Story Line Writer: B. H.
Narrative Perspective Writer: H. B.
I do not own the Mass Effect universe and all credit for its associated contents go to Bioware. This fan-fiction is for enjoyment not for economic gain. I would dearly appreciate any feedback, reviews, or ratings. These chapters are subject to editing so nothing is set in stone until the last chapter is uploaded.
2184CE
Chapter I: Reignite
I cannot remember the last time I have felt true happiness; euphoria; the feeling of an untroubled mind. Since I left Invictus five years ago, I have made my way across the galaxy first selling my gun to the Blue Suns, then to whoever paid me most, and now I am a candidate for the Spectres. It is rather odd. How does a selfish mercenary, morals based off his patron's desires, come to achieve the most selfless, daring, and prestigious position in Council Space? That is a question I am still trying to figure out. What made me go save them? Was it the money I was promised to be paid or did something seep out from a dark corner of my heart that was once securely locked? Each time I ask myself that question, I look to the tattoo etched on my forearm. "Legio XXI: Courage grows strong at a wound". The legion I served with in the Turian military and its motto. I looked at it too when I rushed into that base, outnumbered and wounded. Despite that moment, I do not feel that same inspiration I felt back then as I look at the markings now. Regardless, it both beckons my curiosity and scares me. What happened to the Turian that only did things for himself? What happened to the payment I was promised? That was when I saw Galeria, my sister, step into my hospital room.
"Feeling better?"
I look away from her and out the window, gazing upon the trashy Invictus skies.
"After being away so long, you still won't speak to your own sister?"
"I have nothing to say,"
Galeria glares at me, a fire brimming in her eyes.
"There is plenty for you to say,"
"Fine. Nothing that I want to say,"
"To anyone or just to me?"
I do not answer her; I keep thinking about that time when I left without a word.
"Joran, you know that I wanted what was best for you,"
I turn my head away from the window, a scowl coming upon my face.
"You lie to me, bring me back to the one place I absolutely despise, and then try to force me to conform to yet another ideal? Are you certain you had my best interest in mind or just father's?"
"Joran, I had to lie, how else was I supposed to get you to meet with me? If I showed my face, you would've been out the door and gone for another five years! It was difficult even with my connections in the Cabal to find you!"
"It never occurred to you that I may have hid myself so well on purpose? If a person goes to such an extent to hide themselves, they probably don't want to be found,"
Do you realize how much pain you have put mother through since you left? Father is gone and so is Sectus! All she has is me at home and the fact that her last son is off fighting with lowlifes out in the Terminus Systems!"
"Firstly, Galeria, get your facts straight. The bitch is only in pain because her prestigious husband and ass of a firstborn are dead. Secondly, she did not give a damn about me. You should know that from personal observation,"
Galeria cups her hands around her eyes and presses firmly, she usually did that when she was absolutely upset with me.
"Do you not think that our parents treated you that way because they wanted you to do something with your life?"
I glared at her and with the emotion retracting in her face, she knew she struck a nerve.
"They wanted me to do something with my life? So father beat me, called me trash, paid me no mind, and forced me into the military because he wanted me to do something with MY LIFE? Mother ignored me because she wanted me to do something with MY LIFE? Sectus was permitted to be beat me and treat me like shit because I was not as skilled as he; because our parents wanted him to toughen me up, so I would do something with MY LIFE?"
The room fell silent for a moment before Galeria spoke up once more.
"That's not what I meant,"
"Obviously it was. You've been thinking about it for quite some time. I could never live up to being a Vydros because what I defined as a life was not the definition of theirs,"
A hiss from the door summoned yet another Turian, dressed in refined attire.
"Lieutenant Vydros, I presume,"
My eyes instantly narrow at the accent in his voice, Palaven underlining his every word.
"Not a Lieutenant anymore. I left the military, remember?"
"Joran!" Galeria exclaims, her eyes widening.
"It is quite alright, Sargent. It would appear that he is the epitome of your description,"
"He is a little rough around the edges, Primarch Fedorian, but I assure you he is the one for the job,"
The grizzled Turian looks over me, analyzing me with his piercing, presumptuous eyes.
"It's hard to believe that this merc was the one to, not only save our men, but also take down Octana Revne,"
"He did it, sir, I have the entire thing recorded,"
"I know, I saw the footage. Joran, I presume you know why I am here?"
"My sister informed me. You want to enslave me," I spat.
"Joran!" Galeria barks again but is yet again silence by the Primarch.
"Not so much as enslave but rather recruit,"
"You want me to undergo Spectre evaluations,"
"Precisely, your operation a couple days ago legitimizes your sister's recommendations,"
"How exactly did my sister manage to get you of all people, the Primarch of Palaven, to approve of my Spectre recommendation?"
The Primarch steps toward the window and stares above the city, "A couple years back, I had a personal classified mission I needed someone to undertake, Galeria was the only one to accept it. Your recommendation into the Spectres was a repayment for that favor,"
A dark, rage formed at the pit of my stomach as I turned my attention to Galeria, she avoiding eye contact.
"So do you accept?" the Primarch asks, still gazing upon Invictus.
"No, I don't," I say, pulling my injured self out of the bed.
Galeria rushed to me as I collapse on the ground. I swat her hands away.
"Get away from me!"
The Primarch looks to Galeria with cynicism in his eyes then to my weak self on the floor.
"Well, that is unfortunate," he says as opens his Omni-Tool.
In that moment, two Turian soldiers enter and pull me up from the ground.
"Joran Vydros, you are under arrest for terrorist actions against the Turian Hierarchy," one of the soldiers announces.
"Terrorism? That is a lie!" I exclaim.
"Well, Joran, you were operating with the Blue Suns and, quite frankly, they have taken hostile actions towards the populace of Invictus. We have proof of your association with them during their raid on the Hurin Banking Initiative based in Shastinasio," the Primarch replies, pulling footage up on his Omni-Tool.
"That's fabricated! I was never on the economic front, my job was military!"
"Oh, well, doesn't change the fact that you admitted to associating yourself with the Blue Suns, the Primarch of Invictus would be overjoyed to know that there is one less Sun causing havoc on his home world. I mean, even if the footage is fabricated, no one will believe a heartless mercenary like yourself. It is unfortunate that you did not accept my offer. If you had, your offenses could've been forgiven. Take him away,"
The soldiers' grip tightens as the begin to pull me out of the hospital room. Galeria looks at me with disappointment before turning her head away.
"Okay! Okay! I accept the recommendation!"
"Hold it, gentlemen," the Primarch orders, "I apologize Joran, I do not believe I heard you correctly,"
I shake my head with anger and shattered pride, "I said, I accept the Spectre recommendation,"
The Primarch nods approvingly to Galeria, "Very good, a ship will be waiting to take you to the Citadel upon your discharge from the hospital,"
The soldiers take me and place me back in my bed, a grimace present upon my face.
"Now, I have spent too much time here on Invictus so I must return to Palaven,"
"Of course, Primarch, thank you very much," Galeria says with a gracious nod.
"It was my pleasure, Galeria, but do consider us even," the Primarch looks to me blankly, "I do expect you to act in way that keeps our species in a good light,"
"Yeah, yeah,"
The Primarch walks to the door, "Further information will provided upon your discharge," and returns a hushed chuckle before it hisses closed.
"I'm glad you accepted, Joran,"
I say nothing back to her as I continue to shake my head at the Invictus skies.
Four days later
I step out from the hospital, my armor and equipment latched onto my body. My lungs feel as if corrosion is shriveling up every fiber, slowly taking my breath away from me. As I walk to a bench, waiting for my sister to pull up in her sky car, I see my past everywhere, a younger self parading around in a march of sadness. I sit at the curb, by myself, no friends, no family, just a child sitting amongst everyday strangers. He looks at the puddle of water that sits before him, staring at his reflection, wondering why he was born in a world that refused to understand him. The more I look at him, the more I forget about who I was back then. Nothing but pain comes to me the harder I try to think.
"Joran,"
I look past the dissipating mirage that was my younger self and see a metallic blue object shining in front of me.
"Are you sure the hospital let you leave?" Galeria asked, looking at me with worry in her eyes.
"I'm fine,"
I pick myself up from the bench and slide into the passenger seat. The sky car hovers for a moment before launching into an open space in traffic. I noticed that Galeria tried to slow her speed, trying to lengthen the time she had to converse with me. Unfortunately, for her, I kept my answers short and unattached. When I arrived at the entrance to the spaceport, I immediately leaped from the passenger seat and onto the concrete.
"Are you not even going to say goodbye!?" Galeria exclaimed, a hint of disappointment underlining her tone. "Not even a thank you!?"
I do not look back as I step into the building, rushing to my designated docking bay before Galeria could stall me yet again. People stare at me as I walk through the concourse, some with expressions of recognition and others of curiosity.
"Excuse me, are you Joran Vydros? That mercenary from the Dylex Incident?"
I turn to see a woman, about my age, body held in a subservient stance, gazing upon me with abyssal eyes.
"Yes,"
"I just wanted to thank you personally…for saving my husband…he was one of the legionnaires held captive by Tainau Atruyne,"
When the woman said that name, my mind flashed of fire and blood. A shiver of fear came over me as I began to remember my sudden change in heart.
"Where is your husband now?"
"He headed back out for service, I just saw him off a moment ago,"
The woman crept closer to me, a scowl seeping onto my countenance as my personal space began to shrink.
"Could I trouble you to record a message for my husband? Anything will be fine. It would really mean a lot to him,"
I analyze this woman, my suspicious habit kicking into action. Several questions raced through my mind, as my curiosity was peaked at her intentions.
"I suppose," I reply with a sigh.
The avian woman happily unlocks her Omni-Tool, waiting for my "inspiring" response.
"What's your husband's name?"
"Severus,"
"This is Joran Vydros. I'm glad you've recovered, Severus. I'm here with your wife at Invictus Space Port B. She caught my attention and wanted me to say a few things for you," I paused for a moment, looking to the woman whose smile was filled with pure joy. I should have said something positive to him but it just was not in my nature. "The military is Hell, Severus, and it will drain on you like an Invictusian Leech. You should know that by now, you come from the twenty-first legion. My old legion. Forget that distraction. Your purpose is to serve your comrades. You got a second chance at life, so use it to assist your comrades in any way you can. In the military, there is no me, I, or you. It is us, we, and they. It is unlikely that you will leave your service unscarred, unchanged, uninjured, or alive, so get those thoughts out of your head. Do your job right and do it well and perhaps you will see your wife and home world again,"
I took myself away from the recording and looked at the woman, her pained expression obviously showed disappointment and malcontent. I did not care, she got what she wanted regardless of the way I chose to say it.
"Thank you, I guess…I have to go,"
I nod as I start my way to the designated docking bay. My equipment was checked, my identification verified, my quarters secured, and I was on my way to Citadel space.
The trip was dull, nothing but common chatter from Invictusian Turians all about changing their life once they reached the Citadel. Their words seep into my hearing like a serpent hissing the foulest of deceits. They do not know of the how the real galaxy works, only from what they have seen from Invictus' traditionalist ideology. Granted, any place, other than Tuchanka perhaps, is better than Invictus, the two things that these immigrants will learn are that injustice and corruption are as present on the Citadel as they are on Omega. The only difference between the two is that you at least know no one can be trusted on Omega, unlike the Citadel where they will smile, shake your hand, and then stab you in the back.
The ship finally docks with the Citadel and all its passengers gaze in awe at the bright, pure, structures that make up the installation. Although my mind leans to criticism, even I cannot help but feel something positive pulling within me. When I look out of the reinforced windows, and see all the Citadel has on offer and think about my new chapter as a Council Spectre, I feel like a burnt-out wick of a candle inside me began to reignite.