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CSV Virtue	By : Gallendro Category: +M through R > Mass Effect Views: 5350 -:- Recommendations : 0 -:- Currently Reading : 0
Disclaimer: Bioware owns Mass Effect and the universe the game inhabits, I make no money off of this, All characters are original creations by the author

Chapter List
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Chapter 1: Shoving off
It has been 10 years since the Battle of the Crucible. 10 years since the Reapers were destroyed. Peace still grows throughout the galaxy but criminal activity is still as rampant as before the Reapers were ever thought about. The major capital worlds are still in ruins though large reconstruction projects are well underway. The Mass Relays Network has been repaired using archival data from Asari and Salarian databases. Enclaves of Geth survived within shielded and powered down servers, more platforms are being slowly being constructed to allow the Geth to assist in the rebuilding process. The Quarians are nearly all without suits thanks to geth programs being downloaded into their diagnostic processes to rebuild their immune systems. The Citadel is being repaired and restored to its former stature; it already houses the new Galactic Council and embassies for all other races, as well as the headquarters for the reorganized C-Sec Command. The Council has been expanded with representatives from the Asari, Turian, Salarian, Human, Quarian, and Volus. There are embassies for the Hanar/Drell, Krogan, Batarian, and Geth Consensus. The last three were given embassies as rewards for their assistance in the Reaper War, not council seats as the galaxy at large is still somewhat wary of their warlike natures but in time their status will inevitably be looked at in more favorable conditions. The genophage was cured and the Krogan have begun repopulating some of their old colonies, as a concession to the fears of the Council the Krogan leaders have on their own curbed the number of new births allowed.

C-Sec is now a galactic police force that oversees all interstellar travel and shipping. They act as a combination much like a cross between the old Earth Interpol, US Marshall Service, and Coast Guards. Inspecting cargo, interdicting smuggling, and transporting prisoners back to the locality of their crimes or to the new citadel station for detention and prosecution. C-Sec has been vastly expanded and has offices on every major world and its own space fleet to conduct its space borne interdictions. Their fleet now include a dozen cruisers and over 40 frigates, all built along the lines of the various racial naval plans. This is the story of one of those frigates, newly commissioned with a mixed race crew to protect and serve the galaxy through interdiction and if need be, brute force.

                “Captain, I trust you are satisfied with your new ship. As well as the integration of those you brought over from the Dagger. Please, be seated.” Lowering himself into the offered chair, Captain Patrick Bahadur replied confidently to Admiral Lohras Kouralis fleet commander of C-Sec’s space forces, “Absolutely sir, my pilot has told me he is already nearing his Zen-meld with the ship and everyone else is getting along just fine. No problems at all amongst the crew, which if you ask me are a bloody miracle considering the wide number of races aboard. Not to insult the Krogan but I am glad that none of them are aboard sir, any Krogan has the tendency to just rub anyone the wrong way and that just leads to friction and confrontation which I strive to avoid amongst my crews.” With a quick nod the Turian admiral reached across the desk with a three-fingered hand, grasping Patrick’s and with a brief shake sent the captain on his way saying, “Well good luck Captain Bahadur, and good hunting.”
                As he stepped out of the Fleet Command offices he was immediately approached by two C-Sec officers, on the right he saw the very familiar figure of Ensign Jaet’Vanus vas Exeter his Quarian communications officer who pulled triple duty as she also took charge of intelligence dissemination and yeomanry work, as well as being his lover in their private time. The other officer was his Executive Officer, Neela V’Sola, the commando trained Asari who would be tasked to lead most of the boarding parties and ground teams. With a smiling nod from their captain they both fell in step with him as he continued towards the elevator that led to the secondary docking bay where their ship was moored and being readied to embark on her first deployment. “Ladies, any problems from the grand high mucky-mucks that I need to address before we depart?” he asked while waiting for the lift to arrive at their level. Neela answers first by right of rank, “Just the usual; not enough thermal clips, food, or bedding for prisoners. I saw the one of the CHOP’s little minions down there as well arguing for more ice cream but I doubt she’ll win that argument. They’ll probably tell her the same thing they told me; buy it during a port visit with our prize money.” At the mention of prize money all three officers had the same fleeting vision of large amounts of money being deposited into the ship’s discretionary fund after the sale of a vessel seized in the commission of a crime. Well maybe not all of their visions were exactly alike since Jaet’s involved dancing around the captain showering him in credit chits while she was dressed in glittery fairy wings and a collar. “Jaet…Jaet…Ensign Vanus!” “Sir, sorry sir. I was day dreaming about prize money for a moment there, uh…no problems to report here as well. All codes and transmission frequencies have been updated and verified and I managed to pick up a few rumors and a couple of leads to put us on the trail towards some of that prize money. In regards to that, I have something to discuss with you later about what we could do with some of it.” With a raised eyebrow and a stern look Patrick replied, “Yes, we do need to have a discussion later, but I was thinking more along the lines of about your day dreaming Ensign.” She suddenly thanked providence that she had decided to wear her environmental suit, with C-Sec insignia attached, today as her helmet hid her blushing skin and hopeful grin. Shaking her head Lieutenant Commander Neela V’Sola entered the opening elevator doors and waited for her Captain and yeoman to enter before pushing the appropriate button. Looking out of the glass sided car as it exited the walls of C-Sec headquarters, they took in the sight of the wrecked Citadel and the ongoing repairs being done. “I remember coming here on my Pilgrimage before the war,” Jaet began “I arrived a week before Sovereign showed up. One of his legs came down in the ward where I had been living; lucky for me I had received a small suit rupture when I was pushed against a wall the day before. I was in isolation at Huerta Memorial when the attack came, otherwise I would have been crushed, burned, and spaced like everyone else in my building.” As she finished she felt a five fingered hand slip into the three she had and give a slight squeeze, leaning against her captain she finished, “I’m okay now, it is just every time I see this view it reminds me of the luck in the universe that keeps some of us safe and brings us together so that we may keep others safe.” With a snort Neela commented, “Now you’re just waxing poetic in the hopes that Paddy here won’t spank you later tonight for day dreaming.” With the higher pitched giggle associated with her race that comes through her helmet speakers Jaet responded, “No sir, I am not. That is truly how I feel about it. Besides I already know nothing is going to get me out of that punishment, and I wouldn’t have any of this any other way.”
                Lieutenant Commander Neela V’Sola shook her head and folded her arms across her ample chest at the ensign’s comment. Neela knew that there was a relationship between the captain and his yeoman; it was common knowledge amongst most of the crew prior to them being transferred from the captain’s last command the system corvette CSV Punyal. Neela was new to this crew, as were the bulk of the Virtue’s crew since the captain only brought 15 crewmen along, Neela had been assigned as the ship’s XO as well as being tasked with integrating the extra 25 personnel to mesh as best as possible with the already tight-knit corvette team. Slightly more heavily muscled than most asari, Neela had always been given the heavier weapons to tote and fire when she had been with the commandos on Thessia during the Reaper War so naturally when she made the move to shipboard officer she took over the maintenance of the ship’s weapons and oversaw the stocking of the ship’s small arms lockers which would be used by boarding parties and ground teams which she would also be expected to lead unless the captain accompanied them. At the mention of Jaet’s Pilgrimage Neela felt a twinge in her neck to remind her of her own parents, her mother of course was an asari shop owner in the old Zakera Wards over three centuries ago and her father had been a quarian who had come to visit the Citadel and never left, especially after the Morning War broke out that left the quarian people without a home world to call their own. She hasn’t shared her parental lineage with her shipmates not even her captain as she has always thought it might be too hard of a memory to dig up for a quarian and the reminders of why the galaxy had despised them for over 300 years.
                Ensign Jaet’Vanus vas Exeter gripped her captain’s hand as the car entered the docking bay levels of the Citadel, gazing at the many different types of starships as any quarian might do even though they now have their home world back again. She had just returned from her Pilgrimage when the Admiralty Board had decided to initiate an assault on Rannoch to take back their home world, and while she may not have seen front line service in that fight, her ship the Exeter an old Turian-built corvette that had been surplused out of service over a hundred years ago and owned by a succession of nearly a dozen different owners before it was found drifting and salvaged to working order by the Migrant Fleet, had been nimbly flitting in and out through Sovereign-class reaper dreadnaughts hitting weak points and avoiding oculus fighters. After the war the memories she had of her Pilgrimage and the way she had been treated helped her make the decision to join C-Sec, though now she most often was relegated to paperwork her job was also to filter through received communications and gather intelligence on suspected illegal activities. She had met her Captain when she was assigned to the CSV Punyal a small corvette that had been relegated to single system law enforcement. The long and boring times in space had brought the crew into such an efficient command team that they had all transferred en masse to their captain’s new frigate. Jaet herself had gotten closer to Captain Bahadur than she had ever thought she would and not just because he was human but also her Captain, a rank within quarian history that still held an almost hallowed position in life. When the geth program in Jaet’s environmental suit had finally strengthened her immune system to the level where she no longer needed to wear it at all in a closed environment such as a starship, she had celebrated by removing it in the women’s head and streaked nude throughout the ship to show off her new freedom. Even now in the elevator she felt what her captain called goose bumps run up her spine as she remembered the feeling of the crisp, cool air flowing around her body as she had run through the passageways and of the feeling of her pert little breasts hopping about on her chest to the rhythm of her stride. A sharp pain on her posterior forced her to snap her eyes open where she saw the elevator had arrived at the docking bay and her Captain was looking down on her from her side where he had slapped her on the underside of her right buttock to get her attention. She saw the executive officer standing had already exited the lift and was standing with her arms folded as usual, her hip cocked to one side, and a look of expectation on her face. “Sorry Sirs, more day dreaming I am afraid.”
                Walking along the main docking bay gantry they passed several corvettes in dock being resupplied before being sent out to continue their watchful duties, there were also a couple of frigates moored inside the monstrous bay which was kept pressurized by a large magnetic containment field at its entrance. One of the frigates was actually surrounded by repair crews and their semi-automated worker-bots, from the look of it the ship had taken quite a few hard hits in its last cruise and the five stretchers each bearing a sealed, man-sized plastic bag and a sixth being carried across the brow to the gantry told the three officers that some of those hits had penetrated into the hull. Farther along and on the opposite side of the damaged frigate was another vessel nearly identical except that its blue, gray, and white paint job was quite sharper and more fresh than the damaged ship; no repair crews were climbing over the hull nor were there any stretchers waiting to be picked up by Citadel Medical. With a grim look this captain was going to strive to make sure it stayed that way.
                Leading his junior officers across the brow and towards the airlock he confronted the armed sergeant standing in his way, “Request permission to come aboard” he said, saluting the Petty Officer of the Deck watch. “Permission granted, sir” was the age-old reply given with a returning salute. Each of the two women also went through this cycle as the airlock opened to admit them. A minute later with the outer door closed, the inner door cycled open and as his foot hit the deck of the main passageway that led forward to the flight deck and aft to the command deck he heard two, double-tones reminiscent of an old brass bell followed by an announcement on the ships address system in a calm female voice, “CSV Virtue, arriving.” With a smile Patrick couldn’t help how much human naval tradition had been passed on to the C-Sec Fleet, though many of his crew knew how and where the traditions originally came from, not many of them could understand why they were continuing to be used hundreds of years after the vessels that started them had ceased to be even remotely needed let alone efficient. Patrick of course knew why this was so, it had been instilled in him in all of his training. From Alliance Marine officer training to the Alliance Naval War College to C-Sec Officer orientation he had learned that adherence to tradition kept both crew morale and instilled a type of esprit de corps whereas even in days gone by they would defend the honor of their ship against the crew of any other vessel, usually in a bar and after several rounds of the most inexpensive alcohols. Those were always the good times.
                Taking his place before the large holographic ship status display and with his executive officer on his left and behind him, Captain Patrick Bahadur glanced towards the small holopad in front of him and said, “Staci, ship wide announcement please.” “Ready, captain.” “Now hear this. This is the captain speaking. Admiral Kouralis asked me to pass on his congratulations to the entire crew on the swift and efficient completion of the ships shakedown run. In three hours we will be leaving space dock and commencing our first official deployment. We will be gone from the Citadel for at least three months, unless major repairs or orders change that. We will be patrolling through random systems, boarding and searching suspicious vessels for contraband. If any is found then we shall detain the crew and their cargo and send the ship into the nearest major space port to be sold for prize money.” At this announcement several grins could be seen breaking out on the faces of the command deck watch standers and even a cheer could be heard coming up one of the stairwells from the decks below. “We may be called upon to transport prisoners from where they were detained back to where they’re crimes were initially committed. I have great faith that your loyal devotion to duty will reflect great pride in yourselves, this ship, and Citadel Security. Thank you. If you have any last minute needs on the Citadel please speak to your department head and see those needs immediately, you have three hours. That is all.” Stepping down from the short platform and heading towards the elevator, “Thank you Staci. XO you have the deck, I’ll be in my quarters.”
                Exiting the elevator on Deck One Patrick moved down the short hallway to enter his quarters, opposite from the executive officer’s, and stood just inside the door for a moment to reflect. His personal workspace and was just ahead and to the right where a wraparound desk with two terminals facing each other, a small refrigerating unit beneath the bulkhead portion of the desk, and a few framed commendation letters on the wall above. Reaching into the refrigerator he pulled a chilled bottle and broke the seal before taking a long pull from it, savoring the taste Patrick turned to the opposite wall that held the two large view screens. One was broken up into two dozen smaller views which all cycled every ten seconds to randomly show various portions of the ship both inside and out. Touching the wide view of the docking gantry the screen grew in size to be viewed more easily, a flick of his finger sent it to the second screen quickly followed by the view of the command deck from the camera mounted over the elevator. Adjusting the interior feed’s volume into the audible range to hear the readiness reports being announced, Patrick stood in the doorway to the head, the door opening on its own to allow him to gaze into the mirror on the wall opposite from the doorway. At 38 he was neither too young nor too old for the new frigate command he now held, his career had never had all the flash and rapid promotion that some officers who started in the alliance had. Born on Earth to an Irish father and a Nepali mother, Patrick had been instilled with both a rebellious spirit as well as a work ethic mirrored a dreadnaughts armor belt it was no surprise that he had joined the Alliance Marines as soon as he was able. He made his way up through the ranks to earn a battlefield commission during a geth attack on Gei Hinnon, after that he had been assigned ship board duties to learn the naval side of Alliance service. As executive officer of the newly rebuilt Alliance frigate Hong Kong he had taken part in the counterattack upon both the Cerberus headquarters as well as that upon the Reaper forces occupying Earth to pave the way for the Crucible. He wasn’t a very tall man, a fireplug is how his father had described him the last time he had visited his parents in the foothills of Earth’s Himalayan mountains range. He was easily one of the shorter members of the crew, though still a couple of inches taller than Jaet, but easily one of the more physically stronger. Turning back to the interior of his quarters he removed the M-5 Phalanx mk2 pistol from his hip and placed it within the top drawer of his desk and unclipped the large scabbard that hung from his belt at the small of his back. Even with being fourteen inches of hardened lightweight alloys, the kukri still weighed in at almost three pounds of sharpened fury when unleashed. Unlike most vanguard trained biotics he did not carry a shotgun to finish off those his charge knocked off of their feet, instead preferring his pistol marksmanship and his blade. Placing the sheathed kukri on the desk Patrick walked around to the sofa that took up the length of the inner bulkhead and propped his feet up on the low table as he took another pull from his bottle of lager and examined the preparations for getting underway. Reaching into a thigh pocket he extracted two pouches placing them on the cushion beside him, taking out the straight stemmed pipe he began to fill the bowl with the pinches of the shredded tobacco from the bulkier of the two pouches. Tamping it down lightly with his meaty finger Patrick pulled a wooden match from a small box in the second pouch and struck it upon the gritty side to light it. Waiting for the flame to settle he placed the pipe in his mouth and the match above the bowl, “Captain it is against regulations to smoke aboard a C-Sec vessel.” Closing his eyes he sighed and responded, “My boat, my rules Staci.” “Technically Captain since we are still moored in the docking bay we are not yet a vessel underway, furthermore since there are still stores being loaded, as per your orders the smoking lamp is not lighted.” Setting his pipe and it’s accessories down on the low table Patrick stood up and grasping his bottle of lager turned his attention back to the happenings on the command deck to observe his XO. “Staci put a department status board on the right side of screen two please, horizontal green bar for ready and a red circle for not.” The Ship Telemetry and Crew Interface AI, or Staci as the crew called her had quickly become a very helpful tool for him to use to keep track of his crew’s doings. Since the Battle of the Crucible when a large majority of all synthetic life was wiped out from the galaxy, there had been not a few people who had voiced their concerns about beginning AI research again for implementation into ships for ease of control. But so far the galaxy had learned its lesson and were limiting such research and programming in extensive safety interlocks such as the program installed on his omni-tool just this afternoon during his interview with the Admiral, it allowed him to effectively neuter the abilities of Staci rendering the program from an AI to the abilities of a simple VI with the touch of a button. True this single touch of a button was also preceded by a five word code phrase consisting of random words said aloud by the Admiral and himself as well as a 12-digit code key that was written down, sealed in an envelope and soon to be placed in his safe. Walking past the low table and the sofa Patrick went to the wall opposite from the entryway and opened the door to his sleeping area. Taking a quick look through the room he saw with approval that the last of his knife collection had been mounted on the wall to one side of the room as well as the remainder of his belongings had been unpacked and properly stowed away. On the squarely made bed sheets was a small package that he suspected had been delivered by the tobacconist’s shop with his requested special blend, next to it was an oddly shaped, long item wrapped in manila paper with a bow on it. I’ll have to let her present that to me properly later, he thought. Shutting the door he walked to his desk and rearmed himself before glancing at the status display that now showed all but one department to have a green bar. “Time to wrestle with the CHOP now I guess,” he said to himself as he walked out the door and called for the elevator.
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CSV Virtue