A Young Woman's Mandatory Service Ch. 1

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My first coherent thought when I finally regained awareness was that the attack had gone exactly as I had thought it would.

Moskva was an unprotected target the first time we had attacked it. It was vastly more fortified by the time orders came down to attack it again.

My second thought was that my injuries were extensive. I wondered how long I had been in a medical coma. I was gangly and awkward, missing two fingers on each hand and my legs were bent wrong.

My eyes were almost useless, reminding me of when I had been a toddler. Most damning of all, my vocalizations sounded alien - it was distinctly dual-toned.

By the time I had developed enough to actually turn the indistinct blurs around me into something identifiable, I had long since pieced together the fact that I had been reincarnated again.

Being X had said it wouldn't be doing that again and instead had claimed my soul would be obliterated.

I wasn't even surprised that it had lied.

Maybe that was something the fraud couldn't even do. Maybe it had forgotten about me after it had dropped me off in the first place.

Useless incompetent.

The fact that I wasn't human anymore only supported my conclusion. Being X had complained about just humanity, I found it unlikely that it would willingly increase its workload by involving another species.

A foolish, hopeful part of me wanted to believe that I would be left alone now.

I couldn't be so naive, even if it weren't meddling in the background things could still go wrong for me. I had to prepare.

Once again a child, I set about doing the only things I could do for the moment: listen and watch.

Once I learned the language these aliens spoke, I could begin influencing my surroundings.

Perhaps I should be concerned about appearing normal, but I could only conclude that it was a fool's effort. I had no frame of reference and that would remain so until well after I had shown myself to be an anomaly.

***

March 19, 2154Calades City Parade Park, Palaven, Trebia System, Apien Crest Cluster

I could acknowledge that four years as an alien child wasn't quite enough time to learn everything I would have liked to.

I had learned enough to form some opinions.

In general, I had mixed feelings. My species, turians, were so very human. This was, obviously, both good and bad.

They were recognizable in motivations and culture, even if they were spacefaring. I could understand them about as well as humans and function well here. The other spacefaring species we had contact with weren't any more or less difficult to understand. Unfortunately, they all were just as prone to irrational behavior and poor governance as humanity had been.

In the short-term, I had been born to what I approximated to be an upper middle-class family - the standard of living was far higher than what I had grown accustomed to as an Imperial mage. My father was law enforcement and my mother was a medical professional of some description, both were high-tier citizens.

That was where the mixed feelings came in. I didn't much care for the system the turians used.

Civilians within the Turian Hierarchy, the interstellar government of which I was a subject of, had all of the individual freedoms one might expect of a modern society. But turians did not remain a civilian, only our protectorate species had that option. Instead, turians had obligations and were conscripted at the age of fifteen. These conscripts were then trained for a role within the Hierarchy Armed Forces or within the government bureaucracy. In total, a turian could expect to spend four years in government service starting the moment they reported to an Intake Center.

Participating in a conflict was unlikely, especially if I showed aptitude for a non-combatant role, but I didn't think I would be lucky in that regard. My plan was to do the four years and then finally decide my own future. As near as I could tell, no one would begrudge me that. Even if they did, I had tried to conform to those expectations and died for it. I resolved to ignore any expectation that I remain in the Hierarchy's military any longer than necessary.

I was obligated to serve for four years. I was not obligated to remain for longer than that.

For now, my freedoms were curtailed by my parents - not unexpected and entirely reasonable if not for my unique circumstances. My little brother, Garrus, couldn't take care of himself for example. That perhaps wasn't the best example, he wasn't even a year old yet, but even if he were the same age as me, my assertion would remain true.

In the longer-term, I would need to make plans for obtaining an education. Volus schools interested me - they were predominately bankers, accountants and the like - safe, respectable and lucrative professions. I just wasn't sure if they would allow me to attend.

Idly, I wished that I had my magic. It was a safety-net, really, and one I would hopefully never need, but I wanted it all the same.

Out of some childish whim, I waved my arm in an exaggerated movement, flexing my will in a familiar way, attempting to spool up a magnification formula, the calculations came to me easily, despite the lack of a computation orb. I had wanted a better look at the other side of the park my family were in.

Instead, I flashed blue and felt as though I was falling.

I had my magic?

"Solana!" my mother shouted.

No, I realized. Not quite. I wasn't falling, I was weightless. Using the... muscle, for want of a better term, also didn't feel the same as my magic.

"I'm a biotic?" I asked out loud, drifting slowly away from the ground.

"Seems so," my father said.

"Castis!" my mom said sharply, "grab her or take Garrus, don't just stand there."

Exasperated, my father gently pulled me the meter or so back to the ground, "this is good news, Epiia." he continued more quietly, trying to say it to just my mother, "biotics can't get Panaria's."

His effort to hide his comment was in vain, I already knew about Panaria's Disease. It was some type of degenerative neurological disorder that affected turians exposed to an acute dose of powdered Element Zero, the substance that facilitated interstellar travel in a reasonable timeframe. In people, both turian and other species, the substance allowed people to manipulate the effective mass of objects and manipulate them.

It was not as versatile as the magic in my second life, but it was a potent ability in close quarters.

From other overheard conversations earlier in my life, I knew that both my mother and I had been exposed to such a dose. Apparently, children could incorporate that powder into their development and become biotics. Adults did not have that recourse.

My mother has yet to develop any symptoms, but the possibility remained.

My parents had both been accommodating of my interests in 'un-turian' civilian pursuits. It would be a shame to lose one of them so soon. I still wasn't sure if society at large would be as accommodating.

"We're going to need to report this," Mother muttered, distracting me from my thoughts.

"Officer," I said to my father, "I am a biotic." It was an easy way to distract them from their own thoughts.

My father's mandible flicked in a rare show of amusement, "Consider it reported."

***

March 1, 2157Vakarian Family Home, Calades, Palaven, Trebia System, Apien Crest Cluster

A cabalist, what the Hierarchy called their military biotics, had evaluated me shortly after I had discovered my abilities.

Apparently, I was young for a turian to show any biotic potential. They determined me to be a reasonably strong biotic as well, based on the fact that I had no amp and yet my use of the ability was still both potent and had come easily.

Fortunately for me, the Hierarchy had no issue with children being armed at all times and would still wait for me to be conscripted at fifteen.

The cabalist had given me a number of pointers and exercises to work on for practice. They or one of their fellows would check in on a monthly basis to ensure that I wasn't misusing my abilities or injuring myself.

I had taken their advice to heart and practiced as often as time permitted. While it was an interesting activity on its own, my life might one day be decided by how well I could use these abilities.

Garrus was fascinated by my biotics and always wanted to watch me practice. Because of that, one or both of my parents would watch as well, if their schedules permitted it.

As I finished the exercise, one that involved Throwing an object and then Pulling it back before it could come into contact with the ground - an exercise that was both tiring, scalable and practiced precise control, my mother asked a question, "do you think you'll want to stay as a cabalist, Solana? They're very tight-knit from what I've heard."

Her concern was obvious, but I couldn't quite tell what she was concerned about. "No, Mother," I answered, "I still want to become a finance broker."

She stared at me for a moment before nodding.

I waited for a moment to see if she would ask a follow-up, when she didn't I returned to my exercises.

***

December 9, 2157Vakarian Family Home, Calades, Palaven, Trebia System, Apien Crest Cluster

"Patrol flotilla encountered a new species," my father reported, reading off of his omnitool.

"What are they called?" I asked. That was big news, especially for the markets. Citadel Council Space had many stock exchanges. I would have to see if I could convince my parents for investment capital. It didn't need to be a lot, I was confident I could make do with whatever they gave me. I would need an omnitool of my own though, managing my positions from the house's terminal would be cumbersome, especially once I started attending school.

"Humans, apparently," the word sounded wrong coming from a turian. Especially since it wasn't Palaven Standard.

It was English. This radically changed things for me. Right?

"Solana?" Father asked.

Belatedly, I realized I had probably looked very surprised. "I wonder what they're like," I said in a vain hope to move past that.

My father looked at me skeptically but let it go. "Primitive, apparently. Tenacious too, because that hadn't stopped them from fighting Desolas to a standstill." He shook his head, "probably shouldn't call them primitive, if that's the case. They don't ask optios for that kind of advise, unfortunately."

"Maybe they should," I said, "are we still fighting them?"

Why were we fighting them? No one - not even the overly militaristic turians - thought opening fire was a sound first contact strategy.

"No. Councilor Tevos stepped in, along with a few other matriarchs," he answered, skimming through the article he had pulled up. "Ceasefire for now, probably an actual peace treaty early next year."

That was good, hopefully the fighting had been limited and everyone could move past this. The consequences of this would still be reverberating through the markets by the time I could participate, even if this devolved into some kind of cold war type situation.

Naturally, I would prefer that not happening. Avoiding such a useless waste of resources, both human - or sophont, I supposed - and material would be sensible.

***

July 27, 2162Vakarian Family Home, Palaven, Trebia System, Apien Crest Cluster

Volus finance schools did accept turians. It was exceedingly rare, but they did do it. The most elite of the schools were on Irene, which presented certain physiological challenges due to having an atmosphere inimical to my continued good health. While they also offered their classes over the extranet, which very convenient, it didn't affect the cost - which was exceedingly expensive.

The Hierarchy Department of Finance's Education Center, while not the most elite of the schools I could have been enrolled in, was the easiest and cheapest for my parents to enroll me at. It being so closely associated with the Hierarchy that it was part of the name, my parents high tier gave them certain privileges for sponsoring my enrollment. The government had as much need for accountants as anywhere else and turians had an excellent understanding of logistics - creating a school to train their own simplified their personnel pipeline.

They also believed in learning from the masters of a given craft, so the majority of the teachers within the Education Center were volus. Very successful ones. Private vs public sector had different pressures, of course, but the actual job of accountants and other money managers didn't change enough to dilute the advice from these volus professionals.

The schooling was easier in some ways and harder in others. The principles remained the same, but the sheer scale of C-space's economy presented unique challenges that hadn't been present in my first life. My formal education had also been focused on human resource management, as I had identified that as the most efficient path to a high corporate position.

People management had ended up getting me pushed in front of a train. I may have used those hard-earned skills to good effect in my second life, but my chosen path was only going to end in one way now that the people I had been managing were armed.

"Solana?" Garrus asked from the door to my room.

I turned away from the open assignment on my terminal and gave him my full attention, "yes, Garrus?"

"Dad said I couldn't become a spectre."

I couldn't help the flick of amusement. He looked and sounded like a little boy denied the possibility of piloting a Gundam.

My amusement faded quickly though. Spectres were not a fictional concept. Father didn't like the organization because they were governed solely by direct oversight from the Council and otherwise not subject to law within C-space. Oversight that was often deliberately looking the other way, if one believed the rumors. I didn't liked them because they were stupidly implemented. No oversight, above the rules and yet almost entirely unsupported by the Council. If they had any support it was from their own governments, not from the body that empowered them.

I couldn't be the only one to notice how vulnerable that was to simple financial incentives, never mind more complex methods of coercion. Nor could I be the only one to notice how disgustingly effective a spectre would be for any criminal enterprise or even simple stock manipulation.

They could completely tank a company's prospects and justify it after the fact! And that assumed someone would even bother asking for that justification.

My brother being a spectre could be useful, but I would manage just fine without subjecting him to that kind of danger. I could tell he just wanted to help people and there were better ways to do that. Garrus was much better suited to the Hierarchy's 'service is its own reward' mentality than I was.

"He still remembers the time one ruined a case he was working on," I explained belatedly. I wasn't familiar with all of the details, but a spectre had apprehended one of my father's leads. With that lead closed, he didn't have any legal avenues to continue his case. That was easier to explain to Garrus at the moment. Our father's reasons were more nuanced than that, but my brother was only six.

"I wouldn't have," he responded.

"Perhaps. Spectres are for a special, limited purpose," I said. I continued by paraphrasing my father's opinion, "spectres go in, deal with whatever problem caught their attention and then leave. They don't have any standards of behavior for them to adhere to. They don't deal with the consequences of flouting the rules or taking shortcuts. It's better to just do things the right way."

Garrus looked at me with a surly expression. "Fine," he said and then left my room.

I stared at the door for several seconds before returning to my assignment.

***

January 1, 2168Basic Training Intake Center, Calades, Palaven, Trebia System, Apien Crest Cluster

My parents did eventually give me some investment capital. I spent a great deal of time researching what positions to hold while I was indisposed with my mandatory service.

Once my choices were made I put it out of my mind. I would find out one way or another in four years.

In the meantime, I would be focusing all of my energy on being completely unremarkable. I had tried being the very best. I had even succeeded. All it got me was increasingly more dangerous assignments until it finally resulted in my death.

I didn't have anything to prove here. Ideally, I could get through this without killing anyone.

"Next," the sergeant called.

I stepped up to the intake desk.

"Name?"

"Solana Vakarian."

"Mandatory service?"

"Yes, Sergeant."