. Lyta Lyle spent the next few moments comparing the writings, from one to the other, until he finally arrived at the language that matched it.

"Hoh... not one of the aliens species represented in the group that helped us out on Earth." he whispered in fascination to himself and read up on the word that corresponded with the written language: "Batarian. Huh. Let's see what information you got, mister Batarian."

He licked his lips as he focused his mind and carefully read the passages listed within the omni-tool. Enough information listed in it to fill several buckets had it been converted into lengths of paper. Some of it was interesting, but a whole lot of it was less than fine.

"Not the most reputable person are you?" Lyta Lyle wondered in distaste but not diminished interest as he read, "Numerous thefts. Terrorist bombings. Propaganda. Counts of murders in the triple-digits. And illegally downloading a movie. A garbage list of crooked things."

"Guess you fled here to escape from justice." he continued while standing back up, "But you did that only to meet with me, so I can apply my little justice to you. Get yourself ready, for you're all mine now mister Batarian. And I will as surely as the sky here are blue make use of you~"

In its own way, this is going to be glorious.

* * *

**Author note:** The first of the Mass Effect characters to enter the picture here is rather an unconventional one suffice it to say. Try to guess which one.

For first-time readers, some dôji may seem rather... ahem... forward. Despite being synthetics and thus genderless, they are quite given to rather sexual behavior at times, along with other desires one would normally associate with organic beings. But dôji mimicking organic society, one where the sins and virtues are openly accepted without much kept in the closet, is part of the dynamics in this series that contrasts the other synthetic species in this setting; the Kurozu and the Geth.


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter 3: Recruitment**

* * *

_Sixteen hours after the Relay Chase incident..._

_Location_: Utopia System; near Mass Relay.

Up close, the alien cruiser was an impressive sight. Angular in design and shaped like a bird of prey with hull arranged in overlapping patterns as if to give the impression of a coat of scales or feathers.

"Like a predator that swoops through the stars in search for its prey." Jealousy observed from behind the pilot's seat, taking pleasure in the view as their shuttle approached from the newly built frigate that ferried them hereto, a construct decidedly less aggressive in design with its more oval shape, as expected when the one in charge of designing and building their fleet happened to be one of the virtues; Pardonner, the Aspect that represent human capacity for Patience. "How high would you rate the chance of Vice losing his temper if I brought back a picture of this thing just to show what he missed out on?"

Once again the pilot and their two escorting soldiers were rather surprised at how casually he managed to address the dôji at the core of their mission. It was something that only fellow eldest of dôji could do with ease. For minor dôji on the other hand it was like addressing a living breathing divinity. To refer to him with due reverence came naturally to most of them. To some even more so when taking the church that established itself early on, which Regula joined as its head to keep it from going out of control.

All three waited with some anticipation for the silvery Grand Aspect Milieu's answer when those lips of his parted, "I would ask of you not to bother, if that is your intention."

Dejectedly, Jealousy slumped. "Okay. Just one for the road then."

Milieu subtly rolled his eyes.

"Five seconds to dock, my lords." the pilot reported as he steered them alongside the cruiser, steadily slowing to match its current orbit around the relay before he initiated a fly-in to the ship's opening hangar. Milieu watched with wrapped fascination how the new cockpit system now inimical to dôji-produced craft.

It was sort of reminiscent of how humans drove ancient motorcycles, with an elongated narrow seat on which the pilot sat with a strong frontal lean, legs and arms both extended into and interfaced with control sockets used to control the craft like it was an extension of his body. Alongside this was a harness that wrapped around the dôji and held him in place – though offering slight freedom of movement in how he rose from the seat and tilted to the side, willing the craft along as they finally came into the hangar and set down. "Landing... complete." their pilot continued with an expression of bliss as he relaxed his posture. All impression given that he loved his new job.

"Good work." Milieu smiled as he rose and slowly advanced to the hatch as the guards hastened to open it even as people crowded together outside. It looked like Regula's crew had the place fully under control.

Jealousy stepped out first, and the respectful response from the crowd was to be expected. They however did a double take once Milieu extracted himself from the craft and all as one collapsed to a knee.

Milieu acknowledged them with a brief glance at each. Some would have taken advantage of such devotion, but he did not – never letting his complete authority go to his head. Occasionally though he felt a tinge of amusement, such as this case as they completely did not expect to get such a visitor even after Ultimo did so not that long ago. Jealousy looked away at an opposing wall like it held something of interest, an upward tilt of his lips almost impossible not to notice, sharing in this mild hilarity.

Regula's adjutant approached, head held low, "What do we o-owe the honor of your visit, my lord?"

"Be at ease. I do not plan to devour you." Milieu giggled quietly, a dôji of rather tall stature he towered over the other even if he had chosen to stand straight, "Where may I find Regula?"

"H-he's up on second deck my lord. It holds the crews' quarters, mess hall, training room and infirmary. So it's where we are keeping the organic crew."

"Thank you."

"Of course sir. I am at your disposal should you need further direction."

"Appreciated, but I believe we can take it from here." Milieu politely declined with an oblique look to Jealousy who immediately fell to his flank. "Guards, stay with the shuttle."

The respective minor dôji both nodded, and the aspects moved on to the only apparent way up that did not involve physically ripping a hole upward; the elevator.

Inside there, Jealousy stabbed at the buttons to take them where they wanted to go – no impatience meant as except a number of his sons, he was the only dôji whose gauntlets were made entirely of one curved spike each. An odd design-choice courtesy of Dunstan that Jealousy never had a problem with.

By the time they finally arrived upstairs, Milieu had come to fully expect the second floor to be chock full of people, but the population density was still rather surprising as they advanced to find wherever Regula's currently at – best way to do so except to ask being to follow where the crowd's attention was concentrated.

There were aliens everywhere, sitting on whichever surfaces were present, including the floor. Most of them were turians, with a few individuals that were quite unlike those he had seen so far. Neither Quarian, nor Asari. He picked up the name 'Salarian' from those he passed. But no matter which species, they were all under the effect of Regula's Noh, unresponsive to most stimulus and had to be cared for by the dôji around them – a few of which even tried to feed a bunch of aliens some properly labeled rations in a corner of the mess hall in a show of effort that was positively paternal in its dedication.

Still, finding the aspect of Discipline turned a bit complicated really swiftly as it was downright impossible for one such as Milieu to pass through the crowd without notice and reaction. Something akin to the whole notion of an elephant trying to sneak through a horde of mice. Meaning literally seconds passed before the collective attention in here jumped and span around to face him like it had been electrocuted.

"Honestly, I wouldn't even put a penny on your success in a stealth mission." Jealousy cackled as they came to be watched with an astonishing mix of surprise and amazement.

Milieu sighed, "Very funny Jealousy." and took brief stops every now and then to quietly appraise the work of the minor dôji around them until they came to the infirmary where they finally found Regula, deeply engrossed in the digital contents of a computer.

The bald dôji looked up from the holographic patterns, a blank disinterested stare that transformed instantly into a grin. "No wonder there was such a sudden change of pitch out there. I did not expect my next visitor to be you, Milieu."

"Good to see you, old friend."

"What am I," Jealousy raised shoulders, faking his hurt, "canned beef?"

Regula cleverly smirked, "Would give sense as to why many so often try to corner you... Heh, it is good to see you too."

"Damn right it is."

"I'm guessing you two came here for a surprise inspection."

"In part, but my business lay elsewhere." Milieu replied honestly, "Mostly I am here on behalf of my own curiosity. And for its sake, I would like to know: How long until this ship must leave from here?"

The aspect of Discipline clucked his tongue, "There is no specific time-limit here. These were sent to undertake a kill or capture mission of the rogue cruiser – expected to last until they either complete their objective, lose track of target or runs out of supplies."

"No problem on that side," Jealousy felt the need to mention, "what with that ship's recent demise."

"And these ones' minds and ship logs will reflect the event accordingly," Regula sighed, "except with the knowledge that they shot it down and confirmed that no crew escaped. How is Ultimo doing by the way? He was quite distraught over what happened."

"Still sad, but is now leading recovery efforts with a laser-like dedication." Milieu deeply sympathized with the colleague as he had the wreckage searched in the hope of finding sealed compartments or escape pods with survivors on board. Said people were criminals, but being the kindest of dôji he was always the type to give second chances. At the very least, he would have put them in jail and attempt rehabilitation.

"I sincerely hope he finds what he is looking for." Regula said in concern and turned to him, "But back to the subject of this craft. Since you asked... I'm guessing you need this ship to stay for some more time."

"Just so." Milieu confirmed, his gaze held low, "I wish to loan one of the aliens for an experiment I wish to go through."

"An experiment?" the other frowned.

"Nothing harmful, Regula. It has to do with our ability to perform full-body transformation. I spent centuries studying how to trigger this, only to recently see Vice pull it off by accident with Saren's assistance."

Jealousy smirked devilishly, "Grown into a little bit of a sore point?"

"A little bit, I must admit." the silvery dôji ashamedly confirmed with a shake of his head, "I have no idea why Dunstan placed such a requirement. Almost like he expected aliens to eventually come on over and help us."

"Quite strange, but our honored father never did hide his eccentricity." Regula chuckled heartily, "So with this alien you want to study the transformation in detail?"

"Not just study it, I wish to experience it personally."

"Sounds really dangerous to me." Jealousy involuntarily shivered, "I shudder to think of how powerful your ICON might be, and who knows what the alien might do with that kind of power in its hands..."

Milieu put a reassuring gauntlet on the aspect's shoulder, "Precautions will be taken."

"Well, gather 'round then." Regula nodded at the computer after a few seconds of consideration while rapidly counting with his claws, "We have sixty aliens here, whichever you choose is yours for the duration of your little excursion."

Ultimately he wanted to not randomly take an alien but find a suitable one, so he was glad to see a list provided. Milieu motioned to stand behind his friend and read over the holographic display, filled with names and short summary of information. Carefully he looked over the profiles, intent and deep in his analysis till one finally caught his eye. One that just sort of clicked into place, like a piece of a puzzle. A little grin crossed his expression as he raised a gauntlet to the display and pointed at the name Kasic Khalk.

"That one."

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

When he finally woke, he expected to still be surrounded by the escape pod in which he used to escape. Instead, he found himself in some blank room with a couple of childish drawings on the wall that he could not find a reason to examine in detail. Of more interest was the soft bed, and the mug of crystal-clear water that sat on the shelf next to it.

But what is more, he still wore the armor. Whoever brought him in here had not bothered to remove it, or maybe he or she simply did not know how to. Damned bumpkins.

Lips dry, he released all the seals keeping the helmet in place so he could take it off and toss it onto the floor gracelessly and took the mug, brought it close and drank greedily off of it. Water was not at all what he liked, booze was always the better choice in his opinion - though he always made the point to not drink before a mission. Lack of a broad choice however made him do the pragmatic one.

There was a headache in place, one he tried to flatly ignore as he slowly pushed himself off the soft surface and onto the floor knee-first with a loud thud made all the worse by his heavy armor.

Irritation crept in because of this show of weakness, one he suppressed by taking pleasure to recall his latest exploits in the verge. A region of space the hegemony wanted for themselves... and to claim it discreetly hired crews willing to do what they cannot do officially, such as vast slave-grabs and raids against whichever colony other races have there in order to make them pack up and leave.

Work that went on despite the current buildup of military strength across the galaxy. The hegemony joined in for a good image to the gallery, while keeping a knife on their back sharp and ready. No progress without ambition, and the batarian people has that in spades.

Balak himself was no different.

However it is no excuse for neglect and idiocy. Through a bout of both, his subordinates attracted the turians' direct attention and they ended up fleeing till their ship was ready to fall apart. It was then that they came across an inhabited system and he ordered a beeline made for the habitable planet in the system, during which he covertly made the damaged reactor go critical and abandoned ship amidst the chaos of their arrival.

Doing so, his crew went down with the ship. A sacrifice made to protect the gene-pool if nothing else.

And now here he is, all that is left is snag a transport rated for FTL and go home where he can get a new ship and hopefully a better crew.

Grinning at the perfection of his plan, Balak finally found the strength to rise then left the bedroom to find this place to be quite the cozy little abode. Barely large enough for a small family. The batarian walked across the living room to look out the window, from which he gleamed a brilliant green landscape dotted by enclosures, plowed earth and native animals he found quite unfamiliar in the strictest sense.

Blinking each of his four eyes, Balak frowned and tried to find the kitchen – ignoring furniture that included pictures on top that would have warned him plainly about what this home belonged to along the way – in quest for some food. He did not quire realize till now how hungry he was.

From the door that led into the kitchen, he finally found something of great interest. A familiar and intensive fragrance in the air, coming from a collection of bottles of colored fluid stacked in a crate. Having seen, smelled and drunken every kind of beverages across the galaxy except for the krogan liver-killer called ryncol, he just knew this had to be some sort of ale.

Intent on getting some of it, Balak approached the crate. And was just arms' reach from the nearest bottle when he was finally addressed to by someone just outside his field of vision.

"I know what you're thinking, and I recommend you reconsider... or something or unfortunate will happen."

Balak was caught by surprise and whipped around to see a diminutive figure sit at the table a little further away, and like the case with the animals outside found himself struggling to recognize the species. It was a slender and delicate being with long flowing dark mane, lower in height by at least six inches, and covered by a richly colored robe. The alien's arms were hidden by the table, presumably resting on its legs. It having only two eyes triggered a sense of superiority in his being however as batarians looked down on species with fewer than four eyes, which lent strength to bring up a question of his own:

"And why exactly... would you deny a thirsting man a sip of ale?"

The being smiled, "That which you see there is a liquid that those gas bags outside bloats their outer hides with, and is the only reason they aren't extinct as a species. It contains such a high percentage of natural alcohol-equivalent that any beast stupid enough to try and take a bite off of one will die of alcohol poisoning. Drink from one of those bottles only if you have a distinct desire to depart for whatever afterlife you believe in."

As one could expect, Balak grimaced incredulously and backed away from the crate like it was about to blow.

"Wise choice." the alien continued to smile much like an angel, a devious one. "Assumption can sometimes be more dangerous than ignorance. That said, if you're looking for food... there is a package for you here. So sit down."

Hungry as he was, Balak did not really feel like arguing. So for the moment he accepted the hospitality and sat down in front of said package, fiddling with it for a moment till he found out how to open it. Inside was not a cold or lukewarm patch of food, but a hot meal.

Again he found identification difficult. None of its ingredients really rang a bell except that some parts of it might had come from some plant.

Slightly apprehensive, he fished up a provided utensil within the package and began to feed on it. But surprisingly, he found it to taste quite good. "So," Balak started to voice another question, "can you tell me where I can find the local spaceport?"

"I could," the being replied, "but you won't be going there."

He stopped eating – an act to which his body cried 'foul!'. "What?"

"You'll be staying with me for a while. A pretty long while."

"Is that a joke?" Balak growled, "I have places to be."

"Places to bomb, people to kill." it nonchalantly stated, much to his surprise, "Don't make that face. Your nifty omni-tool told me quite a lot about your choice of... work."

"So what," he defied, "you intend to mete out justice on me?"

"Exactly. You came here fleeing from justice, but you will find no solace here. My people have no extradition treaty with the Citadel – or good relations to speak of for that matter. So I will personally mete it out till that change."

Enraged by such audacity, Balak shot up from his chair and struck the table with both of his fists, to which the being did not even bat an eyebrow. "Impudent creature. Do you want me to break those twigs you call arms?"

To many, such a threat would have been enough to cow them into silence. But to the batarian's utter bewilderment, the alien actually started to laugh. Not a weak one to disguise fear, but genuine amusement. "Batarian. Did I not tell you of the danger of making assumptions?"

"What are you talking about?"

"You really don't comprehend what I am, do you?" it asked in amazement and finally raised its arms into view, to which Balak's eyes turned comically wide. All four of them.

Either of the aliens' arms terminated into the embrace of humongous green and sharply-edged gauntlets wider than the owner's torso, each ending in a quartet of pointed manipulators that spread wide as the alien shrugged, "Here's a hint." it continued and flaunted those gauntlets in front of him.

Staring at it, Balak simply gaped as something clicked into place in his brain together with a growing sense of utter horror. When he first saw this system, he thought it was his best chance to escape – instead he had delivered himself straight into the midst of the very synthetic enemy almost all the powers in this galaxy are arming themselves to fight.

But that fear was not nearly as great as the realization that he, right now, is in the same room as a Dôji. A synthetic he just threatened. It set off something primal inside of him, and Balak unceremoniously screamed in a manner that could only be considered undignified as he whipped around and tried to wildly flee from what could crush him into a ball of mush if it felt properly inclined.

"Guess you finally know. But hold on," one of the great gauntlets extended and grabbed him around the waist, dragging him back and down onto the chair while he flailed like a madman, "we're not done yet..."

Utterly overpowered by the dôji but refusing to give in, Balak clawed like his ancient ancestors at the gauntlet that now held him firmly in place without a stop to his screaming.

"Get a hold of yourself." it quietly demanded over the organic's noisiness, whatever amusement used to be there replaced by boredom with an embarrassed air to it, "Or I'll start to squeeze till you behave or faint – whichever comes first."

At first, Balak did not respond like desired and the grip grew a little tighter – enough that his loud yell was turned into a pathetic squeak. At which point he finally decided to shut up, but stared fearfully at his captor.

"Let's start over again." it spoke slowly, "Don't try to run and I'll let go."

He nodded in compliance and watched as the gauntlet unfolded and withdrew in relief.

"First, introductions." the dôji gestured to itself, "My name is Lyta Lyle. For the duration of your stay you will refer to me with due respect. Now, let me hear your name."

"... I will not give any of my peoples' secrets." Balak stated, body coated by sweat.

"Not interested in that. Give me your name."

"... Ka'hairal Balak."

"Mind if I just call you Balak?"

"Do as you wish..."

"Good." Lyta Lyle smiled, "We are making progress. Now as to your sentence."

"And what..." Balak rose in a dramatic manner from his chair, only to bumped over the head and back into the chair by a quickly brought claw courtesy of the dôji, "Ow... what do you want from me? Betray my people?"

The dôji folded his arms patiently, "No..."

"Rip me into pieces to see how long I will survive without parts of my body?"

"No..."

"Turn me into an obedient cyborg lackey?"

"No..."

"Seal my mind in an artificial world while you use my body to empower your machines?"

"No..."

"Then what. What do you plan to do with me?"

"Make you into my farmhand."

…

…

…

…

"... Huh?"

"Farmhand. You'll be working on my farm with me and do whatever other chores I come up with." Lyta Lyle curtly summarized, "I'll work you to the bone. And at the same time provide sleeping space – the room you slept in that my son used to have – as well as food."

_Farmhand?_ Balak thought incredulously, so far beyond confused his mind was spinning like a top – fueled by the thousand questions that now plagued him. _Come to think of it.. they're synthetics, so why in the hell do they have farms? And what the hell did he mean by 'son'? Why is there even a house... or bed?_

"By the way, as I understand, slavery is the big thing among you Batarians. Let this experience serve as an eye-opener. As for your armor, throw it away."

Balak did not answer immediately, momentarily struck speechless. "... And what am I supposed to wear?"

With a shrug, the dôji reached into a bag on the floor and extracted a big suit made of thick cloth along with a pair of hard-toed shoes. "This will be your work-suit from now on."

He accepted it with some reluctance, staring as the dôji's expression softened.

"Now go and change your clothes. I'll show you around the place after." Lyta Lyle ordered and clapped his gauntlets together with a strong finality that allowed no further protest, "Now... hop to it!"

* * *

**Author notes:** Yeah, that Balak.


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter 4: Of Exposition  
**

* * *

_One day later..._

_Location_: Utopia System; Tenjo; Stadium.

Opposites both attracts and repels, locked in a bond of apposition and opposition. Love and hate. Organics and Synthetics. Red and Blue. To co-exist, or try to exterminate one another.

Such is the case here as two great forces, hundreds strong, clashed. One painted Blue, one painted Red – both locked in a merciless battle of supremacy. From the rim came the Red, a regimented and orderly force of hawkish ships, gathered in small formations spread across a wide theater. From the core came the Blue, a vast horde of oval vessels that pushed toward their enemy with pure simplicity of intentions.

Through a vast gulf of space they traveled, until they finally met within effective range of their guns – effectively several light seconds apart when both fleets locked on target, and let loose a torrent of destruction.

And that was when it started to fall apart.

Annihilation was the goal of either force – but key differences made the outcome clear from the viewpoint of observers. Red advanced, each shot calculated, each attack and salvo a continuation of a preceding one. They attacked by strike force, and spread cautiously while their middle withdrew to provide a greater depth.

Blue however plunged forward without the slightest deviation, launching volleys with the deliberation of hooligans. Their plan was simply to rip out the enemy's heart and force knife fights across the theater in an orgy of violence – all shots aimed forward in mindless pursuit of that goal. There was no flexibility or change in motion, they simply advanced like one – as much a one as a rabble could be.

And they paid for it

Sure the Blues' barrages were massive, but to little effect as Red were too dispersed and lost only a few of their numbers – most shots clean misses. Blue however were too bunched to even begin to evade as the Reds' coordinated salvos reached them.

Dozens of Blue ships fell out of formation almost instantly, either whole with huge holes in their hulls or in pieces – leaking atmosphere into the empty vacuum of cosmos. Frigates were simply pulverized, while Cruisers fell apart in a storm of parts – expelling a large quantity of their crew that also soon expired.

Such casualties in the opening shots of their little war, but still no deviation. Blue rushed onward and paid for it as the Reds simply parted wide and let the reckless Blues fly into a properly prepared kill zone. The destruction that followed were predictable, one-sided and absolute.

Fortunately it was just a holographic simulation.

Across the stadium, all in attendance – hundreds of dôji spectators – observed with a mixture of wonder and horror that was difficult to expel. Veterans identified similarities to their war on Earth, where Dôji quality fought Kurozu quantity, and took it all in stride. Younger ones however simply stared nervously at the terrible show.

And as the ongoing simulated battle turned into a one-sided massacre, a single dôji rose onto the podium and gestured to what was going on with an elongated clawed gauntlet. "As clearly at least some of you can see, this is a textbook example on how _not_ to fight a battle in space." Pardonner the Aspect of Patience called out to the attendees.

Only a few eyes could divert from the slaughter to look upon the slender figure of their teacher in this session as he strode onward, and looked over the expressions of all present and deemed it satisfactory as far as reactions go.

"In the times that wait for us, our approach to war is going to face significant challenges. The most difficult transition being space combat." he continued and imparted some mild anger into his tone that made most pay more attention with no desire to upset their lord, "Unlike ourselves, our ships do not have a nigh-unlimited capacity of self-repair. Anything that doesn't break our cores, we can recover from. Such is not the case for our ships."

Pardonner flicked a claw and extracted from the battle a Cruiser as a form of presentation. Like their frigates, it was oval in shape but more elongated at that and vertically thin to present a smaller target. "Human vehicles does have some manner of repair capability, but for that not only does the ship require a lot of energy, but a ready storage of nanomachines. But note, that does not make your ship harder to kill. Those machines can only repair by sacrificing a different part of the craft – such as thinning out the hull. All it does is maintain functionality for as long as possible. It can still be sunk in one good shot. Vigilance and situational awareness is key – recklessness however is not!"

"And that brings us back to this ill-fated 'battle'." he flicked a glance across the audience, his students, "Can any of you tell me what went wrong here?"

It was fairly obvious to any experienced eyes, but he wanted answers from the younger generations so he can be sure that the lesson has sunk in. All of these in attendance are those who will be commanding officers on each their ship and impress on their respective crews the lesson they themselves learned here.

"Um." one among these young ones raised a gauntlet.

Pardonner folded his arms and turned to the dôji in question, "Yes Baron?"

All dôji have glasses and visors with which to protect their optics, but like quite a bit else dôji can grow up with a few unique characteristics. In the case of Baron, his glasses were composed of no more than a single monocle. The youngster flushed at being referred to by name and dipped his head low, "T-there were no tactics at work, no flexibility."

"Exactly. Each species maintain separate types of warships for a reason, they all have their purposes – oft specialized ones. Fighters."

To the fore he brought the image of the dôji nation's first dedicated fighter craft. As of late, they tended to name things after objects and people in old human mythologies. Military classes are no exception – in which case the names have come to be primarily Hindu in origin. This particular craft for example was named the _Kalki-__class_ Fighter. It was thirty meters in length, and in shape was like a stylistic interpretation of a winged assault rifle with the upper 'handle' holding the cockpit which design matched that of any other ship below the super-capital ship classes. It was armed with two triple-barreled mass accelerators – using alien inspired technology in most of their fleet-based weaponry.

"Their job is to counter their enemy equivalent, intercept guided munitions and support frigates."

Next he brought up the _Asura-class_ Frigate, one hundred and fifty meters in length. Shaped like a curved inverted teardrop, it compensates for its low hull-strength with heavy armament and an oversized engine section that grant it speed and agility second only to fighters. To complement this, just ahead of its engines there are several 'slits' in the hull where fighters can dock, allowing the frigates to bring their fighter screen with them – a trait common to all ship classes to various extents.

He intended to develop a dedicated Carrier, but that would have to wait. They did not yet have sufficient strategic depth nor the number of fighter pilots to warrant the development of such a vessel. Pity really as the Citadel seem to have no concept of such dedicated craft.

_Anyway_, he brushed this brief moment of thought effortlessly aside and continued; "Frigates serve as attack and ambush vessels operating in wolf-packs of four to six. They are built entirely for the purpose of closing the gap and engage in knife fights – primarily to destroy weak or weakened craft and disrupt elements. Offense is their primary concern."

Next was the _Vajra-class_ Destroyer – same length as the preceding craft, but with a vertically flat design akin to the _Kalki_, and coated with countermeasure systems and point defenses. Their purpose is entirely separate of the Frigate.

"Destroyers' only task is to safeguard our heavier vessels. To protect them from enemy fighters, frigates and munitions that our fighters can't handle. In either case, these will allow us to more easily deploy our heavy guns..."

The _Shiva-class_ Cruiser was next. Seven hundred feet in length, it looked like a larger and wider version of the Asura, with 'wings/fins' directed downward. It has better armament that includes a spinal mass accelerator, better armor, can carry more fighters.

"Cruisers are the workhorse of the fleet, they create the very real line between our enemy and our people. Gathered in strike fleets set up in stacked formation their purpose is to provide a wall of heavy firepower. Naturally each strike force will be allowed a certain freedom on how to go about their orders, but leave out pin-point strikes against particular targets to our Dreadnoughts unless told otherwise."

So came the _Brahmastra-class_ Dreadnought, one and a half kilometer in length. Of those they only have three so far, with two more on the way, so large that they need to be built in sections and assembled in Tenjo's orbit. Most dreadnoughts are built to bombard planets, but these are exclusively for fleet-bombardment – armed with a spinal projector, a massive laser cannon meant to snipe targets from extreme distances.

"They are our dedicated snipers, and it is absolutely forbidden for them to enter knife fights. If that occur..." Pardonner hesitated, "... then something has gone terribly wrong."

Lastly came a comparatively diminutive craft, the one hundred and fifty meters long _Kurma__-class_ Corvette. More utilitarian in appearance, they are heavily armored, got powerful engines, but armed exclusively with large sensor arrays and passive defenses.

"And these are our little helpers, little but no less important. They are ELINT craft. Cyber-warfare and electronic countermeasures are their suite. Like is the case with Dreadnoughts, I want them nowhere near a knife fight. If that happen and those of you on them survive," Pardonner put palms to his hips, "you will answer to me. Is that understood?"

A nervous set of responses followed in the affirmative.

That only left what would be the jewel and flagship of their nascent fleet. But it was not necessary to bring it up yet as construction was not nearly done. The _Chakravartin-class_ Juggernaut with its size of five kilometers would be their greatest warship, obscenely heavily armed and armored.

"To avoid ending up like the Blue fleet, we must become like the Red fleet. Keep these bits of information in your minds as well as those of your assigned subordinates, for it will be important when we start doing mock battles, even more so when the war begin. Don't let me catch any of you slacking in your training, or I will damned well make sure you won't see the bridge on any ship for the next fifty years." he continued in a tone that left no doubt that he meant it, "Do you understand!?"

His students universally stood and bowed with a repeated choir of affirmatives such as "Aye sir!", "I understand!" and, "One hundred percent, lord!"

"Good." Pardonner's voice carried across the chamber and closed the holographic images close with a metallic snap of his fingers, "Class dismissed." and watched as the students started to file out in orderly lines – less orderly so where sons of the sins congregated. Only once most of these had left did he start to descend from the podium in a series of light steps, and widened his stance slightly as a diminutive body intercepted him into a glomp. The aspect made an elegant smile as he patted his son on the head, "Whoa there Hikari."

"Dad, that was amazing!" Hikari chimed in, a dôji who had turned out like predicted by others early on – a clingy son that despite nearing the state of adulthood showed no sign of being willing to leave his father's side.

Pardonner did not mind it at all. Most elders of their kind enjoy the prospect of offspring willing to stay with their parents for longer than what is usual. He held his young one who now buried his face into his dad's apron with much paternal love. "It was just a teaching session Hikari. Nothing special."

The youngster pouted childishly, "It was special to me."

"I suppose it was." he mildly cooed.

"But one thing dad, a friend of yours told me he wanted to see you after this."

"Oh... and who was tha-" Pardonner asked in interest before he was made to glance sidewards as a familiar figure rose from a distant chair and moved in on them, "Oh, it's you." he sighed under his breath, "What have you come to me for this time, Désir?"

Désir, the Aspect of Lust came sauntering over with arms folded, quite shameless in how he flaunted his figure in every motion – an exercise backed by centuries of practice. An aspect who oozes sex appeal, he is the object of desire for countless dôji. Désir made a point to gladly provide any that catches his attention a perfection of bliss that could not be found anywhere else. Part of it came from centuries of non-stop experience and a devious mind, but most of it came down to a very creative use of his Noh power that allows him to make a target vulnerable to him in any specific way he choose. Simply put he could project onto his 'prey' an unending wave of ecstasy – fully blowing away the perceived 'pleasure ceiling' most organisms up to and including dôji are subjects to in the quest for supreme all-consuming euphoria.

Pardonner however was not particularly interested in such primal pursuits, which placed him in the unique position as the only aspect Désir had not conquered yet, and thus by extension made him a big target, a mountain to scale.

"I would guess you already know the answer to that." the pink-maned dôji sniggered quietly as he beheld father and son with a thoughtful smirk, "But rest easy~ I came here to make an invitation."

"Let me guess... another date?" the aspect of Patience could not resist the reflex to roll his eyes, "Not interested."

"Not a date, though I really could make it one~" Désir softly spoke and unfolded a gauntlet to show off a package, dangling it in the air in front of the two.

Pardonner stared at it, or more precisely its contents. Sausages. "What, you offering me hot dogs for dinner? Did not think you could be so mundane."

"Not just any hot dogs. Sausages made from Gargants." the other gleefully explained, "Bought these a little while ago and wanted someone to roast and share them with." he licked his lips hauntingly, "Might as well be you."

_Not the approximation of hot dogs, but the real deal?_ Suddenly the invitation had a startling amount of merit. According to rumors, the meat of those creatures are positively delectable.

Seeing this faint interest, Désir widened his smile. "So how about it, does my invitation sound more... inviting... now?"

Pardonner sighed in apparent defeat, "Fine, but Hikari comes along."

"Good." the fellow aspect recollected the package into his grasp, "So when will you be available?"

"Once I am done with my work for a while." he said resolutely, and extended his arm for a data pad he quickly brought up to read and check the schedule, "It will take a couple of days, but I'll call for you to come to our cabin when ready."

Intrigue was quickly apparent as the smirking Désir's vast orb of a tail bobbed seductively in reaction to the astonishment his sultry expression wouldn't show, "Inviting me to _your_ cabin, Pardonner? Truly auspicious, makes me hopeful."

"Don't read too much into it, Désir." Pardonner gave a slightly indignant huff as he continued to pat his son who remained silent as the two conversed. "It's a dinner between colleagues, nothing more."

"Of course~" he laughed and in deliberate slowness turned to saunter away, "Looking forward to it."

A fair while was waited, at least until the fellow aspect had left, before the father whispered quietly; "Do make sure you do not fall to his wiles..."

Hikari looked up like he had not heard that, "Huh?"

"Never mind. Wanna come along to the ship yard? Another Shiva's almost done."

Excitedly the young jumped, "Sure!"

Pardonner grinned at such innocence and pushed the youngster along as they headed out for the nearest tram, "Alright, off we go then."

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

"Argh... my back!"

Lyta Lyle stabbed his hoe into the dirt as he looked on with dry amusement at the newly employed farmhand who so colorfully complained at how hard the work was. "Put your back and hips into it. You're so stiff I'm starting to doubt your elite soldier credentials."

"S-shut up." from where he stood little more than fifty feet distant, Balak shot him an irritated look. "Don't you have any machines for this kind of work?" he loudly shouted in pained frustration, rubbing his sore back while supporting himself against the hoe he was supplied with. "Bloody hell..."

"Of course I do! That's us."

"You know what I mean..."

"Huh. All of our production facilities are busy on more essential functions." the dôji swung his hoe onto the shoulder, looking over the tater field he wanted to expand, "So until they're fully established we plow the old-fashioned way."

"Old-fashioned is way overrated."

"Quite. But we're doing it, so get going. Another ten meters before break time."

Balak grunted harshly an affirmative as he continued nursing his back, mustering the strength to go on. He had turned brave enough to talk back to his synthetic employer, but not nearly enough to dare any real defiance. But as soon as he hefted the hoe, a heavy stomp-like tremor made the dirt shift slightly about.

"Up earlier than usual, Hatter?" Lyta Lyle casually greeted that which walked along the not-so distant road, a rather huge figure that towered over any dôji, and Balak for that matter who stared wide-eyed at it.

Maybe it more of what counted as a terrifying synthetic to the organics out there, the gaunt and rather hunched figure of a Frogfoot, though more and more dôji collectively referred to the results of studying the Undertaker found in New York as 'Taison'. Since those studies were completed, several more had been produced in its likeness, if somewhat smaller by a few feet.

Of all the Taison that exist now, most live in Yggdrasil as a police force of sorts. Only one of them chose to live out here; the strangest one. The terrifying image was spoiled somewhat by that big straw-hat held in place by its horns, which by itself was only the start of Hatter's eccentricity.

Most of its kind replied in kind when addressed, but Hatter turned its upper body to face them and stared with its cold and swiveling blue optics before it raised an elongated arm to a space behind its back and pulled out a wooden sign which read as 'Good morning, Lyta Lyle.'

It hesitated, withdrew the sign, and held out another one: 'Something's wrong with this picture.'

Lyta Lyle paced closer, "Oh you mean this?" while idly pointing out the organic, "This is Balak, my newly employed farmhand."

Said batarian huffed, "Impressed into service."

"You make it sound so bad." the dôji tutted with palms on hips.

"This or prison. I'm not sure which is worse."

"In the latter, it is possible that you'll either be babied into changing your ways by lord Ultimo, or lord Regula would mind-wipe and put you in a less than desirable place – such as that Citadel spacecraft still in the system."

A defeated groan announced his understanding of the limitation of his options. "Here it is then..." Balak rolled his eyes exasperatedly.

Lyta Lyle gave a tiny grin, "Good boy."

Hatter slumped slightly, and switched to another sign: 'How troublesome. It'd be a real chore to put forth a report about this...'

"You're surprisingly lax for a Taison, Hatter." Lyta Lyle giggled, amused by how much of a slacker this machine was. "I guess that's why you chose to live here."

The 'Aye' sign came up, followed by 'I'll just pretend I did not see anything'. Hatter swiveled back to continue its walk. 'Just don't let him cause any trouble'.

"You can count on me." he waved idly, "And someday, I swear I'll find out exactly where you pull all those signs out from."

'Good luck with that' the Taison sign-wise shrugged as it left.

"The lot of you are insane." Balak grunted in glum observation, "Why in the world are you so fixated on cultivation of food anyway? It's not like you can eat anything."

"We can."

"Huh?"

Lyta Lyle indicated his chest, "We have a processing system that serves as our equivalent of a digestive tract, just far more efficient."

Having heard this, the batarian's expression twisted in an interesting imagery of repugnance given the extra two eyes on his being. "Disgusting..."

"Hah, at the very least we do not need toilets." the slender dôji quirked his head cleverly, "You organics have a singular knack for dirtying up places."

The alien snorted. "Shut..."

"Verbal sparring won't get us anywhere productive. Now," he verbally rapped at his four-eyed worker, "get back to work. Ten more meters."

Balak held his tongue and trotted back to continue where he left off, probably thinking all sorts of nasty things as he chopped up the soil and overturned it.

"Planned to go downtown today, but I guess coaching you will take priority for the time being." Lyta Lyle said conversationally, "Work well and I'll bring you along."

"Would prefer to stay."

"Chained in that case." that the alien would try to use that to try and flee was clear as day.

Resignedly, Balak growled, "... I'll go."

"That's a good boy." Lyta Lyle said in an almost paternal manner, "Now finish up."

* * *

Twenty painstaking minutes later, Balak lay like he was a corpse upon the marvelously soft bench within the dôji's little home. It was like every section of his spine had been dislodged from the work. No more than ten meters, but it might as well had been a hundred for all the ache he was immersed in.

He almost looked forward to whatever that machine would cook up, even if it happened to be poisoned. To help cope or just end this altogether, either was good he simply decided. And thus he waited in anticipation, panting as he listened to the surprisingly pleasant sound of boiling water, accompanied by a gentle hymn as Lyta Lyle busied himself.

"Seriously," he could hear the dôji sigh from the kitchen, "it really makes me wonder if your soldier credentials are at all real with such poor conditioning."

Balak grunted, "Urgh, s-stow it. My people's special force training is the hardest in all the known galaxy."

"Really. So far I've seen nothing to indicate that as anything but wishful thinking."

Hissing in restrained anger, the batarian held himself from letting out a scathing retort at a robot that could possibly separate him into pieces like he was wet paper and tried to ignore any further comments. To help in the self-distraction, he articulated his head to look about the room in a state of total focus till he tilted far enough back to look at a small pedestal next to the bench, complete with a framed image he could not see clearly till he despite himself raised a hand and grabbed to haul in and get a better look at it.

An image of three dôji greeted him. Balak recognized Lyta Lyle who stood to the left immediately. The rest however were unknown, including a bigger synthetic to the right, and a much smaller one between them. It was bizarrely like looking at a family photo.

Subsequently he could no longer quite ignore his machine host as he finally came, with two bowls that reeked of strong-smelling sensation cupped in each of his palms. "Fetched some interest in my photos, have you?" the slender mechanism clucked in observation.

"Not really..." he refuted.

A sigh was released and Lyta Lyle alternated the grip on a bowl, "Is that so?" and put it down on the table in front of him, "Here you go, this strong stew will set you straight."

Balak stared at the bowl as his host sat on the adjacent chair and elegantly began to drink from his own bowl with a utensil to help ushering the food into the barely agape mouth of his. It made the batarian shudder with revulsion as he picked himself up to stare into that food that was cooked up for him. It was red, surprisingly red-hot, "... And this is safe?"

"Don't be such a baby." the other cooed in a paternal manner, as if talking to a defiant child. "Eat up."

Cursing severely in his mother tongue he grabbed the boil and with the utensil took a taste. It was indeed red-hot, and spicy like all hell as proven when his tongue abruptly swelled. "Bah, what the hell is this?"

"Spicy stew." Lyta Lyle shrugged and said right after a hearty swallow, "It does one good."

Balak put the bowl down. "Too hot at the moment, need to cool down." he excused to not rile up his synthetic host.

"I see."

"... So who the hell are these?" he picked up the photo from before and pointed out.

"Is that the right phrasing one should use?" Lyta Lyle frowned as he took the photo in an elongated motion as he lowered his own bowl of food, unaffected by its extreme heat. "They're my most recent family after all."

"Machines with families." Balak chuckled at the ridiculousness of it. But he made sure to stifle it quickly as the robot frowned and turned the photo around, pointing the image at him:

"That's right. We form relationships, get married, and copulate like organic beings would do. Our father made us so that we approximate organic society as closely as possible. For example, we eat, we sleep, we bathe, we fall in love." the dôji's tone changed slightly and became a littler softer: "This guy here's my most recent bond mate, such a strong and caring one... just like one can expect from a son of Gauge. His name is Switch."

As expected, Balak could not help but feel revulsion, but did not let it show. It was too dangerous to do so. "Huh." was all he answered with. That and, "And where's he now?"

"We had a differing in opinion. I wanted to start a farm, he wanted to rejoin the military. There was a little fight before he departed and left me to raise our son alone." Lyta Lyle recounted sadly as he pointed out the smaller figure, "Our little son Sullivan. Since the image was taken he has grown up and left though. Too much of his childhood he was raised on stories of our past battles with the kurozu I guess, so now he's gonna join the military as well."

"Another machine itching to commit murder." slipped out of him.

The dôji looked him over morosely, "That is my son you're talking about."

Balak understood his misstep and swiftly but partially changed the subject; "S-so how was your kid made? Did you order the parts from some factory or something."

For some reason, the parent got more annoyed. "Not produced like that." but managed to simmer himself down slightly, "Though you may be loathe to disbelieve it, but I meant it when I said 'copulate' earlier. To achieve childbirth we engage in intercourse with the impregnation of the other as the goal – though ours is a bit different from yours. Observe."

The idea of machines having sex was deeply disturbing, previously thought to be the realm of perverse fetishists of the highest order alone, but this time he managed to keep his tongue still from actually wording it and instead watched as the dôji raised a gauntlet, eyes widening as it began to pull itself apart rearrange by a mess of segments. It took only a moment to complete its transformation and what came from it was a black blade vastly longer and more massive than the gauntlet it had originally been.

If it was not for the wall behind him, he would have in horror fallen away from the massive raised blade so easily brandished by that diminutive figure.

"Karakuri henge:" Lyta Lyle smirked lightly at the astounded batarian's wide-flung eyes, "Obsidian blade. With this I've laid waste to eleven thousand kurozu across my centuries of battle. But that is besides the point, as you can see we can deploy tools and weapons that far exceed our original mass. We dôji do this through a method of energy to matter conversion that our father invented and embedded into our kind so we could fight back without need to torture the earth like the kurozu do and still does."

"And... this has what to do with childbirth?"

With a slight move, the blade collapsed back into the gauntlet it was before as the machine continued softly, "We can use it for different things. That includes exactly that. Through copulation a karakuri henge occur for the simple purpose of creating a child – though it takes far longer than the one I just showed to complete, resulting in a time spent 'pregnant'." Lyta Lyle flexed the returned claws a little and giggled at the fond memory, "Once I was done carrying Sullivan to term, couldn't move my hand in quite a while. But it was worth it. I never grow tired of that moment, when a new life emerge and open his eyes for the first time."

Balak tried to view this coldly, but the dôji was so quietly passionate about it that even he could not help but be very slightly moved. "So that is how it works. Damned weird." he tried to cover it up.

"Maybe you'll be more accepting should you ever witness it in person." Lyta Lyle grinned at him in amusement, "And that is perhaps bound to happen."

"What are you planning?"

"Did tell you we're gonna head to town, once I'm done coaching you. Among the things I hope to find is a useful guy. I very much plan on getting pregnant again."

"Hopefully not just to demonstrate the process to me."

Lyta Lyle cocked his head and beamed, "Of course it's a plan I had in mind before you came. After Sullivan's departure I decided that my next child should be raised on the virtues of agriculture so that he'll stay with me and help manage the farm – even take it over if I happen to be in the need to commit to far-away business."

It had occurred to him before, but it was especially apparent now how he appeared to be under the same roof as a machine that has a very womanly mannerism, "How... ambitious of you."

"Oh, right. I must not get so far ahead of myself." Lyta Lyle laughed, scratching his chins in slight embarrassment, paused, then flashed a look at the batarian's stew. "Aside from that, you should take that food in now. It'd be a waste if it gets too cold."

"Yes mom." Balak rolled his eyes, annoyed as he once again tried the stew and now found it somewhat passable.

Apparently satisfied with this progress, the synthetic finished what was left of his stew then made his return to the kitchen. "Once you're done, put the bowl here on the table."

"Anything else?" he growled over the food.

"Nothing else." Lyta Lyle verbally shrugged, "I'll have to iron out a proper training schedule for you, so go ahead and take a nap."

…

One thing was sure, he did not at all look forward to whatever schedule the other sought to build, but the offer for a nap on the other hand was a godsend. So he quickly emptied the bowl and took it to the table before returning to the room he was bunked at – only pausing to stop and lock the door with absolutely no illusion that it would stop the synthetic but assured simply by it being there.

Just knowing that the dôji would give him an earful for sleeping in it, he quickly undid the overall and got settled, and fainted more from the aching back than inherent sleepiness. It would have to do.

It simply had to do.

* * *

**Author notes:** Originally planned to have details on the fleet wait till the real sequel, but decided to put some basic information on it here instead.


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter 5: Discovery**

* * *

_Two days later..._

_Location_: Exodus Cluster; Shiva-class Cruiser "Diomedes"; en route to Hephaestus System

In relative comfort, Milieu meditated in the observation deck with a clear view to the vastness of space, and the stripes of stars and aura of blue streaking across it beautifully – only obscured by one of the four Vajra-class Destroyers relegated to escort duty, the only one within viewing range while the rest were as far as a hundred thousand kilometers distant.

Aside from the view, a holographic image lay on the side – one of the system they are on the way to, most recently found by the expedition Avaro sent, approved by himself and his two fellow Grand Aspects. It was estimated to be a long-lasting mission, but struck gold on their first try.

With four solid planets and six vast asteroid fields, the newly named Hephaestus System was incredibly rich with resources the enterprising dôji ahead of them are already digging into, establishing mining stations across the outskirts in preparation for forays to come.

Accordingly, Milieu selected the innermost planet – Cabeiri – as site for the experiment he was most excited and looking forward to conduct. Kasic Khalk, the turian he 'recruited' for this currently sitting safely in stasis. Not to be awoken till they arrive on the chosen planet.

For the moment, deep inside he fought to conceal his growing excitement. Wondering with great curiosity what kind of experience awaited him in the much too belatedly discovered ICON mode Vice just happened to stumble upon, and the inevitable intimate bond with the one who would man him.

Despite the theories and dreams dancing inside him like delectable morsels however, he felt thankful when the ship's Captain called him over the intercom, providing distraction; "My Lord, we have received two transmissions addressed to you."

"Communication room?"

"It is ready for you, lord."

"Thank you. I will be right there."

Milieu rose from the chosen couch and left the place to traverse the ship. At first glance it seemed rather rather empty, but only because the ship needed no more than a crew of five. Aside from them, ten more were scattered throughout the ship. Non-essential personnel, mostly bodyguards. To the organic civilizations on the other hand, to walk through it would seem rather lonely a walk.

At least the 'lonely' walk lasted only the short distance between himself and the entrance to the communication room, flanked by a pair of com dôji who looked up to him with a noted nervousness but without a word or other expression aside from a crisp salute. Perhaps among the few who worried for their function in the face of rapidly expansive communicative technologies being produced.

Feeling rather perky, once he was between them he raised his arms and folded them round the minor dôji, and brought them abruptly into a tight hug that utterly surprised them in light of how wide open their eyes became, staring at the chest they were pressed up against with cheeks a profuse red. "Children," Milieu cooed reassuringly as he patted their backs before letting the blushing pair go so he could head inside, "there is no need to fear. Engrave will always have a place."

From what he saw of their changing expressions to that of gladness out of the corner of his eyes, his guess of which topic they maybe considered bringing up proved to be the right one. And as though seeing that as a good moment to proceed, the door closed shut between them.

Like everywhere else, the curved walls within this room were clinically white, contrasted strongly by the pitch black of floor and ceiling – broken only by the circle that dominated the room's middle, into which he walked and stood still and waited with some curious anticipation.

In reaction to his presence, a holographic array opened around him, and with it the room faded away... and was replaced with a dazzlingly cityscape glittering with light he recognized as Yggdrasil. A beautiful place dotted by many construction works still in progress circling around the yet unfinished spire in the middle that towered over him magnificently, which would eventually include boughs that will stretch over the city's skyline, helpful in providing protection the coming war composed of many layers of kinetic shielding – just one of many security measures, including a range of city-scale reactors dotting the rest of Eden Prime that will help trick the alien sensors and direct fire on unpopulated regions.

Milieu did hope that it would not need to be put to the test though.

"What do you think of the progress thus far, Milieu?"

The Grand Aspect looked on over to the image of the gold-maned Sophia who stood in the outskirts of the cityscape with a smile, "It's splendid."

"Large sections of the residential and industrial districts are almost finished, and the people has already established shopping streets. Small at the moment, just like the economy currently is, but those will only grow as we near the deadline."

"Shopping areas. Courtesy of some enterprising individuals?"

"In large part farmers who are selling samples of food and drinks with native ingredients for a great – at the moment – price. It's only par for the course."

"I admit," Milieu thought with a claw to his chin, "I have not divulged much attention to the subject of native foodstuff. How is it?"

"Like you can expect, being produced from natural sources they are in a class of their own. Vegetables have proven quite good, the meat of established cattle is likewise succulent. Most impressive is one of the new drinks, a beverage with an incredible purity of alcohol. Poisonous for organics I guess, but a delight for dôji. Or at least for those sufficiently used to beverages not to drop unconscious at the first sip." Sophia shrugged in amusement, "Would suggest a ban so youngsters and eventually organics won't drink it."

"And how about you?"

Sophia blushed embarrassingly, giving away that he has in fact tried the drink and faltered... possibly even fainted in face of it. He never could hold his liquor. Milieu giggled, and the aspect of Wisdom turned redder as he started fidgeting. "It's... absurdly potent."

"Then, if you don't mind me making this request, I would like you to prepare me a meal for when I return." Milieu half-demanded with an enticed smile, quite interested in trying it all. "Can you do that for me?"

"Um, I can ask Eater if he might be able to provide the resources. How much would you like?"

"If native foods are as good as you claim," He was somewhat shameful to admit it, but the appetite of a dôji was directly proportional to his power requirements. Consequently, he had a staggering one. Funnily enough, if they can manage to normalize relations with the organic civilizations, the food businesses would perhaps jump in joy in the face of potentially very lucrative business. "I would like the table fully loaded."

Sophia nodded, "It will be done."

"Oh, I swear. All this talk of food is making me hungry in due turn." Milieu patted his midsection, a very human motion to indicate how famished he felt, "Is there anything else you need to show me, or may I go tend to it?"

"Sorry about that, but though an update was in order," the golden-maned aspect smiled sheepishly, "the real reason I wanted to talk to you is on something else. Something more important."

With a sigh, he put his gauntlets on hips as he fixated his gaze into Sophia's blue and yellow eyes. "I understand, and what might trouble you?"

"Y-yeah. It's just that... indeed our current priority is to set up and prepare for a future onslaught by organic forces. But we should also consider what we will face beyond the most imminent threat – that of our old nemesis." Sophia said

"The Kurozu." Milieu's expression turned solemn, "What are your thoughts?"

Sophia nodded his thanks, and sat cross-legged onto the floor on his end. "We can safely predict what they will do at first as a matter of naturality: Establish off-world factories on any number of easily accessible celestial objects, then commence mass production ad infinitum so long as the Sol System's natural resources will allow with one overriding goal in mind."

"Galaxy-wide extinction event." the more regal dôji summarized, "And beyond."

"Precisely. In that, they are as predictable as they are a bottomless well of sadistic fatalism. Unfortunately, their course is only easy to tell up to that certain point. What is left is how they'll carry out battles from now on... And even more unfortunately, the only way to get an accurate estimate is observing the Kurozu's current testing ground for future efforts."

"... The Citadel Blockade of the Sol System."

"Aye. Due to current Council priorities; destroying us, they won't enter the Sol System in force. So the kurozu has the luxury of pitting forces and test designs against the greatest naval power in the galaxy without reprisal."

"Question is if they will actually even bother."

"Either way, I believe it is imperative that we establish a recon group for the set purpose of observation – if nothing else to let us know if the kurozu go and do something big."

"I can see the need of it, and I deeply agree, but it's an impossible task at this point of time." Milieu sighed regretfully, "... It is something that must wait till after the war starts, and only if we can keep the organic fleets at bay reliably."

Sophia slumped, "... I understand."

"Don't be like that." he chastised the aspect mildly, "It just has to wait for the time being. Do some preliminary paperwork and find potential candidates, bring your plan to the full council again when the right time comes."

It looked as though an electric current shot through Sophia as he looked down to the floor, looking deeply embarrassed, "Y-you're right. I've let worry ride me and jumped the shark."

"Don't worry, I'm not thinking less of you for it." Milieu changed his tone for the more reassuring kind, "You're afraid of all the destruction the kurozu has such a capacity for may wreak if we handle the threat poorly, and looked for a solution to help minimize it."

"But I should have known better than bring it up so soon."

"Everyone makes mistakes. Even the wisest can be caught by their own momentum. Just go and rest then back to work. You'll feel better."

Sophia exhaled at length and reclined his head, "I will do that. Thank you for your time."

"And yours."

The connection terminated and Milieu was left to relax in an emptying room as the holographic image faded away. With lazy aplomb, he scratched his neck and looked up to the ceiling. "Captain, next transmission please."

"Aye Lord."

Once again the room's features turned vague as another image overlapped them. This time his surroundings took the shape and form of a dark office, complete with a large desk and its diminutive owner. Avaro was one of two aspects of short stature, and matching lack of patience. Forced to wait so long, he was irritated enough that he could not hide the scowl of an expression in time as Milieu turned to regard him.

"Sure took your sweet time." the rat-like dôji commented on his wait, "Was wondering if you'd ever come around."

Ignoring the diminutive being's tone, Milieu shrugged, "I was preoccupied speaking with Sophia, Avaro. His transmission came alongside yours and just happened to come up first." and quirked an elegant eyebrow, "Is that a problem?"

"Ah!" Avaro caught himself and clasped his gauntlets together in a placating manner, "Not at all, I was merely curious to make a request in light of your trip to Hephaestos."

"What manner of request?"

"My people down there just finished putting together the premade modules for the Chthonic Station, our HQ in the System at least for the time being. It would mean much to them if you, um, came by for a visit."

Listening to this, Milieu felt distinctly like a mascot. It was both curious and exasperating at the same time, and he was not aware which one weighed the heaviest. "My reason for going to Hephaestos is first and foremost to conduct an experiment. I will consider whether or not I visit the facility before or after."

Like a near-rodent, Avaro nodded frantically, "I understand, but please. I just kind of..."

It was somewhat unexpected to see him fidget, so he put hands to hips and looked on the aspect of Greed with a slightly tilted head, more than a little suspicious. "You promised a Grand Aspect would come by, right?"

"I... may have."

"Oh, Dunstan's blood." he swore the rather severe oath, "You shouldn't promise your workers so much, their morale would plummet if you don't keep them. Guess I will have to come by now..." and sighed, "Just be mindful that next time you're about to do something that involves the rest of us, talk to us first."

Avaro inclined in resignation, "I will."

"Make sure you do." Milieu said pointedly and turned to leave, "Now if you don't mind, I got a certain thing to tend to before we arrive."

"Of course. My gratitude."

No sooner had the dark office's image dissipated before he was outside with the com dôji who surprisingly managed to looked up at him, though some of that discomposure from when he delivered that bear hug was still there. He did not think they would look him in the eye for a while after that, but they did. Neither could be more than five years old, which is far into adulthood for a dôji but still very young especially compared to one such as Milieu. They were young, but pretty brave besides.

"Children." Milieu addressed them with a regal flair, and both snapped to attention – each as stiff as a plank. "Would you be sweet and go fetch me something tasty? I will be at the observation deck."

Surprised by the request and eager to fulfill it, both of the minor dôji scurried over one another as they rushed for the kitchen, much to the Grand Aspect's amusement as he watched them go, then went ahead to wait for them.

With both meal and entertainment secured for the remainder of the trip, Milieu expected it to pass like a pleasant breeze.

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

Balak threw his hoe to the grassy ground in boiling frustration, and felt both surprised and horrified that he was about to do this. He had just been put through another morning of bone-breaking exercises that included moving a whole lot of so-called Gargant-manure.

It also surprised him that it took an hour of the stuff before he was thrown the hoe and subsequently exploded like a fusion bomb, "What the bloodiest storm? Why the hell am I doing all of these menial tasks!"

"Because you're my farmhand." Lyta Lyle brushed him off easily and pointed to the partly plowed field. "Continue where you left off."

"I am not doing any more work best fit for lowlife slaves!"

"We've been over this."

Balak snorted, "You..."

Promptly, he was cut off as the dôji faced him with a frown, "Take it as a humbling experience. You think slaves like being put through the same?"

"It is not..." he sputtered angrily, "... not work fit for a man!"

"Ho." Lyta Lyle folded his arms, "And what precisely counts in your eyes as a 'man's work'?"

"Ranching! Handling herds of powerful animals!"

"So ultimately the only reason your species rose from the stone-age was that your women tired of your machoism?"

"..."

"Am I right?"

"..." Balak wanted to reply, but found himself speechless at the comeback.

"Interesting to know." the dôji hummed and thought as something came to mind, "Well, speaking of handling animals I do have a herd of Gargants. Let's see you have a go at it."

With a way to escape this menial task in sight, Balak seized the chance without hesitation. "Leave it to me, I'll show you how it's done."

Next thing he knew, Lyta Lyle led him to a large enclosure and opened an over-sized gate while pointing into the distance, "It is probably your first time dealing with these animals, so here's a poker and a simple task. Get them to move on the other side of the field."

Balak almost tore the poker from the synthetic's grasp, a sign that he was growing used to his host and taskmaster. "Then get out of my way. I'll show you some real Batarian mastery over the likes of animals no matter how tough they are!" He had never actually done ranching before, but it looked rather easy holo-vids, and is a damned sight better than the other tasks he had been given so far.

With amusement in his eyes and a dismissive gesture for him to enter with an expression of his confidence in him, Lyta Lyle closed the gate behind him and he went to work, and crested a hill to look for the herd.

As the saying goes however, 'If you can see the enemy, they can see you too'. And as he found the animals, an idle part of his brain instantly wondered whether doing menial tasks was a better idea.

* * *

Oh the hilarity of this was well worth putting up with the alien's infantile barking.

Lyta Lyle tapped his foot on the ground as he waited for the faint minute it took for Balak to start screaming in undiluted terror, and blasted himself into the air to watch the inevitable show from a position of thirty feet above ground, with a grand smirk at the sight that he expected and now watched.

Down there across the field, Balak ran like a madman to stay ahead of the Gargant herd's Alpha that was apparently overjoyed with the finding of something smaller that is actually weaker than itself to bully.

Such amusement probably bordered on sadism, but there was little need to worry so long as the batarian got the stamina to keep running, which he on all counts had as he stayed ahead and managed to build distance.

"I must say," Lyta Lyle poked fun as he flew close enough above for the alien to hear, "you sure know how to put yourself in a place of authority..."

"Shut up!" Balak yelled on top of his lungs.

"Hurry, I think he's gaining on you!"

"Arrrrrrrgh!"

The dôji shrugged as he watched the Alpha. Gargants has a lot of strength and mass, but little of anything else. An Elephant could outrun Gargants rather easily. Meaning the Alpha stood a better chance of getting ahead of Balak if it sat on its ass and waited for the alien in his terror to run circle around the planet.

He did not have time to wait for him to undertake such a grand journey though, so he maintained distance with the alien, "I can pick you back to the hoe anytime if you feel like it."

"B-by the Pillars!" Balak cried deliriously, "Save me out of here!"

"An apology first."

"Y-you, don't be that guy right now!"

"Oh I'm going to be that guy right now." Lyta Lyle said flatly, "Now apologize."

It looked like every fiber of the alien's being was about to protest, but he despite that managed a desperate; "I'm sorry!"

"And?"

"... And I won't bitch about the jobs you give me!"

"Good, was that so hard?" Lyta Lyle giggled as he dropped himself between the alien and Alpha like a thunderbolt, and held a wide-palmed gauntlet up as if to tell the latter it has done enough, accompanied by a stern gaze. Obediently, understanding that its fun was over, the Alpha ground to a halt, let out a satisfied grunt and turned away. _With its frustration vented, hopefully it'll focus on more productive __stuff__ for now, such as breeding_, the dôji thought of it as he turned to lead the already quite exhausted batarian out.

Balak grumbled all the way, "That poker you gave me, it did nothing..."

"Sure it won't while you're running away."

"Gr."

"Now pick up your hoe and continue from where you left off." Lyta Lyle indicated the discarded tool in the distance and prodded his still grumbling farmhand onward to take it, "I'll go and check on the Gas bags."

"Sure you will." Balak said lowly as he went and retrieved the hoe, raised it into the air and hacked hard against the soil to overturn it. At the very least the morning exercises gave suitably quick results as the batarian with improved swinging technique saw progress.

The dôji watched him intently as he moved to walk past the field to make sure the alien is doing his job until satisfied enough that he turned away... only to almost jump in a start as the alien suddenly let out a loud yelp when the earth audibly shifted almost violently. Alarmed and curious, Lyta Lyle whipped around and found the place previously occupied by Balak dominated by a foxhole-sized pit.

At it, he simply stared for a bit at the new and outright unwanted feature to his field. And when the alien failed to even utter his displeasure at the whole notion of dropping down a hole of unknown depth, the dôji approached with an exasperated sigh.

"I swear, no one's that unfortunate."

* * *

Balak began to scream soon as it became all too clear this was not merely a pocket as he awkwardly tumbled down the mess of a hole that just yawned wide open as if to receive him with that last hew, and tried to grab for anything he could only for the surrounding dirt to come apart and cause a lilliputian avalanche to join in and usher him along further and further down. A journey he stood no chance in stopping.

Only once did he manage to catch hold of something solid, and absently he noted it felt altogether alien and familiar at once. But he had nowhere near the time to make heads and tails of it as by momentum his hand slipped, and the trip resumed anew until he finally dropped out what apparently was the other end, spent a miserable second in free-fall, then painfully hit a surface far too metallic and flat to be anything but an artificial construct similar to that 'thing' he grabbed further up. Whatever it was.

With a back aching from the impact, Balak slowly and haltingly pulled himself up to stare down into the total dark so as to be desolate and unnerving.

It made for a moment where he was for the first time glad to have that synthetic nearby as more dirt fell from the hole, followed by the slight figure that belonged to his taskmaster. Whatever this place is, he had no desire to brave it on his own.

* * *

"What is this place?"

Lyta Lyle stared down the passage that the hole above culminated into, and ran his claws along the wall on his side. He felt its smoothness, its quality of construction. Well-built, though it eventually could not prevent the corridor behind them from caving in. But there was something strange to it, there was no simple wear and tear to it.

"Some old ruin." Balak hissed, attention more on whatever might lie in the dark, "Maybe Prothean."

"Oh, my tater patch." the dôji muttered in dismay at the implications of such a discovery, "There just had to be some ancient alien ruin under my property of all places."

"Uh-huh..."

"Bellyaching aside, this looks like sabotage."

"How can you tell?"

"Look at this material." Lyta Lyle huffed as he tapped a claw to the wall, "Father knows how long this has been abandoned. But however long there is little sign of damage from lack of maintenance, yet we have a completely crumpled passage behind us."

"Sabotage, by what?"

He really hated this development, but guessed there was nothing for it. "I don't know, but there might be an answer up ahead... Let's look around."

Balak huffed, "Was afraid you were going to say that."

"Nonsense," he replied while leading them on, part of his left arm turning to a flashlight function, illuminating the area ahead, "the lust of treasure is practically rolling off of you in waves." History tended to demonstrate that upon the discovery of ruins, many would rather make of with the contents, especially those of more criminal qualities.

"Hmpf..."

Maybe fortunately the corridor did not last for too long as the two advanced, and no more than five minutes in arrived at another cave-in, with an added feature in the shape and form of an elevator to their right – minus the contraption, leaving a wide open hole.

A look inside was enough to judge that it would only lead down, logically enough. Lyta Lyle went on to grab Balak by the back of his overall and activated his thrusters the moment he stepped past the edge at enough power to descend slowly – much to the discomfort of the alien he carried along.

"Shit," Balak expressed as his skin paled, "I'm bad with heights!"

"Oh be quiet." the dôji frowned, "It's just five hundred feet from the looks of it."

The batarian was not reassured as he kicked lamely at ground that was no longer there along with a most unmanly whimper, "Hii!"

Soon enough, though not enough for the organic who for the rest of the ride held the synthetic's arm tightly, they arrived at the bottom. The broken elevator was in the way, but a work-over from Lyta Lyle's claws and they were free to proceed into the chamber beyond... where both were left briefly agape.

Before them stretched a gigantic chamber far into the distance, and branched off to additional equally sized corridors along the way. It gave an illusion of it going on forever. Or that is, if it wasn't for the wall behind them. Question was, what was this place built for? What was its purpose?

"Hey, what's that?" Balak pointed at an object no more than twenty feet ahead.

Lyta Lyle was curious too, and closed the gap to kneel down next to it. The object in question was vaguely humanoid, but wholly robotic. "A synthetic of some kind. Now let's see... if it can tell us anything..."

With a brief flexing of claws quickly done, he buried them into the machine's outer shell and peeled it off layer by layer. It was almost like a dissection, but with less caution required as he only needed specific parts of its internal hardware. Alien and ancient or not, some similarities must apply to the matter of instrumentality where as the innards of machines are concerned.

Apparently it struck Balak as dissection too as he came to loom over him and the broken machine.

Only a short while passed before he finally found something that looked like this thing's core and found its receptacle. He eyed it carefully for a bit before he shaped a tool that would go in, and slid it in. And immediately, he noticed there was a slight power signature remaining, which would save them a trip to the surface. Glad for this, he sifted through its programs with utmost caution.

"Hm, seems we found our little saboteur." Lyta Lyle exclaimed as more data was rendered available for scrutiny by the second. He could not read the texts, but binary was familiar wherever one went. But of course, the recordings within sped up the process considerably.

"Huh?"

"You could call it a marauder. It just happened to find this facility and decided to take it down." the dôji started to explain while continuing to browse, "It could not destroy the place by its lonesome, so it went after all the system and collapsed as many escape vectors to the surface as possible..."

"Escape vectors?" Balak looked up and around, the whole lengths of the mighty walls covered by what seemed like pods come to think of it. For a moment it struck the alien as strange why he did not notice those before.

Lyta Lyle looked around briefly as he took in the scale of what happened here, "This was a storage facility for cryogenic pods, but with the limited demolition and alteration to base programs the system supposed to wake them after a certain time had elapsed could no longer do so."

Nervousness took the batarian as a chill was sent through him. Criminal or not, even he was affected by the atrocity committed in that distant past, "So what you are saying..."

"This is no longer a cryogenic facility. It's a tomb." he hissed and discarded the core he read from with no attempt to hide his disgust, "As this place lost power over time, people died in their pods. There might still be a chance however..."

"A chance?" Balak blinked from three of his eyes, perplexed.

"I imagine this kind of system would have some kind of triage in order to preserve the lives of important personnel. We'll split up and search. If you find any pod that seem functional, call me."

* * *

An hour quickly passed after Balak agreed to look around. It meant he would go for extended periods without much of any kind of light, but was relieved that there seemed to be nothing dangerous here of note, no wild animals, nor any danger of the place suddenly collapsing.

How reassuring.

He followed the nearest wall carefully, attentive for any sound that might signify still active machinery. Hopeless as it may seem to find any live prothean after fifty thousand years, he had agreed to try.

Partly it was because of how he discarded that piece of machinery with such revulsion. For most of his time on this planet he viewed the dôji as simply insidious machines who were actively trying to deceive him and every other organic – that moment of intense disgust toward the action of another synthetic however weakened that image. It was too genuine.

Balak panted as he stopped, exhaustion taking its toll. _How big is this place?_

As he breathed heavily however, a low hum of machinery slowly became apparent, and though his strength was in great deal spent, it made him scurry forward. Finally he had found a lead, along with a faint light as he arrived at a pod and found it still active. To actually find one still active... was no less than damned miraculous.

"Hey!" he shouted across this terribly still chamber, the voice giving off several echoes as it traveled away from him, "I've found something!"

A minute rapidly passed and he swore the echoes still continued until they were drowned out by what sounded like a rocket engine as the dôji blasted into sight and landed some teen feet away before dashing in close, eyes on the pod. "This it?"

"Yes, this is the only I've found."

* * *

Lyta Lyle ran his claws over the vaguely oval pod as he sought for a way to open it, and was gratified to find an interface for manual controls partially hidden by a half-closed lid at its base. He opened and pulled the retractable interface out so he could properly study the thing.

At first, he ran head-first into a problem that presented itself in the form of an utterly alien language he stood no chance of reading. A terrible obstacle that spelled the death-toll of their efforts until he looked over the console further, and found to his complete relief a an emergency release switch on its side.

Just pull, and he could pop this alien out of stasis.

The power feed was worrying though. If there is insufficient power, the process could stop partway and the occupant would die.

_What I wouldn't give for the presence of a Son of Pardonner right now._

Unfortunately they did not have the time to head back out and fetch anything to feed it more power. The pod looked like it is on its last leg, so one could say they came right in the nick of time. This was simply too close to be a coincidence.

"It seems this whole affair is due to raw fortune. Luck that we came just now, and it is now onto luck that we need to trust."

"What's going to happen?" Balak questioned, expression grim.

"Death or life." Lyta Lyle simply stated, "There is a fifty fifty chance that it will be either or."

"Shit."

"Indeed." he curled his gauntlets together to pray, "Slow, father, please grant this one your benediction." and at its completion unclasped his gauntlets and seized the switch between two of his claws, pulled it cautiously, turned it fully around and finally pushed it back in.

Ancient machinery hiccuped into gear as the pod reacted to the instruction of emergency release and initiated an end to the occupant's stasis – its life hanging by a thin thread that could either tear or hold. During it the dôji clasped his gauntlets together again, praying with every groan as the machine sputtered and hissed – each sound followed by a menacing instant of silence before it would resume again.

During the taxing process, what little energy was left to feed it dropped dangerously low, and threatened several times to empty fully. It caused a terrible tension that did nothing but stretch on, until finally the lid hissed and tried to open.

At this, the energy was finally depleted and the lid stopped halfway.

"Ah, it better not be dead!" Balak groaned, "Bloody hell."

"It won't." Lyta Lyle assured as he stood and reached for the half-open lid, and with a forceful tug in either direction forced the thing open. The batarian ducked as the half of the lid on his side was torn off and discarded into the distance, "It damned well better not!"

Relief was however evident as both looked into the now wide-open pod, and found the strange alien within. It was anthropoid at least, with two legs, two arms, and a head that included two pairs of eyes and three nostrils. All of the visible parts of its body were covered by a carapace of sorts. Otherwise it was suited in a fancy hard-suit.

"So this... is a prothean." Balak commented, seemingly nodding in approval at the quartet of eyes – apparently an evolution the alien agreed with.

"And it's even uglier than you." Lyta Lyle grimaced, for some reason he felt rather underwhelmed. He shrugged it off and reached in to cautiously scoop up the alien, "Anyway, I'll take it to the surface and-"

Of course, that had to be when the alien decided abruptly to drunkenly open its eyes, tried to focus on him, and in a burst of confused panic blasted him... with something. The dôji could not quite explain what happened, except he was suddenly and forcefully elevated off the floor by an invisible force and propelled into the neighboring pod with nearly enough force to dislodge it.

Lyta Lyle spent a full second processing what exactly was the nature of that attack until Balak cried "Biotic!" and fell back, in the process of cursing his own muscle memory as his training tried to make him reach for a gun that was far removed, "Oh crap..."

The batarian's less than congratulatory expletive was accompanied by a forced "Um... hi." as the prothean clumsily extracted itself from the pod, while glaring furiously in the direction his voice came from... its eyes softening momentarily upon actually seeing Balak, if only out of confused incomprehension, before it proceeded to seize him by the throat and shouted utter gibberish.

In any case, as Lyta Lyle felt the effect he had been bathed in dissipate, he decided that this had to be put down for the moment and sauntered to the prothean with an air of annoyance. "Sorry about this, but I'm going to have to ask you to take another nap!" he said with the full knowledge that this alien could not understand a single word and struck across its head with a mean backhand, forceful enough that it without another sound crumpled into a heap.

"Took your damned time," Balak coughed coarsely as he collapsed to one knee, rubbing his throat, "Bloody git had a real grip..."

"And here I thought you deserved a little time in the limelight." Lyta Lyle smirked as he crouched down by the fallen prothean and scooped it gently off the floor in his arms, this time without interruption. It looked sort of strange from an outside perspective, as the dôji was smaller than the one he now carried.

"Very funny. What the hell was that about anyway?"

"Confusion. What else?" he noted like it was obvious while checking up on the alien, to make sure his strike did not cause undue damage. "Hypothetically, what stage were your species in fifty thousand years ago?"

Balak glared with all four eyes, comprehending, "Er, living in caves and across the savannah."

"And here you are, halfway across the galaxy, wearing an overall, inside a thought-to-be secure facility, along with me, a complete enigma. Now get up," Lyta Lyle's voice cracked like a whip as he stepped past the taller alien, "keep on going and see if there are other survivors. I'll come back once I've got this one situated."

Nodding in begrudging compliance, the batarian stood and looked into the growing darkness as the only one with the flashlight left him, "Aye... will do."

* * *

_Five hours later..._

_What an embarrassment... _Commander Javik thought as he struggled to wake once again, this time with an enormous headache to go along with it. He entered stasis along with ten thousand fellow warriors fully knowing the symptoms of prolonged periods spent in cryogenic sleep. He was fully prepared, only to produce such a reaction fit for a child. No way could he live such a failing down before his people as they had no doubt started on the work to reform their empire on this green and fertile world.

It was the mission given, to hide until what remained of the terrible enemy that brought about the downfall of their entire civilization would come crashing down. For in their current state they could not defeat the enemy that they only managed to cripple by sacrificing everything else. Without an industrial complex to back them up, the extermination fleets still out there would eventually wither, and the extent of time this would take was factored into an estimate, the basis for how long their stasis had to last.

So with hope when the sleep finally ended, he had opened his eyes with full expectation to see a well-lit facility and his people celebrating in exultation... Only to stare into a painfully bright flashlight hued by a pitch black darkness accentuated by the faint outlines of a strange being with massive unnatural claws reaching out for him.

In the face of such a thing, of course he was startled into action and lashed out.

Bewildered, he had quickly acted on training and picked himself out of the pod to defend himself against an unknown threat that should not be, only to come face to face with an alien that he in the dark recognized as a member of one of the primitive species that live on the galaxy's south-eastern fringe.

Its species was one which males were notorious for all too frequently biting off far more than they could chew to the point some wondered why their macho games haven't made them extinct yet. Last he checked, their most advanced technology were simple knives of stone and campfire. It made no sense for it to be here, not in the few centuries that have gone by.

Still, rather than think of it as an illusion borne from his stasis-addled mind, he attacked as it reached down - as though for a weapon – and caught the creature's throat in a vice. "How are you here?!" he voiced his thoughts harshly, even worse as the physical contact brought in a flood of information that only deepened his disarray.

So much so that when he was suddenly struck down from behind, it came to him as a blessing.

And thankfully, when he once again felt his consciousness wake it came with a much greater clarity of mind that usually follow hours of uninterrupted rest - along with the headache of an era. But it did him no good though apparently as the first thing he noticed was the strange yet stiff softness of that he lay upon, including its strange tilt.

Javik opened his eyes again, but like last time it was not a recognizable ceiling within the facility that greeted him. It was too close, too pale and too simple. The realization made him jump into a seated position and looked around.

Once again he saw the alien from before. It stood several feet away with arms folded and a curious but wary scowl on its face, as if expecting him to snap again. So what he saw earlier was not a hallucination at all, something that instantly made him feel much less embarrassed for what happened.

In the same vein of thought, he realized the new knowledge gotten from it through his brief physical contact is the species' language. The coarse words left him as he articulated his tongue and throat to produce them; "Where am I?"

For it to be here still made no sense, but there was nothing to gain from denying the truth that stood right in front of him.

The alien's eyes flew wide open in surprise, much to Javik's very slight amusement. It certainly did not expect him to know its language with such immediacy. Before it could put its surprise into voice though, another voice penetrated the air, with a very smooth and melodic tune:

"Ho, I was worried we were going to have a language barrier to cross. What a pleasant surprise."

Javik looked for the voice's owner and found it seated on the chair next to the other alien in a seemingly authoritarian manner. Its figure was slim and unexpectedly elegant with bright flowing colors in its choice of clothing. Unlike the other, this one was a complete unknown not among the species of primitives his people knew of, but he was quick to recognize it as the strange being he first saw earlier in the dark by the huge claws that dominated its arms, and was surprised by how comparatively less threatening it now seemed compared to back then.

"As for where you are. I do not know what you call this planet, but we dôji call it Eden Prime. And this here is Oinari village. My name is Lyta Lyle and I am the owner of this particular property, a farmer. And this here," the being gracefully indicated the alien that flanked it, "is my farmhand; Balak. A Batarian." it indicated the other with one of its elongated metallic claws.

"Dôji." he tasted the word as he looked toward 'Balak', "I see, so your species took on the primitives as servants." That made a whole lot more sense than them reaching out at so young an age. "I will however be cross if you will consider taking us for the same."

A grimace crossed Lyta Lyle's fair if oddly two-eyed face as it exchanged looks with the other for a second, "I believe we should take this one step at a time. What is your name, warrior?"

"... I am Javik. Remaining Commander of the Prothean army. Avatar of Vengeance."

"Laudable title." the dôji nodded, "Care to share how you managed to learn a whole new language so fast?"

Javik frowned at the curious being, "All things provides clues for those who can read them. It is in your cells, your DNA. Experience is a biological marker."

"Hm, so you learned the language by just... touching him?"

"Yes."

Comprehension seemed to get to the dôji as it processed this, "So yours is a species that actually evolved complete with some kind of advanced psychometric ability?"

"... Yes."

"How amazing." Lyta Lyle smiled and clapped its gauntlets together in distinct fascination, "That natural evolution can accomplish such a feat."

"We evolved as hunters. To know every detail of our surroundings was crucial to our survival."

"I see."

Slight impatience colored his own expression, "And now that I have answered your question, it is time you answer mine."

Lyta Lyle held his gaze for a moment of... sadness? "... Fair enough. What would you like to know?"

"What has happened? Did your kind break into our facility? Did your kind take my people as servants like you did with the... batarians?"

"... I believe there is some misconception here." the dôji almost nervously brought a claw through its long mane, "So I'm afraid to ask you this... How much time do you think passed since you entered stasis?"

"Five hundred years." Javik felt annoyed, "And what..."

"What was the reason you entered stasis?"

"To outlast a fiendish foe we crippled at all costs."

"Synthetics?"

"Yes."

Lyta Lyle's left eyebrow twitched as he fidgeted, "So you expected never to be found?"

"... Yes." he felt confusion boil to the surface again, "Were we found?"

"I am sorry to say this, but yes. A single machine found you, and crippled a few choice systems in that facility before it fell apart."

Alarm filled his whole being, "Which system?"

"... The one that would have released you after five hundred years had passed."

Javik stood slowly, but was otherwise petrified with the image of that dark facility he had thought was a hallucination, "How much time has passed?"

"According to Balak; fifty thousand years."

"Fifty thousand years?!" he parroted in horror, "Then the facility..."

"Eventually," Lyta Lyle watched him severely, but with sad eyes, "its energy reserves started to deplete, and forced it to apply triage to the pods under its care."

"That would mean... my people would gradually die in their sleep!"

"Yes. We... accessed the facility by accident a few hours ago, and soon after found out what that place was for... and what happened." the dôji explained, much to the prothean's trepidation, "We've searched for hours, and I believe we've been in most parts of the facility by now. Your pod was on the brink of expiration, we just barely got you out of there in time."

"What about the others, where are they?"

"..."

"Is silence your answer?" Javik inquired carefully, lest he lose control of his voice in fear of what was to come, "Tell me... where are my people?"

"Gone..." Lyta Lyle expressed with a tone of total regret.

"So... I am..." he felt his knees give away and fell back onto the couch, "I am..."

"I'm sorry to say, given our lack of success in finding more... you may be the only one left."

For the first few seconds after being told that, Javik could only stare blankly ahead in an attempt to compute the scale of this failure. The mission they had been dispatched to undertake had failed utterly, there would be no new Empire, no other Prothean. He went in with an army, but emerged alone. Worst case scenario had happened.

He had grown accustomed to loss over the course of that past war, but this was beyond that. These people meant well when they saved him, but now he had to live the cruelty of never again seeing another of his kind.

So unable to utter even a word further, he slumped and buried his face into the palms of his hands. And though he hated himself for this weakness, he could do nothing but weep.

* * *

Lyta Lyle wanted to say something, but there was nothing that could alleviate the sort of pain that only the predicament of being the last could bring. So instead he simply sat there and looked on sadly, with gauntlets folded onto his lap. Was this perhaps the pain suffered by the father when he came to be the last of his kind?

That idiotic farmhand of his however did not seem to notice much of the glum atmosphere that embraced this room. Balak, perhaps bitter from that time when he was choked by this being, leaned down far enough that he could breathe on his ear:

"Should I tell what you are, just to see what happens?"

Of course he would have to be told eventually. But now was hardly the time for it. Therefore, intensely displeased by this suggestion, Lyta Lyle shot him a most indignant look and whispered, "One word of that, and you will suffer a most prompt removal of your muscular hydrostat. Understood?"

Balak clamped his mouth shut with great immediacy and rose away from him in silence.

With the batarian back in place, Lyta Lyle looked back on the silently mourning prothean. Inevitably he would have to report about this find to the proper authorities, but for the moment at least... he decided that it would have to wait. Give the alien some time to take in this new reality.

_Yes_, the dôji thought, _that will have to do for now..._

* * *

**Author notes: **It was the plan from the start to add Javik to the mix. The question was just whether he would first appear here or in the sequel. Some might wonder how he'll fit in here, but there have been a few hints here and there. He'll have a big role eventually, but for now he'll simply live in Oinari village, to come to terms of what happened.

Of course, when he becomes aware of how the population is except him and Balak made up completely of synthetics, I guess "This is not a good beginning." won't even start to voice his displeasure.


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter 6: A Hurtful Revelation**

* * *

_A few hours later..._

_Location_: Utopia System; Tenjo.

"I must say, Pardonner." Désir cooed from his selected position on the cabin's inbuilt couch arrayed in front of the holographic device. He had laid down on his belly with arms neatly folded in front for the head to rest on, the only truly feasible position that his huge spherical tail allowed without due tweaking about its positioning. Some might call it inconvenient, but the dôji of Lust was perfectly fine with it.

In fact, he reveled in it.

For him, the alternate position is just fit for prey. Prey for the predator to pin down and consume whole. And Désir prided himself on being the latter, even able to turn the likes of Vice into pliant blustering jelly with his alluring advances and teasing – though a few others does offer a good challenge.

"Your accommodation is entirely adequate." he squirmed at the couch, smiling widely in comfort.

Pardonner who stood with his back turned at the far side where the miniature kitchen was, focused almost fully on cooking their simple upcoming meal, shrugged. "Just don't melt into anything."

Désir hummed playfully, "I won't make any promises." his red and white eyes coming to rest on the form of Hikari who stood by his father, staring at the boiling sausages. Hot damn, but the fellow aspect did birth and raise a beautiful one this time. If not for his own principles not to advance on youngsters who have not yet felt the warmth of another dòji, and his attention was not on the kid's father, he would have been slightly envious of whoever would eventually claim him.

Many believe that he is very sexual-minded, and they are pretty much right. Quite a portion of his job revolved around the subject of carnal pleasures when there is no fighting to be done – both of which he can readily delve into with equal fervor. If he couldn't, he wouldn't exactly be the aspect of Lust now would he?

As of late, his primary contribution has been to encourage a population explosion for the upcoming war. A successful effort that allowed the people to be bolstered by hundreds of thousands, with more on the way.

It was far from his only project though, and a particularly important one is in the planning phase. But for now he wanted to focus on the immediate present, to try and get closer to the only aspect he for all his wiles had not yet been able to conquer.

Pardonner stood out from all the rest like some succulent meat locked away behind bars he could not pass. Not easily at least, but it has kept him at bay for many years. In many ways, this difficulty only made Pardonner look all the more attractive, more beautiful than even Ultimo could hope to be.

From his prone position, Désir sized up the dark-maned dôji's slender figure and quietly lusted. Only two things really spoiled the moment in such a way that it made him nervous. Pardonner is excellent in a great number of fields and is loved by many. He could heal and cure, has an implacable work ethic, is very handy in a fight and any number of other things. But there is one thing he just never could seem to get the hang of:

Cooking.

Désir reasoned that the simplicity of boiling sausages would be well within the fellow aspect's capability. But soon had a canary in a coal mine moment occur to him as Hikari suddenly withdrew to stand behind his father, just before the mental list of materials including the precise amount of U-235 or Pu-239 needed at the very least to produce a nuclear bomb came absently to mind as a sudden wave of radiation forced itself on his sensors, just as the pot's contents unceremoniously combusted.

With the aplomb of an exasperated soldier, he leaped to his feet and rushed to help as a cloud of steam blew through the apartment thick enough that it took a fair while to disperse so he could finally take a look into the pot and glance to the cook in impressed disbelief.

"Honestly you really _must_ tell me sometime exactly how you can effect a miniature nuclear detonation with a pot of water, butter, some sausages, and a tea-spoon of salt."

Pardonner shot him an annoyed look, rubbing an accidentally gained moistness out of his hair as he glared back, none of his attention on the frightened son who held on from behind, "Shut up."

With a sneer on his lips, Désir took the pot and emptied its more or less butchered contents into the bin. It was not fit anymore for anyone's consumption, "The lead of Manhattan Project will probably give you a call soon from beyond the grave, to demand their achievement back."

"Shut up." the aspect of Patience repeated, unhappy with the teasing. "I just slipped..."

"I'm still getting radioactive readings from the pot." Désir toyed as he put it away, and searched the closets until he found and pulled out another one. Fortunately not all sausages were spent on the first attempt. He would have had to try and fill that space with something else if that had been the case.

Pardonner gave him a borderline hurt look. Unable to really argue away this most surprising development. So vulnerable in fact that when Désir turned to put his gauntlets to the other aspect's arms and waist – an act that would normally see him brushed off – in a reassuring motion if by a spur of the moment, the gesture landed without resistance. Rather than capitalize on this, Désir smiled, "Don't worry about it. Go and sit down. I'll do the cooking for you~"

Like it just occurred to the fellow aspect of how intimate they were in that moment, Pardonner gave an annoyed pout complete with cheeks caked with slight red. "Fine, you handle it." and pulled away to the couch with his boy in pursuit – turning on the holographic device as the fine döji went.

Shrugging it off and glad with the slight progress, Désir turned and filled the pot with water before he applied all the remaining sausages to it, along with just the right amount of salt before he put it on the oven and started it up to a reasonable degree.

Désir's tail bobbed in amusement and he focused fully on cooking this meal for them without another word offered while the others focused on the news – to which Hikari soon grew bored and came to lean on his father, muttering a pleading words that Pardonner more or less shook his head at.

Youngsters does rarely pay news broadcast much interest after all.

It did not take long though before Pardonner looked away from what currently went on, footage that displayed as Milieu went about inspecting miners stationed at the newly discovered Hephaestus System, the Grand Aspect looking almost angelic in the rather glum environment of the Mining Ops' current HQ, "Say..."

"... Something eating you that ain't me?" Désir half-joked, careful not to look away from their food as it sizzled in a shallow sea of melted butter. It was obvious that the colleague of his interest looked forward to having these sausages, so in the hope of getting some positives he wanted to get these just right. Roasted to perfection.

"Get your mind out of the gutter for just one moment.." Pardonner groaned indignantly, though the tone got back to normal when he continued; "I was just curious, about what you're planning..."

"My little outreach program?" he shrugged, careful to roll the sausages over, "Not much to tell for now, except Service got one of his own."

"Noticed. Neither of you are terribly subtle."

"Oh you wound me~" Désir faked hurt and grinned, "I have no need of sneaking around, not where I'm planning to go."

"And where is this mystical place that you won't have to keep your head down without having an army come and bear down on you?"

"Tut tut. That would be telling."

Pardonner rolled his eyes, "... Of course."

"What, interested in coming along?"

"Not really."

"Uh-huh." Désir nodded as an understanding came about, "So you're worried about us?"

For a moment the other simply exhaled, "Of course, but don't take it as personal affection."

"Fine, but I will anyway."

"Some of us are simply worried you two might disappear out there. People are restless enough with Slow's absence without adding more."

Désir nodded again in understanding as the sausages became just right, one by one, and started lumping them onto a platter in position. Outside the corner of his eyes he could plainly see his colleague's kid stare at the piling food with predatory appraisal though without actually acting on any of it, "I don't plan to disappear on you, Pardonner. And neither is Service. Precautions will be made."

The fellow aspect folded his arms sceptically, "I don't believe Slow had planned on vanishing either, yet here we are."

"This, will be different." he declared confidently, and clucked with approval at the fruits of his labor as he switched off the oven and hefted a now full platter covered with nicely roasted sausages that almost glistened in the light, "Food's finished by the way. Shall we shelve our little conversation and enjoy?"

* * *

It was a fair deal. Pardonner let the subject lie with the prospect of food he longed to have since it was formally introduced to him. For all the ways Désir annoyed him, the offer of Gargant sausages was all too attractive to refuse. He sat a little straighter in his position on the couch, expectantly, just knowing that the other would try and sit as close to him as possible soon as the table was prepared.

For now, he put aside the concerns on his mind and nodded in compliance, "No objection."

"Good." Désir giggled softly as he put the platter full of meaty roasted sausages neatly on the middle of the table and turned on his heel to fetch what would make this dinner a whole lot more complete, tail bobbing with some barely concealed excitement as he went.

So he and his son watched patiently as the table was soon covered with additional platters, along with bread and various condiments, then finally a trio of glasses together with a bottle of soda... and a bottle Désir apparently decided to bring when he received the invitation.

Pardonner looked up at the bunny of a dôji with an eyebrow raised, indicating the bottle without actually pointing it out.

And it quickly turned out Hikarir would as he looked curiously at the other drink, "What's that sir?"

"Something I picked up from the surface," Désir grinned and predictably put himself down onto the couch, merely inches from the fellow aspect who looked on with resignation.

The kid's eyes kindled with interest, "Oh?"

"Pay it no mind. Rather, we should eat before the food gets cold."

Pardonned inclined his head, glancing at the other wryly, "So you do make a good point sometimes."

Désir laughed, "Who ever said the aspect of Patience ain't got a sense of humor?"

"Those who aren't there when I quip a joke. Hikari." Pardonner regarded his son, "Would you like to start?"

"Aye dad!" the boy extended an arm and took the meatiest sausage he could see from his vantage point, and immediately sowed ketchup richly across before he stuffed it onto a length of bread. Done with preparation he went on to nibble the morsel, the initial sampling followed by an appreciative moan as he hungrily chowed.

Désir smirked at the obvious approval, "Like it?"

"Mhmm!" Hikari replied in a muffled tone, mouth all too full of food to form coherent words.

"Hikari, I told you before; Chew first, talk after." Pardonner sternly told him, and received a nod of understanding in return as he went ahead and prepared a hot dog for himself. On the outside he was as usual the image of stoicism, but was actually just below the surface quite excited as soon enough the food in his grasp was rendered ready for consumption and hoist it for his lips when another hot dog suddenly intruded from the side – drawing a quick glare upon the one who held it. "And what do you think you're doing, Désir?"

Désir had leaned just a little closer, with his right elbow firmly planted onto the table, and the left gauntlet filled with what just had to be the absolutely meatiest and most richly spiced hot dog he had seen in years.

"Being charitable?" the lecherous dôji positively beamed at him with the proffered morsel, "Rude to say no~"

"It is also rude to shove food up to someone else's face without consent, but... fine. I'll go along with this, but just this once. Again and I will cause you some considerable pain. Am I clear?"

"Perfectly."

Pardonner resignedly inclined just a little bit and opened his mouth, and watched through near-closed eyes as Désir acted accordingly and inserted the hot dog. Upon which he felt everything about it as once, especially as he sank his teeth in before he near-drunkenly allowed his colleague to slide in more across his tongue-like sensor. Numerous sensations washed through his mouth, including the simple texture of bread, sweetness of at least two near-liquid condiments, sharpness of spices. Most of all though was that which is the only part of the meal not an approximation; the roasted gargant-derived sausage that despite being roasted held a very real raw flavor to it.

For a few moments he simply closed his eyes and enjoyed the fill as Désir pushed the hot dog all the way in, and withdrew the lone claw that just now was on the cusp of touching his lips. All frustration was momentarily forgotten while he simply sat there and chewed heartily until he finally started to swallow, each pull jerking a chunk of pulped food into his depths.

So good it was that he purred with longing already right after the last piece went down, "Ah, how delightfully scrumptious..."

"Mm, I really do like your frowns and stoic expressions. They suit you so perfectly." Désir commented on the view, "But right now... I got to say your smile is equally as dazzling." before his attention were suddenly drawn away with a silent curse, "Oi!"

"Oh... don't ruin the momen... huh?" Pardonner groused and glanced back to his son who in quite a lively manner guzzled greedily from the bottle Désir brought, evidently curiosity had gotten the better of him. At first it was thought to be pretty harmless, but when the bottle left Hikari's lips and was followed by a drunken hic... the father knew something was not right, "Hikari, what's wrong?"

Hikari did not answer, instead he awkwardly put the bottle back on the table before he promptly fell against the couch and just as quickly drifted to sleep, snoring in a manner most undignified.

Suspicious of the proceedings, Pardonner shot an arm at the bottle before Désir could retrieve it, and brought it up close to scan the contents, eyes widening with realization that this is not just some drink – but an extremely potent beverage.

"Désir," he asked with calm that was not at all reassuring of events to come, "what is this?"

"Er..." Désir fidgeted in a surprisingly nervous manner, "It... it is something they've started making on the surface. Wanted to enjoy it with you after the meal."

"And when did you plan to tell me, or rather, us?" Pardonner asked, easily able to imagine that his colleague would pour him glasses of this beverage without telling, maybe in the hope that it would 'loosen' him up.

And apparently the dôji who embody Lust with equal ease came to the conclusion that the fellow aspect would be able to put pieces together about his intentions this instant. So he did not even bother to answer that and instead voiced his defense; "I did not intend for Hikari to take a sip from it, let alone half the content."

Pardonner was about to bite back a response in an explosive bout of anger for omitting the part about it being a beverage. But though the intention was probably to try and bed him amidst the drunken haze, dirty as it is, he did not intend to sully the youngster with a drink that powerful.

So he forcefully calmed himself a few hundred pegs and settled for a morose glare, "Fine. You did not wish anything untoward against my child, so this is what we'll do – unless you want me to start beating you upside your head with something big and heavy."

"Yes?"

"We're going to just sit here, eat till we are satisfied – with some set aside for Hikari. And after that you'll leave without further attempts to seduce me for a while." Pardonner declared solemnly, attention drifting to the hot dog in his claws he had yet to consume. "Deal?"

Désir drooped with even his visors lowering, and they went on to continue the meal. "Deal..."

* * *

_Next morning..._

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari Village

Javik had demanded to see the installation after he recovered from what he was told of the facility's fate, in the vain hope that somewhere inside there just had to be other pods with survivors. Staring at the very extinction of his people, that was the only hope he had left to him.

Only to end up in vain - the utterly dark tomb of a place merely drove the nail further in.

So now he sat and brooded within the bedroom from which he woke the day before, his heart heavy with the steep darkness that haunted the chambers below. And every second brought a memory of what was, and what should have been. For all the desperation that had come with their plan, their rise from the ashes was all but guaranteed.

All that hope, all for nothing.

In the midst of his intense sorrow, consideration was given to simply end it rather than live alone like this. To go down to the armory block and put to use one of the guns within.

Someone had other plans though, as the door abruptly burst open. Javik winced at the light that shone through it and squinted at the opening where the rather diminutive owner of this estate stood looking over at him in a measure of sadness, "Are you awake?"

"... Why would I not be?" Javik shrugged and continued to stare at the wall, "Next time I sleep... is when..."

"Javik," the figure raised one of its absurdly large gauntlets and gestured, "come with us. We're about to go downtown, and I would rather have with than leave you to your own devices."

"You fear I will put a beam to my head or go off a cliff while you're gone?"

"Yes, pretty much." Lyta Lyle confirmed, "I know you're in pain, but it does not mean you should throw yourself away. So are you coming, or should I carry you?"

Javik felt himself roll his eyes, and belatedly decided to stand and follow the dôji out to the hallway where he watched as alien hummed in approval, but for a few seconds in front of a small mirror, looking briefly over his mirror image before he inexplicably adjusted his flowering kimono, widening the collar a little to show more of his shoulders before he nodded with satisfaction and led him out.

Outside, the planet's climate cooler compared to that of fifty thousand years ago. And impatiently leaning against a nearby fence was Balak, having waited for them with arms and face alike crossed into a severe frown.

"Are you ready to go?" Lyta Lyle asked of the rowdy alien as he headed past.

"Of course," Balak replied sullenly as he fell in with Javik and followed the dôji down to the gate and onto the road in relative silence, until a question connected to the little peculiarity that went on not even two minutes ago simply begged to be asked.

Javik veered slightly closer to the other and asked the following question in due curiosity, but not nearly enough to imply he needed them, "Why did that one feel inclined to do that?"

The fellow four-eyed alien snorted, "Do what?"

"Slight adjustment of clothing."

Balak gave the dôji a once over and grimaced, "... Really?"

"What?"

"Do your people not have a concept of suggestive wear?"

Javik gave him a blank stare.

"Seriously?" Balak blurted in amused disbelief, "Damn, the distant past is no fun."

"It really wasn't."

"Point. Well, here's what's up with that..."

And he listened intently, "And that is?"

"Simply put, he's using this opportunity to look for possible mates." Balak lowered his voice into a whisper, yet did not sound very convinced if the dôji could still listen in or not, "Bloody git wants to have children. So he's doing that to subtly hint that he is... well... available... for anyone interested."

It struck him as kind of odd, but accepted the answer. "If that is so, why do we have to come along?"

"Most likely to have us carry anything he will buy for us. Food and the like."

Javik grunted an acknowledgment, and looked around as they strolled down the road, passing other farms along the way. Each of them conformed to the relatively same deal as Lyta Lyle got, and similar herds of animals. Balak noticeably shuddered and veered away from a particularly tall fence from which a Gargant glared at him like he was a flea to stomp. Or at the very least until the farmer that owned the beast smacked it on the side and had it move off. Javik blinked, it looked strangely like the farmer physically shoved it away despite the utter difference in size.

"G'day Lyta Lyle." the farmer lifted a strange hat in greeting as they passed, momentarily confused on whether to focus on the fine dôji or the aliens following him before he settled for a simple greeting.

"A pleasant day to you, Gull." Lyta Lyle replied, apparently finding the confusion quite funny.

Javik snorted quietly, ignoring the exchange as he looked at the primitive means used to plow these fields. He watched as another farmer who pulled along a plow by himself stopped to wave at them passing by, a gesture repeated by the one leading them.

"Friendly community..." Balak commented dryly.

"Yes," Lyta Lyle raised his partly exposed shoulders, "though it will probably cool off as time goes by." His attention turned to the prothean; "It may not look like it, but many of us here used to be soldiers before we came here. And now, we simply want a change of pace."

"You were a soldier?" Javik asked with slight interest surfacing.

"To some extent we still are... Let's just say some skills can't be unlearned. And some might return to the battlefield in time."

"For how long did you serve?"

"Ever since I reached what counts as adulthood for our kind. I have been participant to centuries of near constant battle."

Having heard that, Javik grew a spark of respect for the dôji, as veterans of war were greatly respected in prothean society. He _was_ momentarily surprised that such a seemingly fragile being had been in war though, yet emerged from it so well off. The mentioning of long _centuries_ in battle on the other hand was less surprising as some species do have impressive lifespans.

That clarified, he moved on to ask: "What did you fight?"

"... I apologize, but I would prefer not speaking of it right now." Lyta Lyle responded hesitatingly, "Look ahead instead. We're almost there."

Javik frowned, but looked on as they entered the village's outskirts. From the looks of it, it was not all that big, a mere few dozen buildings at most. And running up through the middle of it was a decent shopping street, with a few shops and quite a few stalls. From his vantage point, he could easily count some hundreds of dôji of an almost absurd variety of stature that could not simply connote that of adults and children of all ages. He wondered about that, but said nothing.

The dôji with them finally spoke up again, this time a verbally expressed observation as he looked over the crowd they wandered into, "Looks like we got visitors from Yggdrasil. Guess it had to happen, given this is the day of the week where everyone gather to do business. We best hurry, or all the good stuff will be gone."

And that was pretty much what he lead them to do. Javik could not help but feel like eyes bored into his neck as Lyta Lyle led them through the streets and a food shop. Just moments after they arrived at town, looks were gravitating in their group's general direction. The reason was obvious; him and Balak, both whose hands were soon given stuff to hold; predominantly bags full of newly bought foodstuff. Enough that they soon left the particular shop behind for another, but the comments and attention seemed to follow them persistently.

"How can there be aliens here?" a nearby stocky dôji murmured to another in astonishment. His expression one of bewilderment.

"Look at that..." one who was undoubtedly a child spoke to his father, pointing a blunt claw at Balak by virtue of him being closer than the prothean, "He's got four eyes! They both do!"

Another followed suit just past the door of this shop. A very tall being who stared down at the aliens as they passed with an unconcerned Lyta Lyle in the lead, "What in the world?"

"Ugh," Balak snorted fiercely, "Feel like I'm at a goddamn freak show."

Javik did not much like the excessive attention either, "Have they not ever seen an alien before?"

"Some have, most haven't." Lyta Lyle tutted as he tapped the counter with a claw, waiting for the shopkeeper. "Considering the current state of things, most people do not expect to see one, let alone two, so soon. Now... where is that... Ah, there you are!"

Most in the shop was completely unfazed, except maybe those who came from the city, as the shopkeeper stumbled into view and tripped on his very own feet and crashed haphazardly into the floor, right by the counter.

Apparently it was a regular occurrence, and the farmer treated it as such as he waited for the shopkeeper to stand upright.

The shopkeeper's attire appeared completely white, complemented by an extremely long mane of brilliantly white hair that circled down from almost the full crown of his head except face and all below it. If not for the uncovered area along the front, he could easily be mistaken for a mobile mop of hair.

"Ow, um," the shopkeeper blushed crimson as his gaze fell on Lyta Lyle and bowed awkwardly, "W-welcome to my kiosk. Is there anything you would like?"

"Yes Pi, there is one thing." the farmer replied, smiling effortlessly past a mild air of exasperation, "I would like to have the two over there."

Pi looked over his shoulders at a couple of rectangular cases of plastic. "I-I must admit I'm surprised. Thought you would be among the last to need such wares."

Lyta Lyle indicated the aliens. Apparently the shopkeeper had not noticed the veritable elephants in the room, "It's for the benefit of those two."

"Oh, ah!" Pi confirmed it, but to his credit recovered quickly as he went and picked the cases up and put them on the counter. "W-well, in that case I understand... Would there be anything else?"

The other shook his head as he put payment on the counter and accepted the items, "No, for what I need next can only gotten one place."

Pi drooped slightly, "I... see."

"Be seeing you." Lyta Lyle said for a farewell before he headed back out with a gesture for the others to form up and follow. That was pretty much what Javik did, while mulling on some peculiarity.

After another short while traversing the crowded street, oft with several curious onlookers, it reached a boiling point, "I have a question."

Balak looked like he was ever so slightly ill as he replied; "What?"

"What is it that distinguish male from female for their species?"

"Er... I'm guessing... personality."

Javik stared at the batarian like he had grown another head, perplexed. Before they could continue though in this line of conversation, Lyta Lyle had stopped at a bench where he started to converse with a dôji who carried a distinctly tiny specimen of their species curled up in his arms, sleeping.

"—is there anything wrong, Doro?"

"Not really... well, yes. There is one thing." the dôji named Doro replied shortly as he looked around, "Something has been going on out there."

Lyta Lyle folded his arms, "Trouble?"

"Aye, some criminal they call the 'Snatcher'. Steals away kids, but in all cases so far gave them back after a while..."

"Oh? Someone who gets a kick from seeing their parents go wild trying to find their children, _that_ kind of thing? Sure doesn't sound good."

"It really doesn't." Doro tightened his embrace on the tiny offspring of his protectively, "What if the criminal eventually decide not to hand the kidnapped children back? That is what has gotten people worried the most."

"So what's the latest rumors on the ground?"

"The 'Snatcher' is moving around. Each case takes place someplace else entirely. He's getting closer to our village every day... Could even be here right now, watching from a distance..."

"Relax, I doubt it'd happen in broad daylight. Besides, keep on guard like that at all times and you'll wear yourself out. The 'Snatcher' is probably an excessively mischievous dôji, and certainly not a kurozu."

Javik felt a need to inquire as to what a 'kurozu' was when a sudden bellow of a growl made him jump five feet into the air. Lyta Lyle on the other hand only giggled as he looked to Balak, "Lunch?"

"Lunch..." Balak growled hoarsely.

"I could have sworn you had breakfast not even two hours ago... Sorry about this Doro, but we'll have to go now."

"No worries," Doro laughed as he stood and walked away, "I've got something I need doing too."

"Bye then." Lyta Lyle waved, then waved them on, "Guys, to the cafe."

Balak slumped, "About time."

It did not take long to find the place. A rather small establishment that seemingly held little to its name. Or at least that is what it appeared until they found a table and received a menu tablet, a notebook and a pen – simplicity be praised – from a quick to appear waiter who left just as abruptly.

Lyta Lyle accepted it without a word and looked over what they had to offerr, "They've widened the selection since last I was here. Good." and jotted down what he wanted before passing on the menu, "Take a look and show me what you'd like."

The batarian accepted it tentatively, and took a look. An exclamation, "Pillars!" came from him together with a widening of the eyes as he looked over a selection of surprising vastness. Balak gripped the menu more tightly and browsed it intensely till he finally turned it to the dôji and pointed out what he wanted, which was subsequently jotted down before Javik himself finally received the list of meals.

It seemed the guess was indeed accurate. The selection was admittedly impressive, and a lot of it looked both strange and oddly attractive. But what truly drew his attention in the end was a platter of roasted fish.

His decision was made in an instant and he twirled the menu around to highlight the particulary dish as memory seemed to subtly poke at him, "I would like to have this."

Lyta Lyle giggled, and wrote before he hefted the pen and notebook both and waved with them till the waiter returned, accepted the items, and left again – this time straight for the kitchen, "Looks like things are going well."

"What makes you say that?"

"That they are able to offer so much Earth-originate foods means at least a few production plants have been made. Consequently it means most of the more important projects have been completed, or are close to it."

"And how does food production not rate as a priority?" It did not make sense to him for it to be a secondary or tertiary in importance. A hungry people rioted sooner rather than later, even if extinction lay just around the corner they collectively could readily ruin everything for a few scraps of food.

Balak huffed a laugh, like that was somehow hilarious. "Hah. Going to label it as a 'long story', right?"

For a moment, the dôji seemed heavy on his seat, but before he could offer a reply stiffened considerably when a number of distant greetings came out of the crowd, directed at something that stalked down the street, each step a heavy stomp. Javik craned his neck to see what is coming, and froze solid at the sight of a massive hunched synthetic that towered over the crowd, a large spear resting against its right shoulder.

A moment of complete personal silence that broke and shattered as he abruptly burst into action and stood with enough force to knock his chair several feet back, hand reaching down to where his beam rifle was supposed to be, only to vaguely remember he had not brought one.

So instead, he glared with utter defiance and hostility as he searched for any kind of weapon with which to defend himself, momentarily incapable of hearing the dôji's call to calm down – blotting the world out.

It did not take too long for some people to pick up the thickness of the tenseness here and now as the Taison drifted its gaze curiously across the seemingly distracted elements of the crowd and came to focus on the object of their attention, fixing its blue optics on Javik – somehow able to instantly overcome the difficulty of looking into the prothean's four eyes by staring at the spaces between them.

Having discovered him, it approached at a ridiculously leisurely pace. And Javik did what was natural to him and armed himself with the chair, hoisting it to his shoulder, prepared to strike the moment it came close enough. He half expected it to try and skewer him with that spear from outside his range... but instead wandered right into it – at which he swung his emergency weapon at the thing.

For all the time it took to land, Javik was with his excellent sense of perception able to see everything the synthetic did in response. Oddly, it flipped its spear around and stabbed it into the ground, then whipped out from behind it a large blunt object with which it met the chair. The prothean thought it was a mace, a mallet with which to beat him to a pulp with. But as their weapons met and ground to a standstill, he became aware of written words on the side of the 'mallet' facing him:

'Oi there!'

It was absurdity he found no humor to as he withdrew the chair and stepped back, readied for another attempt, and attacked. Only this time it was not the massive robot that stopped him, but Lyta Lyle, who exasperatedly grabbed the chair and wrenched it out of his grip.

"Calm down, Javik. It's not an enemy!"

"Synthetics are my enemy, dôji." Javik growled, not taking its gaze off the machine that offered no further struggle, aside from a glance at the ridiculous hat it for some reason wore. The response seemed to cut into the farmer without the prothean knowing why it was so. "Synthetics are the enemy of all life..."

Lyta Lyle viewed him patiently, "We aren't..."

Before he could ask him to elaborate on that strange response, the towering machine flipped the sign it held around: 'Lyta Lyle. I really must inquire as to how you somehow managed to recruit yet another alien. Is there any more in your closet?'

Many among the crowd noted again that its ability to convey its data solely via written signs remained voluminous to the point of absurdity.

"No one else." the dôji reassured, "Um, this here is Javik. A Prothean."

'Prothean...?' it somehow had a sign for that as well. 'Far as I am aware, they are extinct.'

"One remains..."

'How?'

"We... found something underground where he slept in a cryogenic pod. It was on the verge of failing, so we elected to save him."

'Which means...' it slumped, 'I really must hand in a report on this... development.'

"Your laziness is an example to us all, Hatter." Lyta Lyle awkwardly shrugged, "Reason why the sons of Paresse looks onto you for inspiration."

'Cute.'

Somehow it managed the minor miracle of making its sarcasm clear in written form. Javik grew annoyance with simple disbelief at how the machine chose to focus on Lyta Lyle instead. "Step away from it." he warned.

The dôji looked to him again, "No reason to fear..."

"It will turn on you. Do not trust a synthetic...!"

'You mean... you do not know?' the towering synthetic looked back at him, new sign held up. 'You really don't know?'

Javik had no time for these games, "Know what?!"

"I... did not tell him." Lyta Lyle confessed with some feeling, "It's... complicated."

The Taison simply stared, unable to show any emotion with its expressionless face. 'I understand. But we really should break it to him before something unfortunate happens.'

The dôji looked very uncomfortable now as he filtered his claws together on the table. Balak was simply a silent spectator for now. "I guess we have little choice now... Javik?"

"What is it?" Javik was utterly bewildered and agitated. Comprehending now that the farmer kept some information from him, and knew he would like it much less than the secrecy that held it, "What is going on, Lyta Lyle?!" He shouted, increasingly aware of how many eyes were focused on their conversation now – almost wary in their collective attention.

"Nothing is going on, Javik. I was simply concealing the true nature of us dôji from you... for your sake." Lyta Lyle replied softly, fidgeting, "I wanted to reveal this eventually for when you would be more prepared for it, but alas here we are."

"And...?"

"... We are synthetic lifeforms, Javik. Except you and Balak, the entire population of this planet is synthetic."

He took this in like a sponge, and felt a wave of utter sickness wash over him hard enough to throw a sense of vertigo, making him stumble against a fence. Javik was disturbed by every measure and could not immediately appreciate the sheer enormity of the implications, of what it meant. That all of the surrounding dôji, living their lives, taking care of their young, working, playing... are in fact machines. All of them. Disbelief crossed his expression before it changed into a growing sense of horror that mutated quickly from there into an ugly pile of bile and venom.

Lyta Lyle said nothing, he merely wore a saddened expression.

"Then why... why do you look at me like that, with those eyes?" Javik growled, his voice sounding more hollow and filled with disgust than he ever remembered of it before, "Have you been doing this just to spite me?"

"No one-"

"Silence!" Javik hissed loudly, frantically pointing at everyone around him, "I understand now... you are not people, you are monsters! Traitorous machines who turned on your builders... Was that not enough for you to slaughter them all for perceived inferiority, so now you mock them even further in this form?!"

Several among the crowd exchanged glances, more than a few scrunching up at the ranting insults he hurled at them.

"Cease the mockery you murderers, you are even worse than what I fought before; at least they did not pretend to be organics!"

Apparently, someone decided he had had enough with the rant. And as the prothean turned to the crowd and gesticulated at them in abject hatred, the dôji nearest to him whipped an arm out and to Lyta Lyle's outrage slapped Javik across his face with the force to send him spinning away till he recovered just enough to crumple onto the ground in silence – a large portion of his cheek turning black from the harsh blow.

Javik stared numbly up at the one who struck, ignoring the 'minder' of his who rushed to kneel by his half-comatose form. With all the intensity he could manage, he projected his defiance before finally the blow took its real toll and sent him into unconsciousness, where the dreams thankfully chose not to embrace him.

* * *

"What the hell is wrong with you?!"

Lyta Lyle as good as yelled this at the offending dôji, a son of Rage - their kind often known for brutal honesty - who huffed and puffed in lingering agitation at the prothean's drivel. That punch could have broken the alien's neck if it had been delivered with even a tiny bit more strength. Of course it could be said Javik had it coming, but there was plenty of context missing for both sides, ignorance in equal measure.

"Wrong with me?" the other defended angrily, "He shouted all that just now!"

"Bloody-minded fool!" he fiercely replied, twisting his fair expression in anger much like is the case with his father Slow, "Javik here is the last of his kind. He literally just woke up from a fifty thousand years long cryogenic sleep as part of an effort to outlive the synthetic enemy that exterminated his people – only to live and see that enemy get the final laugh!"

At the outburst, the son of Rage faltered ever a little.

"So yes, his hatred can be said to be reasonably justified." Lyta Lyle continued in his indignation as he carefully hefted the prothean into his arms, "In time I hope to warm him up to us, but I could very well do without a complete idiot like yourself confirming his fears by lashing out!"

'Now now...' Hatter held the sign up as it stomped on over and positioned itself between the feuding dôji, 'Lyta Lyle, I will need you to come by my office later and explain all of what has happened.'

"... I'll come by this evening. Right now I got too much to do."

'Quite fine.' the Taison nodded and put away the sign, exchanging it for another, 'It might not do much good, but tell him he's got my sympathy.'

"Understood." Lyta Lyle sighed as he stood with Javik firmly held in his arms, "Balak, collect our things. We're going back."

Balak who until then had kept himself firmly in the background flashed a look of dismay across his face, "Huh? But... what about lunch?"

"..." he signaled for the waiter to come on over, who reluctantly but dutifully did, "Any chance you can pack the meals for us to bring home with us?"

"It... will cost extra."

"Fair enough. Just do it."

"Aye," the waiter turned on his heel and left them alone, "doing."

He was unhappy to see the day turn out like this, but guessed there was nothing for it. And from now he would have to prepare for the harder part of the business concerning Javik; the inevitable aftermath. _What to do next?_

* * *

**Author notes:** Javik has found out the truth of what is around him and is not taking it well. If he still had his gun, there would have been lots of shooting by now. Next chapter, Milieu will finally get to start with what he traveled so far for. But will it go smoothly?


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter 7: Cataclysm**

* * *

_Six hours later..._

_Location_: Exodus Cluster; Hephaestus System; Cabeiri

Khasic Khalk woke with a start as though from a nightmare, and butted his head against a ceiling he could have sworn was not there a moment ago. For a few seconds he pawed and flailed in confusion, exerting his limbs and mind like he haven't used them for days – matching quite well to his dreams where he hung endlessly in what felt like a void of nothingness.

It passed quickly, replaced by a forced calm as he tried to figure out what had just happened. He was down in the armory, preparing like the rest of his squad for what came next – just in case they could apprehend the pirate vessel through a boarding action if circumstances allowed.

Then blackness enveloped him, and every bit as soon he appeared here. Khasic spent a moment examining his talons and found belatedly he wore his matte black combat armor, with helmet lying on the floor, knocked onto it when he flailed about.

Carefully he retrieved the item and gave it a check before he rose to examine his surroundings. A small space that was barely a cabin, though larger than his quarters. It held the bed he lay on just a moment ago, and a table in the middle complete with a single package of food and drink. Past it was an airlock complete with a warning ordering him to make sure his suit is sealed before going through.

Khasic frowned and put a finger to his earpiece, worried if that before was all a dream and he forgot something crucial. "Command, do you read me?" he queried, and was perplexed by the lack of answer.

One more try was placed before he switched channel in attempt to restore communication.

This did not seem right.

"Command, Corporal Khasic here." he paused, "I require instructions."

Silence.

"Anyone?" he switched channel again, "Is there anyone there?"

Nothing.

Anxiousness crossed his features, and he suddenly felt incredibly claustrophobic in this small space.

That is, until he looked to the airlock and decided there was only one way to find out. So Khasic passed the table, ignoring its contents, while he secured his helmet before cycling through. The airlock at the very least obeyed his press of buttons and opened up, letting him pass into the little chamber beyond. He kept an eye on his HUD as the door shut behind him, followed by the equalization of atmosphere with the outside.

In a moment, the other airlock opened and ushered him out to a vast and barren landscape that stretched in every direction. Khasic, confused as to why he was here rather than on his ship, spent a moment walking around his little abode; a living module prepared for him that he was certain did not exist in the inventory. And apparently, he was all alone. There was no ship, no shuttle, and not another soul for seemingly miles around.

He had not the faintest idea of had happened for the situation to be like this, and panicked with the thought of having been abandoned here... maybe left to be watched for cruel amusement on how long he could survive... and stay reasonably sane.

"Hey, you're kidding me right?" Khasic asked to thin air, staring outward with some hollow desperation, "What happened while I was out? What happened at all?!" and grit his teeth before he cried out in anger; "What the hell am I doing here?"

"Being my guest. Of course." a voice greeted him, polite in tune.

Khasic felt little reason to be assured and span to stare at where that voice came from, and blinked as he came to look over at piece of flattened hill, and the slight silvery figure who sat on it in meditation, facing toward the rising sun. It seemed artistic, with apparent noble features and a long flowing mane more alien than most things he had ever seen.

That is, until it became apparent what the creature is. He checked his sides for a weapon but found none. "You're... a dôji."

"Yes I am," the figure rose and brushed some dust off its clothes, inclining its head by a fraction as though in mirth, "there is no need to be so guarded. I have no intention to do you any bodily harm... and the crew you serve with is quite safe."

Khasic frowned. "What happened?" he said much louder than was initially intended, but the lack of weapon in the face of a synthetic greatly unsettled him.

"Simply put," the being simply looked at him, its eyes alight with interest like a scientist scanning a fascinating specimen, "your ship entered into our new home system. We did not want you to run away with the knowledge of our whereabouts and restrained your thoughts."

"Forced us to stop thinking?" he asked in disbelief, the absurdity of it would make him deny it instantly was it not for the obvious gap in his memories and that bottomless void in his 'dream'.

It hummed in approval, "Not trying to refute it? You are more open-minded than your profile indicate. I am pleased."

"How could I with this blankness in my mind?" Khasic huffed, not sure what to feel about a synthetic being impressed about him. "And what happens now?"

"Eventually, the crew will be released so they can go home... once we are done altering their memories that is, along with the databanks on your ship. By helping me though, you could accelerate that process."

"Accelerate?"

"Yes. I require your assistance in a matter. If you agree to it, we will drastically shorten your stay in our space."

"I will reveal no sensitive information."

"Keep it. I will not force you to say anything you do not wish to divulge. It has nothing to do with what I need you for."

It rather rankled him, the idea of aiding a synthetic. But he was still a turian, and thus would prioritize the group he is supposed to protect as if his duty rather than his own preferences. The dôji's placating statement however eased his nerves.

At least for now.

"Fine." he crossed his arms, "I'll help you, but only for the sake of my charges."

"I would like it no other way~" the dôji purred approvingly, and seemed to relax just a bit more as it filtered its gauntlets together in front of itself. "That said, I believe proper introduction is in order."

"I am Milieu." it continued with a slight tilt of its head, "Grand Aspect of the Dôji nation. Leader of the triumvirate at its peak."

It sounded strange for a synthetic force to have a supreme leader, but it was enough to make Khasic stiffen considerably, just like the time when he was at his graduation ceremony some ten years back, when he was addressed by the Primarch himself who had come to oversee the event. "I... I am Corporal Khasic Khalk of Digeris."

"Pleased to make your acquaintance."

_Keep a civil tone for your crew's sake_, Khasic forced himself to follow suit;"Er... Honored to meet you...Grand Aspect."

"Please, no need to strain yourself. Simply call me by my name."

"Of course... Milieu." Khasic was glad his helmet concealed his grimace at how the dôji now dictated the flow of their conversation. He was right in the palm of its hand and had no idea how to break out of it, though he admitted there is no other choice but to do as said. "And what is it you need of me, a dissection?"

Milieu smiled wryly, "If that was the case, why bring you to the far end of nowhere on this barren rock of a planet instead of a hospital?"

He embarrassedly agreed. "Aye, stupid question, had to be asked."

"Not an issue. But a moot point. I already know all about your physiology from knowledge gleamed from our first proper alien guests."

Khasic was bewildered and blinked, "Wait, what?"

"Garrus Vakarian, Saren Arterius, Nihlus Kryhk. Along with their charges, Liara T'Soni, and Tali'Zorah nar Rayya, of course." Milieu provided with a shrug, "Who else could I mean?"

"You really did experiment on them, didn't you?"

"Merely treatmen after a most unfortunate encounter they had before Aspect Sophia found them. However... we're digressing. You will not remember anything of our conversation here once this is over anyway."

That for sure reminded the turian of what would follow this experiment, and made him wonder. If the dôji are going to erase his memories of this meeting, why bother lying? Nevertheless, there was nothing in it to prolong this any further. So he crossed his arms and nodded.

Milieu brushed a claw through his flowing mane and nodded in return before he started to approach. But instead of coming at him, the dôji instead paced past him and to the module, where he opened a part of the wall to reveal a screen that instantly lit.

"Got something to show me?" Khasic frowned.

No confirmation was provided, only an instruction; "Please, watch closely."

* * *

Minutes passed as he watched the footage set into motion – one that easily could have taken place in some epic movie. Khasic watched intently as an insane situation took place on the outer hull of an enormous ship, focused on the feud between a synthetic as bizarre as it was hideous, and an incredibly savage-looking dôji, each of them fully determined to rip the other to pieces. Like titans they clashed, but it was nothing compared to when another figure entered the scene and received due focus.

"Saren." Milieu informed helpfully in a hushed tone.

Some surprise came from the time when the barbaric dôji's arm transformed into a weapon that very clearly out-massed the gauntlet used. Khasic had thrown a glance at his host and wondered if they could all do the same. But nothing compared to when the situation changed, when suddenly the shown dôji's body came apart and pulled Saren bodily into its unbelievable expanding frame.

In no more than a few moments the synthetic, the fellow turian locked away inside it, transformed into a much larger figure, a much more frightening frame. A skeletal shape with vague turian characteristics and extremely exaggerated proportions in a few ways – as if emphasizing the importance of some body parts over the others.

Consequently, the battle turned for all the more brutal where the newly transformed dôji started to really tear the other machine together in a messy fashion – at the same time arguing animatedly with Saren over how to go about it.

At that point, Milieu stopped the recording. "You can probably guess what the experiment is about by now."

"That... transformation."

"Just so." the silvery dôji confirmed, "I don't like to imply it, but our father left us with quite a few questions for which we had no choice but figure out ourselves. One of the most significant being about our full-body transformation, the so-called ICON mode."

"And... there you have it."

"Insufficient. I researched that ability for centuries, Khasic, and need to experience it for myself. As you could plainly see, it is clear the ICON mode requires a compliant organic to deploy. Which is where you come in."

Milieu leaned a little closer; "I need you to have me deploy it."

"... Er, well..." Khasic swallowed as apprehensive fear bolted down his spine, "Give me a moment."

"..."

* * *

Khasic felt unexpectedly bad for letting his own nervousness take hold. Despite his will to go through this, the thought of joining with a dôji in that manner was enough to make him think twice.

There were simply too many unknowns compared to, say, the dissection he asked about earlier.

Shame colored his features even though it shouldn't as the other, Milieu, decided to give him that time to collect his thoughts and strode back to where he previously sat. It took it seemingly well, but there was an undercurrent of slight disappointment that was palpable in the air.

It really wanted to do this now, and with it just within reach the dôji had become excited and ever a little impatient beneath that dignified exterior.

Collecting his thoughts, Khasic leaned on the module's wall and sank to the ground. Seconds turning into minutes as he tried to come to terms with this show of anxiety. And what soon occurred to him was the faint memory of when he was a kid. Like many others in those youthful years he always wanted to climb into something as cool as a mecha. But this was very different from his childhood dream, if only because the mecha in this case was a synthetic, a machine aware of itself and backed by unknown and unquantified science.

For a child it might be exciting, but for an adult it was really frightening.

He had no idea what to expect.

And belatedly, he held that thought and spoke up loud and clear; "What _can_ I expect?"

"I do not know, does it matter?" Milieu replied somewhat icily, "Did you not decide to follow through with the experiment for the sake of your crew?"

_Damn. Damn it, but it's right..._ Khasic realized as though he had forgotten it. Ultimately it did not matter what he thought of things, only that the longer he tarried here, the longer the others would remain stuck in that same limbo he had been in. Focusing on that abyss he felt leave him as he woke was thus what got him to rise again and pace toward the dôji who had resumed watching the sunrise. "So what I need to do is... reach for your back?"

Milieu slowly turned just enough to see him from the corner of its eyes, lips curving into a smile, "Apparently, yes." as he gracefully brushed his long mane past his shoulder, exposing his back to the turian. An irrelevant gesture considering what would happen, but one that invited him to enter the dôji's personal bubble.

Awkwardly, he was glad for the lack of audience as he crouched down behind the dôji and extended his wide open palm for the synthetic's back, veering the limb up and down as he basically followed Saren's example – as much as that thought made him a little ill.

At first nothing seemed to happen, and Milieu tensed up, eyes squeezed shut as though the turian had gone out of his way to tease it with the lack of physical contact. Khasic narrowed his gaze and speculatively reached a tiny bit closer when the dôji finally and abruptly went rigid.

_I can feel it!_

Khasic neither thought nor said that, but rather _felt_ like Milieu uttered it the instant before its body suddenly split wide and open, rapidly becoming unrecognizable from its prior form as it transformed and expanded, quickly swallowing him up before he could even think about pulling away, wincing as a mess of cables shot in from nowhere and thrust into his body, piercing his armor to reach the flesh underneath. He expected much pain, yet felt none of that as he was encased within the synthetic's newly formulated but wholly transparent cockpit that allowed him a commanding view of the landscape as the ICON, the result of their union, rose from the sands, implied to be truly gargantuan.

/:Dôji/Organic Synchronization Complete: 21%:/

No. He felt it. The moment those cables went into him, he sensed the expanding dôji becoming an extension of his body. An enormous extension that was entirely alien yet with great immediate familiarity – as though he had been born with it. Milieu's ICON mode seemed to be an immensely vast stylized serpent, no, dragon, with four arms – two situated where the 'chest' was, while two more were possessed by a more standard upper body positioned atop the 'head' – in which the cockpit apparently was.

Yet, even that felt somehow wrong. Somewhere along the way he mixed something up as his anxiety that exploded with the onrushing transformation and mutated into awe and wonder that twisted themselves even further into base temptation fueled by elation without end. The contemplation whether they were two bodies working as one became nil. The contemplation if the dôji became an extension of his own body became nil. Rather it all sensated like an ascension to something greater than he ever was.

/:Dôji/Organic Synchronization Rate Update: 15%:/

Milieu was excited about the completion of their union, and chattered away about it before he noted, somewhat worriedly, about the synchronization values that seemed to quickly change for the worse. Khasic should have noticed it as well, but bluntly ignored it in that rampant elation that was only his. Milieu's words drowned in it as he took in and felt the strength of the ICON, the newfound strength of his.

Powerful!

Almighty!

Godlike!

Khasic felt great. That he could tear this whole world apart with his bare hands. And like he was just reborn into this great new god, let out a scream of proclamation in a wave of pure fury, like a birth cry!

It reverberated through and was immeasurably strengthened by Milieu's expanded frame, and as it came out sent a torrent of sound that mass scattered the region, instantly shattering it. It vaporized the habitation module in an instant, blew away the desert, and even pulverized nearby mountains - soon enough leaving the terrain around them wholly disfigured and scarref, turned into a vast crater. Much to the evident shock of the dôji he now controlled.

"Khasic!" Milieu hissed at him, "What are you doing?!"

Overwhelmed and drunk on the enormous well of power the turian now veritably bathed himself in, Khasic merely raised his arms, staring triumphantly at what he had accomplished with uncontrollably shameless glee. And to his delight it seemed to only grow more, and more, and more!

"Khasic!"

"Silence!" Khasic commanded, grinning like a madman as he looked up at the sky, and could suddenly see the worlds beyond this feeble atmosphere. He could see every star in the sky. Every system. Every galaxy. The whole of creation flowed into his mind and he drunkenly took in more of it, becoming ever more convinced of his divinity as he saw worlds beyond imagining where no one had ever gone before. He saw black holes, folds in space, individual mass relays. For an instant he even peered at Palaven but instantly looked past it before he could even look close to a city.

/:Dôji/Organic Synchronization Rate Update: 6%:/

Milieu cried out, "Stop it!"

Without even knowing, blood started to seep from his head, as though he took in more information than his brain could possibly contain. At first he merely ignored this like it was unworthy of attention, even as irritation turned to pain.

And to agony.

/:Dôji/Organic Synchronization Rate Update: 2%:/

Unable to properly comprehend what exactly happened to him, Khasic growled and hissed and writhed. The bleeding only becoming worse as he continued to look outward, continued to look over what is supposed to be his realm, while clawing and thrashing at what used to be desert, scoured to the bedrock.

He screeched and hissed vehemently, overcome, and lashed out at an imaginary threat that was any other than his corrupted self. Khasic opened his mouth, the fanged maw of the ICON, and started to funnel energy into it that quickly shaped into an orb – already with more amassed energy than any dôji has ever harnessed, yet increased the yield explosively by several orders of magnitude every passing second.

"Stop it!" Milieu screamed with a complete loss of composure. This had gone far too wrong, "Please, control yourself!"

Heedless of its call, Khasic directed the ICON's maw at the sky, until the tissue damage finally proved too much for the turian to withstand and made him curl into a startled ball crying with rage, causing the surrounding machine to double up and strike its head into the ground.

/:Dôji/Organic Synchronization Rate Update: 0.5% - Failure Imminent:/

And accidentally discharged the cannon.

In the tiny moment before it all turned white, Khasic blinked as the blinding headache brought a tiny modicum of sense back to him, and thought in a growing sense of regret and confusion:

_What... __was__ I doing?_

* * *

When Milieu came to again after what immediately followed, he dimly found himself fall through the vacuum of space like he had been flung away right before he to his confusion impacted a sandy surface like a meteor, into which he blacked out again for another instant he rapidly blinked away as he recovered from the strike, only to shoot an arm to grab onto nearby rock in surprise as he found the gravity far weaker than he remembered.

Indeed, the surrounding terrain was entirely black and rocky unlike Cabeiri's orange tinge. Combined with the general lack of atmosphere he drowsily came to the inevitable conclusion that he was no longer on Cabeiri.

In actuality, he realized as data memorized about this system rolled in; this is Cabeiri's second moon.

"How did I get here?" Milieu numbly asked no one in particular, idly aware of an approaching spacecraft, the 'Diomedes', as he looked around before he finally craned his neck to look up at the planet he was supposed to be on.

What he saw, made the Grand Aspect collapse to his knees in shock, a motion made agonizingly slow by the weakness of this moon's gravity. He could only stare at the damage caused in Cabeiri's largely orange visage, stained now by a blackened crater of such size one could plainly see from the outermost orbit. And so deep the shadows cast at the planet's current angle in relation to its star allowed no bottom to be perceived.

If there was any pit to be found. As deep as it seemed to be, that blast from before might as well had blown a hole clean through the planet. The debris thrown into orbit by this... cataclysm... could already be seen in an early stage of gathering into an asteroid belt, granting the ruined planet an additional set of satellites.

"No..." Milieu whimpered as both guilt and terror washed over him. Realizing that this could easily had been Earth's or Eden Prime's fate is the circumstances were different or excitement about his experiment took priority before any precaution. The implications sank to his gut like a hundred ton boulder.

Universal Milieu.

That was shown to be the name of his ICON. It was wondrous at first, but now, how he feared it. Feared its capacity for destruction, and potential for mass murder... both of his own beloved people and others. But most of all he feared how the incredible power of that form could be abused. And how terribly it could fail if the organic he combined with could not measure up to the requirements he was ignorant of until a moment ago.

Several gauntlets fell on him as minor dôji launched from the 'Diomedes' arrived, their eyes full of tears and desperate relief as they hurried to get the apparently wounded Grand Aspect back to the ship. Milieu did not move, but instead reached out and brought two of them into a very close and tight hug. Holding them as if to assure himself he had not hurt anyone else in that terrible rampage.

And for the first time in ages much to the surprise of those around, Milieu surrendered to the grief and buried his face into the hair of the one he held the closest as he openly wept.

* * *

_Thirty minutes later..._

_Location_: Exodus Cluster; Utopia System; Tenjo

Jin was bored today, and that mood had persisted every one of the last twenty hours... Even during work hours where his position as one of the Grand Aspects' dedicated communication dôji and aides should have kept him busy. Not so today it seemed.

So he at one point planned to venture down to the dedicated factory producing those brand new Kalki-Class fighters. A small portion of its crew happened to be Sons of Service who were famed as incredibly fun-loving back in the Northern Dome on Earth. No doubt he could enjoy some of their antics with the right persuasion.

An hour of that would have cured his boredom easily.

That whole plan was derailed however, in a good way, when Grand Aspect Vice who he serve the most, happened to come across Pardonner who looked to get rid of a bottle of liquor Désir himself left behind in his cabin – undoubtedly from yet another failed seduction.

Vice, eager to try the new locally made stuff, relieved him of the liquor.

And so long as the liquor is strong enough, combined with Vice it meant a whole ton of brutal fun that tended to branch into more frisky avenues.

Jin had as his duty required - but with much additional hope - followed his superior to a largely empty mess hall, where Vice finally kicked back, uncorked the bottle and took a healthy swig. Jin simply sat himself at the opposite side of the chosen table and watched with anticipation as portions of the liquid poured down Vice's gullet, and made him tipsy in no more than two swallows, much to Jin's astonishment.

Usually Vice chugged down whole bottles' worth of liquid regardless of potency, since most beverages are too watery to him. But this... this was different.

And now, hoping that his superior would grow drunk enough with what remained of the liquor to let loose, he slowly repositioned himself precisely for the purpose of making himself into a target, and nodded along as his superior rambled drunkenly.

"Honestly," Vice waved a claw, showing off rows of sharp teeth, one of the things that characterize the Grand Aspect so during one of his famous sneers, "I could grow so much stronger if I had more incompetents around me, you get my drift?"

"Very much my lord." Jin agreed, leaning on the table.

"But no, surrounding me instead are nothing but hyper-competent people." Vice growled and took a last deep sip before he slammed the empty bottle on the table, glass ready to break with the pressure his claws exerted on it. "It's a bloody conspiracy, I tell ye."

The minor dôji was about to offer a comment in return, when much to his exasperation an Engrave was inserted into his mind, holding a piece of information that subsequently left him for a moment agape.

Vice raised an eyebrow at him, long since learned of com dôji body language indicative of newly arrived Engraves, and ordered lazily: "Read it up for me..."

"Um, it would seem Milieu's experiment has gone awry..."

"How much awry?"

As if to answer, a hologram snapped on in the middle of the mess hall. "And now for afternoon special report." the fair-looking dôji news anchor featured declared, drawing their attention from one another. "We just received a message from the Hephaestus System, a very recent acquisition dedicated to the increase of the flow of resources. But apparently according to this a highly irregular celestial event took place less than an hour ago that according to long range sensory readings identified as a small-scale supernova." - "Experts are confused as to the event, but assure both the miners and their families at home that the star is stable, and that there is no need for concern. More on this after the break."

Jin's brows arced, "... That much."

Vice's face contorted with exasperated disbelief, "For fuck's sake. Has emergency session been called for?"

"Aye, sir... Ultimo did. All are to attend in fifteen minutes."

Without another word, Vice stomped out.

Jin on the other hand filed away his wants for now and dutifully followed to take his usual position outside the meeting chamber, reasonably convinced that for today, the universe was most definitely not on his side.

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari Village

"Supernova?" Lyta Lyle questioned as he watched the news, "How very strange..."

"Why is it so strange?" Balak huffed from his chosen chair, "That sort of thing happens often enough for most outposts to include sensors probing for 'em, so they can warn ahead and evacuate colonies."

"Good to know, but doesn't lesser the oddity of it. After all, a supernova-strength explosion just happened... yet they said the star's still fine."

As that little tidbit sank back in, he came to agree on the strangeness, "Huh."

For all the oddity in their stellar neighborhood though, more immediately local matters demanded his attention as he looked to the batarian he just a couple of hours ago saddled with homework.

Balak really took his time, an excuse to not work, reading intently from one of the two data pads purchased from Pi, a meager salesman from downtown and one of the Sons of Milieu – a rather small group known for their emphasis on formality, diplomacy and willingness to accept great responsibility. Mildly put Lyta Lyle was surprised to discover said ancestry, as he initially assumed and even now still thought it'd make more sense if he was a Son of Jealousy.

Curtly put, the data pads – basic and simple of make – respectively contain a summarized outline of human and dôji history, and some sparse footage of their conflict waged against the kurozu respectively. The culmination of an amateur project produced and circulated by a group of librarians after it became very clear there had been alien contact, along with the gleamed knowledge that life out there abhorred synthetics rather strongly. It was intended for the benefit of aliens.

But with all that happened after, the already few prototypes were diminished by abandonment during the evacuation. Now only a few existed, and Pi by some slump of fate wound up having two copies in his possession.

Lyta Lyle bought both in the hope that they might help the aliens in his custody broaden their horizon, but did not expect them to turn for the better instantly. But he had to admit Balak has improved a great deal since his arrival. Javik, not so much after the reveal.

For now he left the prothean to his own devices, to give him time to wake up and cool off, but knew he will have to go check up on him sooner or later.

A knock on the entrance soon brought the dôji from his thoughts and into the adjoining hallway to curiously greet whoever had decided to come. "I'm coming. I'm coming." Lyta Lyle called before he opened the door, "Is there anyth-?" only to pause as he came face to face with those outside.

To the left stood a very nervous Pi, with a very ancient-looking med-kit in the palms of his gauntlets. Where he had gotten it from was anyone's guess. Next to him was a wholly more unfamiliar face who still drew some form of recognition.

"I-I heard of what happened," Pi shakily announced as a whole layer of pink caked his cheeks, "and came as fast as work allowed. Sorry I could not come any earlier."

Lyta Lyle blinked at the shopkeeper and the box he carried, "Oh, um, no problem. Where did you get that?"

"Er, I picked it up back on Earth."

"And you are aware how old those supplies might be?"

"Yeah, b-but it's hermetically sealed and meds tend to function well beyond the subscribed expiration date."

"Well, I appreciate the good-will... and the meds." he nodded, projecting some gratefulness before he turned to the other. "And you are... you were the one who hit Javik, right?"

The stranger – his pompadour a fair imitation of Rage's extremely large one – fidgeted awkwardly. Pi was quick to come to his rescue; "Um, this is Kolan. I met him while he was searching for you. Poor bloke wanted to apologize for his impulsiveness."

"Yeah," Kolan started haltingly, "exactly that."

Lyta Lyle frowned, but nodded in acceptance. "Okay, feel free to come in. I'll go see if he's capable of accepting visitors."

* * *

Javik idly wished he continued being unconscious in this merciful dark as he rubbed his forehead, wrought by an intense migraine ever since he woke from his enforced slumber all of one hour ago. And it has not lessened in intensity for all that time.

Right now he tried – against his better judgment – to go back to sleep in the hope it might just dull the pain. Not once did it occur to try and ask Lyta Lyle to help alleviate it, his common sense simply did not allow it. One should never show weakness to a synthetic... as all machines in his experience prey on such frailty. The effort somewhat marred by how hard it was to brush his hands against something that did not give insight to the synthetic that used to live here before he and that batarian.

Whatever he touched, there came an undercurrent of love, the kind that could only exist between a child and its parents. Javik blanched at every sensation of it, sickened and disgusted to know there are machines who can feel that way...

A prevailing thought within a corner of his mind was to enact the earlier plan of heading on down to the facility and find himself a weapon. And he tried to formulate a plan to accomplish this without the notice of his host when the world popped to him a case of 'speak of the devil' as the door was opened. "Javik... you awake?"

Quick as could be done, Javik closed his eyes and acted as though he was still out of it – though not without a certain degree of attentiveness, listening intently. Unfortunately the act backfired as a claw brushed against the bruised area on his face, slightly cracked from the earlier slap, and winced powerfully enough to burst out of bed and onto his feet, livid with anger – headache be damned. "Do you delight in the prickling of organic wounds, machine?!"

"I got nothing but sympathy for you, Javik. But I do not appreciate being lied to." Lyta Lyle crossed its arms and replied soberly, radiating annoyance from every inch of its slender figure before it softened in tune with a change of subject, "That said, you have visitors."

Javik eyed it suspiciously, "Am I supposed to be paraded about now?"

The dôji narrowed its eyes, "Javik. I know you probably don't have enough trust for us to even fill a spoon, but we are not your enemy."

"How true that is remain to be seen."

"We may be synthetics, but we aren't of those you fought – whoever they were."

"All synthetics turn on their creators at first opportunity."

"Don't you ever wonder... if some synthetics struggle against organics only because you refuse to treat them as anything but tools gone rampant?"

Javik blistered and fumed, "Synthetics _are_-" but could not finish his tirade before another dôji invited itself to the door, looking between them in a show of concern.

"Is there a problem here?" the newly arrived one whom he recognized as the clerk from earlier stumbled in, its massive mane flowing with incredible fluidity despite the frequent clumsiness of the body attached to it.

But for all that, Javik found himself curious as to why the shopkeeper had come.

Lyta Lyle shrugged, "There is no problem here. Just my guest being more obstinate than the gargants outside. Javik, Pi here was nice enough to bring some medicine. It would be a load off our chests if you took a leap of faith and let him treat you."

Javik stared at Pi, who smiled reassuringly as it held up a small white-colored box embellished with a red cross - whatever meaning attached to the embellishment eluding him. His host had let an undercurrent in its tone indicate that if he did not let himself be treated, they would hold him down then do it. Not about to be held like some rabid animal he sat himself back on the bed, "... A leap of faith it is." he growled.

"Excellent," the kimono-clad dôji approved and walked out past Pi, but not before he put his gauntlet to the voluminously maned synthetic's shoulder, "he's all yours."

Pi smiled brightly as though the proximity thrilled it before it nodded and hurried to the bed and put its box down next to him. A shrill hiss leaving it as the dôji unsealed and opened the thing up, revealing a set of spotless supplies unrecognizable to his eyes. One of the tool within resembled a pen, only with a wide and blunt front end that lit up green as Pi picked up and triggered it. "A little warning up front," was noted as it took position in front of him and leaned to very nearly meet him face to face, closer than he felt immediately comfortable with, "I'm embarrassed to admit, but I never received medical training."

Javik felt an alarm loud enough to shake aliens from their beds on the opposite side of the galaxy go off as he realized he just entrusted himself to a possible quack. Well meaning amateurs could easily do far more damage than good. Yet he held his position as the 'pen' was brought up against the angry bruise on the side of his face and waved it around just an inch off his skin.

"Hold still." Pi instructed softly. "Do you feel the pain going away?"

At first he felt no different, but then indeed felt the bruised area start to numb along with much of his face. "Yes," he confirmed, "in what way does it...?"

"I don't understand much of the science behind it, but what it does is partially deactivate localized sections your nervous system." it helpfully explained as it put the tool away and took up another one.

Javik narrowed his eyes, "And why don't you know?"

"It's human technology I found and picked up during the time I served as a miner." Pi explained as he put the new tool to use in a manner identical to the last one – the effect unknown as he had completely lost feeling in half his head. The numbing sensation was admittedly far better than being in constant agony, but left him somewhat drowsy.

"Human?"

It briefly mulled the topic over as if wondering what to say, but the matter was taken from its hands as yet another presence invited itself into the room – much more slowly than the preceding ones. "Um, can I have a moment?" the new dôji nervously asked.

He only needed see the newcomer out the corner of his eyes before he abruptly snapped around and away from the dôji treating him, recognizing the synthetic who was the whole reason he suffered from a bruised cheek and migraine. "You!"

Pi raised a gauntlet between them, "E-excuse me." in neat interjection before anything exploded from the abruptly tense atmosphere. "You probably hate Kolan here right now, I can understand. But please hear him out."

"And why should I hear _it_ out?" Javik put an emphasis on the 'it' that made both dôji wince, "Why is it here?!"

"To s-say I'm sorry." the newly arrived dôji interceded awkwardly, fidgeting even as it crossed the arms behind its back. "It's... not like I want to be a friend of yours... And I still strongly disliked your accusations... but..."

Someplace behind Kolan, Lyta Lyle resurfaced and quietly snickered something about a 'tsundere', whatever that is.

Ignoring the farmer's remark, the Son of Rage continued. "... I went too far, okay?! I should not had hit you... at least not without knowing the context behind your... anger."

Javik simply stared, of all things he did not expect an apology. It was most certainly not a heartfelt one, but nevertheless an apology. It was dizzying and absurd for these synthetics, these dôji, to be so much akin to organics on the emotional spectrum. To clothe themselves, to cultivate crops, even to seek mates. So much did not make a lick of sense to his mind and instincts that both screamed with experience built up from an entire life at war to not trust things like these. That it is all a trick. A deception. That much was what he told himself.

Kolan's apology drove an uncertainty from underneath his reflexive hatred to these people since the revelation. Uncertainty as to their endgame, their whole reason for keeping up such an elaborate facade. The only way it could make sense is if they intended to use him and that batarian to project proof of their 'benign' intentions, and drive the species of this galaxy into a false sense of security.

But that brought up another question. Why bother with such a roundabout solution? Synthetics enjoy considerable advantages over organics. His people came to the conclusion during the devastating Metacon War that the only way to defeat synthetics is to unite every species against them – yet they still lost after centuries of endless conflict. Never mind the pyrrhic victory that crippled their synthetic enemy from all avenues of recovery, as ultimately the machines still got the final laugh.

These dôji could simply overwhelm the galaxy, and easily if it is divided, especially if there are no species in this cycle as decisive as his own.

"Don't think too hard Javik," Lyta Lyle interrupted his thoughts as he brushed past the Son of Rage with a knowing smile at Javik's blank expression. "You'll blow a fuse. Pi, the nightstand if you will."

"Ah?" Pi pulled away and looked to the small piece of furniture before he took to reposition it where the farmer evidently wanted it; in front of the alien that was the center of their attention. "Aye, anything else?" he inquired, eager to please.

"Nothing else at the moment."

Javik grimaced as much as his numb face could at the two dôji and the nightstand, questioning until a tantalizing scent filtrated into his nostrils. The scent of roasted fish, confirmed as Lyta Lyle put the platter it carried onto the nightstand. Both the aroma and the look of what he pointed out an interest for earlier made his lips run dry in an instant.

Everything about it seemed right, and what's more... it raised a nostalgic air from the depths of his memories that seemed hazy in its clarity – stronger than it was when he first looked over the menu and found that specific food item.

Kolan stared, lips pressed into a thin line. It had expected some manner of answer and was left wanting. Lyta Lyle patted it on the shoulder in a friendly manner, "Give him some time. I don't think he has eaten once in the last fifty thousand years."

"I don't mind waiting in that case." Pi conceded, more than happy to follow the farmer's line of thought. "Right, Kolan?"

The pompadour-maned dôji took this – still watching him as he reached out for the fish – and finally nodded, "I guess so."

Lyta Lyle grinned at them both, "Great. I got some good drinks you might like to try – to help pass the time."

A chorus of interest rang from them both. Javik on his part ignored all three of the conversing synthetics as he tentatively plucked the fish from its platter without a single thought to the utensils. Every motion deliberately cautious as if it would burst into flames and disintegrate if he mishandled it.

Within him, the nostalgia grew all the stronger as he scented the roasted fish further. Brought it up. And when the sensation became too much for him to bear, he bit down on the morsel and felt it's flavor fill his mouth – upon which an astonishing discovery was made.

_It... tastes the same..._

And like a dam had been broken, his eyes flooded with tears that quickly came to stream down to and drip from his chin.

_It... tastes the same..._

None of his attention was on the dôji wide-eyed from surprise about his odd reaction. Instead, a memory associated with the type of food played out across his gaze. And for a fleeting moment he was no longer there, in that room. Instead he was on the grounds of a disaster.

* * *

_Fifty thousand years ago..._

Javik spluttered as he woke in agony, pain slamming across his chest and back as he tried to rise only to feel his arms and legs give out. And in his agony reached out to make sense of things – only able to remember as far as when his ship came under attack, and became so damaged he had ordered an evacuation. Together with all else, he had made a beeline for the closest escape pod, entered it last, and disengaged it from the vessel that for so many years had been his command. Yet the pod just barely left the ship before it was suddenly thrown wildly out of control. He could not take what happened and blacked out.

Barely coherent in mind, he tried to probe his surroundings and found the drop pod not far away - almost completely ruined from what was clearly a failed landing. Both inside and outside of it he could see bodies badly mangled and torn from the crash, protheans and aliens alike.

Having beheld this, he concluded he was beyond lucky to have survived. And deemed by the discovery of himself partly stripped and rolled up in healing bands that there had to be another survivor here, somewhere.

"Anyone else accounted for, speak up..." Javik keyed his headpiece and ordered. "We have no time to waste."

"Planet's uninhabited, Commander Javik." a familiar sing-song voice replied to his call as one of his alien crew hauled himself into view. Ideen, one of the near-extinct Synril. Javik never thought too highly of the species which peacefulness had quickly doomed it. "I have set a beacon, but you'll be stuck here for a few days at least."

Javik frowned at the usage of 'you', until he noticed the wounds that riddled the Synril engineer's abdomen. "... You're injured."

"And won't be alive for much longer. None of the meds we have can help me now." Ideen coughed up some blood as he sat nearby with something wrapped up in his hands, "But at least you'll live. Made pretty sure of it."

"There may still be time to stop the bleeding."

"Can't... used the last blood stoppers on you anyway."

"Why?" Javik worded in confusion, thinking back. Ideen was an excellent engineer, which was the whole reason why he picked the Synril during the year spent flitting about filling his chosen ship's crew with the best that the galaxy had to offer to heighten their chance of success over the following decade as they probed the enemy defenses for a weakness to exploit in countless reconnaissance runs and pin-point needle strikes. But Ideen for all his passion and expertise always consummately avoided participation in combat with such fury it was holy. He never thought the alien could ever put his life on the line for someone else. "... Why not save it for yourself?"

"Because there ain't anywhere left for me to go, because despite our differences I respect you for accepting me when no one else would, and I believe you're the only one who might just sort out the mess out there." Ideen made his plenty heartfelt summary, ticking up with one crooked finger for each.

"... Years have passed, Ideen. We are no closer now than we were at the start."

"And what have your colleagues done to help the effort except throw lives into the fire?"

"It is what they must." Javik concluded, pragmatic, parhaps to a fault.

The Synril belatedly nodded, conceding the point. "Our work has not yielded much, but I believe in full confidence that if there are anyone who can find a way to end this horrid war, it would be you."

He was left momentarily speechless, and left them in silence that was only ended as the Synril almost doubled up in pain. "Stay with me Synril." he barked with unexpected softness, "We still need you..."

"Thank you for your concern, Commander." Ideen cleared his throat and pulled himself to sit closer before reaching out with what he held. Javik grimaced as he accepted the elongated oddity wrapped up in preservation foil, "Here... made this while you were out of it. Gonna be a long wait after all."

Tentatively, he unwrapped and foil and was surprised to find a couple of skewered fish, roasted perfectly. Disbelief coloring his voice as he turned to Ideen, "Even as wounded as you are, you decided to go fish and cook?"

"Your favorite food, is it not?" the other chuckled, though not without an episode where he whipped away to cough a flood of blood onto the ground before he continued like that was no more than an ignorable irritation, "I've found over the years that no matter the planet, fish always remain the same. Amazing isn't it?"

Javik was silent, unable to really believe. "I do not understand."

"It's to help you survive. And hope it conveys our message to you... for I think I speak for everyone when I say that we all believe in you – and want you to continue fighting for everyone's sake. To that end I would like you to promise us, the dead and the dying, something."

"... What is it?" the prothean asked breathlessly. "To notify your next of kin?" and instantly winced at his own choice of words.

"Most of us no longer have families to speak of." the other shook his head sadly as he rubbed his abdomen, almost as though trying to convince his life-blood to stay on the inside for at least a little longer, "No, what we want, is your promise to never give up."

It was a simple thing he supposed, but of unending strength on a level most fundamental. To never let the spirit waver, and not let defeat bring despair. To go forth with determination and no fear. "A promise I made at the beginning of our journey, and one I affirm readily to the end of my days."

A smile brightened Ideen's features, "We wish you the best of luck, Commander." and like that was all he needed to say and hear, the Synril nodded off as possibly the very last of his kind. Javik stared at from the fish and to the sky as he was rendered fully alone in this wasteland, only able now to wait for rescue. And as he took in that loneliness, along with the loss of all his subordinates he had come to recognize as not only comrades, but also friends, he finally brought up the fish and took a bite.

And like it was brought with the flavor itself, Javik hitched and broke down to mourn.

"You... were stronger than I, Ideen. Stronger than any of us. Pity I only saw that now..."

* * *

Now, the question was, much to his grief as he looked up and beyond the synthetics through eyes blurry with tears. Did he manage to live up to and fulfill the promise he made to Ideen and the rest of his late crew, or did he fail? Though he did as urged and finally found the weakness that enabled their victory, the cost of even it was beyond measure.

Unknown to the prothean however, as he was buried in his memories he accidentally spoke up of his eulogy and question, momentarily ignorant that he was in truth far from alone. What ultimately snapped him out of it was a proximity as his face was suddenly buried into a certain dôji's shoulder as it came and wrapped its arms around him.

"If it was not for your efforts," Lyta Lyle said so softly that the words barely could dance from its lips before they dispersed, "none of those who live today would have survived to this day – either they be organic or synthetic. Your present was lost, but your actions most likely saved the future."

Javik listened to the soothing voice as every instinct cried out for him to clear away and create a gap between them. Contrary to that primal will however, for an instant the desire for tender reassurance proved stronger. "Dôji..."

Lyta Lyle kindly smiled down at him, a gesture filled with warmth. "Congratulations on your victory... Commander Javik."

How very strange. In such a short amount of time since he regained consciousness, so many things happened in rapid succession he never thought to be possible. Synthetics who offer healing, support, apologies, comfort and reassurance. All of his training against persuasion for nothing as he wavered under the persistent saturation of simple generosity and kindness. So much of it that it could not possibly be real had he not lived through it himself.

Though suspiciousness still held a tight grip deep inside of him, for now Javik could not bring himself to care less if they are machines or not. It was so very strange, but he did not care at all. Not at all.

* * *

**Author notes:** Received the tenth volume of Karakuridôji Ultimo in the mail a few days ago, so I decided to write another chapter before I moved on to add to the other stories. That said, there were a few tear jerkers this chapter as the situation developed in this little corner of the galaxy. On the subject of Milieu, he is very much intended to be one of the - if not the most - overpowered individual in the setting (just like he was in the manga aside from Dunstan) However, his ICON is fundamentally different from the others in several ways. There are many risks involved, all of which will probably mean he won't let another organic get in close to him for a long time.

As for answer to comments:

wunwong: Indeed, there is a whole lot of unity of purpose behind it. But it also comes from the knowledge that an entire galaxy will come bearing down on them soon, so everything needs to be prepared fast. Though it needs to be noted that little of that speed would have been possible without the industrial might of Tenjo. I plan to elaborate on that point later.

Oh, and technically those aren't retirement homes. Those living there simply switched their occupation.


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter 8:****_ Of Guilt or Non_**

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Yggdrasil.

Gauge was a dôji of much bulk, several heads taller than most dôji and more than three times the width. Whenever he moved in a crowd he could not help but absolutely tower over almost all present and stride through like a giant, parting the crowds like the sea itself. Gargantuan and in possession of physical strength greater than most of his fellow aspects except fellow giant Orgullo. In contrast to the brazen prideful other however, Gauge directed the enormity of his strength gently and with compassion.

Formally he was responsible for helping to design and shape the city, but frequently lent a hand in the construction personally. Like now as he far from the central pillar helped add a newly arrived module to a near finished tower. Like every other building this one would contribute to the overall design inspiration that Yggdrasil was pulled from, that of a gargantuan tree. Each building was gently curved, the shape continuing into the neighboring structures. From a distance no matter the height, the city spread from the trunk-like pillar like a myriad roots. Some might say it'd be a chore to make, but Tenjo simplified it all for them.

It had been nothing but a boon since they appropriated it. And when one needed something made, he just had to inform its internal complex what is needed and feed it the resources required. Then all one required was ferry the modules produced down and put them together. And with resource extraction and refinement only growing, the extent of production could only grow... even more as factories reached completion on the surface.

Yet for all of that speed, it could never had been made possible without the earnest efforts of the people to build up their new home. He supposed a part of it came from the war that everyone knew would come. Everything had to be made ready and functional, and that meant even the small details that won't directly affect the war effort.

"Easy there." Gauge called softly as he carried a module by himself into place and slotted it in with almost excessive care and watched as despite the manner of build the pieces came seamlessly together, especially as he finished putting it in and a dozen dôji flew and climbed in to properly mate it with the apartment complex it had become a part of. Only need some base necessities and it would be more than ready for several more families to live in. Soon as the coupling was done, one of those inside came out to give the thumb up. "Prepare the next part." he called as he descended to ground to pluck up the next module from the platform that ferried them here from the nearest drop side. "Be quick about it."

"Aspect Gauge!" his personally assigned com dôji, a little red-head by name of Te, surfaced from the crowd and milled toward him with urgency in his steps, "A meeting has been called. All Aspects must attend!"

Gauge frowned, "All of us... What has happened?"

"I cannot even begin to guess. It's an order from the Grand Aspects."

_Must be something serious then..._ Gauge thought and waved for the workers, "Continue as you were. Duty is calling me elsewhere."

"As you will, lord." the foreman bowed and gestured for his men to take the next module themselves.

His attention turned to Te and they went to the nearest terminal to attend the meeting holographically. Once there... he could barely contain his shock upon what he saw in the middle of the meeting room, an image of utmost ruination, a planet gutted... as if a giant finger had reached out from space and pressed a hole through it. And like him, several could not attend in person... including the clearly distraught Grand Aspect Milieu that somehow disturbed him all the more.

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Tenjo.

Much as he kept a straight countenance to the contents of this meeting, he grieved on how broken Milieu looked, a sight made all the more magnified by the hologram that displayed him – as if he would fizzle out and vanish on them if his grief was made any worse. Almost a very real possibility with the image of the aftermath of what happened on Cabeiri hanging in the air before them all.

Last to arrive was Gauge, and he like the rest came to stare at the image for as long it took for the meeting to start. Vice took the lead in this, and with a beat on the floor with his sharply angular gauntlet, he started: "Now I call this here congregation to order. And what a doozy this is." and continued, "Milieu made a decision to take his ICON mode out for a spin – for science! – with a prisoner for help. Look how that turned out."

Milieu invisibly cringed but offered no protest. For Ultimo his increased discomfort was plain to see.

"How exactly..." Pardonner raised an inquisitive claw and carefully asked, "did _this_ happen?"

"For that, only one here can tell us." Vice looked to his silvery neighbor, "How in the world _did_ you manage to gut a _planet_?"

"To be honest, I am not really that surprised." Jealousy interjected and seemed to take this with a whole less incredulity than the others as he laid himself down on the side. "Milieu is stronger than any of us. And we can all of us agree his ICON would accordingly be hideously more powerful."

Ultimo silently nodded his agreement with that fact. If there ever existed an unwritten but provable point of agreement with the kurozu, it was the certain restraint showed by either side in one issue alone. Not many knew about it, but their mechanical archenemy possesses a type of Deus ex Machina far more powerful than the S-class. A type which construction is so sophisticated and materials so rare that only a few hundred exist at any one time. Their sole purpose: To counter Milieu. Every Aspect is practically a one-man army. Milieu is... more than that.

So the unspoken and unwritten agreement was made that greatly resembled the MAD policy of ancient human nations.. So long as the silvery Grand Aspect is not deployed, the kurozu would not send their T-class to the combat zone. Only broken when the domes were found and all the T-class was about to be deployed to aid in destroying Central Dome.

"As you say," Orgullo growled, "but it doesn't tell us what went wrong."

"... He," Milieu sighed deeply, "was overcome."

"Who?"

"A turian named Khasic Khalk." Regula sighed his lamentation, "Now a casualty I have to take into account and alter his crew's memories accordingly..."

"One whose absence we now must take into account." Vice hissed, knowing that meant all the more work. "Any idea how?"

"Well, how about his life and body," Service sat up in a showy manner, raised and held his arms wide, "were lost during a heroic action on his part? Like... detaching a boarding pod during an ambush set by the pirates they chased?"

"We'd have to do some damage to the entry hatch to give that story some credibility..." the more diminutive bald aspect murmured in consideration before he beseeched a confirmation from their leader, "Would such a story be satisfactory?"

Barely a second passed before Milieu put forward his quiet approval, "Yes please."

Orgullo leaned forward in his seat and pressed, "And how was this Khasic overcome if I may ask?"

"You may..." hesitation bought the next moment before he got onto explaining that, "I failed to predict that Dunstan might have done something different with my ICON because of my greater strength. In other words, a weight of responsibility was applied to my pilot."

"Weight of..." Pardonner reclined in half-thought, "You mean the old adage about great power coming with great responsibility?"

"Yes... Khasic felt upon his shoulders the weight of power he had gained through me, too much of it, and just as I was was wildly unprepared for it. His mind quickly broke under the strain and came to suffer from delusion and megalomania." Milieu explained further with a heavy heart, "Maddened, he believed himself a God and extended his use of my enhanced functions too fast and too much at once. Unable to withstand it all... he lashed out at what he thought an imaginary foe with all the power that he could summon on short notice... and the rest is history..."

"Damn." Avaro remarked quietly.

"... And that," Milieu stuttered and shivered as grief overtook him at a mere glance at Cabeiri's current state, "could have happened to any worlds. Even on Eden Prime... had I been more negligent about security."

"You took every precaution possible." Ultimo placated and would have applied a clap on the shoulder if his visage had not been holographic, "Khasic's fate was tragic, but no one else were hurt."

Rage hissed, "Hate to put a damper on that, but data collated from the event put that blast to an extent of severity comparable to a supernova. It could pile in attention to this cluster for such an irregular event to happen."

"That is possible." Regula thought aloud, "Pardonner. How long until those tug ships for the relay are ready?"

The aspect of Patience looked onto his comrade for a spell, "Very soon..." but soon focused his attention onto their highest leader, "On the note of whatever else may be the consequence of the experiment after the fact, I say onto you not to burden yourself with it."

"Indeed." Gauge nodded reassuringly, "No one could predict that."

Service followed it up with a gleaming smile, "So please raise your head. You cannot let yourself be seen brougth so low."

Belatedly, Milieu looked from one to another, "You're right..." before he pushed himself up to a more dignified poise much to some of his onlookers' approval. Ultimo gave a nod of his own, but perceptively saw that the fellow Grand Aspect's remained in some pain, and overflowed with guilt.

"Now that we are all up to speed and neck-deep in platitudes." Vice beat the floor again to call attention to himself, "I call this meeting to a close. We got a lot of work, and perhaps less time than we hoped. Get yer asses to it."

Ultimo did not object, and as everyone began to leave he inched a little closer to Milieu's image and leaned in close. A decision had been made by him to help soothe his colleague of the burden that has been aggravated by the experiment's catastrophic failure. Something that should have been done back when he crafted the statue that stood in Yggdrasil to the admiration of every dôji. "A moment if you may?"

Milieu paused to raise a curious brow, his right gauntlet visibly longing for a fan with which to conceal his more or less strained expression, "Yes?" he patiently asked.

He leaned slightly closer, "Could you come by my chambers soon as you make it back? There is something we must go over."

Slightly perplexed, the silvery dôji was about to ask why whatever he had in mind could not be discussed right now. A question that he decided to. "Alright." he instead replied with, "If there is nothing else, I believe some sleep would do good."

"Understandable." Ultimo gracefully bowed, "May it be a good one" hiding a slightly mischievous grin as the holographic image dissipated and left him largely alone in the room aside from a couple of aspects. Désir had stopped Jealousy at the door and said to him something in a low voice. Jealousy quirked an eyebrow and nodded before they parted on the way out. _I wonder..._ Ultimo idly thought as he powered up his Noh for departure. _What was that about?_

Quick to decide it had nothing to do with him, he stifled the curiosity and whisked himself away.

* * *

_Next day, evening_.

_Location_: Utopia System; Tenjo

Without the extra distance provided by side-trips and the relay further away, the Diomedes and its escort flotilla completed the return trip in good time. And Milieu waited with practiced poise for as long as it took for the ship to properly dock with the Tenjo before he disembarked and briefly acknowledged those he passed along the way, all quite unaware that the regal posture he kept was a facade with which to hide his metaphorical weariness that sleep in no way helped subdue, and kept up the formality for as long as the retinue he had along for the trip followed until they arrived at the highly secured Officer Quarters – a space adjacent to the Tenjo's bridge – that had largely been relegated for the Grand Aspects to use until the new Core is fully rendered ready for use – which could not happen fast enough.

Milieu slumped his shoulders in belated relief after he left the retinue behind, at first with his private cabin in mind until he belatedly remembered just a few feet off the door that the embodiment of Good had asked for his presence early in the day before. A request he had agreed with, so with a slightly ungentlemanly scratch against his chin he made a turn that made his long ponytail dance gracefully through the air and strolled in the direction of Ultimo's cabin where he applied his palm to its entrance, to which an answer was prompt:

"Come in." Ultimo could be heard, his soft voice almost music, before the entrance gave away and Milieu entered to look for his colleague.

At first there were no signs of the flame-haired Grand Aspect in the rather dimly lit chamber. Milieu narrowed his purple eyes, of all the things he did not expect a hide and seek. "Ultimo?" was inquired as he neared and came to stand where the room was most lit, right where the chamber's bed was.

For a reply, a whisper reached him as though it had been breathed upon his neck, "Glad you could make it, Milieu."

Immediately he had blinked and almost whirled to where the voice came from when from a corner of the most poorly lit place came the slender figure of his comrade, the shadows draped mysteriously across his features. Every step taken with deliberate graduality. Arms folded across his chest. While the eyes flared with interest of intensity that took the silvery dôji somewhat aback and flustered him. Milieu swallowed, unable to really avoid noting how beautiful the other was that very moment shaded like that. "So... what was it you wanted to talk about?" he asked, though by now he had his suspicions about the wording used in the request that brought him here.

Ultimo smiled with a sort of solemnity, his steps did not slow as he crossed more of the gap between them, "How long has it been since you took a real break from work? I at least haven't seen you properly relax since the period of time the kurozu had their peculiar silence."

It was tantalizing, the way his colleague moved. Normally he would be more than able to resist such advances, even those of Désir. Right now he was rather much an emotional wreck and was more susceptible to the change of tension. "Um, I..." Milieu started to reply, until the other came close enough to raise a finger to his lips and with that merest touch made Milieu stumble backward onto the bed that in its softness seemed as though it tried to swallow him.

"Not a question you need to answer." Ultimo chastised him with a playful and articulated his arms and gauntlets so as to untie the shirt of his at the neck in a manner most slow and delicious. It made the cloth that only covered his chest to expose to the sitting colleague a thin and marginally open vertical gap that ran its length alluring to the eye. "Right now, nothing else exists. Not the world. Not the politics. Not war. Not our present problems. Not your grief. Only you, and me~"

Milieu tried to excuse himself awkwardly in the face of what was about to happen, and managed too little and too late as Ultimo applied a palm and pushed him down till he was fully laid down. And unable to do anything but let the flame-haired dôji with those currently enchantingly narrowed eyes climb onto the bed to drape himself atop of him, full intimacy merely inches from one another as Ultimo's face came so close to his. "U-Ultimo?" he tried for the last time to dissuade the excited other who was now in total control.

"Hush." Ultimo breathed, and their lips met, causing all the worries that lay in the back of Milieu's mind to be immediately blown away in favor of what was to come. For the next few hours, Milieu knew nothing but bliss.

* * *

_Late at night, three hours from daylight._

_Location_: Eden Prime; Oinari Village.

Since that time, Javik was allowed to be mostly to himself unlike the batarian who snored and dozed loud enough to wake the dead. He had been worked to the bone tilling the fields – which by itself was fairly harmless. None of the plants seemed to be poisonous, only the ale distilled from those bizarre gas bags that also existed fifty thousand years ago seemed dubious.

He was mildly resigned to the possibility that Lyta Lyle would sooner or later consider putting him to work also if for no other reasons that it was the dôji who largely cared for them with food, clothes and living space.

Until such time he would be prompted to join in he spent his while in simple meditation. Ever since that moment of reminiscing he had several times relived it and many more times dwelled on it to fully take in and appreciate the scope of what it had meant to him... of how it helped him with the seemingly simple but excrutiating effort of moving on. Even bleeding to death and full of agony, the Synril he thought to be a coward had with great fortitude treated him, traveled to the nearest body of water, fished, then returned to cook the caught fish and determinedly stayed alive for long enough to serve it and delve into conversation. All of these should have been impossible with those injuries... He carried them out anyway.

He sat cross-legged on the bed reserved for him with his back against the wall. And in his slightly closed mind contemplated the memory with renewed appreciation. It was about all the consoling he had from his era to help him carry on in this one... where he existed in the borderline livery of admittedly mild-mannered synthetics.

_I will not weep_. He decided. Platitudes be damned. _Even if I am the only one left, I will no longer weep_.

With that momentary decision made, it did not take long for something to bring him out of his self-imposed trance. Javik frowned toward the window as a sound came from the village. The sound of a being greatly distressed. To his credit, the batarian woke with a snort and looked around, "Huh what?" he absently glared in every direction.

"Don't ask me." Javik drawled, "It's your cycle."

Most prompt an arrival was Lyta Lyle's as he opened the door to them. He looked lightly disheveled for the hour but was wide awake. Javik largely shook his head at the dôji's apparent need for sleep. It looked genuine but he placed little weight on that. "Oh you're awake." he curtly observed, "On your feet, we're going to town."

Balak groaned in resignation and got himself ready, "Is it that sound or whatever?"

"Exactly right. Javik, you too."

It did not take long before they were out and hurried down the road to town, mostly at the insistence of the dôji that had pulled them out and led on. "What is the reason we are doing this?" Javik belatedly demanded, this action seemed wholly unnecessary.

"For one, I cannot simply leave you guys behind." Lyta Lyle replied in mild solemnity, "As for a second reason, it's called being a good neighbor. Third... because few things can make a dôji scream like that, and the kidnapping of one's child is one of them."

Balak who stumbled the most of the three grit his teeth, mostly from tiredness than distaste, "You mean like the 'Snatcher' business people talked about?"

"Yep. And while the culprit always returned the kids he stole away, it does not excuse the act." he looked side to side as they entered town, as though searching for someone. "The terror it visits on the bereaved family. One of the worst there is." Lyta Lyle's search did not go unrewarded as from a building on the side, a dôji waved them in and gestured for silence. "And there we are. Neighborhood watch has already assembled."

Javik grimaced at the ignominy of their entrance as the one who greeted them insisted on doing a little search on their persons before he allowed them in. A search that was very curt with himself and Balak, but was thorough and rather gentle with their caretaker. He snorted at how obvious the gesture was.

"Looking for any excuse to feel me up now are you?" Lyta Lyle wryly smirked as he with arms raised let the other pat searchingly along the slender chest and down to his legs. "Gonna have me remove my kimono removed next?"

"N-not really." blurted the searcher as he finished and turned his face away, "You're clear. Go."

"Much obliged." the synthetic in their lead nodded and led them into the crowded building. The prothean was very guarded at the sight of so many dôji filling the building, a few of whom looked toward them for a glance until the next whimper from the living room enraptured their attention again. More guarded still, and much to his additional chagrin, as Lyta Lyle weaved his way through the throng with them in tow and made their already obvious presence all the more telling. Towering over the synthetics they are simply sticking out like klixen in a spam farm. Might as well breathe fire like one for all the difference it made.

Lyta Lyle only slowed to a stop once they neared what caused the earlier commotion, a weeping father who sat crumpled on a chair while his bond-mate tried to console him. "Nice you could make it." a dôji of the same size but with a long cloak and large puffy brown mane, the apparent leader of this neighborhood watch.

Balak seemed perplexed at how the apparent leader and several others regarded Lyta Lyle and leaned close, "What's the big deal with that slave driver compared to all else here?"

Javik simply muttered a crisp, "Don't know." in response.

Instead the answer came from behind as a disbelieving Pi came out of the crowd, "You do not know? Truly?"

"Should we?"

Pi looked on wide-eyed, "He is Aspect Slow's oldest remaining son. Older than most of us by several scores."

"Yet you lust for him?" Balak said all too bluntly, which caused the dôji's face to turn a steep crimson.

Quick to compose himself if only halfway done with the storm of erratic blushing, the flustered dôji stared at him, "Age is no obstacle to matters of love and family. It is for his well of experience that his age matters." he said and at the same time swept what the batarian had said under the carpet with strict adherence to the topic.

"So what is known so far, Locksmith?" Lyta Lyle ignored or did not listen to the conversation that went behind his back, the attention fully on the watch leader after a quick look around. "Where is Hatter?"

The apparently named Locksmith grimly shook his head, "No clue as to Hatter's location, but we are about to start the questioning. As you lived the furthest away I assume everyone who are available to assemble are here now. As for preamble, our goal is to catch the Snatcher. Now without ado, Cab, can you tell us of when and how the kidnapping happened?"

Cab had thus far been completely ineffective at calming his deeply terrified bond-mate and turned to address, "It... it happened so quickly. We were on our way through the town square after a late visit to my beloved's father. Our attention was away from our child for but an instant before the Snatcher came out of nowhere and stole the kid right out of the pocket... then booked it before we could retaliate."

"For how long did your attention wander?" Locksmith wondered.

"A second or two."

Someone in the crowd spoke up, "So we may be dealing with a Son of Jealousy?"

"And the reason for that conclusion is?" Javik asked of Pi as he and the other four-eyed alien shared in their confusion about the conclusion.

Helpfully Pi provided his aid, "It's a reasonable one because of the ability that all Sons of Jealousy share." and at the prothean's uncomprehending look continued helpfully, "Um, our people are divided into sixteen distinct 'bloodlines'," he added air quotes that seemed excessive with those gauntlets of his, "each with a special ability that is either based on the Noh of their Aspect or shares some form of similarity."

Carefully, Javik listened and largely ignored what was being said elsewhere in favor of what information the clumsy Pi was willing to provide. Yet as he listened for answers only grew to have more questions... a cursory glance to the only other organic here revealed the same confusion. Noh? Special ability? "Such as?"

Pi thought on it for a moment before he replied, "... Take Locksmith for example. He is one of Aspect Sophia's 'bloodline'. Sophia's Noh is Sense Manipulation that allows him the to freely manipulate all senses of both self and others in an astounding variety of ways. His children on the other hand can only sharpen the acuteness of their own, though this gives them perception unrivaled among minor dôji."

"How about our... caretaker?" Javik dryly frowned. Only cause of alarm was the alarming knowledge he could not tell who belonged to which bloodline, all of these dôji looked different.

"Lyta Lyle? Slow with his Fate Manipulation is the weaver of probability." the long-maned dôji explained as casually as if reporting the weather forecast. "His children cannot alter fate, but sporadically can in heated moments gleam what might happen within the next three seconds to self or somebody else. Clairvoyance you could call it."

Now, Javik did not have to check with Balak to know their eyes were all flung wide open. Not only was it an obscenely long step up from the last one, but to an impossible extent. A look given to the busy Lyta Lyle made him shudder before he set his gaze back on Pi, "And... the criminal?" Javik asked, his mouth abruptly parched.

"If the assessment is correct." Pi did not hesitate this time and raised an informative finger and swung it side to side, "Aspect Jealousy's Noh is Heart Reading. It allows him to know the opponent's next move and strike first no matter the situation. The ability of his children is Body Reading. Doesn't hold a candle to Heart Reading but his children can read target movements well enough to perceive openings, opportunities, hence the conclusion."

The more he learned of these dôji the more absurd everything about the universe he presently lived in turned absurd. Far as he had observed, the galaxy today is less advanced than when the Prothean Empire ruled it... These dôji being the only observable exception so far. What kind of science was it that spawned them?

Balak as if he had not yet had his fill of oddity started to ask Pi about what _his_ ability might be when the dôji named Locksmith clapped his gauntlets together to call all attention onto him. It brought the organics back into what situation presently developed to see the neighborhood watch leader address everyone, their interview with the bereaved father and bond mate finished and concluded. "So we know approximately what we now are up against. Except for any Sons of Avaro everyone will group into teams of four and head out."

Javik tilted his head at Pi who whispered his answer, "Um, Aspect Avaro's Noh is Pyramid Scheme. He can produce dozens of duplicates of himself. His children can produce five."

"Actually," Lyta Lyle started over the general noise of approval and consequently called attention haltingly to himself instead. Even Locksmith was more or less silenced. "I would like to make a different suggestion."

Silence was the answer until the leader spoke up, "And what precisely did you have in mind?"

"By coincidence," the elegant dôji spread his palms, "we got one person here with an ability that no dôji possess. One that might very well be uniquely viable for this situation."

A suitable lack of comprehension took the crowd. Javik felt a little knot in his gut from knowing who that synthetic most likely referred to. Namely himself. "In other words, you need my assistance." said with as much resignation as defiance.

"Him?" Locksmith glanced at him with narrowed eyes, "Are you sure he will help at all? Does he not have much misgiving against us?"

"Yes, and I still do." Javik grew an unsettling sort of smile – thoroughly enjoying the uncomfortable shifts it caused to the crowd – and confirmed. Although he disliked this on so many profound levels it could form a metaphoric high rise, his mind raced to find a way to exploit the situation. "Despite that, I might consider the providence of aid in exchange for a small accolade."

"An award you mean?"

"Yes."

Locksmith eyed the thinly smiling Lyta Lyle as if this was somehow a premediated plan before he asked the inevitable question: "Is there any reason he's that vital to our investigation?"

"His ability is a form of psychometry." Lyta Lyle deftly informed, "Any clue he might pick up could lead us directly to the Snatcher's current hideout of choice. I reckon it's better than scattering in the vague hope we might stumble on it."

The brown-maned dôji considered it and succinctly addressed the prothean, "What do you want in exchange?"

Being given a weapon would be all too farfetched. So considering he is stuck here with these synthetics for the time being decided on the lone real pleasure that this place had provided him with so far. Javik performed a dramatic arm-fold, "Free servings of whichever fish dishes I request for as long as you are willing to provide."

Of all the things he could have asked, this seemed to be the most underwhelming. Balak simply rolled his eyes in quiet disbelief while Lyta Lyle put up a little wider smile, "I certainly don't see anything wrong with that. Do you?" the latter asked of Keysmith.

Keysmith grimaced, "Well, I-"

"Done." Cab consequently interjected and quickly bowed. "We are the owners of the local cafe. Bring back our son to us and we'll provide you with that for the next month if you so wish!"

Javik looked over his shoulder to Pi, "A month?"

"As long as it takes for the sun to rise and fall thirty times each."

If he was that kind of person he would have considered whistling. A better offer than he had hoped for. With a triumphant smirk he regarded all present, "Consider it done."

"Alright. New plan." Locksmith coughed and centered the collective attention around himself, "Lyta Lyle, take your organics to the fifth row where the crime took place and begin investigation. All of us else will remain on standby and come to your aid once called. But as we do not have any Sons of Regula among us... is there anyone here able to provide an appropriate signal?"

"Me!" Pi with a furtive glance to Lyta Lyle shot a hand up instantly, just a couple of inches short from puncturing the ceiling with the foremost tips of his claws, "I'll do it!"

Wryly at this immediate response, Locksmith applied a hand to hip and regarded the elder Son of Slow with a pointed claw in the long-maned dôji's direction, "Good enough?"

Lyta Lyle rolled his eyes, "Fine."

"We begin now then. All hands to position."

As the crowd started to move, a severely annoyed Balak at the prospect of a further time from bed leaned close, "And what do I get from this shit?"

Javik tilted his head at the other alien, "Exercise?" and grinned darkly as the batarian let go an exasperated groan.

* * *

It did not take long before they set out along the darkened streets of Oinari under a sky equally dark. The Son of Milieu, Pi, had grown to love the vista of stars and disliked when they were obscured from sight. It reminded him all too much of the blasted and tortured world from which they all came. Left in a sullen mood at the lack of a carpet of observable stars he followed the three others to Fifth row, his attention drifting to the very next best object of attention.

He as a person was deceptively many things. People mistook him for a youngster when he was very nearly two centuries old. People saw him as excitable and clumsy when he was actually just so passionate that he oft stumbled over his own two feet and anything else in-between. Being like that he liked many things and hated little.

And nowadays, aside from the beauty of heavenly spectacle he favored Lyta Lyle the most. That the Son of Slow had lately wordlessly announced with the slight loosening of his kimono that he is open for another relationship was not lost on Pi. But rendered a stuttering mess before the stunning person he now tried to edge closer by being helpful to the sheltered organics whenever he could.

"Are you really sure a bloody stick's gonna help if we get in trouble?" the one named Balak scoffed sceptically at the pole he had been supplied, one of two – the latter given to the prothean. They passed his shop along the way, so scrounging up the makeshift 'weapons' for use was easy.

"You feel more confident with your fists?" Pi smiled wryly and replied evenly.

"No way." he winced at the thought of it, "I'd be eaten alive."

"Well then, you'll feel much safer with a stick. Every millisecond you buy trying to hold the criminal at bay is another millisecond we get to intervene."

"And if I can't?"

Lyta Lyle looked past his shoulder, "We will mourn at your funeral. Right Javik?"

The prothean shrugged, "I can only promise to try."

"I get it." Balak hissed and prodded Pi's shoulder, "You damned well better not let it come to that, you hear?! Be all over me."

"There is only one here I would like to be all over..." Pi rolled his eyes.

"Hoh." the alien raised three brows indifferently and raised a hand, "Taskmaster! Pi wants to be all over you!"

Instantly regretful of his prior comment, Pi did a double take at the blunt announcement and turned red enough in his face from embarrassment to glow in the dark. His wistful gaze drifted to the object of his attention who had missed a step. _T-this isn't how I wanted the cat to come outta the bag..._ Pi thought in trepidation, his luminescent blush turning even more violently so as Lyta Lyle's attention landed squarely on him, boring into his eyes. "U-u-um.. I can explain."

"... Oh really?" the other dôji said quietly, folding one gauntlet over the other thoughtfully, "Do pray tell. Where does your interest lie with me?"

Pi expected a little more of an outburst than that, "I... I didn't intend to have it come out like this... but... I'd... very much like to be with you!"

Silence. Lyta Lyle slowed further in his steps – allowing the organics that cared less for the exchange to build up a lead – as he gave the other a slow once-over before he broke it. "Okay." he spread his gauntlets and clapped them together with a metallic clang, "I'll bite. Come by my house later and we'll talk."

And like that, he fell slightly behind. Stunned at his seeming good fortune. "O-okay..."

"Good. Now back to our current business." Lyta Lyle continued as they entered the Fifth row. "We're here. Your turn, Javik."

No question was needed as to where he needed to start his search exactly. One would think the nearby violated patch of ground and adjacent wall would be sufficient an indication. With a near imperceptive nod the prothean strolled slowly to the place and started along the ground as he next crouched down and placed a palm searchingly against it. No more than an instant was spent in wait as Pi and the others fanned out before Javik's eyes widened in clarity. "An intensive struggle took place. One part protective and desperate beyond belief, while the other sought only to steal and run."

"Like we did not know that already." Balak muttered, "Waste of time."

"Hush you." Lyta Lyle reprimanded, "Continue please. Any hint at all to where he might have gone?"

Javik placed his hand on a track that led south but cut off quickly. Every dôji can fly, so the direction told nothing immediate aside from the route of disengagement. "Aside from an obvious intent to hide." he gleamed, "He felt confidence about the chosen place. No one would surely find him there, not even by accident."

Balak rolled his eyes incredulously, "How very strange. We could not possibly had guessed that by ourselves."

The Son of Slow looked onto the stacked-eyed alien sourly, "You're not helping."

As if he had not been interrupted, Javik smirked and continued. "That at least was his belief. Impatience haunted his step, so he would not venture far. The hiding place must be within the village... yet out of the way, close by, easy to access, and generally unattended at the hour."

Unable to keep his wisecracking in check, Balak growled "Like we got any shortage of such places." and got a solid reprimanding prod on his forehead, enough to topple him, by an annoyed Lyta Lyle who then corrected him:

"Actually that does shorten the list."

Pi nodded excitably, "Aye, and I know one such place that don't get much attention at most times: The town stables. It was built as an afterthought in anticipation for future animal trades, but hasn't seen much use yet."

"Impatient or not it is a decent place to hide. Searching parties would normally fan out to search more distant locations." Lyta Lyle whispered to them as much as himself, "Right underneath our nose. No longer... muster and let's go!" and once Javik had stood up they all traversed from the street and to the near adjacent town stables. It was made of a large fenced area attached to a trio of buildings; a large barn for animals and two smaller neighboring structures for personnel and equipment. Question was to check these one by one or split up.

Balak grumbled from the back of their group he had elected to stay in, "Where first?"

"Might as well..." Pi started and stopped as a singular fluke occurred either by accident or design, most likely the former. It was very faint and vague, but the wind carried with it a subdued peep delivered with fright and discomfort, the cry of a frightened dôji child that both he and the other could barely keep from racing to the aid of, "the barn!" he hissed.

"I know." Lyta Lyle narrowed his eyes dangerously, "Javik, Balak, with me. Pi... you go there and wait for us to distract the Snatcher."

Understanding what the older dôji had in mind, Pi flexed his claws as he hurried to obey, "Got it." and split away to make for the side of the barn while the others trod on their way to the main entrance, the organics' following whispers quick to fade:

The batarian wondered, "Should he not set off the signal already?"

"Easier to corral the prey if you can dictate the direction it goes." Javik shrugged, "Basics of the basics. You call yourself a soldier?"

From that, Balak grunted his annoyance.

* * *

Once in position before the barn's entrance, Lyta Lyle momentarily broke with his flair of gentle patience in favor of a moment of brilliant fury. He had not showed it very much, but the fearful child's cry unsettled him most severely in a way that could only be a holdover from the all too recent time he had to part with his youngest child. And with every figment of strength he tore into the wooden door, and split it apart with enough force to thoroughly pulp it – something that earned a whimper from Balak from the unbidden memory where the synthetic had held him in one of his gauntlets. Javik was more or less unfazed, except to give his batarian counterpart a reprimanding glare as they held back with sticks arrayed like spears.

Unflinching in his walk, the dôji at their head stomped into the barn and found the criminal standing halfway across it... staring at the sudden intruder. The fellow was every inch recognizable as a Son of Jealousy, his blue visors split into six angular pieces much like those of his line's Aspect. In his left gauntlet a tiny figure was held, the child that afraid from all this development had curled up, the safety promised by the imagined presence in his parent's pocket as reassuring as the hull of a battleship.

"Tch." the Snatcher grumpily huffed at being found out, "So that cry carried that far out huh?"

"Let the child go and surrender." Lyta Lyle hissed, incensed, "Or I will break you." with every intent to make real of that threat.

The slender other crooked a laugh, "How about... no?" and raised the claws that clutched the child away as the Son of Slow instantly widened his stance, "Ah, ah, ah. You don't want me to break this little one, do you?"

"I don't have to worry for that at least."

Before a certain level of confusion could be put in, a section of the wall behind the Snatcher pulsed with light as a glowing mass in the shape of a dôji came through seamlessly, the affected wall left intact in its wake this presence launched itself across the distance that needed to be covered until it was at the Snatcher and swiped a large clawed gauntlet through the one that held the infant. Lyta Lyle watched and smirked as the glow for an instant grew to include the child and it likewise passed through and free.

As fitting for one who was by the whole population viewed as very nearly a divinity, Milieu can with his Noh perform dimensional manipulation on a staggering level. In turn, his children has the ability to have themselves sync out of reality for as long as their fuel allows, and further can extend the ensuing effect of intangibility to as many as one got limbs, which is four.

The Snatcher looked over his shoulder instantly as the child's presence was removed from his grasp and figured quickly out what had happened, "You had a Son of Milieu with you!?" he hissed and side-stepped away from Pi's visage with a scowl on his face, "Clever bi-!"

In the same instant, Lyta Lyle had charged at the offending dôji and cut the curse short almost literally as his right arm passed through a reconfiguration, extending a great black blade from where his claws had been. "Karakuri henge; Obsidian blade."

Alas it would not be that easy as the criminal looked back at him, evaluated every step and every sway of his body as he approached and deemed correctly where the blow would land. At the very last moment, the Snatcher ground himself and jumped, with just an inch clearance as the black blade sliced through the air where he was that instant before. "Don't get too cocky!" he declared, "Karakuri henge..."

_Read me perfectly, huh..._ Lyta Lyle thought, his eyes widening as his own ability was triggered and he viewed the possible future where the enemy transformed a Spider Slayer and tried to cut his arm off. How to avoid that damage was obvious, and he arranged an emergency blast from his thrusters that threw him out of the way.

Just in time, "... Spider Slayer!" the Snatcher had formed a curved blade of his own and brought it about into a vertical cut, missing the Son of Slow by fractions. "Ah!"

While still in the air, Lyta Lyle reoriented himself and with a blast onward tried to run the opponent through, an attempt neatly avoided as Snatcher managed to withdraw his blade and tilted it just enough that the Obsidian blade slid off-target. Both span, and exchanged blows at a near-blinding speed that caused the nearest stalls to be chopped to neatly cut pieces, a violent exchange that momentarily ended as Lyta Lyle span and with full force managed to bring it against his opponent, who though he managed to block the blow was sent flying so he crashed through the opposing wall and rolled into the pen outside.

"Bloody hell..." the Snatcher coughed as he dug his claws into the ground and halted his momentum, and too late noticed that the sky which should have been completely dark had been lit by a flare. Not too far away stood Pi with a little telling smirk and the child held against his chest, "Argh, give me a break!"

"No, that is absolutely not our intention." Locksmith's voice carried from the rooftops behind him, the air filled with dozens of newly arrived dôji that had immediately responded to that launched flare. The Son of Sophia folded his arms, "We are taking you in."

Snatcher looked up at them all and in a show of nonchalance grinned, "How about no?" and looked down just in time to notice the next one to attack him. By the looks of it, a Son of Rage. While the Sons of Ultimo can manipulate their own time to move at extreme speed, Rage's children simply has insane acceleration over short distances that mimics their Aspect's capacity for lightning speed and uses the momentum it brings to smash their enemies wide open.

This Son of Rage came from the side, and Snatcher had to twist himself out of the way to avoid heavy damage and watched with bare composure as the opponent blurred past at supersonic speed with a curled fist extended. Unfortunately, it was an ability more meant to be a nutcracker against hardened targets like heavy units and fortifications than something small and nimble.

An opening was perceived by the missed attack, and Snatcher accordingly tried to lash his Spider Slayer out at him... only to see the attack pass harmlessly through and snarled at Pi who just used the opening he had offered in turn to grab him from behind. The effect of intangibility fading the instant his ineffectual attack had run its course, followed by a hammer blow to his midsection as Lyta Lyle joined them and struck out, sending the crook tumbling across the pens, clutching his abdomen in a pitiful manner.

"You might be useful for a bond-mate after all." Lyta Lyle remarked to his partner in this venture, liking the deftness in decision and implementation. "You okay?" he asked of the Son of Rage who just recovered.

Pi responded by blushing. The other dôji simply grunted at the concern, "I'm fine."

Nodding, he turned as dust and dirt was scattered in thin clouds by Locksmith and everyone else landed to surround the criminal, "So how about it, Snatcher? About time to give up, hm?"

"Not in your life." Snatcher hissed as he stacked himself back up, the damage across his lower body lessening as self-repair kicked in, undaunted by the odds against him. Probably still thought escape could be carried out.

Locksmith was not impressed and marched with a set of claws raised to grab, and found no purchase as Snatcher leaned then hopped away, sought an opening in the crowd, and beelined for it. Those who had given the opportunity stiffened and instantly bolted into place to block. Snatcher fired his thrusters and leaped over them in turn, his attempt brought short as the only dôji who absolutely towered over the rest, a bulky Son of Orgullo, came at the crook from behind and used his own mass to smash him face-first into the ground.

For an instant Snatcher was stunned and pinned into the dirt yet able to quickly recover as he next violently reacted and flailed till he managed to backhand across the face of the one who held him and had the hold loosen for long enough that he could bob and weave from those who had rushed to the side to try and pin him down more thoroughly.

Lyta Lyle watched the development with a cool mind, unsurprised that it proved rather difficult to capture the target. This type of objective by its very nature require innately far more manpower than simply killing. Him being a Son of Jealousy who could read body language almost like an open book made it even harder. And that was why he had earlier tried to cut the Snatcher in half at the waist. With two limbs short the capture would have been much easier.

Not about to let the Snatcher go as he got clear, he was swarmed as the rat-like Sons of Avaro at this location duplicated into a small horde and buried him in a pile of them, biting and slashing at the lone opponent in attempt to rip his limbs off. No doubt that would have done it... that is, if the Snatcher had restrained himself like they did.

Alas he struck back with lethal force and the duplicates soon shrieked and dissipated while one of the dôji themselves jumped back with visible injuries as the Snatcher wrestled himself free from the pile, jumped clear... then haltingly fell against a wall, obviously limping as ugly gashes ran around his shoulders and a leg was barely attached. And the little swarm made by the remaining Sons of Avaro, almost frothing as they were caught up in the action, seemed more than ready to pile in again to finish the job.

"Looks like it's in the bag." Lyta Lyle observed. All the violence was regrettable, but the Snatcher had forced their hand. All the others ganged up both to finally apprehend the criminal... and pry the rat-like attackers off of him to avoid a kill.

Pi agreed, cooing softly as he quietly reassured the tiny pup that lay curled against his chest, "Yeah."

* * *

"How many times would we have died if we tried to get involved." Balak growled as he and his reluctant companion watched the fight to apprehend that loner from inside the barn. It was the first glimpse of dôji in combat and was like an all too real movie had played out for all the battle choreography that just happened.

"Twenty point five times." Javik deadpanned for an answer, not deep in the care for the stacked-eyed alien's cowardice and more busy studying the capability of what he might fight one day, "Give or take two point one."

For all the damage, Snatcher seemed more than willing to try and continue his flight when suddenly the whole building Snatcher had leaned on split in half and took his right arm and the healthy leg with it. And Javik widened his eyes to pay the utmost attention as the figure of that massive 'Hatter' synthetic arrived at the scene.

* * *

Lyta Lyle had frozen solid and knew the same happened to every other soul who saw it happen as the Snatcher lost two of his limbs in that sudden vertical slash that likewise parted the structure behind like so much air. For a tiny moment, the Snatcher looked to the stumps of his in shock long enough for his remaining and much injured leg to give away. Without a sound he fell on the side and stared up at the looming lights cast by Hatter as he perched atop the structure, a long pike slung against its shoulder.

At first they suspected it was the Taison who just did that. "Hatter, where have you been?!" Locksmith cried out as he had a few others run and finally capture the criminal... all of which froze again as another figure strolled through the dust that had been thrown up by that massive slash.

Shrugging, Hatter raised a two signs, saying; 'Howdy Locksmith.' and 'Official business'.

"What kind of official..." Locksmith was about to ask, and fell silent as a slender and all too recognizable figure emerged from the gap made in the structure, the sight of which made those sent to apprehend instantly stop in their tracks.

'Meeting him.' Hatter brought up a new sign flippantly.

Snatcher's accusing eyes turned much wider, fearful, and he shrank back as an Aspect strode fully into view. Not just any Aspect, but an oddly appropriate one. An ultramarine-themed dôji with pink eyes with long jet black hair styled into several long tendrils that contrasted the pale complexion of his skin, eyes surrounded by six small transparent visors that together with the eyes themselves gives a spidery resemblance. It was Jealousy, the Aspect of Envy, and despite his not so considerable size loomed darkly over the assembled crowd.

All as one, including Locksmith, Pi and Lyta Lyle himself, they instantly prostrated themselves when the surprise had run its course.

"L-lord!" the watch leader stuttered, "We w-weren't aware..."

"Of course you didn't. I only just arrived." Jealousy said as he regally looked across the assembly till he set his eyes on the criminal who did his absolute best to curl up and seem tiny and insignificant under the Aspect's gaze. "I was recently informed that one of my children has been... naughty, and followed a predictable trail to dispense some... due punishment."

Locksmith bowed a little lower, his words less halting now, "Please, lord. You do not need to sully your hands on this one."

Jealousy looked at the minor dôji evenly, "On the contrary." and tapped a claw against the wall. Hatter instantly leaped down and extended an arm to grab the almost defenseless criminal and hoist him onto the shoulder. "At this juncture... I..."

For a moment the Aspect simply stared ahead of himself as if surprised. Lyta Lyle gasped in a low voice as he realized that Jealousy now glared at the barn, right where that hole earlier was made... in which Javik and Balak stood and watched... stiff now in their posture as Jealousy's strong gaze transfixed them. For a few seconds the moment lasted before a pair of words finally left the astonished Jealousy's lips:

"Oh my."

* * *

_Meanwhile..._

_Location_: Utopia System; Orbit around Mass Relay; Mind's Eye Station.

Regula watched through the panorama of the observation deck idly as the massive tug ships lowered themselves against the massive relay, causing strong friction as the ships' sizable clamps brushed against its immense quantum shields in preparation to take it into Nirvana's orbit. An arduous trek to be sure, but a necessary one to maximize their defenses for the war that might spark at any time.

Very slowly, the ships slowed its current orbit and hauled it off. Everything seemed to be going fine, until the relay's rings' continuous orbit around its massive element zero core sped up like they always did when a ship is expecting. Regula with that realization powered up his Noh for when it finally sped into sight in a brilliant streak of neon light, reached out, only to find... nothing.

Puzzled, the Aspect of Discipline stared at the object that now naked without the blue glow seemed much smaller than the ship captured earlier and realized belatedly it was a drone. And for an instant it lurched automatically for a direction vaguely pointed at the Hephaestus System and Regula realized it was sent to investigate the 'supernova'.

That is, before it stopped, used its powerful scanners to run a sweep on the foreign objects that surrounded the relay besides itself when there should have been nothing, then sent out a screaming burst of data before it self-destructed to avoid capture.

Regula watched the ball of fire expand then diminish into nothing grimly. "They... know we're here now."

* * *

**Author notes:** Another chapter done. Now that Jealousy knows about the organics of Oinari village the rest won't be far behind. Likewise, the Council now knows where their 'enemy' is. Now for comments. Thank you for the comments, Alfonse08. As for your questions:

1\. There are no Leviathans here. As for the story, it grew to be longer than I anticipated. But it's close to the climax and the sequel.

2\. All I can say is that compared to what Aspects can do, the abilities of minor dôji are limited and inflexible if still pretty useful. Com dôji for example is only able to use Engrave, while Regula can do so much more.

3\. To go further into the enemy Javik fought at the moment would be kind of a spoiler. So no comment for now.

4\. Everyone makes mistakes.

5\. I've entertained the concept of minor dôji having ICON mode in the past, but decided it would be rather impractical considering future mass interactions with organics would result in the occasional prankster trying to initiate it by reaching at the backs of random dôji. They'd be able to decide whether or not to initiate ICON, but it could disrupt work in dangerous ways.


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter 9: What Comes Together**

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Tenjo; Ultimo's quarters.

When Milieu finally woke, it was with an utterly calm and composed mind wholly plump with satisfaction from the most passionate and pleasant night he's enjoyed in a long time. Not an ounce of fatigue remained anywhere after the lay and the precious sleep that followed. And with a smile on his lips he squirmed loftily against the pillow and bed, mindful of the sleeping beauty who rested in the embrace of his right arm, still naked above the waist, and the line that ran down his chest was still slightly open in what would in a more public setting be rather immodest a showing.

A sigh left him as he leaned his head against Ultimo's in a small hug, together with a kiss to the flame-red hair in deep thanks for the attention. Not to say there was an absence of regret of earlier events, but he felt a lot better now. Much more relaxed.

Too bad what he woke up to was not Ultimo's angelic voice, but the rough beating that the door underwent. Even without anything said he noticed a distinct style to the rough rhythm that could only belong to fellow Grand Aspect Vice. For a moment he wanted to speculate that Vice was angry to be left out, but the intensity of it was a little too excessive for that to be the case. So though he did not want to, he gave Ultimo a gentle shake. Highest leader he may be, the apartment's programming had been adapted so to respond to Ultimo's voice alone.

"Mph, huh?" Ultimo groaned softly as his red and green eyes opened and focused on him.

"We got a visitor." Milieu said gently, "And you're the master of this room."

"So I am..." he half-sang before he pushed away the blanket to get up on his knees to articulate and stretch his arms and joints in an astonishingly tantalizing manner.

"Don't forget the shirt. Your line is showing."

Ultimo looked down and blushed, "So I am." as he reached for the shirt and put it on then brushed his hair a bit. Finally he addressed the door, "Enter!"

It slid aside to reveal a supremely annoyed Vice whose eyes widened slightly upon the sight of them. "Thought you lovebirds were on to something in here." he observed and glared, "And while I would love to rant we got bigger things to worry about!"

"What do you mean?" Ultimo frowned.

Milieu adjusted his kimono as he sat up and likewise joined the conversation, echoing the red-haired dôji's expression. Somehow he knew what would be said, the confirmation of what was inevitable. Like that and he was even more grateful to Ultimo for having given him this precious night of relaxation and passion.

"The jig is up." Vice was succinct, there was no need for elaboration.

"Did you call a meeting?" Milieu asked as he packed away the blanket and got up, his hair for its complexity quickly made as flawless as it ever was.

"Three minutes from now. Get a move on!"

Ultimo sighed as he slunk off the bed and made an absent gesture that manifested into existence between them a spatial orb through which they can simply touch and instantly arrive at where they must go.

"Or you can do that." Vice huffed with a glare.

"Calm down Vice." Milieu lectured mildly as he arrived to it after a final adjustment of his hairpins, "We still have time to prepare."

"Sooner the better!"

"Yeah to both and let that be the end of it." Ultimo giggled and vanished without even using the orb.

Without another word, Vice applied a gauntlet to the orb and followed suit.

Milieu let himself stay in the silence and relished it while he performed other adjustments to his outfit to maintain due deference before he finally touched the orb and he was immediately brought to the meeting room where he airily paced to perch himself on the seat reserved for him in the center, and from it noted that almost all the aspects have arrived – half of them using holographic projections. Only one had yet to arrive; Jealousy. The aspect of Envy's neighbors Orgullo and Paresse watched the seat impatiently.

Without a word out of him, Milieu reclined slightly and waited patiently, something Pardonner already did with an expression of frigid neutrality. Only gesture made on his own part being to retrieve his nearby fan to unfold and hold it up to cover his chest and the lower half of his face in a regal manner. No one had said anything, but the implications that the war will come to them very soon was clear to all of them. His tranquil poise however had a sort of calming influence on the others.

Only two minutes after the meeting was supposed to start did Jealousy's image above his seat flicker into view, and his very first act upon arrival was to bow, "My apologies for the lateness. There were a couple of unforseen complications that I simply had to attend to."

Some looked like they wanted to complain, but Milieu quelled them with a single statement, "It is fine. Now let us more dwell on more important business. So will Regula to clarify what has so clearly been implied?"

The bald dôji who sat among the virtues nodded slowly, "Of course. And without ado I have now to reveal onto you that our position in the galaxy is no longer a matter of secrecy. The species of the Citadel now know of our location."

"And how did this happen?" Paresse yawned, taking the news with such crushing calm it bordered on boredom.

"A drone came through the relay, presumably to check on the supernova-class signature anomaly given off by the events in the Hephaestus system. Alas it got no further before it noticed us, instantly sent back a data-package, then self-destructed."

"So now the war is imminent." Pardonner pondered, "We always knew it would happen eventually. At least we are _somewhat_ ready. A passably sizable fleet has been completed though its crews aren't quite as trained as I would have liked, and the relay has been placed in Nirvana's orbit according to specifications. How is the situation on its surface?"

"Nearly all ground defense installations have been completed, and the rate of supply to ground forces is adequate." Rage informed and shrugged, "Only need the troops."

"I pray it is all enough." Sophia aloud, "What little we've put together about enemy numbers is troubling."

Orgullo waved a hand dismissively, "Only a fraction of it will engage us, surely. For even if they prepare for war against us they got the rest of their territory to look after."

"And they only have one point of ingress." Service filled in, "Enough has been gleamed about how long a range the relays have to set up connection and transit – so no matter the numbers they will arrive piecemeal. Our limited numbers should amply suffice."

"We can not account for every action that the enemy may throw at us though." Milieu thoughtfully speculated for all to hear, and their attention to him was mot rapt. "For that to guarantee success I propose for every Grand Aspects including myself to engage in battle."

"Are you sure of that?!" Regula nearly stood in his surprise, the sensation shared among most of the others.

"Perfectly." he raised his shoulders and stated with complete clarity, "While many may protest such an action we will not pull any punches to blunt the aliens' fleet effort against us. I suppose there is no objection - Vice, Ultimo?"

Vice smirked devilishly, "None at all."

Ultimo on the other hand lowered his gaze sadly, no doubt he did not look forward to it. Alas in this case to protect their own people they had little choice but to slay that of others, unfortunate as it is. "No objection." he agreed quietly.

"Good." Milieu appraised them one by one serenely before he addressed the rest, "Mobilize all assets and finish all preparations. Put a probe to the other side of the relay to let us know when the Council forces come for us. Upon that moment, we must be ready for full state of war."

Prompt in their action in unison the assembled apects bowed and acknowledged, "It shall be done!"

"Good. Now, is there anything else we should go over before we adjourn?"

"If you will," Jealousy raised a claw to bring attention to myself after a moment of thought, "there is one thing I would like to bring to the attention of this Council."

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

Not much time was left until the light of day and Lyta Lyle sat anxiously on his lounge chair and brushed a comb through his long hair to keep himself from fidgeting with mildly apprehensive anticipation of what was to come. Of everything that happened, nowhere did he expect the likes of an aspect to intervene in such a small matter. Jealousy's arrival and swift dispatch of the criminal who was soon hauled off to be locked up by Hatter came as a massive surprise to everyone involved. All except the organics who thought of him as just another dôji.

A measure of calm was won as it usually did when he took and put his comb to use. It was a meditative act that helped him many times before to maintain his composure. Right now it was about the thorough questioning he was subjected to by the aspect who had him tell the full story of how he came to have those aliens in his care. It only ended when Jealousy received an urgent message and left with the instruction that he take the organics back home and wait. An instruction he obeyed without question.

Right now the organics, more uncaring about the predicament, slept like rocks in their room that was once Sullivan's. Or it was just Balak who slept and made enough noise for two... or ten. Lyta Lyle listened idly and focused on the only other who is currently awake. Pi had come home with him, and currently his voice echoed with a melody from the kitchen as he prepared some coffee, both for him and the aspect who both were sure would come really soon.

Nervous about the meeting to come, Lyta Lyle deepened his thoughts into the other ample surprises that this night has provided him with. One of them being the reveal of Pi's desire to become his bond mate. When he thought about it there _were_ in fact signs from up to days earlier to indicate this interest but he really did not pay true attention to the awkward shop owner before this very night and found that beneath the exterior of clumsiness was a deeply efficient and thoughtful person whose adjustment to a more peaceful life turned out to be more difficult than it was for others.

After all that, he was about ready to accept Pi's feelings and likewise welcome a closer relationship between them with open arms. Still, formal protocol still applied for propriety's sake. Currently few things existed more appealing to him at the moment other than having the talk with Pi to make sure before he finally offer the big question.

What felt like an eternity passed before someone he was perfectly sure to be Jealousy finally knocked on the door. "He's here." Lyta Lyle put his comb aside and brushed his by then very smooth mane past his shoulder with a flourish, "Pi, is the coffee ready yet?"

"In a moment!"

"Okay. Time to face the music..." he whispered quietly to himself as he stood and adjusted his green and patterned kimono before he strode to the entrance and opened up. Just outside though he met one he entirely did not expect, and it showed.

* * *

In any other situation he would have expressed a little mirth at the gobsmacked expression he was greeted with, which was rather to be expected. For a matter like this, however, Pardonner chose to be discreet. Even though it has been many decades since last time he caught sight of the elegant green-clothed dôji the recognition was instant, "Long time no see, Lyta Lyle."

"L-likewise my lord." the minor dôji respectfully bowed as composure was regained, "Excuse me if this offends, but I was expecting Jealousy..."

Pardonner took no insult and idly indicated the hole in the distance, "He has also come. The task of his is to take a look around in the facility you stumbled upon. A full sweep of its contents. You need only concern yourself with me."

Lyta Lyle nodded, "Understood."

"Good." he with approval stated, "Now will you let me in to the aliens so I may check up on their health?"

"Of course." the black-haired one stood aside, "They are currently asleep I must note."

He shrugged as he stepped in and was led to the bedroom in which they stayed, "It is of no obstacle. I'll be done before they take notice, and ideally it would make things easier if they stay asleep for the duration of our stay."

"Why is that?" Lyta Lyle curiously asked as they arrived and he gently opened the door to reveal a pair of beds, each with its own sapient being sleeping deeply and peacefully. "W-wait, won't this be a continuation of the earlier inquiry?

"No. Minimal disturbance. We are only here to check up on things and then leave. The war has come to us, and in just a few days we suspect it will begin in earnest."

"So that's why..." the other looked puzzled, and worried.

"If there are no signs of mistreatment on their part, we'll leave this situation as it is." Pardonner reassured in a simple manner as he strode to the first body and gently unfurled the blanket, something the alien bluntly ignored, "Quite frankly you got off the hook for a reprimand just barely."

"What do you mean by that?"

"For sheltering a couple of aliens without letting the proper authorities know. The only reason we won't bother is that neither - a pirate and a member of a near-extinct species - can be defined as a danger to our presence in this system. Soon as we're done, we will leave and only send one representative to you once a week to make sure these aliens are doing fine. All depending on this analysis, now if you please."

"Of course." Lyta Lyle bowed before he left, "We got some coffee in case you want some afterward."

"I'll consider it." Pardonner shrugged and as the footsteps of the minor dôji vanished toward the living room he went to work and raised a gauntlet over the sleeping biped's body, an alien with a strangely stretched head and four eyes stacked in a square – quite unlike the aliens that he treated once but not terribly different. It was somewhat strange to him that so many intelligent species conformed to the same basic shape, a novelty he chose not to question all too much – he had enough on his plate.

His proffered gauntlet split across the entirety of its surface in preparation to initiate his Noh if the scan hit any abnormalities. Pardonner held his gaze, blinked once, then glared with implacable intensity as he browsed through the man's innards one layer at a time, and was satisfied not to find anything that warranted healing. Just a little strain here and there, probably from working the fields – according to Jealousy, in return for his work as a farmhand Lyta Lyle provided the alien with food and lodgings, both conditions which he decided was entirely adequate with there not being an ounce of malnutrition in the batarian's system.

Satisfied with Balak's condition he retracted his claws and pulled the blanket back up in a manner much like a parent. An act that made him briefly think of his son, Hikari. After he drank the concoction Désir brought during that sausage dinner the boy had grown more independent and ready to stand on his own feet - apparently shocked firmly to adulthood by the strong drink. Pardonner hoped that the boy would stay with him a little longer, but accepted the eventual split that will soon come as inevitable.

Pardonner shook his head and turned to face the real enigma. The prothean. Like Balak it sported a quartet of eyes, if upon a more insect-like body structure. In addition this alien wore surprisingly baroque armor that had not been removed when he went to sleep this night. The alien probably did not trust dôji enough yet to go that length yet, understandable if Jealousy's story of this species' war against a machine army was of any indication. The knowledge that there came a synthetic saboteur who gleefully damaged the facility so it could not fulfill its purpose had without a doubt only added to and fueled his distrust.

_Lyta Lyle's apparently a saint_, Pardonner thought wryly while he prepared to do the scan, but instead came to discover a trio of particularities that he was unsure counted for all protheans or just Javik:

That the prothean can wake up at any time without warning.

That the prothean can wake up really fast.

And immediately attack.

Pardonner watched with wrapped interest as Javik's eyes flew open and he tilted his head at him in a certain way so the ridge above the quartet of eyes partly covered them and made him look far more furious than he was to an almost comical extent. It was followed with great immediacy by the approach of a curled fist that glowered fiercely with distinctly green-colored biotic energy.

Most dôji have precious little defense to biotics, but Pardonner is not most dôji. He watched the incoming fist dispassionately and brought an open-palmed gauntlet to block it at the same time as he performed a scan of the prothean's body, browsed through its every layer, tracked electrical signals, and after an instant of furious study found how the Javik initiated and maintained his biotic charges. Too quickly for the prothean to react he used his Noh to disrupt those of Javik's electric signals that passed between his arm and brain just enough to dissipate the biotic glow.

So when the fist finally arrived at his palm, nothing happened.

Javik stared at the impact area then up at him in abject incomprehension.

"Calm down, soldier." Pardonner addressed him with a soothing tone, "I am not here to harm you."

"What did you just do?"

"Noh power: Corporeal Manipulation."

"You're..." Javik's glare continued as an understanding dawned, "One of those so-called Aspects?"

"Indeed I am." he suppressed an urge to sigh after a brief time to wonder if Lyta Lyle and the cute other who is probably his bond mate took time to educate these aliens. "Pardonner, embodiment of Patience, at your service. Now will you pull back and relax?"

Only with extreme reluctance did he comply and sat back, "What do you want?"

"I am only here to check on your health. Nothing more."

"You aim to dissect me?"

Pardonner folded his arms across his chest and supplied the prothean with an annoyed look, "Not at all. It is no more than a scan where I map your body and trace the electric signals that course throughout it in search for anything your brain discerns as an anomaly, and treat it accordingly."

"Is it really that simple?"

"Yes." he shrugged, "For me it is that simple a matter. Now be quiet and hold still; Doctor's order."

Still on guard, Javik nonetheless warily moved not an inch.

After a roll of his eyes Pardonner resumed the scan and completed it within the next instant as the final bits of information about prothean physiology fell into place. "Done, now go back to sleep." without pause he made a half-turn and calmly paced to exit the room.

"What is the meaning of this?" the prothean stared at him in disbelief.

"You doubt me? I temporarily disabled your biotics in less time than you could throw a punch." the thickly clothed aspect replied flatly without turning as he took the door knob, "A simple scan is child's play compared to that."

Only at the last step before he closed the door did he stop and look back at the stunned alien – Balak hadn't even budged an inch and remained steeply asleep – "By the way, a colleague of mine is preparing a surprises for you. It should be ready in a few hours."

* * *

Lyta Lyle sat together with Pi on the bench while they waited for the aspect to return from doing his checkup that seemed to finally complete after a minor scuffle that ended as soon as it began. He had been only so far from running out to help clear up whatever misunderstanding had cropped up when it had quieted down and was followed soon after by a brief exchange of words that ended with the click of a closed door.

A few seconds later Pardonner came into the living room and said with arms folded against his chest; "Quite a feisty alien you have there. He kind of reminds me of someone."

"Yeah," Lyta Lyle agreed heartily – though he had no idea as to which alien the older dôji referred to, "but he's come a long way."

"Sounds a fair bit irksome."

"You have no idea." he chuckled and indicated the canteen filled with steaming coffee, "Would you like a drink? It's still hot."

Pardonner belatedly nodded and gently took up the cup that was prepared for him, "After that, sure. Still got to wait for Jealousy to finish up anyway." and held it out.

With a nod, Pi rose from where he sat and expertly plucked up the canteen and filled up the proffered cup, "Hope you find it to your liking, sir."

"Mm." the short-haired Aspect brought the cup to his lips and took a couple of sips that left him to breathe in quiet approval; "Wonderful. Lyta Lyle I must say your bond mate' coffee is exemplary."

The Son of Milieu blushed far into the pink side of the spectrum at the complimentary comment, while Lyta Lyle perhaps a little too hurriedly corrected; "Excuse me, sir. But... we haven't mated yet." Once those words had left his lips, he momentarily froze solid as the fellow minor dôji came to stare at him, agape, with an expression of barely contained surprised joy as he without equivocation affirmed that he has no intention of rejecting Pi.

Pardonner with a glint in his eyes quirked an amused smile as he took another sip, "Sounds like you are very nearly there at least."

Lyta Lyle let out a long drawn-out sigh, "Yes, we are..."

"Then..." Pi slightly pressed as he positioned himself at least one and a half inches closer, "w-when would you like our contract to be made?"

"I would say pretty soon..." he embarrassingly scratched his cheek from the intensity with which Pi looked at him, now completely ignoring that Pardonner still watched as he continued to sip from the hot and strong drink, "but I want to lay down one ground rule for the sake of our child to be."

His bond mate to be seemed to swoon at the mention, "Yes?"

"No war stories." Lyta Lyle managed to steady his voice enough to state, "I want him to be raised as part of the life we live here now. Agree to that... and I'm all yours."

It only took a moment of consideration before Pi closed in and wrapped his arms around his slender figure, bringing them so close that their noses touched, "Of course I agree, it's what I also desire!"

_So strong_... Lyta Lyle absently thought as he was by the Son of Milieu held and locked eyes with him, not nearly as much surprised as he was by that Pi shared the very same dream, "Y-you also sought that?"

Pi smiled brilliantly, "Of course."

It could be simply a lure to make sure he would love him back with equal strength. But of that Lyta Lyle didn't care as he leaned in the final distance and locked lips with his bond mate to be for what felt like years that lengthened even further as Pi responded in kind and made it perfectly a core-melting moment. "This coming night." he decided the moment they parted.

"Hm?"

"Our contract. The midnight that comes, we will consummate our union."

The Son of Milieu looked as though he was about to weep in joy, "Y-yes."

"What's going on here?" they all heard Jealousy ask, and the two minor dôji who had in the heat of the moment forgotten all about there being other people present almost jumped with the realization. The aspect of Envy had come in with a placid countenance that scattered into mild professsional disbelief at the drama that just transpired.

"Nothing big." Pardonner smiled with unusual mischief as he put his now empty cup down, "Just the emergence of a new wonderful relationship."

Lyta Lyle became bright red in embarrassment, his role completely switched with Pi who positively beamed as the one most composed of them both. This instant he wanted nothing more than to be buried deep under ground and vanish. With that a non-option instead he merely buried his face into his palms which woke amusement among the others.

That smile still on, Pardonner continued with an arm extended far enough to pat against the black-maned minor dôji's shoulder, then to Pi's, "Congratulations, may your relationship be prosperous, and your child a happy one."

"Thank you." Pi graciously thanked and bowed, "Thank you." and prodded his companion next, "Now say thank you too."

Lyta Lyle grimaced, "Thank you."

Pardonner nodded, "You're welcome." and turned to his compatriot, "Have you finished up down there?"

"Yes. It is rather broken down but I've taken a look everywhere that matters." Jealousy shrugged, "Now I believe we should go. Too much work has been set aside for this venture, too much to keep waiting."

"I agree." the aspect of Patience agreed as he joined up with the other, but before they left took one more look to the minor dôji, "Farewell for now. Thank you for the coffee, much appreciated."

"No problem." Pi replied happily, his grin broad, "Come by any time you want!"

And so they waved farewell for now, and left Lyta Lyle to recline against the bench with his companion and thought of his earlier conviction and how little it in the end was adhered to. _So much for protocol and propriety..._

* * *

_Five hours later._

Balak was annoyed as always when he tilled the fields, his dirty overall while so different from his more preferred type of wear was nothing compared to the herd of Gargants that had flocked on the other side of the nearest fence, all as one staring at him in dispassionate interest. With his earlier desperate flight from their alpha they all have come to the conclusion that unlike Lyta Lyle who was the supreme authority within this farm he was fair game to be stomped flat and eaten.

Soon as another five feet of dirt had been turned over, Balak tossed a look in the direction of the area that holds the gas bags. Lyta Lyle currently busied himself with teaching Pi - who had during breakfast announced that he is going to move in and supplement this farm with a shop where products made here could be sold until the trade market is properly established - on the fine points of how to milk gas bags. Apparently during the morning he and their taskmaster had finally come together.

It was enough that he lost his appetite and left the table. A decision he now soundly regretted as hunger gnawed at his midsection like it tried to gouge a hole in it.

A groan exploded from the house as Javik finally decided to grace them with his presence. Pi had said it was his fault for snoring so loud that the prothean was barely able to sleep the second time, whenever that was, and only now woke from the deep slumber that he eventually managed to faint into. And when their quartet of eyes met, in his there was nothing but anger.

"Looking good there, champ." Balak just had to say, and only angered the prothean to glow with biotic force that severely freaked him out. "Whoa, whoa there!" not the smartest thing he ever said, "I'm sorry, don't hit me!" He once suffered a biotic throw that sent him _very_ high in the air. Suffice it to say he was in no way eager for another flight. "I'm sorry!"

Javik only stopped glowing when he came within five feet of him, fury in his eyes. "The only reason I won't toss you to the Gargants is because I need direction!"

"Whatever you want!" he nervously agreed to it. "Where do you need to go?"

"I was told there would be a 'surprise' someplace for me. Where is it?"

Balak scrunched up his face, and looked into the distance beyond the farm's edge. "You mean that thing?"

* * *

Javik blinked in confusion as he followed Balak's eyes and found the object of his attention, something that was not there even five hours ago: An obelisk made of pale white stone and stood fifteen feet tall, towering over the surrounding landscape it was firmly planted in. "Any idea what that's for?" he heard the batarian question coarsely, part of it which sounded much like hunger to Javik's private satisfaction. Ignoring the question, he left the alien tiller behind to go and take a closer look. During which Lyta Lyle had turned to look at him and nodded, encouraging him to go closer.

Unable to make out why this was meant for him, he nevertheless advanced across a field that stretched wide and far, as of yet not prepared to receive crops to grow in its bosom. He climbed past the single fence that lay in his way and continued while the three back by the house idly and expectantly watched. It was a strange moment.

Finally he came up to it, and stared up at the tall structure of solid stone. No, it was made from marble, and into the front that faced the farm it was inscribed with runes he could not make heads nor tails of. In attempt, he reached out to touch the pillar when a voice reached out to him. "You must be Javik."

Confused, the prothean looked back to its owner, a dôji with golden eyes, shockingly blue hair with an equally blue visor on top, dressed like most dôji are except scantily above the waist. His smile used in the greeting was almost sickening in its genuineness and angelic in its application. Friendly without reservation. "Who are you?" Javik asked of him.

"My name is Service." the dôji presented itself and bowed, "I am the aspect of Generosity."

"Generosity?" Javik looked back up at the pillar, "Is it you who brought this? To me?"

"Indeed it was me." Service confirmed in a pleasant tone, "When I heard about you and the fate of your people my core bled in sorrow."

"..."

"And I decided to give you, them, this. Remembrance."

Javik blinked, "Remembrance?"

"Yes, a proof of existence. For now this is all that we can do, for a war looms on the horizon."

"You are saying this was raised in the honor of my lost people?"

Service nodded as he walked up to and stood beside the prothean, each step so slight it was as though none touched the grassy ground. He raised a stunningly ornate blue gauntlet to point out the runes, "It says; 'Here rests warriors from a distant star'."

Simple, succinct, concise. It was not much, but it was an actual tombstone meant for those below so that anyone who came by would know that they stood here long ago, beaten but unbroken and unbowed. But what utterly astonished Javik was the actual deed of this, that it could ever occur to a synthetic to do something so fundamental an act as honoring the departed. In astonishment he finally brought his fingers onto it, and felt intimately the love with which this was carved out. So much of it, genuine love and sorrow, that his eyes instantly teared up. Javik had held an expression that was carefully neutral, but it burst as the sensation traveled from this pillar of marble. He had sworn to never weep again, to never spill more tears again, and never would again. But for this once he simply let it all out again as the emotion of it overwhelmed him. Javik crumpled onto a knee and he leaned against the simple remembrance._ Are these the synthetics that I so despise?_ Javik thought as the final dam to his heart broke as everything they did for him came on. The care, all the patience, the delicious fish. Not a single iota of hostility was to be left in him, all of it pouring out as he wept. "How weak am I truly...?"

"Not weak." Service said gently as he came in and put a gauntlet softly onto his left shoulder, "Sorrow does not make you weak."

Javik looked at the dôji from the periphery of his vision, "Service..."

"Let it all out, Javik." Lyta Lyle concurred heartily as he joined in, his claws quick to land upon the other shoulder, grasping it in a decidedly friendly manner. "It may seem like weakness, but it eases a burdened heart and soul so much good can flow in."

"Lyta Lyle..." he looked to the other who was the one to save him from his pod that was so close to breaking. In a way it was a cruel mercy, for being the last prothean alive really meant to be the last prothean alive. But... as he wept and let his burden bleed free, an epiphany occurred to him that set to light something deep inside of him as recent memories came back to him, of what he learned from Pi about Lyta Lyle's father, a changer of fate. His pragmatic mind said it simply could not be, but if it can be altered did it not disprove him? If destiny could be changed, did it not affirm the existence of fate? What if it was not a coincidence that it was a son of that particular aspect who saved him?

Maybe... there was for a reason that he woke up, for the simple act of being found found in this endless cosmos was by itself astronomically low. He had no idea why fate would provide him salvation after fifty thousand years of sleep, but he now intended to find out.

The last ember of him that thought of the dôji as his enemy made a final stab at him, to warn that now that they got him fully at ease, with gratefulness and acceptance, they would finally turn on him to make their victory all the sweeter. Seconds stretched on, but nothing happened – the dôji as supportive as they showed themselves all along to be. Before this the last thread of hatred bled away, and free from this final shred of his rancor he made his decision that as of today he would start and seek out the reason that the universe spared him from an ignominious end.

* * *

**Author note:** Did not end up so very satisfied about this chapter that included quite some rambling at the very end, but I was kind of at a loss on how to properly end it for a fair while. That said this part of the Robophobia saga is nearly at an end. I'll see if I can squeeze the end of Rising Eden in the next chapter.


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter 10: War Cometh**

* * *

_Ten days later..._

_Location:_ Utopia System; Eden Prime; Oinari village.

For all involved they settled in quickly to the new routine even with the war prone to start at literally any moment. Despite it Lyta Lyle sat on the couch with relative peace of mind as people usually do, able to imagine that something severe was sure to happen later and not now, he remotely turned off the television after the currently most watched program about the prognosis of the coming conflict concluded and allowed the news to assert itself with a plethora of reassurances complete with footage of the full deployment currently on and around Nirvana.

Naturally he was worried about his former bond mate and his son Sullivan, who are in the military. The latter had at least sent a message and said that he was fine, but is currently on Nirvana.

Alas he was a full-grown dôji and has made his choice. And that was that no matter the father's concern.

Lyta Lyle extended his arms to retrieve the glass positioned on the table and carefully drank from it, the grasp from his right gauntlet very cautious and feeble what with how little it possessed currently in terms of functionality considering how plump it has grown with his and Pi's child to be, the result of their consummated relationship. Just a look on how strangely bulky that gauntlet's gotten was enough to provoke great anticipation, enough to quickly make him put the glass back down lest he accidentally drop it.

Logically this meant he could not work on the farm as much until after the kid's birth. Consequently much of the tilling was left to Balak, and Pi whenever he's done for the day at his store. That in mind he elegantly rose, his one plump gauntlet relaxing as he ventured out of the house, when a baritone voice cut the air like glass in tell-tale irritation.

"What's the matter this time?" Lyta Lyle inquired as he approached the tater patch, idle to note that all the gas bags in the neighboring enclosure had fled to the opposite side of their 'grazing' area.

Balak stood there tall, permeated by sweat from the effort of the work he was required to do, and wiped his brow after the tool in hand was put temporarily to rest at his feet. Different from when he first started out, the batarian finally seemed to get more into the swing of farming. At the very least he did no longer end up like one who just had his spine split in half. "Bloody pillars..." he swore and tried to shake the kinks from his wrists, "A bastard rock's in the way."

He looked to the soil where the gray tint of a rock shone through, "Can you not simply move it out of the way?"

"Too big." he informed simply, long since learned that he could go nowhere with rude retorts. While not the friendliest sorts, he has come to accept to an extent the means to at least a comfortable existence here. And while there are still misgivings, their co-existence is functional enough and could only get better with time. "Someone else ought to do it."

"Fine." Lyta Lyle shrugged, "I'll do it." as he stepped past the alien, put his one functional gauntlet to it and dug the claws deep into the soil where he articulated them so to get a good grip on the rock. Once secured, he braced himself and pulled the boulder – a very large one at that, he could tell – with a fair bit of effort. Dirt was thrown off to the sides as the crude object was dragged from where it had over the eons firmly lodged itself into and hoist into the air.

The rock dwarfed him by a fair amount, and rightly so with only one hand to keep it suspended stood wobbly under its bulk, a location Balak excused himself from with all due haste. Eager to toss it away, Lyta Lyle started to leave the newly made hole behind just after he gave it a look of displeasure. "Fill up this hole before you continue."

Balak watched him go with a non-uttered groan, "Yes... I'll get on that."

Nodding once, he went but did not get very far before the massive boulder of granite left his gauntlet, hefted instead by someone else. "Lyta Lyle, you really shouldn't." Pi insisted with a tidbit of severity as he swerved to face his bond mate – otherwise it'd be like talking to a rock with legs. "Pregnant as you are."

Lyta Lyle smiled fondly as he raised the bulky gauntlet between them, "I am not that helpless, dear." though the claws upon it twitched clumsily to partially disprove the point, "Someone got to do the heavy work when you're not here."

Not about to free up a hand, Pi briefly hugged the gauntlet in greeting to their child to be. "But now I am here."

"Thought you'd be busy for another hour yet."

"Slow day, so I took some liberty."

He smiled wryly, "Skipping on work? We can't have that."

"Just an hour early." Pi shrugged as he leaned back, "And I'm sure you'll give me lots of work worth that time."

"Uh." Balak pointed to the house, "I can leave you lovebirds alone if you..."

"No Balak. Continue as you were." Lyta Lyle rolled his eyes at the criminal, in the know that the four-eyed alien merely sought an excuse to take a break. "And Pi... you can bet your core that I'll do that. So be prepared, I'll work you down to the servo."

"Gotcha." the Son of Milieu grinned as he went and left with the rock, "Till then."

He shouted a terse, "Now don't you go snooze somewhere!" before he walked away from the both of them, and came to the side of their house when he saw Javik approach, on his way back from the tombstone he goes to sit by at least twice a day. The prothean had gone through a more sizable transformation than Balak, and though the dry wit remained the hostility had gone down significantly. In its stead he now wore a contemplative expression, this time even more so.

"Lyta Lyle, I require your attendance!" Javik called once he came close enough, "An answer is needed."

Slightly puzzled, he slowed to a halt and watched the alien expectantly, "Ask away."

"I was told Aspect Gauge would come on this day to see the facility. Why has he not yet come?"

_Gauge?_ He blinked once, remembering the visit from before yesterday, "Not really in a position to comment on Gauge's punctuality. Is he late?"

"An hour ago he was supposed to be here."

"And you seem unexpectedly eager for his arrival. Did you want something from him?"

Javik shifted his posture a little, a frown present on him, "I was promised the means to access one of your genuine libraries for use to further my study of this cycle."

_So that's what it was_. Lyta Lyle nodded in understanding, much harder to not notice was his recently acquired appetite for information. "The vast majority of our library of information are about humans and our own history. You will find precious little information relevant to galactic civilization there. Did not Balak's omni-tool have a store of knowledge in it?"

"Far too little. Balak is just a tool with no interest for intellectual pursuits." the alien waved that away as if the topic was akin to a dark smog, "Limitation is not a problem, I will take it as it comes."

"All for your new direction in life, huh."

"There must be a reason I survived, and I will find it." Javik said in full conviction, borderline obsessed with the line of thought. One that Lyta Lyle saw no reason at all to touch upon further. The chance that rescue would have come for the facility was miniscule in a complete and utter sense, so much that the saving of just one life out of a million by outside intervention was nothing less than a miracle. And of all possible saviors it just happened to be the child of the fate weaver.

It was simply too much to be a coincidence, so he did not even begin to try and argue.

Lyta Lyle agreed and encouraged, "I am sure you'll find it. As for the case of Gauge... maybe something else require his attention. Anything mundane could have been done by another aspect, so the only likely reason is..."

"War. War is upon this system." Javik intoned.

"Or it very soon will be." he cocked his head at the other, "You don't seem so enthused."

"I have no longer the reason to be. It's an inconvenience."

"And it really is." Lyta Lyle turned around as Pi shouted to him:

"We need to get inside," Pi announced as he with Balak in tow hurriedly approached, "everyone's getting rather antsy!"

"Antsy?" he raised a brow as he looked to the closest neighbor, who was in a hurry on his way back to his house.

Javik's expression darkened in understanding, "War has come."

Searching his memory for a second, Lyta Lyle remembered and ushered himself and them to the house. "They did say that a broadcast would start soon as the conflict is nigh. It's on the final countdown. Must be."

It did not take long at all to assemble in the living room, damn all the dirt that was dragged in with them. He'd clean it up later. Pi was very prompt to turn on the television, its screen quick to grow lit with the image of two attractive news anchors who spoke rapidly in a live commentary of the proceedings to the image of an eccentric formation, the only hint of its presence being hundreds of burning exhausts that glowed a gentle neon-blue, just enough for position-keeping.

Soon enough they were seated, in wait. Balak and Javik took the chairs and stared expectantly in silence. Lyta Lyle on his side sported more a distant look, the memory of a thousand battle fields blurring past his sight. A feeling of unease forming at the bottom of his core that made a mockery of his earlier calm, how very fast things could change. A sensation made milder as Pi put a gauntlet onto his pregnant one to reassure both his bond mate and child to be.

Pi leaned in and gave him a half-hug, loving in its application. "Don't worry, love." he calmly breathed, "They'll make it."

"Oh spare me..." Balak lamented, a sound that dulled into silence under the force of a sharp glare Javik gave him.

Lyta Lyle smoothly ignored the interruption as he looked back past his bond mate's massive mane, those eyes of his now dazzling to behold. He smiled fondly and mildly snuggled in return before they continued to watch in more at ease. Though worried for what would be an entirely new kind of battle, on a scale likewise wholly new, he and all of them together, all of those who live in their thousands of newly built homes looked tot he stars. What lay before them most immediately was a dark future, but even the densest dark can be scattered by the lighting of a candle.

The Dôji have weathered many challenges before, and together they would make it through this one same as the rest. For what other choice is there?

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; above Nirvana; Lower Maginot Line; _Brahmastra-Class_ Dreadnought "Endymion"

Sophia squirmed nervously in his seat as he looked onto the display in a bridge illuminated by a comfortable blue light. It was far from behind even his hundredth time in command, but this was still different. His nervous countenance countered bluntly by the more confident radiance given by the much more massive Orgullo seated next to him. Supposedly that was why they were chosen, apprehensive nervousness against hearty confidence. To create a balance by weighing Wisdom against Pride.

He still thought Pardonner was far more suitable for fleet command – the reason he wasn't being of his business with work alongside Regula on the Tenjo, readying newer recruits and further ships to reinforce the Maginot Line as quickly as possible.

And with the Grand Aspects temporary role of serving on the front-most line it fell to himself and Orgullo to keep the fleet going. A fleet only somewhat trained and untested. Not the most favorable resources for taking on the galaxy with, but what needs must.

"With this formation and concentrated fire from all ground-based installations, we are sure to win." Orgullo grinned in a beastly manner.

Sophia looked onto the display, at the clusters of Cruisers positioned in vast groups of concentric circles shaped with the massive relay recently placed into orbit in mind, placed to account for all possible entry point algorithms. With the relay pointed straight to the planet, the invaders have no choice but enter directly into the line of fire like good targets.

Tactically the most unsound a position as he could immediately think of. Still he could not help but be insecure. Surely the Citadel have experience in that regard and can thus somehow counter this disadvantage. At the very least they had no idea of the reposition, so for now surprise would be on their side.

He almost jumped when Orgullo's much more massive gauntlet landed on his shoulder, a palm large enough that it could close up all around his upper body. "What, got the jitters?" the Aspect of Pride guffawed.

"Of course." Sophia pawed to push the palm off, his attention on the ship's communications dôji, "What is the status of the third probe?"

"It will be at the relay momentarily, lord. And... it's through..."

Even from so far away, he could see the relay light up brightly as the probe cycled through. "Now we just wait for the 'Kunato' to receive."

"Meanwhile..." Orgullo grinned, "All sections ready?"

"Yes, lord." the com dôji replied curtly as he sent Engraves to all ships and received just as quickly to reply with and confirm. "All in position... Gotten word from the 'Kunato'!"

The vaunted 'Kunato' was one of the nascent fleet's _Kurma-Class_ Corvettes, their dedicated ELINT ships. It was that ship to which the probes sent through belonged. "Yes?" Sophia asked.

"Probe lost, but it counted a full five scores of enemy craft before contact was severed. Only two minutes out."

"No sign of a base?"

"None."

"They must have some kind of star base from which to coordinate their effort." Orgullo grumbled as he scratched his massive chin, "Maybe in the next system, wherever that is. Not much we can do about that of course. Not with our present forces."

"If there's none, they must be as confident as you are." Sophia mildly jibed then leaned forward, "Broadcast to all assets on surface and in orbit. Remove safeties and prepare to fire."

Orgullo continued; "Dispatch the countdown minus time passed. All Cruisers are to commence firing once only ten seconds remain. When they come I want a wall of gunfire there to greet them!"

Sophia appraised the order, "Aggressive."

"Less time they have the better. And with the nifty new tech we aren't like to run out of ammunition anytime soon."

"And now we play our parts." he lowered his head and briefly prayed. Like Pardonner he was not the religious sort, but there are so many uncertainties he was willing to take any reassurance possible, "Father willing, let it be enough."

* * *

_Location_: Utopia System; above Nirvana; Maginot Line Terminus; _Kurma-Class_ Corvette "Camelot"

It was a small and fragile ship, but the only one suitable for the task of carrying them as unlike all the others these Corvettes are supposed to keep themselves invisible to enemy sensors. A perfect chariot for two Grand Aspects to launch themselves from. Unlike them Milieu would strike from right in the middle of their fleet, meaning he would take the enemy head-on. Comparatively speaking their own tasks held more safety.

Ultimo sat on its mottled black hull, his expression sad from the necessity he soon will have to partake in. His colleague on the other hand paced impatiently as well as able in the zero-gravity, and like himself Vice wore additions to his visors that would help indicate targets about to come under fire, and a locator that would help the fleet know where they are – both to prevent friendly fire.

More than a minute had passed since the countdown was passed along, each second of it passing like a thunderclap in the Aspect of Ultimate Good's mind. Too little time passed before the vital ten seconds remained, the words of which was pushed through his lips.

The fleet lit up, and a hundred and twenty-seven _Shiva-Class_ Cruisers filled the outer orbit with their number's worth of mass accelerated rounds, then twice that amount, then thrice more. A lethal rain of projectiles that crossed the void in almost no time at all. Most of them went past the relay without even a target to hit, before an angular cruiser of alien make finally cycled through, a turian vessel with its wings spread wide like some predatory eagle. It progressed for a kilometer, but managed to go no further before several shots blanketed its frame. Two rounds were spent to dissipate the kinetic barrier, followed curtly by the splintering of its hull as the final round struck home.

It tilted and listed lifelessly, ablaze from within.

_First blood_. Ultimo thought bitterly as she watched it slowly pirouette from impacts taken, until a dozen more cruisers along with their escorts blazed into view in rapid succession, and returned fire the moment their position became apparent.

A sharp-clawed gauntlet reached out to him, and he belatedly accepted it into his own. Vice beamed at him, eager to get started. A smirk he did not return as he stood. The indication all too clear.

It was time to get started.

For all his dislike of the task, duty nevertheless called as lights from the planet indicated ship lost. An _Asura_ split into its component parts as it took a round dead-center. No one seemed to have survived. Ultimo bit his lower lip and they leaped from the Corvette and ignited their thrusters in unison to join the fray.

"Noh power activate." Ultimo spoke onto the void, and their time quickened by several orders of magnitude. With a speed neither were capable of with conventional thrust, they crossed the thousands worth of kilometers distance in a few heartbeats until finally they were among the enemy, let go of one another, and sped to each their targets.

A vaguely sparrow-like frigate of Turian make lay before him as its transition concluded, itself at the head of a pack of four. At full speed from the start, it prepared to join the cruiser they were attached to... and only paused as he blasted himself into plain view of it, a technological angel in the blackness that the craft did not hesitate for an instant to let its guns loose at. Ultimo winced as a blue-tinted bullet raced past him, joined by several more that he with his Noh dodged effortlessly as he swiftly zigzagged and closed in on the nimble craft of some hundred feet of length. Its crew could not possibly be more than a dozen.

A dozen too many in his opinion as he came to the front of the ship and raised an arm for the final distance. "Karakuri henge..."

For a last resort, the frigate altered its heading slightly and met him head-on, most likely to ram him before he could latch on. Too bad for them he had no such plan. "Crane Sword."

The transformation of his gauntlet to an elongated blade four his height finished in less than a second, a speed much greater than that of any other dôji thanks to his Noh power, space/time manipulation. With another burst of speed he blurred past to the craft's side and felt an incredibly slight resistance as his blade carved into the frigate's hull at a height he was sure would cleave any organic who either sat or stood. Gruesome, but better a fate than be claimed by vacuum alive.

With that single cut, he sliced the frigate's top half clean off, and tried not to be nauseous at the splatter of blood upon his blade as it was pulled free. A feeling of filth descended on him for as long as it took for the other three frigates to pick up on the danger he posed and swerved to join their firing arcs.

By pure reflex, he shot himself out of it and closed in. Within the next thirty seconds he had sliced another two frigates in half. The third avoided the same fate only just barely, and barreled half its length worth past him before he pulled the blade-arm back and swung it along a vertical arc that split the ship's middle neatly apart.

Its engine spluttered awkwardly as it pushed the no longer connected front half before they tipped over and parted ways.

Ultimo hovered there for an instant to look upon his error and upon recovery of composure closed the gap to board the closer rear-section, and there came to stand before six aliens, four of them dying in the cold and harsh vacuum in a most horrible fashion. Two others had managed to seal their armor, and mercifully put bullets through their agonized comrades before they turned to the boarder.

He could not hear their voices, but by all indications both were very obviously enraged as a dozen neon-blue trails collided upon his slight figure in attempt to kill. Ultimo was not even scratched, though not the same could be said of his clothes, and he took a few seconds to accept the attacks delivered by their justified agitation before he brought up his other arm, "Karakuri henge: Lion Drum."

Pain traveled down his spine as all that lay before him was laid to waste by his follow-up attack, wrecking the ravaged craft even further with the force to make it blossom outward. After which a shadow fell on him.

By then the battle had broken out in full bloom and dozens of craft lay still, broken apart, around the relay. Still the fight raged on, and Ultimo looked onto the nose of this frigate's cruiser as it veered into view, its gun alight as it powered up to lay into him... before it explosively collapsed with terrifying ferocity as something smashed itself through the ship.

Only a few seconds later this certain something came to him. Vice was further stained than himself, but wore an immaculate grin to accompany the streaks of fluid and scorch-marks upon his barbaric countenance. "What's wrong? Gone tired already?" he mouthed just an instant before he with another prey in mind flew away.

Heavy at heart, he left the ruined hind-quarter and looked for the other piece. Only in all this wreckage and chaos therein he couldn't find it. Instead he was treated to the view of an extremely distant Brahmastra doing its thing – lighting up like a Christmas tree as it expanded its elongated hull in preparation. Once the charge-up completed, all of its segments collapsed inward, and a needle-thin beam of energy was produced from its spinal cannon that crossed the gap between the dreadnought and an offending cruiser much faster than a bullet could even hope to match.

Not much was shown for it as the beam ran the cruiser through from stem to stern. The only visible damage was a hole in the front and back, but that was only a facade. On the inside the gutted ship had turned into a molten firestorm, all life on board vaporized before they even knew what happened. The ship itself continued on its last instructed course for all of ten seconds before the internal damage overwhelmed its engines, like a ghost ship operated by a crew that did not yet realize that they were dead.

The thought of it was enough that Ultimo curled up and nearly vomited what was left of his breakfast. A position that sent him adrift while the nightmare continued on around him, as dozens of further vessels plunged into the system to assist their heavily assaulted brethren. Many of them falling apart as the dôji fleet continued their staunch resistance.

A score of frigates rushed down the middle of the concentric circles which the dôji fleet still maintained with few losses in attempt to get up behind it, only for all of them to be perforated by a withering volley of fire that seemed to come from seemingly nowhere.

Ultimo watched that beating heart of silver and indigo located at the very center, surrounded by long loops of fine filaments covered in firearms that all seemed antique, yet pumped with enough power to put down targets that should be infinitely far beyond the original weapons' ability to handle. Milieu had positioned himself to protect the only glaring flaw in Pardonner's special formation made for mass relays in mind, its center, and used the several firearms he had summoned to the unflinching defense of it.

All of the few that did manage to get past him were very soon swarmed by gaggles of fighters and destroyers, where they were savagely picked apart. For the moment none of their own frigates nor interceptors had chosen get clear of the cruiser screen – more nervous than the rest as they searched for an opening in the surprisingly well-cemented turian line despite the depth of their predicament.

Vice and Milieu had already caused much damage to that line, while Ultimo was already rendered sick, only able to watch – barely even that.

His watch faced an interruption as a cruiser appeared into this space behind him, which apparently did not notice him until he landed bum-first on its front-canopy in full view of its bewildered crew who stared as he seemingly came to lounge on its hull. A novelty he briefly shared before the ship shook weakly with the firing of its main guns.

That woke him up. Without ado he smashed his Lion Drum through the window and opened fire on the interior with full power so he may not see the crew's demise in excrutiating detail. Those within view seemed to go poof at the same time as their ship's rear section exploded outward as the titanic force gutted the vessel.

The very last he saw of the pilot before he disappeared was a confused expression. And the reason for it he could practically hear though it had no other source than his own thoughts: _Why are you crying? Synthetics don't cry._

He wiped away his tears as he rocketed away from the ruined craft to rejoin the fight, and flared along several broken hulls along the way in search for another target. At every last he lamented for the course they had no choice but to take. _So much death, and we have only just begun..._

An enemy frigate fell off-course as he cut its engines off, and left it vulnerable for a passing _Asura_ wolf pack – having dared to leave the cruiser-screen behind – to destroy.

Several more fell apart soon after by his claws, the destruction heralding the demise of hundreds of willing participants. But no amount of their willingness to fight put a damper on his despair, and even as he slaughtered them, he wept. All that could be done was render their demise as swiftly and painlessly as possible.

It continued in terrifying monotony until the battle faded and was replaced by the grim aftermath.

He descended onto the remains of a turian cruiser, now the tomb of its two hundred crew members, and sat down, with no desire but to be left alone for the time being. _So much death..._ Ultimo repeated to himself as he looked onto the cloud of wreckage that now littered orbit, the vast majority of them alien in origin. A score of _Shivas_ were missing, and a couple of times their numbers in lesser craft along with them. Despite their newness to space warfare, it seemed their home field advantage more than compensated. All Corvettes and Destroyers seemed accounted for, which told of their viability. Or as much as he could be told without a solid debriefing.

And this is just the beginning.

"How much until we are no better than the kurozu?" Ultimo gravely wondered, to which he received a reply that told volumes of to what extent he lost himself in time – the irony of that not lost on him. And the reason for that reasoning was that the sender of this Engrave was still supposed to be on the Tenjo. The flame-haired dôji looked up to see Regula descend from a _Kurma_ that had come to a stop nearby, its name 'Presley' emblazoned across its dark hull.

"By no amount will we ever near their example, so long as we fight for the same reason we always have." was the Engrave the gently smiling aspect of Discipline sent. Regula was diminutive but possessed a uniquely monk-like quality to him, with much charisma born from centuries of preaching as the great leader of the Church. He came to stand on the hull and brushed imaginary debris from his clothes, "I can imagine you went through a rough time."

"Given the choice, I would never lay a hand on organics in anger. And if possible I will never again..." Ultimo soberly replied as he wrapped his arms around the knees and brought them to his chest, "So what counsel do you offer this time to make me feel better?"

"Most plainly what you did saved many dôji, and most of our fleet has been preserved for future battles. Sad it is to say, you are without a doubt bound to partake in further skirmishes." Regula informed bluntly before he smiled and sat down besides. "To act in the defense of friends and loved ones is a noble thing."

"I know, but I do not like killing. Only the kurozu provide the exception."

"Yet if we do not kill those who attack us, they surely will do it onto us. But on to that nugget that you so aptly named it, do you recall of what Father told us... about Asimov's three laws of robotics?"

"How could I forget?" Ultimo thought on it and knew deep down of what Regula wanted to touch upon and appreciated the reminder. It lay upon the mind of all dôji, yet in this ocean of death by his own making he had come to momentarily forget it. "First law: A robot may not injure a human being or, through inaction, allow a human being to come to harm. Second law: A robot must obey the orders given it by human beings, except where such orders conflict with the first law. Third Law: A robot must protect its own existence as long as such existence does not conflict with the first or second laws."

Regula nodded, "Exactly. And he made it a point to note that he never programmed any of the three into us. Instead he taught us to live by a code that one could interpret as an evolution of those three laws. Do you remember what he told onto us?"

Ultimo wiped a tear from his eyes at the memory that made his conviction burn anew, "Yes, I know..." and mouthed it as clearly as he could while they looked onto the planet below, and the distant Eden Prime beyond, home to many millions of dôji, and to the stars where countless more beings are, "We fight so others may live."

* * *

**Author note**: And here's the conclusion to Eden Rising. The war has begun, and will feature heavily in the next installment of the Robophobia Saga.


End file.
