This is an introduction post for a new Mass Effect PBEM game, which is currently recruiting. We're looking for a small core of players to make great stories with. If you enjoy the story below, and wish to become a part of it, please visit http :/uk .groups. yahoo .com/ group /MassEffectLegacy/
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"Jackson! We're here, get up!"the voice said, distorted through the speakers in the small quarters. The man on the bed grunted, still half asleep. Jackson Hague only stirred as the intercom buzzed again, and a much more agreeable voice took over.
"He never wakes for men over the intercom, Wrane," she said, a hint of amusement in her voice, and Jackson's lips curved into a smile as she continued. "Jackson, it's time to wake up..." It was said with just a hint of breath, or as much as could be breathed through a Quarian mask. Ana'Nara nar Geren was one hell of a tease; and yes, she had always managed to wake him while he had sailed with the gruff yet surprisingly patient Krogan, Wrane.
"Thank you, Ana," Jackson responded, eyes still closed. He took a moment to rise out of the last vestiges of sleep before rolling off the bunk and stretching out, his joints popping as he did so.
"I don't see why you have to play into his horn-"came the slightly hurt and exasperated sounding response from Wrane before the intercom was shut. Jackson chuckled – Wrane had described him recently as being 'so backed up, his testicles would likely blow and take out the starboard environmental systems'. Despite the lack of anatomical knowledge, it was a surprising level of eloquence for the krogan, and Jackson suspected that it had taken a while to come up with. It was based off of the human's 'annoying' habit of flirting with anything that resembled a woman, including the ship's VI. In truth, that was mostly because Jackson found it hilarious that it actually performed slower as it attempted to understand what Jackson was actually requesting. That, and this had once shut off the hot water to Wrane's quarters, mid shower, and the angry krogan had stalked the halls with only the soap to maintain his dignity, looking for Ana, the closest thing he had to a mechanic, to fix the problem so he could finish his monthly cleaning. Ana, of course, knew what the problem was, but mercifully saw the humour in it and didn't mention the source. She and Jackson had laughed long and hard about that 'malfunction'.
They were an odd crew – tough but fun, and loyal – three qualities rarely seen together in a merc ship. Wrane had won the ship and filled it with a small crew looking for private work – Ana had prolonged her pilgrimage to make some credits and have a little excitement, and the two Drell brothers were simply guns for hire who'd needed a ride and gotten used to the lifestyle. Jackson himself had joined last, as an employer. The life of an Alliance Corsair was not as simple as he would have liked at times, but it was undeniably fun, and he got to choose how he lived.
A cup of coffee and a shower later, and he was leaving his quarters on the tiny frigate in full armour, strapping the collapsed weapons onto his back as he went – his sniper rifle over his shoulder, and his SMG at the small of his back. Both built to be light, they suited his infiltrator mix of up close and long distance combat. The frigate itself was basically a stripped down cargo ship, with the forward cargo bay refitted with a couple of Thanix cannons that Wrane had bought on Omega. They were old, sketchy and, at best, unreliable, but they did a good job of scaring away bigger fish. For everything else, Wrane had invested in various cannons, turrets and a VI capable of aiming them. Ana was responsible for maintaining it all, which she did with surprising ease for such a jury-rigged flying death trap, as Jackson had come to think of it. The best part of the Turong was its crew and its ability to deploy a team of heavily armed, privately operated combat specialists with little to no notice, as it was small and robust enough to enter the atmosphere and land on top of the target, unlike most frigates that needed a dedicated docking port, or to send the team in a lightly armoured shuttle. The way the Turong had been used in the past, Jackson was pretty sure the krogan was trying to build a flying battering ram, with the armour and shielding he had gotten hold of. One of the Drell, Jurom, had compared it to a Krogan – 'hard to work with, dangerous to do so at the best of times, and no matter how hard you shoot it, it just refuses to die'. Jackson had liked that. Jard, Jurom's brother, wasn't much of a talker, but was a fantastic Vanguard, mixing his lithe flexibility and biotic power into a whirling blur of death. Jurom was a pretty decent weapons specialist, who could work magic with an assault rifle. They had mentioned that they had been trained in opposite fields to always make up for any shortcomings on the other, so travelling together had just made sense after leaving home. They made an impressive team, and with a pissed off krogan with a shotgun, and Ana hacking anything that moved without a pulse, Jackson had found himself getting through missions he had never expected to walk away from with ease, and their participation had made them fairly wealthy. This one would be interesting, though.
As Jackson entered the bridge, Wrane grunted in his direction.
"We've arrived in the system," Jurom said, from the pilot's seat. Jackson looked down at the holographic map, looking for patrols. "Looks like they're out on a raid – I don't see that many ships." Jackson saw it too – a nice lack of patrol ships to bother them. Intel had been on the money, and their arrival was timed three hours after the departure of the pirate vessels from their 'secret' base. Too bad they had stolen top secret Alliance research, or it might have stayed that way.
"Excellent. Everyone ready for this?" he asked, looking around. Wrane looked slightly insulted.
"I was born ready," he grunted. "Let's go make some money, I've had my eye on... some things in Omega for some time..."
"I really need to introduce you to an Asari dancer," Jackson replied, exasperated – he had come to know that Wrane was talking about a reinforced shield matrix that could absorb more damage per square metre than the Turian model he had bought not six months ago. The krogan looked at ship specs like pornography.
"Blue women for your blue bits, Jackson," Wrane retorted, guffawing. Jackson rolled his eyes, smiling to Ana. She shook with a silent giggle, and Jackson checked his suit integrity. While the ship could land on top of the target, that was not how he intended to arrive.
"I'm heading down," Jackson announced, clapping Wrane on the shoulder. "Try not to break their forces too quickly, it's not as dramatic if I don't leave in a hail of gunfire," he joked, to which the krogan shrugged.
"No promises. Don't take so damn long this time," Jackson feigned a hurtful look.
"Have I ever let you down?" he asked. He hadn't thought krogan could raise an eyebrow before that, but Wrane did just that.
"Gellix."
"Ok, forget I asked," Jackson said, wincing at the reference of their second mission. Jackson's attempt to hack the prison cell Wrane had been thrown into had resulted in the power shorting and the locks being unable to move. Ana had kindly bailed their asses out, though, so they'd all made it back safely. It was damn handy having a Quarian about.
Jackson left the bridge, heading for the rear cargo hold, which could still actually hold some cargo. Right now, it held the gear he'd need – a specially designed jump unit and his breather helmet. As he did his final checks, Ana told him over the intercom that they were now in position.
There was always something counter-intuitive about jumping out of a perfectly good spaceship to enter atmo, but it was an insanely cool way of getting behind enemy lines. His jump unit was a combined heat shield and top of the line parachute, and he would be entering the atmosphere in the wake of the Turong, which would be the main attraction for their sensors while Jackson fell undetected to the other side of the compound, with pretty much free reign to access their higher security areas while the focus was on the front door, and the angry looking krogan.
The fall was very serene; it wasn't noticeable that he was moving at insane speeds; not until he entered the troposphere, when there began to be enough atmosphere to create a roaring wind and a heat shadow from the ship ahead of him, which illuminated every so often as a lucky AA shot hit from the surface, being absorbed by the shields. As they dropped into the cloud layer, Jackson made a slight angle change on his heat shield, changing his trajectory slightly. He hurtled toward the large facility, unfurling the heat shield to create some drag to slow his descent, thankful for his N3 course instructor who had taught him how to do this.
Less than a thousand feet off the ground, Jackson opened his parachute and grunted as the extreme deceleration threatened to relocate his shoulders into his boots. The last minute of descent was interesting, as he watched the ship make a heavy landing on the facility's doorstep, expelling the team out to some deployable cover, and beginning the fight. Alarms were ringing everywhere, but all movement was away from Jackson as he landed on the roof on the north side, cutting his chute free and leaving the heat shield where it fell. A quick hack of the roof's maintenance access, and he descended into the facility, out of sight.
The crawl wasn't easy, but he'd done worse in his time, and within a few minutes, he was quietly replacing the cover to an access tube in a main hallway, now deserted. He quickly and quietly moved towards the heart of the facility, using his tactical cloak as a few guards who had been guarding his objective ran passed to reinforce the front entrance. Jackson grinned – Wrane must be having a ball, he thought.
Once upon a time, this had been a refueling post, but had long since been abandoned, and then new tenants had moved in - the Jovian Moons gang, repurposing the base into their new home. As it was a criminal base, the locks and security measures were not that advanced – mostly stolen tech badly worked together by hands that didn't know what they were doing. Jackson was a pretty good tech, so these didn't present much of a challenge. He continued deeper, meeting no resistance thanks to Wrane and his crew.
As he came to a corner, he stopped and strained his hearing to listen for any guards before turning it.
"..reckon's going on up there?" a faint voice asked, the sound of a thermal clip being slapped home masking the start of the sentence.
"Probably a Blood Pack raid," another voice replied, unconcerned. "Even without our ships, they won't get this far – Krogan and Vorcha make for crap techs, if it becomes a problem, they'll just seal the doors." Jackson let a smile spread as he activated his tactical cloak, silently and almost imperceptibly breaking cover and quickly closing the distance, seeing his targets – two turians sitting down at a table, prepping their weapons, and a third using a console at the far side of the room.
Already knowing how to proceed, Jackson took the last few feet at a run, jumping as his omnitool-blade appeared, seeing the shock in the eyes of the only guard looking in his direction as a human male appeared in front of his eyes, and more to the point, his M-12 Locust barrel appeared just in front of his face, as the omnitool sliced through the armour and into the heart of the other seated guard, who only grunted as the impact knocked the air from his lungs and the life from his eyes. Three thermal rounds ripped through the personal shield and the second was suddenly dead, as well, leaving only the last, who was turning and drawing an assault rifle. Jackson rolled into cover behind the solid bench the first taurian was sitting at, as the third guard opened fire, spraying the room with rounds. The sound of the thermal clip ejecting was his cue, and Jackson dove leapt from cover, emptying the rest of his clip into the last guard, sending an incinerating charge from his omnitool for good measure. Three dead turians and a clear shot to the objective – not bad, he decided, grabbing a thermal clip from the table and loading his Locust.
The console was linked in to the door release, and a few seconds of playing with his omnitool had it stealing the identity of the guard who had been using it before him, giving him almost total access. The facility's power generation was pretty inefficient, and Jackson only had to make a few changes to initiate a runaway energy build up that would, in time, blow every power relay and circuit on the station. Slow - it would take twenty minutes or so, but he doubted any of these mercs would even notice, let alone be able to reverse it. For good measure, he convinced the computer system that access to the power regulation controls was limited to the dead guard by his feet, and then broke the lock to the objective. It was not what he was expecting.
The room was actually a moderately sized dry-dock, criss crossed with catwalks and maintenance ladders. The docking rig was capable of holding a small frigate, judging by the presence of the ship which sat docked to the maintenance rig, but it was unlike any vessel he had come across before. The hull design was a strange mix of different influences – smooth lines and spiked prominences, like an Asari vessel, though these prominences were not as large or grandiose, and they swept backward instead of straight out, mixed with the swept back wing shape of a turian cruiser, lacking the sharp, paneled edges common to the aesthetically disinterested turians. The engines more closely resembled human architecture; all adding up to an odd mix, but one that was oddly beautiful in it's own right. The whole ship was a dull, metallic grey, unreflective but it had a shine to it. It was obviously privately built, though he wondered how the Jovian Moons had managed to acquire such a ship, as most of their fleet was made up of prefab and poorly maintained ships from... just about anywhere. This appeared entirely too advanced for them.
Hearing movement, Jackson took cover behind a small catwalk console and listened, over the distant sounds of gunfire from outside.
"Perhaps its a rescue party?" an unmistakably salarian voice suggested, breathlessly.
"Doesn't sound like an STG party," another, feminine voice responded. "Not quite their style, to attack head on."
"Not at all," the salarian agreed, and Jackson attempted to peek around the small console he was hiding behind. A salarian, an Asari and a human man were all huddled around a well lit workbench, with holographic blueprints and specs listing information about the prototype in front of them. None of them looked well – their clothes were torn and grubby, and none of them looked particularly well fed. "STG would come in the back way, quiet, retrieve us with stealth. But we are all fairly prominent engineers – I imagine both of your governments would want to retrieve you, as well," he continued, in his fast speech.
"I imagine the Alliance wouldn't care so much about me – but they would want the shielding designs the Jovians stole. But I don't see marines rappelling down to rip it out of the prototype," the human said, gesturing his head to the ship. Jackson sighed. It was never this easy – the ship would probably survive the overloads, if sustaining a fair bit of damage, and as a result, the Jovian Moons could start again, and just extract the data from the working model. Deleting the databases wouldn't help that.
Then again, if the ship was operational... a very large grin erupted on his face, and Jackson engaged his stealth generator, silently moving closer.
"Asari commandos aren't known for drawn out conflicts, either – it's entirely possible that it's just another pirate gang hoping to expand," the Asari said, dejectedly. As he listened, Jackson began to understand what was going on – they were engineers, kidnapped for their particular specialisms and forced to work on a new ship for the Jovian's. Clever, as the pirates were able to pillage anything they'd need, but lacked the technical expertise to build anything so grand.
"Well, should we try to escape? The only thing stopping the prototype from flying is the VI onboard, anyone of us could knock it out in a few minutes. It isn't as if the thing can vent us into space while we're down here," the human suggested.
"The mercs on board are armed. If you're hiding some firearms, please feel free to take the ship," the salarian countered. "We couldn't get rid of them, even if we had weapons – none of us have any real combat experience. We have been through all this before; if this is a new gang, we have to hope they're more hospitable than the Jovians."
The entrance to the ship opened, and Jackson activated his tactical cloak as two mercenaries appeared, hurrying across the catwalk to the engineers. A third dragged a quarian in a very precarious looking envirosuit out, pushing him along toward the others.
"The ship has power again," the batarian pirate pushing the quarian announced. "Engines are ready for a full test. Human, your turn."
"Remember – we'll kill the Asari if you don't do it quick enough!" the other batarian said, pointing his heavy pistol at her. She flinched, and Jackson checked his omnitool – fifteen minutes until every power relay started to blow. The human was herded into the ship, while the batarian waited with the Asari and the other captives, waving his gun at each of them and muttering threats and taking delight in making each of them flinch away from him. The door to the ship closed, and Jackson moved forward, quickly closing the gap between himself and the batarian, still covered by his stealth field. But it didn't matter; the batarian never turned around.
"I do look forward to seeing who'll buy you, asari," he was saying, loudly, jerking his gun at the salarian, who made a strangled noise and jumped back. "Don't reckon anyone's buying you - salarian meat is barely good enough for varren. Though no one," he said, shifting his gun, "buys quarian. At least the human can crack rocks without-"
Jackson's omniblade engaged and ripped through his armour and erupted on the other end, sticking directly out of his chest. He dropped to the ground, and Jackson nudged his body off of the catwalk to the stunned silence of his audience. The quarian was struggling to stand, the salarian had literally jumped backwards again as he attacked, and the asari, who looked ready to collapse with relief.
"I hope you don't mind my interrupting," Jackson said, holstering his Locust, "but I'm fairly certain he wasn't going to stop anytime soon. He have me that kind of vibe," he added, looking down at where the body had landed. "Ah damn... he left a streak!" Jackson sighed, indicating where the corpse had hit the hull and left a transfer of blood as the body slid down the sloped ship to the ground below.
"Are you here to rescue us?" the Quarian asked, shakily. Jackson moved to the main console, that held all the research data, including the shield schematics.
"I'll be honest - I wasn't even aware you were here, but I'm not opposed to the idea. Will the ship fly?"
"Yes, but there are two more batarians on board, and they are heavily armed," the Asari replied, regaining some of her composure. Despite the current ensemble, she was just like any asari - gorgeously exotic. Jackson smiled.
"Oh, I think I can take care of them. Let's do that." he pressed his finger to his ear, activating his radio. "Wrane, what's your status?" he asked, as his omnitool began scanning computer files and destroying anything from the Alliance.
"Holding ground. They aren't pressing forward - looks like you're getting your dramatic exit," the reply came.
"Oh, I have no doubt, but I think I have something even better - feel free to take off and watch the show; you're going to love this," he said, grinning, as he set the docking controls to disengage all moorings and physical connectors when the command was given from his omnitool.
"On it, Jackson,"Wrane replied. As he found the information he was looking for, his omnitool made a copy and released a VI virus to ruin the rest of the system.
"Ok, I'm done – time to go, we only have ten minutes before the power generators overload every circuit and turn this place into the biggest fixer-upper in the galaxy," Jackson said, moving toward the scientists. "Can you stand?" he asked the Quarian.
"I wasn't working fast enough, so they jabbed me with a metal spike – it tore the suit," he explained, his glowing eyes obviously half closed in the green mist of his mask. "I'm flooded with antibiotics, but..." the Asari moved to his side and helped him to stand. "Thank you," the Quarian whispered.
"You'll be ok with him?" he asked the Asari, who nodded. "Ok, stay behind me and stay quiet – I'd like to sneak these guys, if possible," he said, hoping to rescue the human scientist as well. A few nods later, and they headed toward the ship, stopping briefly while the salarian, who was named Todir, hacked the door security that he had designed. The asari was an ship designer named Aseil, who had designed (and practically built) the hull, working closely with Brian, the human, who had designed the engines and integrated the shielding matrix. The quarian, Vean, had developed the power systems and the computer core and VI systems, along with all sorts of other subsystems. He had been there the longest.
As they entered the ship, Jackson went first, taking out his Locust as he went. Aseil suggested that Brian would be working on the shield matrix near the forward battery on deck 3. As the airlock was on deck 2, along with the crew quarters, mess and medical bay, and what could serve as an observation area or a very swank office/quarters. The bridge, captain's quarters and Comm Room were on deck 1, while the batarians and Brian were deck 3, in the forward battery, adjusting the shield matrix because, currently, discharging the main gun caused the shield to collapse, making the ship a glass cannon.
"Aseil, take Vean to the engine room, get the power systems ready for take off. Todir, get to the bridge and initiate the startup in... three minutes, that will create a nice distraction," Jackson told them, opening a maintenance ladder to the decks below.
"I will need to deactivate the ship's VI, it will resist our attempts to escape," Todir warned. "Not a problem, takes... 90 seconds, but will need all of us to fly the ship safely."
"You do whatever you need to do to get us ready to fly," Jackson said, as he began descending.
"Will do," the salarian said, as the maintenance hatch shut closed.
As Jackson's feet hit the ground, he dropped into a crouch, drawing his weapon. He could hear raised voices, the batarians had obviously lost their patience and were roughing up the human. There was a long corridor to the open forward battery, where Brian, who seemed to have not worked to his fullest potential, was slumped against the back of the main gun, receiving a kidney shot from the first batarian. Holstering the Locust, Jackson drew the Incisor rifle from over his left shoulder, the barrel and stock extending and reshaping as he did so. It was a light weapon, designed for accuracy and rate of fire over single shot power. It would fire three rounds in the time of one report - bad for moving targets, but great when used correctly. Using his tactical cloak, he crawled into position, turning the scope to the lowest setting and waited for the shot. Brian was tougher than he looked, but he eventually went down, just as the hum of the power systems came up.
"Who's powering the ship?" the left guard asked, looking up at an open power relay. Brian was on the ground, two non moving targets who did not suspect the shot.
Perfect.
The squeeze of the trigger ripped three shots into the first batarian's head, breaking his cloak, but too late for the second, who spotted him just as the next three rounds impacted him in the chest and face. Brian had rolled over to see what had caused the gunshots, and stared blearily and slightly unfocused down the corridor as Jackson stood and hurried to him, helping him up.
"Alliance?" Brian asked, his voice thick with fog - he'd taken a knock or two to the head.
"More or less," Jackson replied, hauling him to his feet. "Come on, we're flying this bird out of here."
"Aseil-"
"Is in the engine room, with Vean. Todir is on the bridge, where we're headed," he added, dragging the slowly recovering man to the elevator. He stank - he hadn't washed in a long while, and was filthy, gaunt from the lack of proper food and general maltreatment. Black hair had grown out long, and an unkempt beard all stood as a testament to his captivity. "It's a big party, and the last one left gets stuck with the bill. I take it the gun still drops the shields?"
"They didn't let me do much work, to be honest," he mumbled, as the elevator rose to deck one. Todir was running about the bridge, activating consoles.
"Put Brian there," he said, pointing at a console with the defensive systems readout. Jackson helped him into the seat and left him to manage the kinetic barriers, while he took the helm. "I hope you have a better plan than shooting the front door," the salarian said, his fingers flying over a console, bringing the engines online.
"Oh, yes, I have a few," Jackson said, as he tapped the consoles in front of him. The blast from the main guns consumed all the air in the dry dock, blowing out the main doors, the remnants being ripped from their places by the ensuing vacuum, as the air rushed in. Ample space for the ship to exit. "Admittedly, I didn't ever intend to use any of these other plans, but I did have some," he finished, shrugging as he tapped the code on his omnitool to release the moorings, which clunked and banged against the hull, echoing through the halls. He engaged the thrusters, and the strange ship began to push forward, exiting the hanger just as the first power relays began to blow, taking out the main computer core and everything else. Ana would later tell him that it was quite the light show; first watching the GARDIAN lasers blow out the hanger doors, and then the cascading electrical discharges and electromagnetic pulses as the fusion reactors overloaded and ruptured. But Jackson couldn't see this, much to his lasting regret, as he powered the main engines and the ship shot into the sky, heading for the stars.
The now free engineers were kind enough to put the ship into a decent bill of health, once they were safely away from the base. As soon as they broke atmosphere, Wrane and Jackson agreed on a FTL jump out of the system, so they wouldn't be around when the rest of the Jovian ships arrived. Ana, Wrane, Jurom and Jard all took a tour of the new ship with Jackson, impressed by the mix of designs. Ana immediately asked to help Vean, taking him to the medical bay with her briefcase of antibiotics and herbal supplements. Jackson sighed; it was a romance in the making, he just knew it.
Wrane was kind enough to give Jackson some supplies to see them to the nearest transport hub; Illium. No matter where the engineers were bound, they could get there from Illium, access bank accounts and contact loved ones. And Jackson could get started on his paperwork, of which he had a lot to catch up on, considering the time he had spent with Wrane's crew.
After a few days of repairs, the prototype ship was fully operational, with all the little tweaks and quirks ironed out and made pretty. Brian had easily rectified the problem with the shields; as it turned out, the entire glitch was just Brian hoping the ship would be blown to pieces in her first fight. Fixing it was merely a retuning and slight alteration to the parabolic shape of the forward shields. In fact, most of the problems with the ship were intentional faults put in by the designers, hoping to delay completion or just passively resist their captors. Jackson was surprised how quickly it all came together - less than four days drifting between star systems, and the ship was ready. Jackson had been given the captain's quarters, which, while bare of any decoration, were still very comfortable. The fourth day found him reading the brief on the ship, written by Aseil, who he had tried and failed to flirt with, due to her rather strong bond with Brian. There was a lot of technical detail, but the summary was that the ship was no match for top of the line military hardware, but was a force to be reckoned with in the civilian market. It was about this time when the door chime sounded, and Jackson stood, stretching out.
"Come in," he called, and was glad he did when Ana appeared in the doorway, leaning against the bulkhead. "Ah, Ana," he said, giving her his best smile. "could this be the sexy visit I've been waiting for?" he asked, coyly. She snorted with laughter.
"You wish, horny bastard," she said, affectionately. He could literally hear her smile, even if he couldn't see it. "This is a 'Todir says the VI is back up and reprogrammed, so now it's only 30% as homicidal as before'," she said, still amused. "He also said that he couldn't wait to get as far away from this ship as he could, which is hardly surprising. The others you freed, they seem happy to forget everything about it."
"Understandable - they had a gun to their head throughout the whole business, along with all the beating and threats... any reason to tell me this?" he asked, a little confused. Ana pushed herself off of the wall, stepping into the room. The door closed behind her, and the space between himself and Ana was cut in half. Damn, she was good.
"Well, they all seem to agree that they don't want to keep the ship, but they don't want to destroy it... so they decided to give it to you, instead of selling it. I think you made an impression," she said, the lilt of a laugh in her voice. He took a surreptitious step forward, closing the distance a little bit more. The slight twitch of her hips told him she was very aware of his move, and approved. She was grinning, just like him - he could sense it.
"Well, that's... very generous of them..." he said, huskily as they were now only a foot apart. "but I'd need a crew - at the very least, an engineer - someone to help keep the ship running, and..."
"Yes?" she asked, knowing full well what he was aiming for.
"Well, it would be great to have someone who'd make the lonely nights... seem a little less so..." He could see himself mirrored in her rose tinted visor, could see her eyes, seductively half closed, as he body leant forward towards his, just as his was leaning towards her.
"Seems like I would be perfect for the job..." she whispered, seductively, as they began to move into each other's personal space. She looked up into his eyes, leaned up onto her tiptoes, and said, breathlessly, "Too bad I already have a ship..."
And like that, the game was over. Both of them fell about, laughing together. As they came to a finish, Ana and he sat on the bed, as the friends they had always been.
"It really is too bad," Jackson admitted, sighing. "We would have had a wild ride together."
"Yeah, we would," she admitted, the mist in her visor being blown by her breath as she recovered from the laughing fit. "But can you see Wrane flying that death trap without me? I stop that bucket from falling apart every other day! He can't even fit in the maintenance shafts, let alone do anything about the leaky fusion reactor, the induction coil erosion or the atmo filter's lack of filtering after forty hours of use; and those are just the small problems!"
"Yeah... I suppose you're right," he admitted, regretfully. He wanted to tell her she'd regret it, too, but it wouldn't work. No - a gracious exit would be better. "I am going to miss you, Ana'Nara nar Geren," he said, honestly. She leaned into him in a sideways hug, leaning her head on his shoulder.
"I'll miss you too, Jackson Hague," she said, sadly. "you better keep in touch, you know. I don't want to have to make Wrane turn the ship around to come find you," she joked.
"Oh, is that all it will take to keep you about?" he joked, still holding her. "Duly noted." She slapped his arm, playfully, but didn't pull away. "Don't worry, you'll hear from me. I better get some obscene vids from you, too; flying about without a crew is going to give me a LOT of free time, and I'll have to fill it with... something..." he said, suggestively. She hit him again, a little harder, but no less playful.
"I'm sure we'll sort out something to pass the time," she said, breaking the hug. "Keelah se'lai, Jackson..."
"Keelah se'lai, Ana," he replied, as they said their goodbyes.
Jackson watched from the observation deck as the Turong accelerated towards the Mass Relay, adjusting her course until the Mass Effect Drive initiated, and she shot off into the stars. It was with no small amount of regret that he didn't turn his ship towards the Sahrabarik system and join them. Instead, he stood watching the mass relay for a few moments, before turning and heading for the bridge.
"Propulsion systems ready," Todir said, as he walked into the command centre. "Course to Crescent Nebula, Tasale System, locked in. Ready to engage Mass Effect Drive." Jackson took his seat in the captain's chair - his chair now, he supposed, and nodded towards Todir.
"Let's go to Illium," he said.
As Todir engaged the drive, the ship began to hum, and he could feel the energy in the walls gathering as the ship accelerated, and he felt a rush as it blew into the energy of the relay, blasting through the light barrier, enveloped in the shimmering blue energy field that made crossing the immense distance to Asari Space more than just a dream.
"The journey will take one hour, seventeen minutes and thirty seven seconds," Todir announced, and Jackson had to bite his tongue to keep from remarking on his exactness. "Mr Hague, we have agreed that this ship should become yours, but there is one thing that you need to do before we reach asari space," he said, turning in the helm seat to see Jackson's puzzled look. "The ship requires a registry. A name," he clarified. Jackson understood, feeling oddly honoured that he got to name it. Name her, he corrected himself. That thought then led him to wonder if her name might be Ana'Nara. He was sorely tempted - he certainly didn't mind the idea of being inside Ana while flying about the galaxy. But if she was ever aboard, the nomenclature confusion would certainly cause a few more strikes to the arm. Worth it, but no.
"I'll give it some thought," he said, leaning back into the chair. The ship needed a name, and one that reflected its nature. It was a joining of four races, a mongrel, taking the strengths of each. And then he had it - a name that described the ship perfectly...
Illium space was as crowded as ever, as they decelerated into orbit. Hundreds of private vessels hung above the planet, gracefully drifting while awaiting landing permission. To this great herd of ships, the newly named Chimera maneuvered, holding distance from the surface while Aseil spoke to the locals, negotiating a special waiver on the usual docking permits and levees, based on Jackson's special services to the Asari in recovering one of their scientists, and once that was in place, the whole process went surprisingly quickly. Once planetside, Todir, Aseil, Vean and Brian all took their leave, thanking him one last time before being engulfed by the crowd of people, heading towards their respective destinations. Jackson himself turned towards the skycar taxi, to take him to the entertainment district. He got out by the riverside clubs, and took a moment by the railings, looking out over the water as the sun set to his left. It was serene, even with the loud club music bleeding through the walls.
"Hague." It was not a question or a greeting, and Jackson sighed. Just his luck; the one handler on the planet that frequently went through elective procedures to dig the stick in his ass just a little bit deeper, and Jackson got shuffled to him.
"Bentham," he replied, deadpan. The man beside him was all military. The poster child of regulation and procedure; the ultimate pen pusher. His moustache was Alliance issue and cut to regulation; trimmed every morning, and just enough to tickle whatever ass he was kissing at the time. His clothes screamed military, even though he was supposed to be blending in.
"Major," he corrected, and Jackson rolled his eyes. "You're still a member of the Systems Alliance, Staff Lieutenant, and I suggest you remember it."
"Still vying for that promotion to jackass, Major Bentham?" he offered, immediately satisfied with the look on his face. His nose was threatening to consume his moustache. One day, Jackson decided, I'll make that bloody thing disappear.
"Black. Comm room. Now!" he barked, and Jackson waved as he walked away - he'd pay for it, but sticking it to Major Bentham, who was the biggest setback in humour since the Hanar standup comedy competition, was totally worth a bit of administrative leave; he'd earned a holiday, anyway.
Jackson made his way to the Ornithological Expeditions Society Centre, where he would take the call. Black was actually Admiral Black, the officer in charge of the Corsair initiative, and Bentham's superior. And Jackson's. The comm room was nicely hidden in the back room of the most boring building on Illium - the Ornithological Expeditions Society was very rarely visited by anyone in the party centre of the planet. The place was empty, as ever, and he used his omnitool to open the hidden door, leading down to the comm room. As he entered one of the three transmission pads, the blue hologram of a familiar Admiral came into view. He was fairly young, as Admirals went, and Black was not his real name, but it really didn't matter; he was involved in his troops, and Jackson had respect for the man, which made his previous outburst suddenly a guilty memory.
"Do you realise Bentham has already filed a misconduct report?" the exasperated fifty-something man said, placing the pad he had been reading down on an invisible table.
"Must have had it pre-written," Jackson admitted, wincing.
"I give you a lot of rope, Hague," he continued. "and you get results, but every time you get back to the fleet, you try your best to hang yourself with it!"
"To be fair, the Major was being a royal pain in the-"
"Do you really want to finish that sentence, Staff Lieutenant?" the Admiral asked, seriously. Jackson remained quiet. "Good answer. The reason Bentham outranks you is not because of his ability as a Corsair; truth be told, I put him in administration to keep him from screwing up. He got to be Major by following the chain of command, not doing whatever he damn well pleased." He sighed. "I hear you have a ship now," he said, changing the subject. "I imagine the three weeks of administrative leave will give you a chance to fill it. Unpaid. Be thankful your last two months have been so successful - it weighed in heavily when deciding between A.L and demotion."
Jackson sighed; he didn't need the money so much, and three weeks off wasn't exactly torture, but it was annoying that he was being punished for messing with an ass like Bentham. But the Admiral was right - he always was. "Understood, sir," he replied, standing to attention. He'd need a crew - maybe this leave wouldn't be so bad...
"I've transmitted you dossiers on potential candidates for your next crew. All are new/potential assets, none are aware of the Corsairs, and should not be made aware. Same old rules, Jackson; use the old cover stories. You're doing good work, just try to remember that you and officers like Bentham are on the same side. Black, out."
Jackson stepped off the transmission pad, exited the safe house and returned to his ship. It was strange, knowing he was the only person on board - a feeling of odd loneliness overcame him, and he wondered of a way to fill the void. He decided to get to work, connecting his secure terminal to the extranet and, first, punched in to some music that he had the VI play throughout the ship. Next, he logged in to the Corsair network, beginning to look over the dossiers...
Jackson Hague
Human Infiltrator
Systems Alliance Corsair