The last of the Drell were leaving Rahanu, their once flourishing home. The resettlement, which had lasted more than thirty years, was complete. All debts had been paid... Almost all. The last one remained, and, leaving their home, ravaged by acid rain, the reptilian race was preparing to swear allegiance to the USSR. Although they were assured that this was not necessary, the examples of other peoples who had sworn eternal service to communist ideals and honorably carried this oath for the good of all workers were before their eyes. The refugees clearly saw how much effort their lives cost their new homeland.
Thirty years of bureaucratic confusion, debates, threats, and bribes – that was the price the Union paid for several billion lives.
The easiest for Soviet diplomacy was to negotiate with the Hanar. Diplomats were able to find common ground with the initially hostile beings, and later even concluded a series of treaties, albeit not without difficulties. A religious society that deified the Protheans logically felt distrust towards a country that questioned their sanctity, and overcoming this distrust was not easy at all.
In the end, both sides were satisfied: some because they overcame misunderstandings through words and the transfer of relics, others by gaining a powerful ally who wished to communicate respectfully and politely. Thus, the communists paid off the Drell's debt to the Hanar.
Things were much worse with the main players in the Citadel Space. The USSR was being pressured by the Asari and, unexpectedly, the Salarians, who united against the initiative. According to them, it was easier to kill eleven billion reptiles immediately than to hand them over to the councils.
However, the politicians' electorate reminded them of the fiasco with the recently rehabilitated slaves, but they did not find understanding even among their own kind. Although propaganda worked, society had not yet forgotten the inept policies of the countries themselves on this issue. They had to reduce the intensity, because it was becoming difficult for law enforcement officers to disperse spontaneous pickets.
Moreover, the Turians also had their say, becoming targets of public indignation afterward, facing a barrage of accusations – from "How could you allow this?" to "You dispersed those demonstrators too cruelly!" After this, the Hierarchy received another murdered Primarch, this time at the hands of the Turians themselves.
A number of high-ranking officers could not withstand such humiliating taunts and attempted a coup, which only partially succeeded. The Primarch, who refused to relinquish his powers, was executed by the conspirators, only to be torn apart by loyal troops afterward. There were not that many rebels. Their activities were not stopped in time because, due to their proximity to the ruler, such a thing was not expected from them.
The Union reacted wisely, allowing numerous observers and inspectors, including those from commercial organizations, to enter, while simultaneously organizing volunteer recruitment within Space itself. As a result, what could have been done in a couple of years stretched into decades. It was on this truly joyous note that the year 2055 ended.
***
In the distant orbit of Ekuna, the Migrant Fleet drifted. More than a hundred thousand ships, for the first time in a long time, stopped their eternal run across the galaxy, hoping to finally find a haven here. The Quarians chose this harsh world with increased gravity, which the Citadel Space knew nothing about until recent events, to make it their home, but...
"So, what do the boneheads say?" asked the Admiral of the Heavy Fleet, starting an emergency meeting.
"They are not happy themselves, but they will carry out the order," replied the Admiral of the Civilian Fleet, who had been negotiating for the last three hours. "From my side, I will note that formally all their demands are justified. The regulations were violated."
The man bored into his colleague, the commander of the Patrol Fleet, with a heavy gaze. Left alone, the admirals could remove their helmets to continue their conversation in an informal setting, as much as possible in this situation. Therefore, the Admiral of the Patrol Fleet clearly saw the expression on her colleague's face, which conveyed nothing good towards her.
"It's not my fault that my subordinates are too good at doing their duty..."
"It's just that someone wanted to feel the solid ground of the planet under their feet, not the metal of the deck, too much," interrupted the Admiral of the Scientific Fleet. "So much so that they jumped out of their suits! It was with your indulgence that they moved their ship's crews into hastily assembled shield houses on the surface! Kila! That's why they got drunk in the Citadel! Everyone doesn't care that there are three shacks there, but formally, we violated the regulations!!!"
"Quiet," the Admiral of the Heavy Fleet showed his attitude with his entire posture. "We won't solve the problem this way."
Turning his head to the Admiral of the Patrol Fleet, he asked, "What about reconnaissance?"
"The Hierarchy is gathering its fleets to the system, according to the order of the Citadel Council," she said dryly, but her barely noticeable tremor in her voice showed her agitation. "They will be in the system in two days."
"What do our red friends say?" he asked after a few seconds of thought to his colleague in charge of the Civilian Fleet.
"That in the best case, their ships will be here in four days, when there won't even be atomic dust left of us...," – his voice held a sense of doom. – "And as their diplomats said, despite all the good relations between our peoples, they will not start a full-scale war with all of Space for us. If we had asked earlier, they would have had the opportunity to exert pressure... Now the only thing they can do is give us more time for evacuation by causing a diplomatic scandal, and help exclusively with transport ships."
A thick silence hung in the conference room. Even the ancient hull, usually filled with the hum of systems, fell silent. The groan of the bulkheads, audible only to the ears of those born in the void, screamed deafeningly in the grip of gravity, falling silent for those gathered.
"We would gladly, but we were only informed of this wonderful news five hours ago," the Admiral of the Heavy Fleet remarked maliciously, breaking the silence. "Whereas the Hierarchy's ships clearly started moving about ten hours ago..."
Silence fell again. The admirals finally realized that all efforts and hopes were in vain. The Citadel, which had left them alone in the war with the Geth, now clearly showed its unwillingness to see even such a planet as property of the nomads. Their people had become pawns in the game of giants, who just happened to be in the wrong place at the wrong time. They were not forgiven for their friendship with the USSR, but the communists were the only ones who did not treat them like carrion, addressing them as equals.
It was only thanks to them that the number of ships in the fleet was doubled and the population tripled, reaching a record one hundred and sixty-seven million Quarians, instead of fifty-one, which it was fifty-seven years ago. In the future year 2080, according to Earth's calendar, the Migrant Fleet intended to purchase another thirty specially built large-tonnage ships for the nomads from the USSR, and a farm ship was to be launched from the slipways of the Salarians, thanks to which they would have a larger surplus of food.
In theory, this should have allowed them to create larger food reserves, which was especially relevant, as the desire to reclaim Rannoch had not disappeared, but the admirals did not want to senselessly slaughter their people, at least some of them. Reclaim their home at any cost... And what then?
Moreover, a large army needed to be fed, not kept hungry. A hungry soldier would not fight much.
Now, in light of what had happened, the radical views of the Admiral of the Patrol Fleet took on a sinister hue. Could she have deliberately put her people in a position where they had no choice?
"If only..."
"There can be no question of the Fleet joining the USSR!" – the one responsible for all reconnaissance exclaimed, confirming her colleagues' thoughts.
"It's your good fortune that the epidemic wiped out the supporters of this option more than others. Otherwise, with a high degree of probability, we would already have shoulder boards with stars," noted the leader of the Scientific Fleet. "And today, its supporters have another argument in the dispute..."
"And there should be no doubt about its artificiality," agreed the Admiral of the Heavy Fleet. "Not with our biological defense measures... Even then, the trace of sabotage was clearly discernible, with the stench of GOR agents. Then your predecessor was disgracefully removed from his post. Kila! The disgraceful dismissal was too mild a punishment... And you were appointed only because, through your efforts, a loophole in our protocols was discovered. In light of recent events, this now seems suspicious..."
"I will note that Lyra put forward a similar version then, may the spirits accept her soul," said the Admiral of the Civilian Fleet. The timing was chosen too conveniently...
"But the words of this 'blessed one' did not find a response then. Everyone was too happy about resolving the crisis, which had almost turned into a tragedy. The words of this radical seemed too far-fetched."
"I still consider her a traitor!" – the voice of the head of reconnaissance dripped with venom.
"Don't change the subject," the military man raised his voice. "Now we are discussing your actions and the actions of your subordinates, not the words of a dead man."
"Unlike you, I fight not only external but also internal enemies! Words, words... Words won't bring back our lost home! You've started to forget that Rannoch is paramount. The spirits of our ancestors are watching us, waiting for us to drive these mechanical slaves from our native land! And the latest events just prove me right! We have no haven but our homeland..."
***
The Migrant Fleet was forced to leave Ekuna under pressure from the Citadel and the threat of force from the Hierarchy. Subsequently, relations with the Turians completely cooled, as the planet went to their allies – the Elcor, with whom rapprochement began after the death of Steel Hand Palaven, which marked the beginning of a new political course.
The USSR, for whom the expulsion of the Quarians from the planet was a clear diplomatic defeat, promoted the adoption of a pact allowing the Fleet to make long stops and receive priority service in a number of systems. They were supported by the Asari, who, in words, acted as peacemakers, along with the Salarians, whom the Matriarchs effectively led, although they, in turn, significantly increased the tariffs for the Fleet in these systems.
The Hierarchy demonstratively refused this initiative, fearing that the Batarians might take advantage of the weakness of the relay network. A civil war was reaching its climax in their state.
On the Fleet itself, these events were overshadowed by the deaths of the Admirals of the Heavy and Patrol Fleets. Coupled with the retirement of the Admiral of the Scientific Fleet, a year after these events, the Quarian leadership focused on the return to Rannoch, despite the dissatisfaction of most of the crews with this decision.
Using the new treaty, they began to increase the military power of their fleet, with the help of both Asari corporations and the production base of three Soviet worlds: Pandora, Shanxi, and Karata. These worlds, located in border sectors close to industrial centers, also served as important trade hubs through which part of the transit flows of the entire Citadel Space passed...
***
In the Enael system, a battle was raging, which the Citadel Knights were slowly losing. The Ruk Theocracy proved to be too well-prepared to confront the Turian fleet. Ten battleships, old, still from the Hegemony's construction, and three dozen mercenary squadrons were an unexpected surprise for the Citadel forces, tasked with restoring order on a planet where fanatical Batarians and peacekeeping corps forces had been clashing for a week.
One of the three large fragments of the Hegemony, which had partially preserved its industrial potential after eighty-eight years of civil war, inflicted a defeat this year, completely crushing the fleet of the Harsang Emirate and appropriating more than a third of its ships.
Thearch Has'Kra was able not only to unite the warring Batarian houses with his word but also gave a goal to the common people, bestowing unity upon them under the banner of faith. His apocalyptic sermons were able to forge the mutually embittered intelligent beings into a single force capable of ending the protracted conflict.
The Hierarchy, which was interested in the four-eyed continuing to slaughter each other, initiated a peacekeeping operation through its advisor, the hidden goal of which was to weaken this large fragment of the Hegemony as much as possible. Especially after all the hardships, a small victorious campaign was very much needed by the Hierarchy.
The rift between supporters of the Citadel and adherents of their own course for their people had become more than obvious. Only discipline, love for their homeland, and respect for the position of Primarch prevented ordinary discontent from escalating into something more. Therefore, the Primarch himself led the fleet, but it was precisely this that played a cruel trick on the peacekeeping corps. The warrior was more of an infantry general than a fleet commander, so he focused his attention on the ground operation, believing, and not without reason, that his fleet could handle any enemy.
The Primarch's Council advised him not to seek help from allies or the USSR, dividing the ships into five groups to prevent the breakthrough of raider gangs into their territory. Moreover, the intelligence provided by GOR inspired confidence in an easy victory...
Everything would have happened that way, but the Salarians passed the information not only to the Knights. The Salarian Union had no benefit in stabilizing the political situation of the Citadel's security forces, because then they would have to put more effort into espionage technologies. Only the Asari were susceptible to such reliable corruption. And GOR also knew, as did the Shadow Broker, that the bounty on the Primarch's head had already been taken by the Ghost – the most successful and effective mercenary in the entire criminal world, who had never failed. What better reason to help a fool fall if, even in the worst-case scenario for the Salarians, he could not respond in any way? He simply wouldn't have time.
They only needed to remain silent about the presence of an enemy in the form of a heavy squadron; the rest was done by the arrogance of the Turians and their streak of bad luck. The fanatics were defeated by the timely introduction of reinforcements, but once again the Hierarchy could not protect its Primarch.
Due to the ensuing political struggle, the Knights could not complete the defeat of their long-standing enemy. After that, the Asari, who recognized the Theocracy as the legitimate government of the former Hegemony, did not allow them to do so.
As a result, the new Primarch adopted a course of isolation, curtailing almost all foreign policy and focusing on internal affairs. Having learned from all the mistakes, he channeled the energy of the discontented into peaceful channels, starting to modernize the fleet, not forgetting about revenge. Fate provided such an opportunity in the next century, but years still remained before the incident near the planet Shanxi. Now the Hierarchy was once again mourning its ruler, meeting the year 2100 in mourning...