No recognizable species, races, or locations owned by me.
Dramatis Personae:
Mitchell Kramer, male human, Captain Dragon Gem
Synamon Graves, female human, first mate Dragon Gem
Mortus Arrhyn, male turian, salvager Dragon Gem
Onboard salvage ship Dragon Gem, vicinity quarian space, September 21 2286 GST
I'm feeling lucky today.
"I think we've got one."
"On-screen. Magnify, identify."
The dull tones of the ship's computer sounded within a second of the command. "Hull composition and outline suggest geth design. No exterior tampering detected. Calculate high probability of virgin find."
Excellent.
And I, Mitchell Kramer, was the one to find it.
"Hey, Mort, you spike-face. Guess what I found?"
"It could be a live Reaper for all I care. As long as I get my cut!" The surly turian groused.
"Damn, did Syn piss in your dextro-flakes without letting me watch? Lighten up! Its a geth ship."
My remarks earned me a playful slap from my first mate and lover, and a metal-melting gaze from the turian hire skulking in the galley.
Turning back to my console while muttering, I opened the details on the scan findings.
Heavy mix on rare earths and strong composites, textbook geth. Sweeping lines, but logical interior. Platforms and equipment detected, all nonfunctional.
The platforms were worth thousands on the black market, the computers onboard even more.
And as soon as we carve up that hull and yank the cables, we'll be able to pay off this ship and upgrade!
I sighed in content and glanced over at Syn, taking her hand. "Hey, baby. Ready to be rich and treated like a princess?"
Giving me one of her special coy looks, she giggled a bit. "You already treat me like a princess, Mitch."
"Spirits, don't you two ever stop sucking face ... or other parts of your fleshy anatomies?"
In response I leaned over and gave Syn a noisy kiss.
"We've been doing this for fifteen years getting the leftovers. Now we get to do the leaving over!"
I plotted the course, triumphant.
One hour later
"Pull us alongside. Extend umbilical," I ordered.
"Alongside ventral, umbilical extended."
I keyed the comm.
"Its all you, Morty boy. Take those fancy scanners we got from the quarians and tag the machinery."
"Yes, Captain. I'll alert you of anything notable."
Clad in a basic rebreather and environment gear, the turian carried an encyclopedic scanner and a small cutting torch.
"So, Captain, what will we do with our earnings?" Syn had walked behind me, massaging my shoulders just how I liked.
Fifteen years together had its perks.
"I was thinking, maybe a nice seaside home just like you've always wanted, a large trust set aside for your parent's retirement fund ... and a huge diamond ring on your finger."
The fingers kneading my neck heated up a bit, digging harder into my muscles.
I reached my left hand around to gently hold Syn's wrist. "Honey, you mean more to me than anything ..."
"Captain, I've gained entry to the bridge, running scans for ID now."
All those years ago in the Reaper War, the geth had shared all archival data with the rest of the galaxy. It was with these records modern salvagers attempted to ID their finds.
"Good. Let me know what you find."
"The platforms are strewn about. Not organized at all. Several are in pieces."
"Ok. Keep in touch." I shut off the display.
"He sure does know when to interrupt, doesn't he?"
Almost like he waits for some icon to jump up on his visor HUD. Press THIS to interrupt!
I sighed, the tender moment from earlier broken. "I'm not sure I'm liking the platforms being in pieces or strewn about though."
"Oh, come on," Syn said, "a galactic energy burst that wiped out synthetic life wouldn't be neat and orderly!"
"True, but when we hired this guy back on Feros he said he'd been on geth salvages before. And he took the time to comment on it." Reason, logic. Plus a bit of jumpiness.
"I suppose." Syn relented, more to end the discussion.
"Ship registers as a geth science ship. Scientific equipment is of unknown purpose. Attempting to switch on to determine."
Visions of an incalculably vast bank account danced before my eyes. Geth science vessels were some of the rarest finds.
"Unless my deductions are incorrect, it appears this lab was responsible for trying to create a dimensional-tunneling super-light drive ..."
"Which would mean space travel could theoretically faster than the more accepted alternative of space-folding."
And that's a modern design!
"Correct. From the backup logs, the calculations are based on energy to create certain sized tears; the geometry of which would determine the endpoint."
"Well, damn. Thats even crazier than boson/anti-boson annihilation drives!" Syn remarked.
My girl knows her tech all right.
"Agreed. Will attempt a datamine."
I keyed off the line.
"So how about that, Syn? We get the creds from the metals, and can set our price to any academic group for the research."
"And just a few moments ago you were worrying about the platforms." Wry, dry, and fine. Like wine.
I couldn't help but chuckle a bit. "Maybe I was a bit hasty. As long as theres no Frankenstein or Khan awaiting us I think we can begin salvage within a few hours."
Synamon leaned in for a kiss when the comm system erupted.
"Nononono please no AAAAAUUGH Spirits no ... "
The rest of the transmission contained only hellish screams, both vocals of the turian reaching so high that his throat had to be splitting from the pressure.
Rising from my chair, I cut the comm channel.
"What the hell?" Syn shouted, visibly shaken.
Without acknowledging, I reached underneath the pilot's console and unclipped the simple particle shotgun.
Checking over the readings to ensure full charge and heat balance, I grabbed a few spare charge packs and thermal clips.
"I'm going over there, Syn."
"The hell you are! Lets get out of here! A simple shotgun against even the antiques like the geth won't do much for you!"
"Look, I know you're concerned ..."
"Concerned? Mitch, Do you think I'd prefer to be rich or still have you? And don't give me the whole 'veteran' line. You were in one battle at the end of the Batarian Reclamation!" The wild look in her eye told me she was speaking out of emotion.
Women.
"Syn, I can't leave him." I set my jaw and hardened my gaze. Because that's how you win arguments.
Syn leveled her gaze. "You mean you can't leave this find." Her arms were crossed now. Vibrant eyes blazed hotter than a vorcha orgy.
"Hired help or hanar hooker, its just not right to abandon someone! I'll bet it was just a mibble or something."
Before Syn could protest further, I strode off to the umbilical.
Because that's how you end arguments.
A few minutes later
Earlier bluster aside, I couldn't help but clutch the shotgun tightly, primitive survival senses tuned tighter than a volus virgin.
Better find a log terminal quick, see if there are automated defenses. He might've tripped one.
The interrupted lines of the interior pressed on my psyche.
Nausea rose as stress and unease spiked, stale air sticking in my lungs. The pale glow of arcane alien technology affected my night vision, causing oily shapes to appear just at the range of my vision.
Taking great care to not make noise, I knelt at a log terminal and fished in my belt for a data adaptor.
Finding the correct piece, I set my omnitool to decrypt and display, converting geth mathspeak to Khelish.
My implanted translator decoded the sigils for my brain, allowing me to make sense of the reports.
I displayed the first log.
Log Unit 999:
Early test of existing postulated theorems concerning dimensional tear travel yields large probability of success. Resulting technological advances will prove invaluable to geth galactic standing, also should provide contingency should Shepard-Commander fail in stopping the Old Machines.
Unit 6969 has shown an alarming tendency for erratic behavior organics would label 'humor'. Current behavior shows significant chances of alteriNEVER GONNA GIVE YOU UP NEVER GONNA LET YOU DOWN NEVER GONNA RUN AROU-
END LOG
I stared at the last paragraph for a few seconds.
Geth with humor? This mission must date to late stages of the Reaper War.
I looked up and around, checking for suspicious activity.
Seeing nothing, I keyed the next entry.
Log Unit 999:
Device for dimensional tear appears ready for field test. Calculating tear geometry, preparing drone.
LIBERATE TUTEMET EX INFERNIS
The next passage was in a small font.
Unit 6969, please refrain from overriding input. Additionally, while your quote is acknowledged as 'situational irony', analysis of Latin language concludes the linguistically correct phrase to b-
END LOG
If nothing else, these log entries alone were worth a fortune to the right museum.
Glancing around again, I shook my head to clear it.
Damn geth glow lamps. Now all these shapes are swimming around me. How can I look around when my eyes won't adjust?
A low moan resounded through the dark corridor, the inorganic contours twisting the sound into a hellish plea.
In an instant, I raised my gun, heart slamming at its pale cage of bone.
I advanced with a silent step, swinging at every shadowy movement.
In a sharp whisper, I attrmpted to locate him.
"Mort! Mort! Where are you? Its me!"
Again, the tortured sound emanated from the dim hall, alien acoustics perverting the source.
"Come on, man, be more specific please!" I kept my voice low, but projecting.
Sweat poured off my brow, lungs burned from forced light breathing, muscles ached from the tension.
Three more steps ...
"No no no no go no please no not with no kill me kill me no ... "
I'd gotten close enough to perceive a stream of moans, each syllable pathetic and frantic at the same time. The shadows danced around, the occasional flickering glowlamp distorting my night vision.
The rank smell of evacuated turian colon threatened to overpower my gullet. Mort had to be in a bad way if he crapped himself.
Regretting my lack of a floodlight, I sprinted to a quivering shape on the deck.
I activated my omnitool for its light, blinking back at the sudden orange, trying to adjust to the new shadow patterns.
"Mort! What the hell happened?"
Blue blood flowed from his pores, mandibles peeled almost parallel to the floor. Stiff talons clawed at his head, scraping his plates raw.
Groans emerged, but no sensible translation.
"I need to know! Was it a booby trap?" What he knew would keep the salvage operation ready.
Small eyes widened, back arched and talons reached to dig into the skin of my arm.
"No time no death no life only being dont let me go please no!"
The extent of his injuries told me he wouldn't last long. The slick blood ran through deck grating, shorting an exposed circuit just below.
"What, afraid of turian heaven?"
Real smooth, Mitch.
"Nonono not heaven no rest no paradise not here there oh spirits not there they want me stop them kill me kill me kill me!"
Starting to shake, a tight clenching in my gut, I raised the shotgun to his head, shaking with adrenalin release.
"I'm sorry."
My finger started to squeeze ...
But an unseen force threw me back, head slamming a bulkhead.
Sickly violet lances of pain shot through my skull, but renewed shriekings of the turian added a new layer of agony.
As I lamely watched in a crumpled heap, vision dark and unfocused, Mort twisted at unnatural angles and then ...
Vanished.
Even with my vision showing blots, I rose and took off for the Gem, staggering and bouncing off obscene angles.
A blind panic lent me speed, breathing harsh and fast.
I crossed the umbilical, closed the hatch, and stumbled onto the Gem, sure I had just reached safe haven.
"Syn, get us out of here! We need to go!" My frantic calls were met with no response.
Heaving into the cockpit, I turned the copilot's chair to confront Syn, ready to apologize and beg forgiveness.
But in the seat was merely a rapidly desiccating thing. It writhed and contorted, and then I saw the eyes.
What were once blue and vivacious were brown pustules, unholy tendrils snaking from the sockets.
A full mouth that had once been the source of many passionate memories snapped and howled as a demon, possessed by some vulgar force.
The sight stopped my heart in fright, and in that very same moment the shifting shapes converged on me.
A central blot shot eight long, thin whips inside me. Nostrils, ears, eyes, urethra, and rectum were all violated by a source so foreign it defied sensation.
Hellish heat and bitter cold vied for dominance in my brain, receptors tormented by an overload of alien signal.
My lungs filled and released countless times, screams so intense they gashed my throat, blood freely flowing.
Tendons snapped, skin shredded, bones shattered in the grip of the abomination. A spike slammed my brain, imparting me with intent.
You will follow to where there is no time, no death, no life; only being. This will be your eternity.
Eternity.
A/N: written for the 'Make Lady K Scream' challenge on Aria's Afterlife. Many thanks to Aeternix for helping me see how to extend the sequences!