A Verdant, but Wild World

You are Peter Adams, soldier of the Systems Alliance and chosen commander of the new expedition to the supposed Andromeda Galaxy - a new frontier for the colonization initiative established in the wake of the Reaper War's devastating conclusion.

Ever since you volunteered to join the military, you passed with flying colours and deemed it the appropriate vocation to take, thereby making it your full-time career.

The journey had been long and arduous, and not without difficulty; with so few left after the devastation of the Reaper Wars, no member state of the Citadel Council ever dared dream of instigating open wars and petty schemes – their heads of state and closest officials, at the least.

The Turians, Asari and Salarans had ordered the previous Councilors – all pride with no real vision or diligence – promptly dismissed from their posts, their connections arrested and imprisoned, executed even, on various charges from bribery to **** and high treason.

Yet, perhaps, none were hit so hard as the Systems Alliance; its homeworld of Earth was devastated by the Reaper Invasions and years of constant fighting and orbital bombardment. Cities lay in ruin, the continents depopulated, and so many of the populace still live in poverty and fear as a result of the war’s devastation.

Yet perhaps the most direct consequence of the Reaper War was the implications it held for the established Alliance government.

Too many Alliance soldiers – all who owed you their lives for your direct contribution to the Wars and the Crucible’s completion, took matters into their own hands and stormed what was left of the Alliance Presidential Palace in Washington D.C., forcibly deposing the president and his closest officials there, and proceeded to wage a long campaign of purging as corrupt officials, businessmen and tycoons were ruthlessly executed and made an example of on television, forcing them to respect your achievements and reward you accordingly.

In its place arose a new government, known as the Terra Ascendant Party – its ethos prioritizing the prosperity and security of the Alliance’s citizens before aiding that of others’. Though they maintain the façade of democratic elections, it has become a one-party state in all but name, with opposition parties unable to gain any advantage.

Commander Hannah Shepard - a hero to all in the Citadel Council - was a woman whose name was often dragged through the mud to satisfy the egos of ignorant, incompetent politicians who willfully blinded themselves to the reality, and despite giving her own life in one last heroic act, some wished to keep things as they were. Such was one of the primary reasons why the Terra Ascendant Party so thorough crushed any opposition to immortalizing Shepard's deeds in history.

Though they began to respect (worship, rather) Shepard's deeds, you were yourself worried about potential abuses of power as was suspected of such a dictatorship. Yet, being only a soldier and no politician, you were not in a position to change such things. Not that you suffered it like a victim; you yourself never mourned the deaths of the previous government's officials.

At least the new government was full of talented and capable officials, all who fully supported the colonization of new worlds with the old ones almost uninhabitable save a few.

Then, an ensign calls to you, “Admiral Adams, we’re almost at the new world.”

Admiral, that was the new rank the Terra Ascendant bestowed upon you in reward for your actions, granting you control of a fleet of hundreds of ships along with a few hundred thousand soldiers. Of course, in reality, your own fleet was a measly few hundred – perhaps only a hundred – and some tens of thousands of soldiers. Such was the grim reality of the Alliance’s surviving military.

“Maintain course until we reach our destination,” You said, “Keep our weapons primed in case anything nasty’s waiting for us.”

“Yes, Ma’am!” Said the ensign.

You had to admit, you were still not used to being addressed as a high-ranking officer, much less a person of authority, but you had long since learned to live with it.

Then Wrex came beside you, the old, scarred ex-mercenary still as intimidating yet friendly as he was from day one.

“Seems still like yesterday the Reaper War’s over,” Said Wrex, “Makes me feel like an old man.”

“Come on, you’ve still got centuries ahead of you,” You replied jokingly, “I’d be lucky to outlast the century.”

Though some would question the familiarity Wrex and your Turian teammate Garrus regarded you, some absent-minded fools tended to forget that both of them earned high ranks and prestige for their contributions. It would not be breaking professionalism to simply regard each other by first names, after all.

“Hah, age’s just a number,” Said Wrex, “Met plenty of buffoonish politicians and useless jerks in my time, old people but nothing so wise and smart as they claim – all empty air.”

“Too true,” You said, “How’s Garrus, by the way?”

“Ah, you know the kid; calibrating the guns in his free time as always,” Said Wrex, “Kid’s always been good with guns.”

“His scar healing okay?” You ask.

“Yup,” Said Wrex, “Still looks a little ugly, but all wounds heal.”

“Speaking of which, you sure you’re fine being here? Don’t the Krogan Clans need your leadership to stay together?”

“Nah, I’m all good,” Said Wrex, “Grunt’s got it all handled ever since he became Chieftain of Clan Urdnot; pyjack’s got the makings of a real ruler.”

“If you vouch for him, then I trust you,” You said with a smile.

The ship soon arrived at its destination, and the world you saw was perhaps the reflection of paradise itself; forest green as far as the eye could see, large continents capable of housing millions with the right infrastructure, high and tall mountains housing treasure troves of metal ores, and beautiful blue oceans undoubtedly teeming with all manner of aquatic life.

The sight of such a beautiful planet brought a smile to your eyes, instilling a sense of hope in all who watched.

“Send scouting drones to examine the planet’s surface, check if there’s any safe zones to land,” You said, “And make sure to check for any hostile native life as well.”

“Yes, Ma’am!”

The next hour was spent waiting as the scouting drones did their duty, crew members watching the live camera feeds displayed and taking the time to admire the sheer diversity of the flora and fauna.

“Heh, damn lovely, this place,” Said Wrex, “Wouldn’t mind coming here to retire.”

“Neither would I,” You said, “Mom would love this place.”

At that moment, Garrus stepped beside you, the Turian marksman and ex-vigilante still as scarred and handsome as he was since the Reaper Wars and before. At this moment, he wore not his armour but a simple synthetic suit with vibrant Turian colours.

“Hey Shifra, just got done calibrating the main guns,” Said Garrus, “They’ll be ready to fire on any enemy ships coming our way.”

“Good, good,” You said, “How’s your family, by the way.”

“They’re fine, really,” Said Garrus, “Sis is fully recovered, and mum and dad are taking care of each other as well.”

“That’s good,” You said, “We’ve lost enough already.”

The scouting drones eventually finish their scanning, and an ensign reports to you, “Ma’am, the drones report no anomalies on the surface right now; nothing dangerous awaiting us.”

You nod at the ensign, though experience has taught you the importance of anticipating any and all possibilities.

“So what will we do now, Peter?” Asked Wrex, “The way I see it, we’ve two options; we find a safe zone and build a military base to secure our entry first.”

“And the other?” You ask.

“To build a space station as a base and transport hub,” Said Wrex, “Remember the reports about the state of things in our territories?”

“We’re on a timetable, I know,” You said.

“Wrex is right, Peter. I know you need not be reminded,” Said Garrus, “Still, how do we proceed?”