Chapter 6 on Patreon
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The secure conference room in the Alliance training facility hummed with the soft murmur of voices and the occasional beep of high-security clearance scanners. The air felt heavy with anticipation, thick with the scent of military-grade coffee and the faint metallic tang of the recycled air system. Twelve senior officers—trainers, intelligence analysts, and command staff—gathered around a polished oak table, its surface cool and smooth beneath their fingertips. The room's windows were polarized to opacity, casting everything in artificial light that made skin tones appear slightly washed out, and two armed guards stood outside the reinforced door, their steady breathing and occasional shifting of weight barely audible through the thick barrier.
Commander Elena Vasquez, the head of the C-Sec training program, stood at the front of the room beside a large holographic display. Her crisp Alliance blues contrasted with her olive skin and the tight silver bun at the nape of her neck, pulled so severely it seemed to stretch her features into a permanent expression of alertness. She cleared her throat, the sound sharp in the hushed atmosphere, silencing the room.
"Gentlemen, ladies, let's begin," she announced, her voice carrying the weight of authority that came from years of command decisions. "You all know why we're here."
With a wave of her hand, she activated the display, the soft hum of the projector joining the ambient noise of the room. The hologram flickered to life, bathing everyone in a blue-white glow as it showed footage of Arthur Morrigan's combat session with the N5 operative. The room fell silent as they watched the recruit move with impossible precision, his body flowing like water around attacks, countering techniques that should have been beyond his skill level. The only sounds were the occasional sharp intake of breath as Arthur executed a particularly impressive maneuver.
"This is the sixth time I've seen this," said Captain Marcus Chen, one of the two N7 operatives who had been called in specifically for this evaluation. His weathered face remained impassive, but his eyes narrowed slightly as he studied Arthur's movements, fingers unconsciously mimicking the recruit's hand positions. "And it's still hard to believe."
How does a civilian move like that? he wondered silently, the question gnawing at him like an unsolved tactical problem.
The second N7, Major Diana Torres, nodded in agreement. Her fingers tapped a rhythmic pattern on the table as she watched Arthur execute a perfect counter-strike, the soft percussion emphasizing her growing unease. "That's N-program level training. Advanced N-program. I've seen N3s who can't move like that."
She felt a mixture of professional admiration and deep suspicion churning in her gut. Something about this recruit didn't add up, and inconsistencies made her skin crawl with instinctive wariness.
Commander Vasquez paused the footage at the moment Arthur performed his spinning kick, the frozen image highlighting the perfect form, the exact angle of his foot, the precise positioning that maximized impact while maintaining balance. "This is what concerns us. Mr. Morrigan has been consistently outperforming expectations since day one. Not just physically—his test scores are off the charts."
She switched the display to show a series of evaluation metrics, the transition accompanied by a soft whoosh of digital sound. Arthur's scores glowed bright green, towering above the average line for every category like mountain peaks against flatlands.
"Legal theory, cultural protocols, weapons proficiency, tactical assessment—he's in the 99th percentile across the board. And then there's this combat demonstration."
The room seemed to grow smaller as they all contemplated the implications, the air becoming heavier with each breath, laden with unspoken suspicions.
Major Torres leaned forward, her dark eyes intense, reflecting the green glow of the metrics display. "Let me ask again—are we absolutely certain he hasn't been through special operations training? Black ops? Something classified that wouldn't show up in standard records?"
Her heart pounded with the urgency of the question. In her experience, unexplained talent usually meant undisclosed training, and undisclosed training meant secrets—potentially dangerous ones.
Lieutenant Colonel Jackson, head of Alliance Intelligence's vetting division, shook his head firmly, the motion causing the overhead light to glint off his closely-cropped silver hair. "We've unsealed all his records, run his biometrics through every military database on Earth and in the colonies. He's never served in any branch of the Alliance military beyond a brief stint in the National Guard. Hell, according to immigration records, he's never even left North America, let alone Earth."
He felt the frustration of hitting a dead end after exhausting every investigative avenue, a rare sensation for someone with his clearance level and resources.
"That's impossible," Captain Chen muttered, rewinding the footage to watch Arthur's footwork again, the soft whir of the playback filling the momentary silence. He studied the precise weight distribution, the economy of movement. "Nobody develops those instincts without training. Years of it."
His mind raced through possibilities—secret programs, lost records, deep cover operatives—none of which seemed to fit the evidence before them.
Colonel Harris, the Army Command representative who had been silently observing until now, cleared his throat, the sound drawing all eyes to his imposing figure. "Could he be part of some human supremacist cell? Those lunatics train their people like crazy. What are they called? Terra Firma?"
The suggestion hung in the air like a foul odor, making several officers shift uncomfortably in their seats, the leather creaking beneath them.
"You're thinking of Cerberus," Major Torres corrected, her lips pressing into a thin line at the mention of the notorious organization. "Terra Firma is more into politics and propaganda. And no, we checked. He's not connected to either group. No extremist ties whatsoever."
The room fell silent again as they contemplated the mystery before them, the only sound the soft hum of the environmental systems and the occasional tap of fingers against datapads.
Dr. Patel, the program's chief psychologist, spoke up, her voice softer than the others but no less authoritative. "His psychological profile doesn't match what we typically see in extremists or even military specialists. There's no evidence of the conditioning or thought patterns we'd expect from someone with intensive combat training."
She felt professionally intrigued yet personally disturbed by the anomaly that was Arthur Morrigan—a puzzle that defied her years of experience in behavioral analysis.
"Then how do you explain this?" Commander Vasquez gestured at the frozen image of Arthur in perfect fighting stance, her frustration evident in the sharp movement of her hand through the air.
"I can't," Dr. Patel admitted, the words leaving a bitter taste in her mouth. "It's as if he simply... knows how to fight. Intuitively."
The admission of professional bafflement settled heavily on the room, each officer contemplating what it meant when their collective expertise failed to provide answers.
Lieutenant Zhao, one of the combat trainers, cleared his throat, his chair squeaking as he leaned forward. "We have two days left with him before he and the other recruits board the cruiser to the Citadel. But it seems like a waste to send him off as some space cop. Why don't the N7 program send a recruitment officer? Swoop in and get him before he leaves?"
His suggestion carried the eagerness of someone who recognized rare talent and wanted to see it properly utilized, not squandered on routine patrols and paperwork.
Captain Chen shook his head, the movement slow and deliberate. "Two problems with that. One, we only recruit from branches of Earth's military and colonies unless we're in wartime. And two, his name is already on the Council's desk along with his fellow recruits. Taking him away now would look suspicious."
He felt the frustration of bureaucratic constraints binding his hands when his instincts screamed that this recruit belonged in special operations, not walking a beat on the Citadel.
"We could say he fell ill or was injured," suggested Sergeant Martinez, who had overseen Arthur's physical training, his voice carrying the gruff practicality of a career NCO. "Say he didn't make the cut. Then the N7 could talk to Alliance brass and pick him up later."
The fabricated scenario played out in his mind—a convenient accident, some paperwork, a quiet transfer—simple, effective, and entirely against protocol.
"It wouldn't happen in time," Major Torres replied, frustration evident in her voice as she drummed her fingers on the table in a staccato rhythm. "Right now, Alliance brass is focused on fixing up trade routes, Colony attachments, fleet patrols, the dollar-to-credit exchange rate... they wouldn't prioritize a new N-program recruit. We get them all the time."
She leaned back in her chair, the material creaking slightly under her weight as she studied Arthur's frozen image on the screen, her mind filled with what-ifs and missed opportunities. "I'll admit, he looks amazing from what we've seen. Worth more than a desk job at the Citadel—which, if we're being honest, is all these first recruits are going to be. But our hands are tied."
The admission tasted like failure on her tongue, bitter and lingering.
"Despite the rumors," Captain Chen added, fingers interlaced before him on the table, "we can't just take anyone into the program without approval. Proper channels, proper paperwork."
His words carried the weight of years of operating within a system that valued procedure, even when it occasionally hampered effectiveness.
Commander Vasquez sighed, the sound heavy with resignation as she shut down the display with a wave of her hand, plunging that corner of the room into relative darkness. "So we're agreed? We proceed as planned?"
"We'll keep an eye on him through the human embassy on the Citadel," Major Torres offered, the compromise feeling inadequate even as she proposed it. "If he's as exceptional as he appears to be, perhaps we can bring him into the program after his C-Sec tour."
The others nodded reluctantly, chairs scraping against the floor as they rose, and Commander Vasquez dismissed the meeting. As they filed out, the sound of their footsteps echoing in the corridor beyond, Captain Chen lingered, staring at the now-dark display, his reflection ghostly in its black surface.
"Something wrong, Captain?" Commander Vasquez asked, gathering her datapads with efficient movements.
Chen shook his head slowly, his brow furrowed in deep thought, a muscle in his jaw twitching with tension. "Nothing concrete. Just... in twenty years of special operations, I've never seen someone move like that without training. It's not natural."
The word "natural" hung between them, laden with implications neither wanted to voice aloud.
"Well," Vasquez replied with a tight smile that didn't reach her eyes, "natural or not, he's C-Sec's problem now."
As she spoke, she couldn't shake the feeling that they were missing something crucial, something that would eventually return to make them feel like fools.
Arthur stood at rigid attention, shoulders squared, chin lifted, as Alliance Commander Ramirez addressed the ten C-Sec recruits. The morning sun cast long shadows across the parade ground, and a cool breeze carried the scent of freshly cut grass and the faint mineral tang of recently watered soil. To Arthur's right stood Santana, her dark hair pulled back in a regulation bun, the scent of her standard-issue shampoo barely detectable, and to his left was Jason, whose normally casual demeanor had been temporarily replaced by military discipline, though Arthur could sense the subtle tension in his posture.
"Recruits," Commander Ramirez began, his voice carrying across the open space with the practiced projection of a career officer, "today marks the completion of your training and the beginning of a historic chapter in human-Citadel relations. You ten will be the face of humanity in Citadel Security, representing not just the Systems Alliance, but Earth itself."
Arthur maintained his stoic expression, feeling the morning sun warm against his face as his mind raced beneath the calm exterior. Internally he was calculating how much longer this ceremony would last and how many more hours of study he could squeeze in before departure. His fingers itched to return to his datapad, the phantom sensation of scrolling through information almost real against his skin. The two weeks of training had been both a blessing and a curse—allowing him to advance his traits dramatically while simultaneously drawing unwanted attention that made his spine tingle with apprehension.
"You have excelled in areas that many thought would be impossible for humans to master so quickly," Ramirez continued, his voice swelling with pride that seemed genuine despite the political undertones. "Alien legal codes, cross-species protocols, tactical integration with non-human units—you've proven that humanity belongs on the galactic stage."
The commander paced before them, the soft crunch of his boots against the parade ground punctuating each statement. His hands were clasped behind his back, knuckles white with the force of his grip. "Tomorrow, you will board the SSV Takato and begin your journey to the Citadel. There, you will continue your training under C-Sec supervision before being assigned to your permanent posts."
He stopped, looking each recruit in the eye, his gaze carrying the weight of command and expectation. When his eyes fell on Arthur, they lingered a moment longer than the others, a flicker of something—curiosity? concern?—crossing his features. Arthur felt a cold shiver run down his spine despite the warmth of the morning sun.
"I am proud of each and every one of you," he said finally, his voice resonating with conviction that Arthur could feel vibrating in his chest. "And I know you will make humanity proud. Dismissed!"
The moment Ramirez turned to leave, the formal atmosphere dissolved like sugar in hot coffee. Cheers erupted from the recruits, with backslapping and handshakes all around. The air filled with excited voices, the scent of relief and anticipation palpable.
"We did it!" Jason exclaimed, throwing an arm around Arthur's shoulders, his touch warm and heavy. "Can you believe it? We're actually going to the Citadel!" His voice cracked with excitement, his breath smelling faintly of the morning's coffee.
Santana's usual stern expression had softened into something approaching excitement, the tiny lines around her eyes relaxing. "My abuela is going to lose her mind when I call her. First human C-Sec officers in history." Her voice carried a hint of wonder beneath the practiced professionalism.
Arthur smiled and joined in the celebrations, the muscles in his face moving automatically while his mind was elsewhere. He could feel the slight weight of his datapad in his pocket, calling to him. He silently reviewed his engineering stats in his mind's eye, feeling a mixture of satisfaction and frustration that knotted in his stomach.
[Galactic Engineer] – Level 6/30You now move beyond basic designs. Starships, habitats, and stations no longer require blueprints from others. You can produce original Citadel-compliant or independent-class vessels with modular layouts. At this level, you gain:
Full autonomous construction schematic generation.Advanced hull design optimization: stealth plating, energy-absorbent alloys, reactive shields.Ability to begin work on mobile factories or hidden orbital stations with linked AI defenses. [Drive Architect] – Level 6/30Your understanding of propulsion systems is expanding past known science. Warp Drive design has moved from theoretical to practical:
You can now create stable, small-scale Warp Drive prototypes.Begin scaling experiments for non-eezo, relay-independent FTL travel.Refinement of core stability, jump latency, and heat dissipation.Ability to optimize Citadel and Alliance drive systems beyond standard military tolerances. [Macro-Structural Vision] – Level 6/30Large-scale construction is no longer hypothetical. You now possess the knowledge to:
Lay the groundwork for actual ringworld or Dyson swarm construction in-system.Design orbital elevators, lunar megastructures, and artificial gravity systems.Begin preliminary terraforming rig development for atmospheric correction. [Planetary Defense Architect] – Level 6/30At this level, your designs shift from city-scale to continent-scale defense capability:
Design phased-shield planetary grids synced to FTL warning systems.Create mass driver emplacements capable of anti-orbital strikes.Begin planetary-scale shield experiments resistant to sustained dreadnought fire. [Weaponsmith of the Void] – Level 6/30You now possess mastery over designing warship-class weapons:
Begin integrating antimatter and plasma systems into spinal-mount cannon designs.Craft modular weapon hardpoints for dreadnoughts and corvettes alike.Efficiency balancing between heat output, charge time, and damage yield is now instinctive. [Armsmith Ascendant] – Level 6/30Your handheld weapon crafting expands dramatically:
Begin crafting prototype hybrid weapons: kinetic-plasma rifles, biotic-infused blades, mass accelerator shotguns.Build complex multi-ammo type firearms.Hand-forge exotic weapons using rare alloys, alien materials, or synthetic muscle fibers. [Integrated Systems Mastery] – Level 6/30At this point, ship systems become true living organisms under your guidance:
Design AI-linked modular systems that redistribute power, shields, and weapons in real time.Craft custom emergency protocols, fire suppression, grav-plating safety nets.Begin work on early-stage semi-autonomous ship control networks with redundant cores. [Reverse-Engineer] – Level 6/30You can now fully disassemble and understand most known galactic technologies:
Gain the ability to fully reconstruct Geth, Quarian, and Prothean devices at 75% efficiency minimum.Begin unlocking hidden sub-layer coding within advanced systems: encrypted Geth platforms, Reaper signal fragments.Develop prototype blueprints faster and with greater accuracy.Despite reading like crazy for the last three days and laying low since winning his spar against that N5, these new stats hadn't gone up by much no matter how much he read late into the night. His eyes burned with the memory of countless hours staring at screens, the information flooding his brain but somehow not translating to the dramatic improvements he'd seen in other areas. Unlike his social and legal traits, these were a struggle to grow. The engineering knowledge seemed to require actual practice, not just theoretical study. That or he needed access to alien info to read….and on the same plate….
Strength: 15/50 Your physical power is significantly above the human average, comparable to trained special forces or Krogan shock troops.
You can wield heavy weapons and melee tools without penalty.Your strikes hit with bone-breaking force.Carry capacity and armor handling are enhanced, including power-assisted exosuits.Dexterity: 15/50 Your reflexes, hand-eye coordination, and agility rival elite pilots or martial artists.
You move fluidly through obstacles, combat zones, and parkour-style movement.Firearm accuracy, reload speed, and melee counters improve noticeably.Capable of dodging incoming fire with precision timing in close quarters.Endurance: 15/50 Your body operates at a high level of stamina and resilience.
Extended firefights, long-distance running, and surviving harsh environments cause minimal fatigue.Poison, radiation, and other environmental threats affect you far less.Healing from injuries occurs faster even without potions or medigel.Intelligence: 15/50 You process complex information with speed and clarity equal to advanced AI operators or scientist-commanders.
High-tier hacking, puzzle-solving, research, and multi-layered strategy become routine.You can design high-complexity machinery, weapons, and starships faster.You naturally detect logical flaws, battle patterns, or diplomatic loopholes others miss.Willpower: 15/50 You exhibit formidable mental fortitude and psychic resistance.
Strong defense against fear, indoctrination, biotic domination, and even Reaper influence.Biotic powers remain stable under pressure, allowing for longer chains of attacks or defense.Capable of resisting pain, mental illusions, or psionic attacks that would cripple others.Charisma: 15/50 Your social presence carries weight across species lines.
Persuasion, intimidation, seduction, and leadership options expand in conversations.You gain easier access to political, criminal, or military channels.Relationship meters with companions and NPC factions increase faster.Luck: 15/50 Probability tilts in your favor more consistently now.
Rare loot, critical hits, jackpot events, and random quest triggers occur more frequently.Situations tend to break in your favor even when logic suggests they shouldn't.You may stumble across secret items, hidden allies, or avoid death by inches without clear reason.His personal stats were climbing more than his hidden knowledge stats and what's more...
MISSION: C-Sec Integration Training STATUS: Complete
OBJECTIVE: Successfully complete Alliance training for C-Sec assignment — You have passed all required combat drills, legal theory exams, cultural protocol assessments, and equipment handling certifications. — C-Sec Command has approved your transfer as an active-duty officer assigned to the Citadel Security Department.
REWARD: +500 XP +Increased Alliance Reputation: +10 +C-Sec.
CURRENT LEVEL: 5 (500 XP needed for next level)
Arthur was starting to wonder if stat points meant anything unless you could use them for something else, seeing as his stats grew by just reading or action…..perhaps he could use them on the knowledge stats…..
"Earth to Arthur," Jason waved a hand in front of his face, the motion sending a slight breeze across Arthur's skin. "You in there, buddy? We're heading to O'Malley's for a final Earth beer before shipping out. You coming?"
Arthur blinked, forcing himself back to the present. The datapad's glow faded as he set it aside, leaving behind ghostly blue afterimages dancing across his vision that pulsed in time with his heartbeat. "Yeah, of course. Let me just grab my stuff first."
"Meet you there in thirty," Santana said, already walking toward the barracks, her boots crunching rhythmically on the gravel path. "Don't be late. I want to hear Wilson try to pronounce 'turian' after his fifth beer."
Arthur nodded and headed to his quarters. The small room had become familiar over the past weeks—the narrow bunk with its military corners, the desk where he'd spent countless hours studying, the faint indentation in the chair from his weight, the locker containing his few personal possessions. The scent of cleaning solution and his own aftershave lingered in the air. He began methodically packing his duffel bag, the fabric rough against his fingertips, mentally reviewing what he had accomplished and what still lay ahead.
His mission status indicator showed that the C-Sec Integration Training was complete, with rewards of 500 XP, increased Alliance reputation, and official C-Sec credentials. He was still Level 5, with 500 XP needed to reach the next level. The numbers seemed to float before his eyes, tantalizingly close yet still out of reach.
The celebrations at O'Malley's lasted well into the evening. The bar hummed with conversation and laughter, the air thick with the smell of beer, fried food, and the mingled scents of too many bodies in too small a space. Arthur nursed a single beer, the bitter taste lingering on his tongue, listening as his fellow recruits shared stories, fears, and excitement about their upcoming assignment. Wilson, as Santana had predicted, became increasingly unable to pronounce alien species names as the night wore on, his words slurring together like melting ice cream.
"To the tur—the turi—the bird aliens!" he finally declared, raising his glass to laughter all around, the amber liquid sloshing dangerously close to the rim.
By midnight, most had returned to the barracks to finish packing or make final calls to family and friends. Arthur sat on his bunk, datapad in hand, the blue glow illuminating his face in the darkened room. His eyes scanned rapidly over every bit of information he could about the Citadel's internal systems, C-Sec protocols, and the command structure he would soon be part of. The words seemed to burn themselves directly into his brain, each sentence connecting to neural pathways he hadn't even known existed.
Around 1 AM, the barracks finally quieted as the last of the recruits succumbed to sleep. The soft sounds of breathing and occasional snores created a rhythmic backdrop. Arthur lay back on his bunk and closed his eyes, not because he was tired—he couldn't remember the last time he'd actually felt fatigue, the sensation now foreign to his enhanced body—but because it was expected. His body seemed to require minimal rest, and his mind remained sharp regardless, thoughts racing like quicksilver.
In the darkness, he contemplated the journey ahead. The Citadel—heart of galactic politics, nexus of the mass relay network, and, though no one yet knew it, a massive trap designed by the Reapers. He would be positioned at the center of everything, years before Shepard would discover the truth about the Reapers, years before the galaxy would face extinction. The weight of this knowledge pressed against his chest like a physical burden, making his heart race with both anticipation and dread.
Time enough, perhaps, to change the course of history.
At 5:30 AM, Sergeant Martinez's voice shattered the pre-dawn quiet, the harsh sound jarring against the peaceful silence.
"Up and at 'em, people! Showers, breakfast, then on the bus to the spaceport! The SSV Takato waits for no one, especially not hungover C-Sec rookies!"
Arthur was on his feet instantly, body humming with energy and anticipation, muscles responding without the slightest hint of stiffness. As he grabbed his toiletry kit and headed for the showers, the cool tiles beneath his bare feet, he felt none of the weariness that showed on his fellow recruits' faces. Instead, a sense of purpose filled him—a clarity of mission that transcended the mundane role of C-Sec officer, making his skin tingle with electricity.
The real work was about to begin.
The SSV Takato was a mid-sized Alliance cruiser reassigned to transport duty for this mission. As Arthur and the other recruits boarded, the ship's cavernous hangar bay swallowed them in a symphony of mechanical sounds—the hiss of pressure seals, the clank of cargo loaders, and the constant hum of the ship's systems vibrating through the deck plates beneath their feet. The air carried the distinctive smell of military-grade metal polish and engine oil, with undertones of ozone and recycled air that tickled Arthur's nostrils.
"Welcome aboard," said a crisp voice that cut through the mechanical cacophony. A tall, lean officer with captain's bars approached the group, his uniform pressed to perfection, not a wrinkle in sight. "I'm Captain Rivera. You'll be our guests for the next three days as we make our way to the Citadel."
The recruits stood at attention, their duffel bags at their feet. Arthur noted the captain's assessing gaze as it swept over them, lingering briefly on him before moving on. There was something calculating in that look that sent a warning tingle down Arthur's spine.
"Lieutenant Chen will show you to your quarters," Rivera continued, his voice carrying the precise cadence of someone accustomed to being obeyed without question. "The mess hall is on Deck 3. You're free to use the gym and common areas during your stay, but engineering and the bridge are off-limits without escort."
A young lieutenant stepped forward and gestured for them to follow, his movements crisp and efficient. As they navigated the ship's narrow corridors, the walls humming with the ship's power systems, Arthur studied every detail—the location of escape pods, the security checkpoints, the subtle design elements that marked this as a vessel built for war rather than comfort. The information automatically organized itself in his mind, his enhanced cognition mapping the ship's layout perfectly, creating a three-dimensional model he could navigate in his thoughts.
Their quarters were spartan but adequate—two large rooms with five bunks each, separated by gender. The smell of industrial cleaner and recycled air filled the space. Arthur claimed a lower bunk near the door, stowing his bag underneath with practiced efficiency, the metal frame cool against his fingertips.
"Anyone else feel like we're being watched?" Jason muttered as he took the bunk opposite Arthur's, his voice low enough that only those nearby could hear. "That N5 guy must have said something. The officers keep looking at us like they're expecting us to do backflips or something."
"Just at you," Santana called from the doorway, where she was waiting for the other female recruits, her voice carrying a teasing lilt. "The rest of us are perfectly normal."
"Speak for yourself," Wilson grunted, already sprawled on his bunk, an arm thrown over his eyes to block out the harsh overhead lighting. "I'm still seeing two of everything after last night." His voice was rough with the aftermath of too much alcohol, each word seeming to cause him pain.
Arthur remained silent, busying himself with arranging his few possessions, feeling the weight of unseen eyes on his back. Jason wasn't wrong—there was a different quality to the attention they were receiving, particularly from the senior officers. The combat demonstration with Ronan had clearly triggered something, and Arthur could sense the subtle surveillance, like insects crawling across his skin.
After they settled in, Lieutenant Chen led them on a tour of the ship's accessible areas. As they walked, the constant hum of the ship's systems creating a background drone, Arthur noticed security cameras tracking their movement, the tiny lenses following them with mechanical precision, and twice they passed Alliance officers who seemed to be observing them with more than casual interest, their gazes lingering just a moment too long.
"Is this normal?" he asked Chen quietly during a lull in the tour, keeping his voice casual despite the tension coiling in his gut. "The security, I mean."
The lieutenant's expression remained neutral, but his eyes betrayed a flicker of something—caution, perhaps, or discomfort. "You're the first human C-Sec officers. That makes you a high-value diplomatic asset. Standard procedure." His words came too quickly, rehearsed.
It wasn't entirely convincing, but Arthur nodded as if satisfied with the explanation, though suspicion continued to gnaw at him like a persistent hunger.
That evening, the recruits gathered in the mess hall for dinner. The food was typical military fare—nutritionally balanced but uninspiring, the bland smell of institutional cooking filling the air. Arthur ate mechanically, more out of social obligation than hunger, the textures and tastes registering dimly against his senses. His metabolism could process the nutrients more efficiently than a normal human's, but he maintained appearances by clearing his tray like everyone else, careful not to draw attention.
"So," Santana said, sliding onto the bench across from Arthur and Jason, her tray clattering against the metal table, "anyone want to place bets on which alien species hates us the most when we arrive?"
"Turians," Jason replied without hesitation, stabbing at his food with unnecessary force. "First Contact War and all that. They've got to still be holding a grudge."
"Nah," Wilson joined in, setting his tray down with a clatter that made several recruits wince. "Turians respect a good fight. I'm betting on the batarians. Those four-eyed bastards hate everything human. Fucking slavers." His voice held genuine venom, his fingers tightening around his fork until his knuckles whitened.
"What about you, Arthur?" Santana asked, her gaze sharp with curiosity, eyes narrowing slightly as they focused on his face. "Any insights from all that studying you've been doing?"
Arthur considered his response carefully, feeling the weight of his knowledge pressing against his tongue. "Prejudice isn't species-specific," he said finally, choosing each word with precision. "We'll find individuals who hate us and others who don't, regardless of their biology." The words felt hollow even as he spoke them, oversimplified for his audience.
"Look at you, Mr. Diplomat," Jason laughed, elbowing him playfully, the contact sending a jolt through Arthur's side. "Save that wisdom for the Council."
The conversation shifted to speculation about their future assignments and living arrangements on the Citadel, voices rising and falling in animated discussion. Arthur participated just enough to avoid seeming antisocial, offering occasional comments that drew nods of agreement, but his mind was elsewhere, already planning his first moves once they arrived, strategies forming and dissolving like clouds.
After dinner, most of the recruits headed to the ship's small recreation area, their voices fading down the corridor, but Arthur excused himself, claiming he wanted to review some final materials before arrival. The lie came easily, his expression betraying nothing. Instead of returning to the barracks, however, he found a quiet observation deck, deserted at this hour, the silence broken only by the distant hum of the ship's systems.
The vast emptiness of space stretched before him through the reinforced viewport, stars glittering like scattered diamonds against the perfect blackness. Somewhere out there, beyond the range of human vision, lay the Citadel—and beyond that, in the dark space between galaxies, waited the Reapers. The sheer scale of it made his breath catch in his throat. Yet he couldn't help but be excited….he remembered his former life….where this was all just a game…very few of humanity had gone to space. And yet here he was….on a real spaceship, the gentle vibration beneath his feet a constant reminder of the miracle of interstellar travel.
Arthur closed his eyes, feeling the slight vibration of the ship's engines through the deck plates beneath his feet, the subtle rhythm like a mechanical heartbeat. He reached inward, connecting with the biotic energy that hummed constantly beneath his skin, a tingling warmth that spread from his core to his extremities. The Singularity Core trait had gifted him with power that surpassed most natural biotics, but he had barely begun to explore its potential, the depths of it still mysterious and enticing.
Carefully, making sure no one was around to see, his senses extended to detect any approach, he extended his hand and focused. A small sphere of dark energy formed above his palm, no larger than a marble, pulsing with deep purple light that cast otherworldly shadows across his skin. He concentrated, feeling the familiar strain as he manipulated the mass effect field, compressing it, shaping it, the sensation like kneading particularly resistant dough with his mind. The sphere grew slightly, then stabilized, casting eerie shadows across his face, the air around it seeming to bend and distort.
"Impressive control," said a voice from behind him, cutting through the silence like a knife.
Arthur's concentration shattered, the biotic sphere dissipating instantly with a soft pop that he felt rather than heard. He turned to find Captain Rivera standing in the doorway, arms crossed, expression unreadable, his silhouette framed by the corridor lighting behind him.
"Captain," Arthur acknowledged, fighting to keep his voice neutral despite the sudden surge of adrenaline that made his heart race. "I didn't hear you come in."
"Evidently." Rivera stepped into the room, letting the door slide closed behind him with a soft pneumatic hiss. "You didn't mention you were a biotic in your history."
Arthur's mind raced through possible explanations, discarding and reformulating them in milliseconds, his thoughts moving at superhuman speed. "It's... recent," he said finally, injecting just the right amount of hesitation into his voice. "An accident at my last security job. Industrial exposure to element zero. The doctors said the effects were minimal." The lie felt bitter on his tongue, but he maintained eye contact, projecting sincerity.
"Minimal," Rivera repeated, clearly skeptical, one eyebrow raising slightly. "Yet you can form a controlled singularity field without an amp. That's beyond minimal, Mr. Morrigan." His tone carried a dangerous edge, like ice forming on a blade.
The use of his surname rather than his rank was deliberate—a reminder that he wasn't yet officially part of any military or law enforcement hierarchy. He was still just a civilian recruit, subject to the captain's authority. The power dynamic hung in the air between them, almost tangible.
"I've been practicing," Arthur admitted, opting for a partial truth, his shoulders relaxing slightly as if in resignation. "It helps me focus." He flexed his fingers, feeling the residual energy still crackling beneath his skin.
Rivera studied him for a long moment, his gaze penetrating, then gestured to the viewport. "Beautiful, isn't it? The void. Makes our problems seem small." His voice softened slightly, taking on an almost philosophical tone.
"Until you remember what's out there," Arthur replied without thinking, the words escaping before he could filter them.
The captain's eyebrow raised slightly, interest sharpening his features. "And what exactly do you think is out there, Mr. Morrigan?" The question was deceptively casual, but Arthur could hear the probing intent beneath.
Arthur cursed himself internally for the slip, feeling cold sweat forming along his spine. "The unknown," he recovered smoothly, keeping his voice even. "New species, new technologies, new threats. The galaxy is a big place." He turned back to the viewport, as if contemplating the vastness before them, hoping to mask the momentary tension in his expression.
"Indeed it is." Rivera moved to stand beside him at the viewport, his reflection ghostly against the stars. "Which is why the Alliance needs people with... unique talents... in strategic positions." The statement hung in the air, laden with implication.
The implication hung in the air between them, heavy as gravity. Arthur remained silent, waiting, feeling the captain's presence beside him like a physical pressure.
"Your combat performance with Operative Ronan was remarkable," Rivera continued, his voice conversational yet probing. "Combined with your apparent biotic abilities and your exceptional aptitude for alien protocols and laws, you present quite the interesting profile." Each word was carefully chosen, a verbal chess move.
"I'm just trying to be prepared," Arthur said carefully, keeping his gaze fixed on the stars beyond the viewport, watching Rivera's reflection in the transparent material.
"Prepared for what, exactly?" Rivera's tone remained conversational, but his eyes were sharp, predatory, reflecting the starlight like a nocturnal hunter's.
"For whatever comes next," Arthur replied, matching the captain's casual tone while choosing his words with extreme care. "Isn't that what any good officer should do?" He allowed a slight smile to touch his lips, the expression calculated to project innocent ambition.
Rivera smiled, though it didn't reach his eyes, which remained cold and assessing. "Indeed. Well, don't let me interrupt your... preparation. We'll reach the Citadel in approximately forty-eight hours. I suggest you get some rest." The pause before "preparation" was subtle but deliberate, a linguistic flag marking his suspicion.
With that, the captain turned and left, the door sliding shut behind him with a soft hiss that seemed unnaturally loud in the sudden silence.
Arthur remained at the viewport, his reflection ghostly against the backdrop of stars, features pale in the starlight. The encounter had confirmed his suspicions—he was being watched, evaluated. The Alliance had noticed his abilities and was trying to determine what to do with him. He could almost feel the invisible web tightening around him, threads of surveillance and speculation.
He would need to be more careful. The game was becoming more complex, the stakes higher. One wrong move could derail everything before he even reached the Citadel. His heart pounded in his chest, not with fear but with determination, the rhythm steady and purposeful.
With a last look at the stars, Arthur headed back to the barracks, his footsteps echoing in the empty corridor, already formulating his next steps. The countdown to humanity's future had begun, and he was determined to be ready when the Reapers finally arrived. In his mind, plans unfolded like origami, complex and intricate, each fold bringing him closer to his ultimate goal. Like ReplyReport Reactions:Cael Heres, Gin Loy, KingCordero93 and 455 others
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The SSV Takato emerged from the mass relay in a flash of blue-white energy, the massive vessel decelerating as it approached the Serpent Nebula. Arthur stood at the observation deck alongside the other recruits, all of them pressed against the viewport as the Citadel came into view for the first time. The massive space station's five arms stretched out like a colossal flower against the purple nebula backdrop, its center ring glowing with artificial light.
"Holy shit," Jason whispered, his breath fogging the glass. "It's even bigger than the vids make it look."
Santana nodded, her usual composure momentarily shattered by awe. "Thirteen million people living on that thing. Can you imagine?"
Arthur said nothing, but his heart raced as he gazed at the structure. Not just because of its breathtaking scale, but because he knew what it truly was—a massive Reaper trap disguised as the pinnacle of galactic civilization. The knowledge sat heavy in his stomach, a cold weight that contrasted sharply with the excitement radiating from his companions.
Captain Rivera's voice came over the intercom, breaking through the reverent silence. "All C-Sec recruits report to the shuttle bay for departure. We've received clearance to dock with the Citadel."
The recruits gathered their bags and made their way to the shuttle bay, the anticipation palpable in the air. Arthur caught Wilson muttering a prayer under his breath, while two others checked their uniforms for the fifth time. As they boarded the shuttle, Arthur felt the familiar hum of the ship's mass effect fields through the deck plates beneath his feet.
"This is it," Jason said, nudging Arthur with his elbow. "No turning back now."
"Was there ever any other option?" Arthur replied with a small smile.
The shuttle detached from the Takato with a slight jolt, then smoothly accelerated toward the Citadel. Through the windows, Arthur watched as they approached one of the massive ward arms, the structures growing larger until they resolved into distinct buildings, skylanes filled with aircars, and the glittering lights of a civilization that never slept.
"Look at that traffic," Santana remarked, pointing at the streams of vehicles. "And I thought L.A. was bad."
"Just wait until you're directing it," Wilson quipped, his face a mixture of excitement and apprehension.
The shuttle banked sharply, heading toward a large docking bay emblazoned with the C-Sec logo. As they approached, Arthur could see a welcoming committee waiting—a mix of species in C-Sec blue uniforms, standing in a formal reception line.
"Alright people," Sergeant Martinez called from the front of the shuttle, his voice cutting through the excited chatter. "Remember your training. You represent humanity now. Best behavior."
The shuttle touched down with barely a tremor, the landing so smooth it was almost imperceptible. The hatch opened with a hydraulic hiss, letting in the artificial atmosphere of the Citadel—cooler than Earth standard, with a faint metallic tang that tickled Arthur's nostrils.
"Welcome to the Citadel," said a flanged voice as they disembarked. A turian officer stepped forward, his blue facial markings stark against his gray plating. "I am Executor Venari Pallin, head of Citadel Security Services."
Arthur recognized the name immediately—Pallin would later clash with Shepard over Saren's Spectre status. Seeing him in person sent a jolt of surreality through Arthur's system. This wasn't a game character anymore; this was a living, breathing individual whose decisions would affect countless lives.
"On behalf of the Systems Alliance, we thank you for this opportunity," Martinez replied formally, offering a crisp salute which Pallin acknowledged with a slight nod.
"Your recruits will be processed and oriented immediately," Pallin said, his mandibles twitching slightly in what Arthur recognized as mild impatience. "The Council is waiting to formally receive them at 1400 hours."
"The Council itself?" Martinez asked, unable to hide his surprise. "We weren't informed—"
"A recent development," Pallin interrupted. "The asari Councilor felt it would send a positive message about human integration. The press will be there."
Arthur exchanged glances with Santana and Jason. A political photo op hadn't been part of the plan. Jason looked thrilled at the prospect of meeting the Council, while Santana's expression had shifted to professional neutrality, though Arthur could detect a hint of tension in the set of her jaw.
"Follow me," Pallin instructed, turning on his heel without waiting for a response.
C-Sec headquarters was a hive of activity, with officers of various species moving purposefully through the corridors. The architecture was sleek and utilitarian, all smooth curves and soft blue lighting that seemed designed to project calm authority. Arthur noticed security cameras everywhere, along with subtle defensive emplacements that most would overlook—evidence of the paranoia inherent in law enforcement across any species.
They were led to a large briefing room where several other C-Sec officers waited. Arthur recognized representatives from most Council species—turians, asari, and salarians predominated, but there were also a few volus and an elcor in C-Sec colors.
"These are your training officers," Pallin announced. "They will be responsible for your orientation and integration into C-Sec operations."
An asari stepped forward, her expression stern but not unfriendly. "I am Captain T'Lani. For the next three weeks, you belong to me and my team. We will evaluate your skills, assign your duties, and determine where you will best serve C-Sec's interests."
She activated a holographic display at the center of the room, showing a detailed map of the Citadel. "First, let's cover the basics. The Citadel consists of the Presidium, where we are now, and five Wards—Zakera, Tayseri, Kithoi, Bachjret, and Shalta. Each Ward has its own character, population demographics, and crime patterns."
For the next hour, T'Lani and the other officers briefed them on C-Sec's organizational structure, jurisdictional boundaries, and standard operating procedures. Arthur absorbed it all easily, his enhanced cognition categorizing and storing the information for future reference. He noticed that some of his fellow recruits were struggling to keep up with the deluge of new information, particularly Wilson, whose brow was furrowed in concentration.
"Before we proceed to the Council chambers," T'Lani said finally, "we need to assess your practical skills. The briefing materials from your Alliance trainers were... impressive, but we prefer to make our own evaluations."
She led them to a large training facility adjacent to the briefing room. One side contained a firing range, while the other featured an open space for physical combat training. Several C-Sec officers were already there, setting up equipment and monitoring systems.
"We'll begin with marksmanship," T'Lani announced. "Each of you will be issued a standard C-Sec sidearm—the M-3 Predator heavy pistol. Show us what you can do."
The recruits lined up at the firing range. Arthur deliberately held back, letting others go first. He watched as Jason demonstrated above-average accuracy, hitting center mass on most targets. Santana proved to be an excellent shot, her police background evident in her stance and precision. Wilson struggled somewhat, his shots clustering at the edges of the target zones.
When Arthur's turn came, he stepped up to the line, feeling the weight of the Predator in his hand. It was heavier than he expected, the metal cool against his palm. He took a breath, sighted down the barrel, and fired. The pistol kicked against his hand, but his enhanced reflexes compensated perfectly. The shot hit dead center on the target's head.
He fired again and again, each shot landing precisely where he intended—a tight cluster in the center of the target's head, followed by another perfect cluster in the center mass. He emptied the thermal clip without missing once, each shot placed with surgical precision.
When he lowered the weapon, he became aware of the silence behind him. Turning, he found the C-Sec officers staring at him with expressions ranging from surprise to suspicion.
"Impressive," T'Lani said after a moment, her tone carefully neutral. "Have you had previous firearms training, Officer Morrigan?"
"Just what was provided during Alliance training, ma'am," Arthur replied, keeping his voice modest.
A turian officer scoffed quietly. "No one develops that kind of accuracy from a few weeks of basic training."
"Perhaps humans have natural aptitude for projectile weapons," suggested a salarian officer, his large eyes blinking rapidly as he studied Arthur. "Would explain their rapid advancement in warfare technology."
T'Lani raised a hand, silencing the speculation. "Next, we'll evaluate your close-quarters combat abilities. Officer Kryik will be your opponent."
A younger turian stepped forward—not Nihlus Kryik, the future Spectre who would evaluate Shepard, but perhaps a relative given the similar facial markings. He was tall and lean, with the predatory grace characteristic of turian military training.
"Don't worry, human," Kryik said to Arthur with what might have been a smile. "I'll try not to break you on your first day."
Arthur nodded, stepping into the sparring circle. He was careful to adopt a basic stance, nothing too advanced that would raise further questions. Kryik circled him warily, then lunged with a testing jab. Arthur deflected it easily, countering with a simple strike that Kryik blocked.
They exchanged a few more blows, Arthur deliberately holding back, showing competence but nothing extraordinary. Then Kryik increased the tempo, launching a flurry of strikes that would have overwhelmed most recruits. Arthur responded instinctively, his body moving with fluid precision, blocking and countering with movements that betrayed his true skill level.
He realized his mistake too late. Kryik's mandibles flared in surprise as Arthur executed a perfect counter that sent the turian stumbling backward. The watching officers murmured among themselves, and Arthur cursed internally. He'd revealed too much again.
Kryik recovered quickly, his eyes narrowing with new respect and suspicion. "Where did you learn to fight like that, human?"
Before Arthur could answer, T'Lani interrupted. "That's enough hand-to-hand assessment. Now, let's evaluate your biotic potential, for those who have it."
This was the moment Arthur had been both anticipating and dreading. While he needed to demonstrate his abilities to gain respect and position within C-Sec, he also knew that his exceptional biotic power would draw even more attention.
"I have some biotic capability," Arthur admitted, stepping forward.
"As do I," added an asari officer named Seryna. "I'll be evaluating your control and power levels."
She led Arthur to a separate area equipped with biotic measurement devices. "We'll start with basic kinetic manipulation. Can you generate a simple mass effect field?"
Arthur nodded, extending his hand. He focused, drawing on the power of his Singularity Core trait, but carefully modulating it to show only a fraction of his true capability. A blue-purple aura surrounded his hand, and a small sphere of dark energy formed above his palm.
"Good control," Seryna noted, monitoring the readings on her omni-tool. "Now, try to lift that training dummy."
Arthur directed the energy toward a humanoid dummy positioned several meters away. It rose smoothly into the air, hovering at chest height. He maintained the field with minimal effort, the power humming pleasantly through his nervous system.
"Impressive stability," Seryna said, her tone becoming more interested. "Let's try something more challenging. Can you create a barrier?"
Arthur let the dummy drop gently back to the floor, then shifted his focus. A shimmering blue barrier formed around him, the energy dense and perfectly controlled. The asari's eyes widened slightly as she checked her readings.
"Your barrier strength is... unusual for a human biotic," she said carefully. "Especially one without an implant or amplifier."
"I was exposed to element zero in an industrial accident," Arthur explained, using the cover story he'd developed. "The doctors said my nervous system adapted in an atypical way."
Seryna exchanged glances with T'Lani. "Can you demonstrate a singularity field?"
This was dangerous territory. A true singularity was an advanced biotic technique that few humans could master without years of training and specialized implants. But refusing would seem suspicious after his other demonstrations.
Arthur took a deep breath and extended both hands. The air between them began to distort, space itself seeming to fold and compress as a sphere of swirling dark energy formed. It was smaller than what he could actually produce, but still impressive enough to draw gasps from the watching officers. The training dummy and several nearby objects were caught in the gravitational pull, orbiting the miniature black hole he'd created.
"By the Goddess," Seryna whispered, her omni-tool readings spiking dramatically. "That's Matriarch-level control."
After a few seconds, Arthur allowed the singularity to dissipate, the objects settling back to the floor with soft thuds. He lowered his hands, feeling the subtle drain of energy that came with using his biotics, though it was far less taxing than it would be for a normal human biotic.
The room had fallen completely silent. Every C-Sec officer was staring at him with expressions ranging from awe to outright suspicion. Even his fellow human recruits looked shocked, having never seen him demonstrate this level of biotic ability during their training.
"I think," T'Lani said finally, breaking the silence, "we need to adjust our assessment parameters for Officer Morrigan."
A murmur ran through the assembled officers, the sound rippling across the room like a wave. Arthur could sense the shift in atmosphere—what had been professional curiosity was now intense scrutiny, the kind that might lead to questions he couldn't answer.
"Perhaps," Pallin said, stepping forward from where he had been observing, "we should continue this assessment after the Council reception. Time is short, and the human officers need to prepare."
At 1400 hours precisely, the ten human recruits stood at attention in the Council chambers, their newly issued C-Sec uniforms crisp and immaculate. The chamber was imposing—a vast space with soaring ceilings and dramatic lighting that emphasized the elevated platform where the three Council members stood. Reporters and diplomats filled the observation areas, cameras hovering to capture the historic moment.
Arthur studied the Councilors with interest. The asari Councilor, Tevos, stood in the center, her serene expression masking the political calculations undoubtedly running through her mind. To her right was the salarian Councilor, Valern, his large eyes constantly moving, missing nothing. And to her left stood the turian Councilor, Sparatus, his posture rigid with military discipline.
"On behalf of the Citadel Council," Tevos began, her voice carrying effortlessly through the chamber, "I welcome humanity's first representatives to Citadel Security Services. Your presence here marks an important step in humanity's integration into the galactic community."
"C-Sec has long been the embodiment of cooperation between species," Valern added. "Your addition strengthens not only the security force but the principles of unity and shared responsibility that the Council represents."
Sparatus nodded, though Arthur detected a hint of reservation in his mandible movements. "We expect you to uphold the highest standards of Citadel law and to serve all citizens equally, regardless of species. Your performance will be closely monitored."
Arthur felt his Galactic Scholar and Protocol Sync traits activating as he listened, his mind automatically cataloging the subtle political undertones in each Councilor's speech. Tevos was emphasizing integration—the asari approach of absorbing new species into existing power structures. Valern focused on practical benefits, typical of salarian pragmatism. Sparatus, predictably, stressed accountability and duty, core turian values.
The ceremony continued with formal introductions, each recruit stepping forward to receive their official C-Sec credentials. When Arthur's turn came, he moved with perfect poise, his Cultural Chameleon trait automatically adjusting his body language to project respectful confidence without appearing presumptuous. He maintained eye contact with each Councilor for precisely the right duration—long enough to show respect, brief enough to avoid challenge.
"Officer Arthur Morrigan," Executor Pallin announced, his flanged voice echoing in the chamber.
As Arthur accepted his credentials, he noticed Valern's eyes narrow slightly, the salarian's rapid blink pattern suggesting heightened interest. Tevos maintained her diplomatic smile, but there was a flicker of something in her eyes—curiosity, perhaps. Sparatus remained stoic, though his mandibles tightened almost imperceptibly.
After the official reception, they were escorted to a small gathering where various diplomats and C-Sec officials mingled. Arthur moved through the crowd with ease, his enhanced social skills allowing him to navigate the complex web of alien protocols and expectations.
"Impressive performance earlier," said a voice behind him. Arthur turned to find Seryna, the asari biotic officer, watching him with curious eyes. "Most humans require extensive implants to achieve even basic biotic manipulation. Yet you create singularities without visible effort."
"I'm still learning to control it properly," Arthur replied, injecting just the right amount of humble uncertainty into his voice. "The accident that gave me these abilities was... unusual."
"Indeed," Seryna said, her tone making it clear she didn't fully believe his explanation. "Well, regardless of their origin, your abilities will be valuable to C-Sec. Especially in situations where non-lethal force is preferred."
Before Arthur could respond, T'Lani approached, accompanied by a turian officer he hadn't met before.
"Officer Morrigan, this is Lieutenant Vakarian, head of Investigation Division," T'Lani introduced them. "He's been reviewing your assessment results."
Arthur felt a jolt of recognition. This must be Garrus's father—the by-the-book C-Sec officer who would later clash with his son over methods and regulations. The resemblance was striking, though this Vakarian's face showed none of the battle scars Garrus would later acquire.
"Impressive scores across the board," Vakarian said, his flanged voice carrying the natural authority of a long-time officer. "Particularly your analytical abilities and attention to detail. Those will serve you well in C-Sec."
"Thank you, sir," Arthur replied respectfully. "I'm eager to put those skills to use."
"Good," Vakarian nodded. "Because tomorrow, the real work begins."
The next morning, Arthur reported to C-Sec headquarters with the other recruits, the familiar tension in his shoulders easing slightly as they entered the bustling operations center. The massive space hummed with activity—officers of various species moving with purpose, holographic displays flickering with information, and the constant background noise of a thousand conversations in dozens of languages.
"These are your assigned workstations," T'Lani announced, leading them into a large office space filled with desks and terminals. "For now, you'll be handling administrative duties while you continue your on-site training."
"Administrative duties?" Wilson echoed, unable to hide his disappointment. "You mean desk work?"
"I mean processing the backlog of incident reports, witness statements, and case files that need review," T'Lani replied firmly. "Every C-Sec officer starts here. It's how you learn our systems, protocols, and the patterns of criminal activity on the Citadel."
She gestured to the terminals, each displaying a queue of pending tasks. "Each of you has been assigned a portion of the backlog. These need to be processed according to C-Sec standards, categorized correctly, and forwarded to the appropriate departments with your preliminary analysis."
Arthur glanced at his terminal and saw hundreds of files waiting for review. A quick calculation suggested days of work for a normal officer. But he wasn't normal.
"Questions?" T'Lani asked, looking around the group.
"How long are we expected to remain on administrative duty?" Santana asked, her tone professional despite her obvious disappointment.
"Until you've proven yourselves capable of handling more complex assignments," T'Lani answered. "Typically, that takes several weeks, sometimes months."
With that, she left them to their work, though Arthur noticed several C-Sec officers positioned around the room, ostensibly busy with their own tasks but clearly monitoring the new recruits.
Arthur sat down at his terminal, quickly familiarizing himself with the interface. It was more sophisticated than Alliance systems, but his enhanced intelligence let him grasp the underlying logic quickly. He began processing the files methodically, his mind absorbing and analyzing information at superhuman speed.
Witness statements were cross-referenced against known facts, inconsistencies flagged, and potential leads identified. Incident reports were categorized by type, location, and severity, then routed to the appropriate divisions with precise annotations. Case files were reviewed for procedural errors, missing evidence, or overlooked connections.
Two hours later, Arthur had cleared his entire queue. His terminal chimed softly, indicating all assigned tasks were complete. He looked around and saw his fellow recruits still struggling with their first dozen files, expressions of frustration evident on most faces.
"How the hell are you done already?" Jason whispered from the adjacent desk, glancing nervously at the monitoring officers.
"I work fast," Arthur replied with a shrug. "Want some help?"
Without waiting for an answer, he moved to Jason's terminal and quickly showed him more efficient methods for processing the reports, his fingers dancing across the interface with ease. Within minutes, he'd helped Jason clear ten more files and established a workflow that would significantly increase his speed.
Arthur moved through the room, offering similar assistance to each of his fellow recruits, ignoring the increasingly curious stares from the C-Sec officers monitoring them. By the time he returned to his desk, a notification was waiting on his terminal.
"Report to Lieutenant Vakarian immediately," it read.
Arthur found Vakarian in his office, surrounded by holographic displays showing crime statistics and case files. The turian looked up as Arthur entered, his mandibles tight against his face in what Arthur recognized as an expression of suspicion.
"Officer Morrigan," Vakarian said, gesturing to a chair. "Sit."
Arthur complied, maintaining a neutral expression.
"You cleared your entire assignment queue in two hours," Vakarian stated, his tone flat. "Work that typically takes days. And there are no errors or oversights in your processing. Care to explain?"
"I have a good memory and strong pattern recognition skills," Arthur replied honestly, though it was a significant understatement. "The systems are logical once you understand the underlying principles."
Vakarian studied him for a long moment, his predatory eyes unblinking. "Some might think you're showing off, trying to make the rest of your squad look bad."
"That wasn't my intention, sir," Arthur said. "I completed my work and then helped the others improve their efficiency. It seemed the most productive use of time."
"Hmm." Vakarian tapped a talon against his desk, considering. "Well, since you're so efficient, I have another assignment for you. The backlog from the past year—over three thousand files that need processing. I want them done by the end of the week."
It was clearly meant as a punishment for perceived arrogance, a way to put the upstart human in his place. A normal officer would be overwhelmed by the workload.
"Yes, sir," Arthur replied calmly. "Will that be all?"
Vakarian's mandibles flared slightly in surprise at Arthur's lack of protest. "For now. Dismissed."
When Arthur returned to the main office, he found his terminal now displaying a massive queue of files—years of backlogged reports, witness statements, and case summaries waiting for processing. The sheer volume would have been demoralizing to most officers.
"What the hell?" Santana exclaimed when she saw his screen. "That's bullshit! They're hazing you because you made them look bad."
"It's fine," Arthur assured her, settling into his chair. "I'll get through it."
"No way," Jason shook his head. "That's at least a month of work. They're trying to break you on day one."
"Then they'll be disappointed," Arthur replied with a small smile, already beginning to process the files with methodical precision.
For the next three hours, Arthur worked without pause, his enhanced mind processing information at a rate that would have seemed impossible to observers. Each file was analyzed, categorized, and forwarded with appropriate notes and cross-references. He identified patterns in criminal activity that had been overlooked, connected seemingly unrelated cases, and flagged potential leads for investigation.
As he worked, a notification appeared in his field of vision:
EXPERIENCE GAINED: +750 XP
LEVEL UP!
You are now Level 7
Attribute Points Available: 10
Arthur smiled slightly, continuing his work without breaking rhythm. By the time the shift ended, he had processed over two thousand files—more than half the assigned backlog. The monitoring officers had abandoned any pretense of disinterest, openly staring at his terminal in disbelief.
When Arthur finally submitted the last batch of processed files for the day, his terminal pinged with a message from Lieutenant Vakarian:
"Report to my office before your shift tomorrow. We need to discuss your assignment."
"Told you it was hazing," Santana said as they prepared to leave. "But damn, Arthur. How did you get through so many? I'm still on file thirty-seven."
"Just efficient, I guess," Arthur replied with a casual shrug that belied the superhuman abilities he'd employed.
"Well, whatever you're doing, they noticed," Jason said, nodding toward a group of senior officers huddled in conversation, occasionally glancing in their direction. "For better or worse."
As evening fell on the Citadel—or rather, as the artificial lighting dimmed to simulate nighttime—the human recruits were escorted to the C-Sec barracks where they would be housed until receiving their first paychecks and finding permanent accommodations.
The barracks were utilitarian but comfortable, with private sleeping pods rather than the open bunks they'd had during training. The common areas were designed to accommodate multiple species, with adjustable gravity settings, temperature controls, and food dispensers programmed for various biochemistries.
"Home sweet home," Jason quipped as they stored their few belongings in the assigned lockers. "At least until we can afford those luxury penthouses on the Presidium."
"You'll be waiting a long time on a rookie's salary," said a turian officer who was showing them around. "Most officers share apartments in the Wards. Cheaper that way."
After the turian left, the human recruits gathered in the common area, the events of the day settling over them like a weight. The reality of their situation was becoming clear—they were outsiders here, representatives of a species still viewed with suspicion and curiosity. The glamour of being "first" was quickly giving way to the mundane challenges of integration into an alien bureaucracy.
"So," Wilson said, breaking the silence, "desk duty. Not exactly what I signed up for."
"It's standard procedure," Santana replied, though her tone suggested she shared his disappointment. "Every rookie starts at the bottom."
"Yeah, but they're burying us in paperwork," Jason argued. "That backlog they dumped on Arthur? That's not training, that's hazing."
"It's a test," Arthur said quietly, drawing their attention. "They want to see how we handle frustration, tedium, and perceived unfairness. How we respond will determine how quickly we advance to more substantive duties."
"Well, you're advancing at warp speed, apparently," Wilson remarked with a hint of jealousy. "How did you process all those files so quickly?"
Arthur shrugged, offering the same explanation he'd given everyone else. "I have a good memory and I work systematically. The patterns become obvious once you know what to look for."
"Bullshit," Wilson said, though without real hostility. "Nobody processes reports that fast. You've got some kind of trick you're not sharing."
"If I had a trick, don't you think I'd have shared it?" Arthur countered with a smile. "Especially with my own squad?"
The conversation drifted to other topics—their impressions of the Citadel, the alien species they'd encountered, speculation about their future assignments. Arthur participated just enough to avoid seeming antisocial, but his mind was elsewhere, planning his next moves.
As the others gradually retired to their pods for the night, Arthur remained in the common area, ostensibly reviewing C-Sec protocols on his datapad. In reality, he was assessing what he'd learned about the Citadel's systems, security measures, and power structures. He was positioning himself for the long game—building the knowledge, skills, and influence he would need when the Reapers finally arrived.
Tomorrow would bring new challenges, new opportunities to establish himself within C-Sec. But for now, he allowed himself a moment of satisfaction. He had successfully integrated into the heart of galactic civilization, positioned to access information and resources that would be crucial in the coming war.
The first pieces were in place. Now he just needed to survive long enough to use them.
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Arthur Morrigan's Current Stats and AbilitiesCore AttributesStrength: 15/50
Above human average, comparable to trained special forcesCan wield heavy weapons without penaltyStrikes with bone-breaking forceEnhanced carry capacity and armor handlingDexterity: 15/50
Reflexes and coordination rival elite pilots or martial artistsFluid movement through obstacles and combat zonesImproved firearm accuracy and reload speedCan dodge incoming fire with precision timingEndurance: 15/50
High stamina and resilienceMinimal fatigue from extended combat or harsh environmentsIncreased resistance to poison, radiation, and environmental threatsFaster natural healingIntelligence: 15/50
Processes complex information with speed comparable to advanced AIExcels at hacking, puzzle-solving, and multi-layered strategyCan design complex machinery and weapons fasterNaturally detects logical flaws and patternsWillpower: 15/50
Strong resistance to fear, indoctrination, and mental influenceBiotic powers remain stable under pressureCan resist pain and mental attacks that would cripple othersCharisma: 15/50
Social presence carries weight across species linesEnhanced persuasion, intimidation, and leadership abilitiesEasier access to political and military channelsFaster relationship building with NPCsLuck: 15/50
Probability tilts in his favor consistentlyHigher chance for rare items and critical hitsSituations tend to break in his favorMay avoid death by narrow margins without clear reasonSpecial TraitsCombat Traits[Singularity Core]
Biotic strength surpassing even Asari MatriarchsAbilities can exceed the stat cap of Willpower (beyond 50)Singularity can absorb other biotic powers and evolvePassive barrier generation that regenerates in combatCan develop original biotic powers[Mixed Martial Arts] – Level 5/10
Seamless integration of multiple combat disciplinesEnhanced unarmed effectiveness and counter reflexesCan defeat most unarmored opponents without weaponsKnowledge Traits[Galactic Scholar] – Level 10/10 (MAXED)
+25% success on legal appeals and administrative bypasses[Legal Exploit I]: Can bypass checkpoints using obscure lawsPassive reputation bonus with legal officials and diplomats[Xenobiologist] – Level 10/10 (MAXED)
Reveals weak points on alien species in combat+10% effectiveness on first-aid and species-specific tactics[Anatomical Scan I]: Can view vital stats and weak zones of targets[Cultural Chameleon] – Level 10/10 (MAXED)
+15% diplomacy success with all Citadel speciesAccess to culture-specific dialogue optionsImmunity to accidental offense in formal alien interactions[Protocol Sync] – Level 10/10 (MAXED)
+10 rapport bonus in formal interactionsAuto-calibrates body language to match listener's background[Context Filter I]: HUD highlights social cues and etiquette violations[Codex Archive] – Level 10/10 (MAXED)
Instant access to information on any major species or law[Social Scan I]: Can scan NPCs for data on race, status, and affiliationsEngineering Traits[Galactic Engineer] – Level 6/30
Can design original starships and stationsAdvanced hull design optimization capabilitiesBeginning work on mobile factories and hidden stations[Drive Architect] – Level 6/30
Creating stable Warp Drive prototypesScaling experiments for relay-independent FTL travelOptimization of core stability and heat dissipation[Macro-Structural Vision] – Level 6/30
Can design ringworlds and Dyson swarmsKnowledge of orbital elevators and artificial gravityPreliminary terraforming capabilities[Planetary Defense Architect] – Level 6/30
Design of continent-scale defense systemsCreation of anti-orbital mass driversPlanetary shield experiments resistant to dreadnought fire[Weaponsmith of the Void] – Level 6/30
Integration of antimatter systems into ship weaponsDesign of modular weapon hardpointsBalancing of heat output, charge time, and damage[Armsmith Ascendant] – Level 6/30
Creation of hybrid weapons (kinetic-plasma, biotic-infused)Complex multi-ammo type firearmsHand-forging of exotic weapons with rare materials[Integrated Systems Mastery] – Level 6/30
AI-linked modular ship systemsCustom emergency protocols and safety systemsSemi-autonomous ship control networks[Reverse-Engineer] – Level 6/30
Reconstruction of alien technology at 75% efficiencyDecoding of encrypted systems and Reaper fragmentsFaster blueprint developmentSystem StatusCurrent Level: 7
Experience: 0/1000 XP needed for next level
Available Attribute Points: 10 (unspent from recent level-up)
Current EquipmentStandard C-Sec uniformM-3 Predator heavy pistolC-Sec identification and access credentialsStandard-issue omni-tool with C-Sec protocols Like ReplyReport Reactions:Gin Loy, KingCordero93, RXIV and 404 others