Mass Effect is owned by THEM. You know who THEM are. BioEAWare.

Revan, Thermopile System, Artemis Tau Cluster, 02 May 2175

Alliance Frontier Marshal Deputy Samantha Lynn Collins looked at the coordinates one more time as she approached the planet Revan, second planet to Thermopile in the Artemis Tau Cluster. She checked the latitude and longitude in relation to the planet once more, every celestial body in Systems Alliance Space given the exact same grid pattern regardless of size or composition for better navigational purposes for whomever visited said location, be it Earth, a gas giant, or some chunk of rock floating in an asteroid belt. She checked the degrees of the coordinates, accurate down to the degree, hour, minute, and second, pinpointing the location down to the nearest meter upon the planet. Revan itself was a toxic world made of methane and ammonia, a pea soup atmosphere that was both caustic and lethal to anything not wearing a sealed atmospheric suit. Add in its greater-than-Earth air pressure and gravity, and it was no real wonder why the planet that was forty percent Earth's size yet three times its pressure and almost double its gravity wasn't exploited yet. Systems Alliance Planetary Mineral and Geological Survey records showed that the planet was mostly made of basalt rock, as well as evidence of geological activity; some evidence of earthquakes and volcanoes were noted, mostly along the equator. There were no known sources of any kind of water of any form or composition, as well as a distinct lack of any kind of life down to the bacterial level. Essentially, it was a dead world that would continue to be a dead world with little in the way of evolution's help in creating something spectacular upon the planet.

That didn't make it lifeless, though.

Three weeks. Three weeks since Collins had been sent to the colony of Therum, to the Office of the Alliance Frontier Marshals stationed at the capital of Nova Yekaterinburg. The colony itself was Tier I Colony, meaning little in the way of Alliance assistance or money was put into the colony, mostly meaning that the colonists and settlers had to fend for themselves without the means of Alliance Military Patrols guarding its space or the Alliance Colonial Affairs dropping money on it for GTS batteries. With a population of seventy-one thousand, it was hardly a hub. It was, however, the largest port not only for the Knossos System, but for the entire Artemis Tau Cluster as well. Anyone coming through the relay and needed Heavy Helium fuel or an Eezo static charge dump would have to come to Nova Yekaterinburg. Anyone wishing to visit the other seven nearby systems within range of normal-FTL would have to resupply before heading out... as well as when they headed back in. The commerce of travel helped supplement what the mines on Therum brought in, as well as the occasional University-funded Protheantologist research team looking to exploit any ruins or finds in the Cluster.

The Office was staffed with exactly eleven Deputies and one Marshal for the entirety of the Cluster.

The Alliance Frontier Marshals was the extrasolar law enforcement branch of the Systems Alliance and any other human-owned colony or outpost out in the black. While there might be a Colonial Police Department or Sherriff's Office, it was the Marshals that were ultimately responsible for the law to be upheld, especially in locations that didn't have any kind of law enforcement agency purview. More often than not, it involved dealing with smugglers, pirates, traffickers, and the Alliance Most Wanted list. Like the American Wild West of old, the Frontier Marshals were the law when there was none to be had.

This was why Collins was visiting Revan.

Upon starting her duties and responsibilities at the Marshal's Office in Nova Yekaterinburg, Deputy Collins had gained herself three duties; to monitor any and all traffic coming in and out of the Knossos System via FTL, monitoring which ships were going through Customs and their tonnage, and what they were declaring and how much. It was grunt work for the lowest Deputy in the totem pole and Collins knew it. Hell, she had to start somewhere.

And she started finding inaccuracies.

Deputy Collins was a recent graduate of the University of Shanxi (New Beijing), having gotten a degree in Criminal Justice. She had tested well and done well in school, graduating with honors and making the Dean's List for all fourteen semesters. Now with a Bachelor's Degree, she had applied for several law enforcement-related jobs and positions throughout Alliance Space, as well as the Citadel and private security firms. Sadly, most weren't interested in a nineteen year old woman with any practical experience, and it had taken almost six months of forms and tests before she had even been accepted by the Alliance Frontier Marshals. And for her first posting, she got a backwater assignment in a backwater planet in the backwater portion of Alliance Space.

Still, the Deputy took it seriously.

The inaccuracies that she found were consistent, mostly dealing with ship weight, though there were a few others. Ships, despite using Element Zero to drop their mass to affect travel into superluminal speeds, still had a tonnage berth, as well as a tare weight. Whenever a ship went through a Relay, such information was tagged with each Jump. Whenever a ship left or entered, a complicated code denoting the size, weight, and mass of the vessel was imputed. For a backwater system, finding a ship through such codes wasn't as hard. What Collins had focused on was a Kolwoon-Class Transportation Vessel, generally built by the Hyundai Mipo Dockyard Company. With an easy look upon the ExtraNet, Collins had gotten the empty tare weight of a standard Kolwoon, and its common manifest weights. What had piqued her interest was that while the vessel was indeed being subjected to Customs, the materials being declared and the weight displayed didn't match what was being logged through the Relay from its Jump out-of-system. The materials being declared was unusual as well, considering the direction the Kolwoon was traveling to was towards the Thermopile System. Iron and Nickel were fairly common minerals mined from asteroids and meteors, which had been declared through Customs. Yet... not one piece of mining equipment was declared; no extra drills, replacement parts, suits, 'bots... just Iron and Nickel.

That had her interest piqued.

"Marshal Weathers?" Deputy Samantha Collins had to fight butterflies in her stomach when she came calling to the lead Marshal of the Office of the Alliance Frontier Marshals on Therum, knocking on the doorframe for his office. Bartholomew Weathers was a crotchety gentlemen who was at least fair enough to hate everyone equally, regardless of gender or species, working for the Frontier Marshals since its inception in 2148. Nearly thirty years of service would have the man retiring soon, but everyone in the Therum Office just assumed that Weathers would probably work until his heart finally gave out and probably die at his desk in another thirty years or so. As far as impressions went, he was a no-bullshit straight shooter with a Wild West complex, wearing a Western hat and a Smith and Wesson Model 696 MA Revolver on his hip. Scuttlebutt said he was a quickdraw and a hell of a crackshot with that 696.

"Deputy." The man looked up from his terminal, doing whatever it was his daily routine consisted of. She hadn't been in the office long enough to know, but she imagined that most of it consisted of messages from the main office in Vancouver, and whatever coordination from the other various departments in the Systems Alliance and EarthGov. "Something came to your attention?" He had given her her duties that pretty much consisted of sweeping the other unpopulated systems for any kind of discrepancies and activities. He had told her himself it was a shit job, but that it was a good start and would give her time to learn how to track and locate such things in busier activities. He might have been an old school asshole, but he was honest and up-front about it, and was giving her a chance.

"Yes, Marshal." Collins handed him the datapad that she had downloaded the data from her search. "I think it's something, at least, and I wanted to see if I was onto something or just wishful thinking." She was too new at this just to jump up and down excited at the prospect of actually getting a hit. Instead, she was going to let someone with more training and experience give it the good ol' eyeball and let her know if she was onto something or not. At the least, it made her look like she was taking her job seriously, and perhaps she would learn something.

"Fair enough. Let me look." Weathers replied, holding out his hand to take the datapad, in which the Deputy handed it over. The Marshal began looking over the information for a few moments, scrolling down at the report whenever he reached the bottom, and began really reaching when he put his left hand on his chin and began to rub it. "I got to admit, Deputy, you look at ships in a different way than I would have. Tare weights and Relay logs of mass and charge buildups, as well as Customs declarations while looking at manifest records? I would have done fuel consumption and docking fees, but your method works... perhaps it might even be better." The Marshal scratched at his jowls. "Mass distribution can't be fucked with electronically, especially at a Relay Jump Point, while anyone can lie to a Customs Official. No one I know would go through that kind of tedious data work to get those numbers, matching them to company records. Find any possible owners? I notice that it isn't the same ship twice, but you've marked how they go the same direction. You note you think that it is the same vessel that's changing its registration."

"Relays log mass, size, and dimensions, and each ship is given a unique code." Collins replied, knowing this might be one of several potential questions. "What I noticed was that the charge buildup and the fuel usage were all the same. A different Captain might not get to the same location twice, having to rely on buoys and sensors to find a location, as oppose to someone who knows where they are going and goes to a stellar polar plot. I think it's the same ship. I'm thinking smugglers, at the very least. It seems too much for an illegal mining operation."

"You might be onto something here." The Marshal nodded, thumbing through more of the datapad. "I note that you've got a possible destination; the Thermopile System is within that fuel consumption range, and you even got a planet, this... Revan."

"Yes, Marshal."

"Well, why you jawjacking me when you should be hopping onto one of our birds and checking that shit out, Deputy?" That had Collins a little stunned. "That is your jurisdiction, and you action upon anything you might find. I'd rather you hunt something down and turn up empty-handed than letting some smuggler or trafficker running ops in my backyard. Take the Kortuga and give this Revan the ol' set of peepers and see if anything's flying on a planet that shouldn't have anything on it. You find something, you call back and I'll get on the horn with Navy and we'll send in the troops."

"Yes, Marshal." Samantha was surprised and elated. She was going out and doing the job she wanted to do!

"And Samantha?" Weathers gave her a hard smile. "Good work. Kick some ass, but stay safe while doing so."

Fifteen hours later, she was flying into the orbit of Revan.

Collins had done several particle analyses of the planet, as well as the space around it. There were emission discharge particles of FTL flight hanging in the magnetosphere, indicative of a FTL charge dump in the planet's atmo. A Kolwoon-Class vessel was designed to dump a charge buildup on just about anything with a magnetosphere, but they weren't meant to be stealthy or infiltrating. While the transport and cargo vessel was a favorite for pirates and smugglers for its long range and cargo space, they were built for merchant craft, not illegal activities. Particle traces showed the point-of-entry to be somewhere in the northern hemisphere, in the western quadrant. Unfortunately, the planet's soupy atmosphere and high ionization meant that any space-to-surface scans were either going to come up with a tone of false positives unless she used a high-density laser and radio survey scanner, which would be easily detected with anyone with a communication relay or a network connection, causing interference. She didn't want to alert whoever was down on the planet that they were being surveyed. She did, however, scan the particle traces and how they came into the planet; what angle and vector. Would the potential pirates or smugglers just re-enter into Revan on the most direct path towards their base? Considering the consistency of the planet, a perfect haven for hiding? Collins thought it most likely. Inputting the degree and vector of the re-entry path based upon the particle emissions, the Deputy plotted a possible landing spot upon the planet. Trajectory inputted, she inputted her own coordinates, landing a kilometer south of the possible landing spot.

She would use their own tactics against them.

The Krotuga began to sink into Revan, disappearing into its soupy atmosphere as it re-entered the planet, its occupant unaware that another ship was entering the planet silently behind it.

The UT-32 Kortuga landed in the slightly crushing grips of Revan, the density of the atmosphere almost as bad as the opaquity, the air thick and clogged enough that Deputy Samantha Collins could only see perhaps twenty or so meters around her when she exited the craft. She was suited up in Devlon Industries' Light Explorer Armor, consisting of a pressure suit with armored kinetic-dampening plates over the chest, shoulders, arms, back, thighs, and shins, giving protection and ease of movement. Her helmet was sealed against the planet's methane-ammonia atmosphere, lethal even to Volus and Krogan supposedly, but the triple pressure and double gravity was easily felt, Collins feeling heavy and as if the suit were too tight on her. Still, the Explorer line of armor was still some of the best for such work as this; military armor didn't adjust for such toxic conditions and changes in pressure and gravity, while the Explorer had servos installed along the legs and spine for relief, while the pressure suit hardened to counter the effects of the increased air pressure. She would still suffer through it, but it was better than wearing the standard Aldrin Labs' line of Onyx Armor, which would have done nothing for her. Not that 42 ft/lbs of air pressure was lethal to a human being, but it certainly wasn't comfortable. It was like trying to walk underwater while feeling twice as heavy. Collins had to remind herself that such an environment would have her getting more tired quicker than usual.

She stepped out into the toxic world with her limited field of view, checking her Omnitool to find the waypoint she had inputted to mark where she needed to go and what direction to take in the opaque landscape of Revan.

Checking her Glock Safe Arms Model 18C Machine Pistol, a standard firearm for Marshal Deputies, she holstered it on her left thigh against the magnetic holster before pulling the Nexus Engagement Reliable Firearms 2169 Lawbringer Assault Rifle from its place in the weapons rack on the Utility Transport, extending it into operations mode before she pressed it against her chest plate, keeping it close to her for quick acquisition fire while also keeping it out of the way enough to use her hands if needed. The last thing she grabbed was a magnetic sheath and a SAMC-issue KABAR knife, attaching it horizontally at the small of her back, just above her hips. She waited for the UT-32 to equalize with the environment before the doors opened upon the craft for her to disembark, and Collins found herself on a truly alien planet. A few feet away from the Kortuga had her stopping as Sam looked around, finding the ground to be rocky but manageable, without any kind of physical descriptors of note. No plant life, no rock formations, not even wadis or crags. The topographical scan of the planet by the Systems Alliance Planetary Mineral and Geological Survey probe showed that the mountains were mostly towards the equator, while where she was at were mostly low hills created by ancient magma flows kept flattened by gravity and pressure. An otherwise unremarkable planet that one could see very little of due to the pea soup atmosphere.

Collins checked her Omnitool's navigation program, found her heading electronically, and began walking.

Travelling in a high pressure, high gravity, Deputy Collins discovered, was taxing. Before? A kilometer walk wouldn't even have her breaking out in a sweat on a planet such as Shanxi or Earth. On Revan, on the other hand, it was like walking two kilometers through soup. The air pressure was a worse toll than the gravity, not only increasing her weight twice over, but the resistance of walking three times over as well. Add those together, and the Deputy realized that it was more akin to walking six kilometers than one. Still not an excitable feat, but she felt the exertion and force required adding up. It was like trying to run through sand while carrying a backpack and pushing through something at the same time, and she was grateful that the Explorer Armor came with a biothermal regulator, the internal temperature meant to stay consistently at a human-comfortable temperature to help alleviate sweating and discomfort. It would have been impossible for her to wipe the sweat off her brow, though thankfully the helmet came with a moisture-wicking headwrap that would prevent sweat getting into her eyes and ruining her vision. She pushed on, following the arrow's direction on her Omnitool as she worked her way over Revan's surface to reach what she believed to be the projected landing spot of her tagged vessel. The bad part was that if she were wrong, it would be next to impossible for her to search due to the atmosphere; a twenty square meter search radius was pathetic, and she could easily get lost or be walking in circles. If the landing site ended up being a bust, she would have to come up with another method.

About halfway through her walk, she felt an uneasy feeling creep up on her, as if she were being watched.

Collins stopped in her tracks, and took a slow spin. If she were hunting pirates or smugglers (and who was to say they were slavers, insurrectionalists, or something else), it was probably likely that they had some sort of defenses. She wasn't here to arrest them; this was merely a reconnaissance mission to see if her intel was correct. As Marshal Weathers had told her, she was to call if she found something of note. She wasn't about to assault some possible pre-fab compound smuggler's den with her '69 Lawbringer like a Wild West Marshal of old. Hell, those guys usually rounded up posse's for that purpose. If she found the landing site or even a compound, she'd scuttle back to the shuttle and get on the horn. Marshal Weathers wasn't afraid to call for some Systems Alliance Navy back-up, getting some Marines involved.

But until then, she'd have to be smart if she wanted to live long enough to do so, and that uneasy feeling had her wary.

The scan had given her no clue as to where the feeling was coming from, but Collins could still feel the hair on the back of her neck standing up. She was too new to ignore the feeling, and she didn't feel like dying on some toxic shithole alone. She raised her Lawbringer up to her shoulder, letting the barrel sweep where she was looking. She couldn't see anything save rocky ground and thick pea soup fog. Fuck, wasn't there anything in the galaxy that would let her see through this shit?

Her Omnitool pinged with a message received.

The soft chimed surprised her... hell, it kind of scared the shit out of her. She wasn't near any ExtraNet Nodes, and she doubted the planet had any satellite connection feeds. There was one on the Kortuga, but it didn't have any li-fi capabilities for connections outside of the craft, just the terminal on it. If she had received a message, then it was shortwave, meaning short range, probably within a quarter klick.

Someone knew she was here, and fucking texted her.

Raising her left arm, Collins twitched her arm in a particular fashion that would activate her Omnitool, bringing up the holographic projection of the Haptic on-board input device. With it, it brought up the small viewing screen that indicated that she indeed have a message. Still holding her Lawbringer at the ready, she used her left hand to scroll down to the message by crooking her forefinger down once, and then miming pressing a button to access it, grateful that she could use her Omnitool with her left hand as well as her right, with admittedly limited functionality. The message popped up on the screen.

Frontier Marshal, it read;

Don't panic, but I'm right behind you. It seems we might be hunting down the same people. Care to join up?


That had Sam pause.

Did a Turian just text me? CNTRN was the short form of Centurion, which was the equivalent of a Lieutenant Commander, Commander, Major, or Lieutenant Colonel in the Navy or Marines, respectively. Collins might have been born right before the First Contact War, but she had definitely grown up hearing horror stories about the Hierarchy Military and what they did to her home planet of Shanxi. The thought of a Turian being behind her was a frightening proposition. Yet... he had informed her. He didn't shoot her in the back, and he had offered to join up. That... was a little less disconcerting. Just a little. She slapped the Lawbringer on her chest, held into place by the magnetic lock on her chest piece, and typed a quick reply.

Centurion Kryik,

Deal. Please no funny business, I'm edgy in this toxic soup world as is.

Deputy Collins

Sam sent the reply and grabbed her Lawbringer off of her chest, holding it against herself as most in the military did anyhow as she waited a few moments. She wasn't sure if this was such a good idea or not, but... but a Centurion in the Hierarchy was generally a tough motherfucker with about a decade or so worth's of experience. If he were hunting the people she had located using numbers, a joint operation wasn't exactly a bad thing. Relations between humans and Turians were generally ugly at best, neither race seemingly willing to work with one another. Yet this Turian Centurion knew her to be an Alliance Frontier Marshal, identified himself properly, and had asked to work together. Well, there had to be a first time for everything, right?

A few moments later, a silhouette appeared in the fog as it walked out of the pea soup, and Collins saw her very first Turian.

The Turian was a tall one, easily over two meters tall, with thick, black, sleek-looking armor highlighted in red along the undersuit and undersides. He lopped forward easily enough, the race being known for its ground speed, easily capable of running upwards of fifty kilometers an hour at a sprint. On him was a wide variety of weapons, festooned with them, actually. Cradled in his talons was what looked to be a Cipritine Armory Vapor Assault Rifle, a heavy assault rifle with a punishing rate-of-fire and kinetic impact. Locked to one hip was a shotgun of some manufacture that she didn't recognize, while the other hip contained a smaller weapon with a thick barrel that took her a second to recognize as a grenade launcher of some sort. On the back of his armor, where his plated back curved away from his cowl was a heavy weapon of some kind, large and menacing. She recognized it as well; it was an Omega State Arms AMR-B21 Mulcher anti-personnel heavy machine gun. The Turian was carrying a fucking lightning gun on his back! A very illegal one at that, banned from both Alliance and Council Space! Collins did not like where this was going; practically every weapon on him spoke of death and destruction, and not on a self-defense level.

She had a feeling this wasn't some standard Centurion with the normal run-of-the-mill Hierarchy forces.

"Deputy Collins?" The helmeted head asked, the darkened visor looking at her as his flanged voice came out of his suit's vox speaker, the volume turned down to keep the conversation between themselves. Smart.

"Centurion Kryik." She nodded her head in acknowledgement, trying not to compare her weaponry to his own. She had two weapons to his four. Her Lawbringer was meant mostly for law enforcement and colonial defense purposes, a single-shot weapon that actually fired a phasic round that was meant to scramble electronics in a suit, locking down a perpetrator while hitting them with a non-lethal round that struck with enough force to put a human on his back. The weapon could be reconfigured for lethal munitions, but it was substandard compared to most assault weapons, as it was designed to incapacitate, not kill. The Glock was her actual lethal weapon, but it was a short-range machine pistol meant for room clearing and standard enforcement procedures. If this Turian was hunting the same people she had stumbled upon, had an idea of their capabilities, and had prepared for them, then she was sorely outmatched. Chirst, even his armor looked tough enough to take on any number of threats, while hers was designed mostly for protection against small arms and a variety of environments! "So... I take it you're not normal Hierarchy?"

"No." Came the flanged reply, the fringed helmet shaking once. "Special Forces Operative." Well, that explained the armor and the weaponry. Like most humans, Collins knew of the various SF units that the Turian Hierarchy employed, just like the Turians had undoubtedly heard of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps Force Recon, Systems Alliance Navy SEALs, and the Special Operations Green Berets, commonly known as the N's. She only knew of four for sure; the biokinetically-capable Hierarchy Cabal, the Front Line, the Final Line... and the Blackwatch. The Cabalists were the Turian's answer to Biotics, creating platoons of Biokinetically-capable Turians whose job was to completely overpower and annihilate anything that might be too tough for the normal Turian Soldier. There were the Front Line Platoons, whose job it was to jump in before a pacification action with the normal troops to soften any kind of military or defensive capabilities that might stop a mobilization. There was the Final Line Soldiers, whose job it was to protect the flanks and retreats of normal forces, who would not give up an inch to the enemy, often dying to the man killing everything in front of them to protect the Hierarchy Army's back. And then there was the Blackwatch; insertion-style soldiers that slipped in with small teams and waged all kinds of havoc. Like the SEALs or the N's, they were the counter-terrorists and unconventional warriors of the Hierarchy. Considering the whole race was militant, which probably made them the best, toughest soldiers in the galaxy. It was said that one never saw a Blackwatch member... just the final results of his visit.

Collins had a very nasty suspicion which one Centurion Kryik belonged to.

"Well, in the spirit of cooperation..." Collins began, looking at the heavily armed-and-armored Turian, "care to take the lead? I'm actually just a rookie cop. First bust."

"We all had to start somewhere." The Turian replied, his tone a little amused as he chuckled. "Takes guts to admit that, but you also found yourself here, so you certainly didn't drop onto this place by accident."

"According to the vector logs left by the particle admissions whenever the Kolwoon-Class vessel entered atmo," the Deputy began, "I figured the landing zone to be just a bit ahead if they flew in a straight line. With this kind of atmo as well as no real presence on either the planet or the system, I figured they'd be cocky enough to think they'd never get caught. I'm betting on stupidity."

"A good assumption, and I agree." The Special Forces Operative nodded. "Most criminals aren't that bright, and you obviously tracked them here despite whatever efforts they made to conceal their existence. Stupidity can be a powerful ally. Send me the location, and I'll take point." Collins nodded as she opened up her Omnitool and sent the Centurion the coordinates to his Omnitool. She was a little surprised to see that when he brought it up, his Omnitool was red as oppose to the standard orange color. That was odd, and she wondered if there was any significance to it. The Turian moved forward, the Vapor Assault Rifle in his talons and pressed against his armored shoulder as he began stalking forward. Collins moved behind him, keeping a few meters or so back from him in case they were engaged, they both wouldn't be shot at at the same time, as was pretty standard for the SAMC. Her Lawbringer was up and ready against her own shoulder as she followed Kryik, able to see his form clearly despite the density of the atmosphere due to their close distance. She had a clear view of the weapon on his back, and it indeed was a Mulcher. Perhaps Hierarchy SF was allowed such weapons. She certainly wasn't going to try and detain a Blackwatch member on a weapons charge.

After a minute or so of walking, there was a looming silhouette appearing before them through the greenish fog.

It was a Kolwoon-Class vessel.

Author's Notes: Revan, Thermopile System, Artemis Tau Cluster - The Artemis Tau Cluster all have Greek origin systems (Knossos, Macedon, Athens, and Sparta are actually Greek locations) so the Thermopile System, named after a Greek Battle named after the location. Revan, on the other hand, is named after another BioWare game; Knights of the Old Republic's protagonist/antagonist player character.

Nexus Engagement Reliable Firearms 2169 Lawbringer- This... is actually a real weapon, albeit a 'NERF' gun. From the Badlands line of foam weaponry, I turned Nerf into a gun company and one of its weapons into a MEU weapon. You'll probably be seeing more of this.

Glock Safe Arms Model 18C Machine Pistol - Most of us have seen this in movies and games, as this is a real life weapon. Glock Safe Arms (the company) invented what we know just commonly call 'the Glock' back in the 80's out of polymers and with a different design, creating this lightweight and popular firearm. The Models all coordinate with barrel lengths and calibers (17 is a 4" 9mm, 19 is 4.5" 9mm) and go from 9 mm to .45 cal. The Model 18C is, in fact, the only automatic pistol that Glock Safe Arms makes, available only for military and Austrian Law Enforcement purposes. It is essentially just the same as a Model 18, save that it has an open port on the top of the slide and it fires full auto.

Omega State Arms AMR-B21 Mulcher - Omega State Arms is not a MEU weapons company, but one of my own devising. The Mulcher, on the other hand, is property of Neil Bloomkamf, and we've seen it before in his movie District 9. Specifically, the Mulcher was the lightning gun that Wikus used that fired a proton stream that superheated and destabilized molecular bonds, causing horrible burns, dismemberment, and most likely, a very gory end.

Cipritine Armory Vapor Assault Rifle - In ME1, there were a bunch of weapons and weapons manufactures, but surprisingly, for a militant race, there didn't seem to be too many Turian weapons companies. Considering how many there are for humans (in real life) you'd think guns and gun companies would be numbering in the thousands, if not more. So Cipritine Armory is one of many Turian weapons manufacturers, and the Vapor is just one of many.