Chapter Text
February 22nd, 2035
Resistance Safehouse, Western Europe
One Week before ‘Unification Day’
Central Officer John Bradford and XCOM operatives, Jane Kelly, Peter Osei, and Ana Ramirez went over the plan for Operation Gatecrasher. A lot was riding on Gatecrasher and Bradford hoped that it would finally be the start of the tide turning for the Human Resistance.
“Step one will have me and Jane entering Paris disguised as civilians. We will be carrying X-4 charges and placing them near the festivities to draw a reaction from Advent. However, I don’t want them anywhere near Civilians, Kelly. Focus on Advent checkpoints.”
Kelly gave a nod in affirmation. Out of these three, Bradford considered her the most promising of the bunch. She wasn’t a livewire like Ramirez was and she wasn’t overtly cautious like Osei. She was brave and adaptive, yet sensible and careful. Bradford was confident in her ability to carry out this mission.
Ramirez and Osei on the other hand, remained to be seen. They were two of XCOM’s best operatives, no doubt about that. Ramirez showed notable bravery and guts during training exercises and Osei was one of the best marksmen in XCOM, but their aforementioned habits casted some doubt on their ability to execute the mission. He could only hope that those two would be able to keep up once they went into the belly of the beast.
Paris was the new capital of Earth. A shining metropolis where the Great Accord was signed that officially marked Earth’s surrender “Unification.” Security in the city was always very tight and it would have been tripled on the first. They had a limited window for both the extraction of the target and themselves once Gatecrasher kicked off.
“Ramirez, Osei. You’re the assault team. Thanks to our friends in the Reapers, we finally know where the package is being held. It’s a standard Gene Therapy clinic, likely being used as a temporary location before being transported somewhere else. While me and Kelly work to cause as much mayhem as possible, you two will clear the area of Hostiles while we rendezvous after you manage to retrieve the package. After that, we all get extracted and get the hell out of Paris before Advent’s cudgel crashes down on us all. Any questions?”
“Yeah, I got a major one Bradford, Why are we actually risking our lives for the guy who lost the war in two months? Seriously!” Ramirez protested, though sadly, it wasn’t an uncommon sentiment. Twenty years of manpower and resources spent looking for the man who failed to defend Earth wasn’t a good look, no matter how many times Bradford tried to spin it.
“I’m afraid I must agree with Ana, sir. The Plan is effectively Suicide with a minimal chance of success.” Osei concurred. Bradford sighed, while the results of XCOM’s failure were evident, there weren't many people left who fought during the invasion, much less in XCOM. He couldn’t show everyone what it was like to be a part of XCOM in those days, only describe it.
“I get that you’re skeptical. I would be too if I was in your shoes. But you three weren’t there fighting during the invasion. We didn’t lose because of poor leadership, we lost because of sabotage. XCOM HQ’s location was compromised and the enemy took full advantage. Trust me when I say that the first step in taking our planet back is by rescuing the Commander.”
Bradford looked over to the faces of the three. That didn’t exactly put their concerns to ease, even Kelly had reservations on this operation. But there was a brief, fleeting moment where it seemed like Humanity was going to pull through after all during the Invasion. If Gatecrasher was successful, he could only hope that over time, that skepticism would be erased. They needed all the help they could get and then some if Earth was to be reclaimed.
Cipritine, Palaven
Trebia System, Apien Crest
Inside a dim room with nothing but a table and two chairs, Caslius Caetumus anxiously awaited his reckoning. In the Turian military, he had broken the ultimate rule, he disobeyed a superior and broke off with his main unit.
Their mission on Edessan was straightforward, preventing the enemy from utilizing a critical refinery by destroying the facility. It was a drastic measure to be sure, but if there was one word that could describe this war with the Ethereals, it would be drastic.
The Turian Hierarchy, for the first time in a long while, was actively on the backfoot of a war. The Turian Navy had suffered a string of stinging defeats that left some of the more outer colonies in the hierarchy isolated and underdefended. There wasn’t much success on the ground either. Ethereal forces hit hard and hit fast, giving Turian soldiers almost no time to react.
There was also a major technological gap between the Hierarchy and the Ethereals, Ethereal guns were simply better. While the standard grunt may carry guns that are as powerful as your standard Phaeston, that didn’t extend to every enemy soldier. From those slippery reptilians who could slither across the battlefield in a split second and shoot you down in the next, to those hulking abominations who were as ruthless as Krogan up close, those units possessed some kind of Plasma based weaponry, weaponry that would no doubt be a challenge to recreate since it was impossible for the regular Turian soldier to use without it immediately exploding the second one tried to use it.
The other Council races fared no better in this affair. While the Salarians found some success with Guerilla tactics, their military was fundamentally built around infiltration after all, neither they nor the Asari seemed to have even delayed the Ethereal war-machine.
It didn’t take long for the Turians to start to lose territory at a rapid pace and scramble to organize some long-term resistance towards the Ethereal threat. So much so that the Hierarchy implemented a policy of denying the enemy of anything useful that could potentially aid them in their conquest and that included any and all Infrastructure.
When it was clear that the Hierarchy couldn’t hold Edessan, the policy went into full effect. Everything from factories, communication networks, and storage facilities had to be destroyed in the hope that it would slow down the enemy long enough until the Primarch could coalesce the full might of the Turian Hierarchy into a counter-attack.
However, not every facility can be destroyed in time. Early on in the invasion, the Ethereals manage to capture the city of Korlantha, a city that was built around a large refinery that turned eezo into fuel. That facility was the one Caslius and his comrades were instructed to destroy.
As he heard the door to the Interrogation room open, Caslius exhaled a breath he had been holding for what felt like an eternity. He looked up to see who had just entered, but he hadn’t expected who exactly it was.
The Turian who stepped in was wearing all white attire and his plates and fringe were weathered with age, but he nonetheless still gave off a confident feel to any who may have glanced in his direction. This was none other than the very Turian councilor to the Citadel, Councilor Arrurunus Nazadonis.
Casilus quickly readjusted himself to face him, “Councilor Nazadonis? I-I didn’t expect that you would-”
“At ease, Lieutenant.” Nazadonis replied with a calming reassurance. “We will get to what happened on Edessan soon enough, for now, I would like to talk with you for a few moments.”
For a second, Casilus paused before Councilor Nazadonis started to speak, “I read your file, it says you were found on a slaver ship and rescued at around eight years old.”
Casilus sighed, “Yes… I never knew my biological parents.”
To tell the truth, Casilus was grateful he couldn’t recall any memories earlier than eight years old or maybe his mind blocked it out. Being kept in a cell in the dark and given the bare minimum in terms of food and water on a Batarian slaver ship was already traumatizing enough. He didn’t need to know exactly how he came into captivity or what exactly happened to his parents and that was a wound he didn’t wish to pick at.
“You were raised in captivity?” Nazadonis asked, to which Casilus gave a slow nod. “My sympathies, that period of your life must have been turbulent.”
“It’s fine, I can’t really recall much from my childhood.” Casilus sighed and continued, “After I was rescued, I was sent to Palaven and was mostly raised in an orphanage until I became of age and entered the Turian military for mandatory service.”
The Hierarchy was unable to find any records pertaining to his existence on file so he was dropped from one hell to another and left at an underfunded orphanage for boys. It didn’t help that he was, and still is a ‘Bareface’ due to having no colonial markings. Turian markings represented a Turian’s world of origin as well as family. While he grew up on Palaven, he was by no means considered one of her sons. That honor went to those born on her soil, like it was for every other Turian world.
He was also quite small and frail, making him a prime target for bullying from the more rowdier and rougher turian boys. Most of his time there was hiding in the dark, where no one could find him. Being smaller than an average Turian had its advantages.
Councilor Nazadonis nodded, “And from what I have read of your record, it seems quite exemplary. It said you showed impressive adaptability and composure in simulated combat situations. It was, however, at this point your biotics would flare up, is that correct?”
“That would be correct, yes.” Casilus answered, “It was a training exercise where we had to spar with some fancy new training mechs. They were fast and efficient and quickly took care of a few cocky soldiers. When it was my turn, I initially fared no better until… I let out too much force in my next punch and ended up destroying the mech’s upper body.”
Turian Biotics were also looked down upon by most in Turian Society. For some reason, the spirits seemed determined to make Casilus an outsider to any community he tried to integrate into. He sometimes felt like a spectator watching his life play out as if it were a show, having his existence be dictated by the whims of fate with no control over his future and what exactly he wanted it to be. All he knew was just to follow down whatever road the spirits took him on.
However, the discovery of his biotics wasn’t all bad. After all, it led him to the Cabals. They were a unit in the Turian military made up of fellow Biotics like him. They were also the closest thing he ever experienced to having a family. An outcast in a whole group of outcasts that made him feel like an individual. And for that reason, it made it all the more harder for him to make and even grapple with his decision on Edessan.
“Your time in the Cabals also seems impressive. You adapted quite well to the sudden transferral and showed commendable action against Pirates in the Attican Traverse. From the reports that I have read, you seemed to be a model soldier for the Hierarchy.” Nazadonis added, “Which leads me back to why I’m here. Your decision on Edessan may have saved lives, but you abandoned the original mission’s objectives as well as your squad to escort civilians off-planet. Why did you decide that a few dozen civilian lives were more important than making sure the Ethereals couldn’t use the Refinery?”
During their trek to the Refinery, the squad encountered heavy resistance on the way with several members sustaining serious injuries to the point where they needed to take a detour to a nearby medical clinic. However, once they arrived they found a group of civilians inside using it as a shelter from the Ethereals.
He remembers seeing a jubilant relief on their faces once they stepped into the clinic. They must’ve been hiding in there ever since the sirens started to blare throughout Korlantha. Nobody wanted to crush that sweet, fleeting joy. All they could do was to inform them that they weren’t prepared to evacuate civilians.
He couldn’t even bring himself to look at them, the civilians, while still defiant thanks to plain old Turian pride, were emaciated and exhausted, hiding out for days inside the clinic. Most of them were patients and had to rely on the staff that stayed with them during the Planetary Invasion. They held out for so long and saw their first glimmer of light, only for them to hear that it was merely a brief flicker. There was never going to be any search-and-rescue for any survivors. The Hierarchy considered Edessan lost and was more focused on making sure that the planet had no strategic value whatsoever.
They had a mission to do, but Casilus couldn’t in good conscience follow through on it. He couldn’t leave civilians to die even if it meant going AWOL.
Taking the first opportunity he had to sneak away from his squad, he headed straight back to that clinic and informed the survivors on the plan of taking a gamble and crossing miles of city blocks composed of ruined buildings and packed roads to reach the spaceport and hope to all the spirits who hadn’t abandoned the city that at least one ship was still available to get them off-world.
Either the spirits looked upon him and his endeavor with fortune or he was just purely lucky. It didn’t matter, somehow he managed to get every last one of those survivors to a ship that was able to be commandeered and managed to race back to the Relay.
He turned himself into custody the moment a patrol fleet investigated activity from the Relay and was sent back to Palaven to face a military court. It is also where he learned that his squad sustained casualties to make sure the refinery was destroyed. While he saved lives that would have had no chance of survival, he sacrificed the trust of that group of outcasts he felt he had a place in and some of his comrades paid the ultimate price.
“I couldn’t have continued with the mission knowing that I would have been complicit in the deaths of innocent civilians, sir,” Casilus answered, honestly. “It is no excuse for abandoning my squad and the mission, but I couldn’t leave so many to die.”
There was a minute of pause after Casilus’ answer where Nazadonis just examined him with a stoic look, before it morphed into a slight smile.
“I cannot tell you how much of a relief it is to hear that from a soldier in the Hierarchy. Most Turian soldiers would just pummel their heads against a rock if it meant it could advance the Hierarchy’s goals.” Nazadonis continued, “You may prove to be just who I am looking for.”
Casilus was silent. He was all but certain that he was going to be tried, dishonorably discharged, and thrown into prison.
“Sir… I don’t understand? I abandoned the mission during a crucial time and my squad… Some were KIA.” Their faces briefly flashed through Casilus’ mind. Verunus, Kehlix, Betumia. Spirits forgive him.
“But do you regret it?” Nazadonis countered.
Casilus mulled over the question for a moment. Would he make the same choice a second time? It did not take him long to come to a conclusion.
“No, I don’t regret what I did on Edessan.”
That answer seemed to please the Turian Councillor, “We all must make hard choices in our lives, Casilus and while those choices might linger in the back of our minds when we think back to that moment in time. What matters is how we stand by those hard choices when faced with scrutiny.”
Nazadonis continued, “There are not many Soldiers who would choose to help those survivors over finishing the mission, but I want someone like you on a special assignment.”
“A special assignment?” Casilus asked. Going from potentially being court-marshalled to being sent on a mission assigned by the Turian Councilor himself in a couple of days was certainly bewildering.
“The other councilors wish to authorize a Spectre to infiltrate Ethereal Territory and gather as much intel and sabotage the Ethereal war effort as much as possible. However, there is one caveat. They wish to send Tela Vasir.”
Casilus recognized the name. Vasir was among one of the more ruthless Spectres and a frequent example against the absolute power and authority granted by the Council for Spectre agents. Vasir would gladly sacrifice an entire colony if it meant getting an inch closer to her goals.
“I’ve heard of her. She’s said to be quite relentless from what I hear.” Casilus said.
“That is putting it mildly, I am afraid.” Nazadonis responded, “The amount of atrocities that woman has done. The absolute scum she has sided with when it comes to completing an assignment—I think it’s clear why I do not trust her on this specific assignment.”
“While the title and privileges of the Spectres are not freely given out, some believe it is a pass given by the council to act however they wish. However, it takes the approval of all three Councilors to authorize Spectre missions and I will not give my approval until I am certain that Vasir has some kind of counterbalance.”
“And you seriously wish for me, a deserter, to be attached to such a crucial mission and to offset a Spectre’s authority?” Casilus questioned.
“You do not have to accept this reassignment. I have made sure that you have been granted a full pardon within the Turian Military and can continue your service if you so wish.” Nazadonis assured. “So, what do you say?”
Casilus took some time to contemplate this opportunity. He can choose not to accept and continue his life without facing repercussions for Edessan. But the Ethereals would just continue their endless expansion into Citadel space with no sign of slowing down anytime soon. Whatever the council is doing could be the key in turning the war in the Citadel’s favor. It wasn’t exactly a hard choice to begin with in all honesty.
“Councilor, I do believe there is no greater honor.”