Technophiles

The Quarians. A race exiled from their homeworld by their own misdeeds and mistakes. A race distrusted by all; scorned, downtrodden, forever doomed to live upon vast starships adrift in the void. A race in need of a miracle... something the Omnissiah has been known to provide...

oOo

"Quarians have a sad tale, really. They were a council race, once, and well respected. They always had an aptitude for machines, which, in the end, became their undoing. They created a 'race' of machine servants called the Geth to help them on their home planet of Rannoch. They did their work too well. The Geth attained sentience, and the Quarians panicked and attacked, sparking a war for their planet between the two sides. The Geth won. Ever since, they have lived on a large Migrant Fleet, distrusted by everyone and treated as less than dirt." -Anonymous Human diplomat on the Quarians

"From the moment I understood the weakness of my flesh, it disgusted me. I craved the strength and certainty of steel. I aspired to the purity of the blessed machine. Your kind cling to your flesh as if it will not decay and fail you. One day the crude biomass you call a temple will wither, and you will beg my kind to save you.

But I am already saved. For the Machine is Immortal." -Magos Dominus Faustinius of the Adeptus Mechanicus

oOo

The Citadel

It was the third time today Captain Bailey of Citadel Security had gotten a call regarding these two particular individuals. The first had been a panicky human wondering exactly what these... things were, and if the strange equipment on them was dangerous. Or legal. He'd sent out a junior officer to find out precisely who the concerned citizen had been asking about. The agent had returned with a description so outlandish he'd put her on floor cleaning duty for a week. That had been the first time he'd heard of them.

The second was when another citizen, this time an Asari, had called in to report two strange red-robed individuals harassing a Turian worker in a public park. Feeling annoyed that costumed morons were poking people where they shouldn't be, Bailey dispatched a nearby officer to the scene. It was after the second officer described the same two individuals that the first that Bailey started to get annoyed. And slightly worried.

When the third call came about two unknown, red-robed individuals harassing a volus, Bailey strapped on his sidearm and went to investigate the call personally. Officer Ces, the young woman who had responded to the first call, trailed behind him, unarmed due to her lowly status.

Ces had triumphantly pointed out that she was correct as the two walked out of the C-Sec building. Bailey promptly told her to shut up. This was a strange day already, and, dammit, he didn't need anyone telling him he was wrong. Some farther part of his mind did concede the point and made a note to take her off floor duty, a concession he was not willing to say aloud.

The artificial sky of the Citadel glowed a calming blue as the two C-Sec officers walked through pathways of the massive station. They passed large shops, advertisements glowing outside, enticing people to come inside and buy their wares. Restaurants, catering to and run by all sorts of different species, were filled with people coming to eat the midday meal many races found comfortable with. Humans called it lunch. Bailey didn't see why it was such a big deal with some people. A sandwich in his office would do him just fine.

They passed by the enticing smells of the restaurants and onto a main walking thoroughfare. Here the pathways broadened out, allowing hundreds to walk to and from the shops and residences of the Citadel. Aircars flew overhead, the whine of their engines a usual background noise to the people on these streets. It was in a large, open area that they found what they were looking for.