Chapter One
What the fuck is that thing? Also Calibrations
Everything was oddly calm. For the Normandy, anyway. The only sounds able to be heard were the small whirrings of the ship's inner mechanisms turning and spinning, and the sounds of the ship's crew breathing easily as they slept. Even Mordin had reverted to an odd state of slow drowsiness.
Knowing the luck of Normandy, however, this perfect state of serenity didn't last long.
It hit the drifting vessel with enough force to startle the dozing crew into a state of awareness, and soon after, a chorus of emergency sirens began to blare.
Shielding his eyes from the throbbing red glow of the warning lights - a red glow that was now flooding through the Normandy's sleek corridors - Commander Shepard angrily threw himself out of bed and stomped towards EDI. The VI was already active and glowing, as if she'd been anticipating a livid confrontation from her commander.
"What the fuck happened, EDI?" Shepard growled, dull blue eyes barely opened as they glared as hard at the quiet VI.
EDI took a small moment to answer, and when she did, her voice was the same dull hum as always.
"An anomaly has struck the ship," she apathetically reported. "Though the Normandy hasn't taken any major damage, I suggest that the anomaly be removed as quickly as possible."
Shepard gave an agitated sigh.
"Turn the alarms off, EDI!" he ordered in a shout, so that he could be heard over the offending blaring groans.
The alarms died down, though at a much slower pace than the Commander would have liked.
So, the thing would have to be removed? Far too lazy to actually perform such a feat himself—and considering that he didn't trust the majority of the crew to do it—Shepard decided upon sending Legion out of the airlock to remove whatever had defaced his dear Normandy.
After all, Legion could breathe while out in the void of space, and he never really did anything productive while he was stationed in the Normandy; all he ever really did was sit in the AI core and...well, Shepard wasn't quite sure of what Legion did in there.
Hopefully not anything creepy. Ew. Can robots masturbate? The thought is gut- wrenching.
At initially being approached by his Commander in regards to the removal of the anomaly, Legion had—of course—showed the most reverence and loyalty to Shepard by accepting the task.
Shepard had considered returning to bed, but with the entire crew awake and bumbling around doing God-knows-what, he decided that the best course of action would be to remain stationed at the control deck. For a while, he amused himself by pretending to listen to Kelly while she prattled on about this-and-that, but of course, talking to her always led to baseless flirtation, and on that day, Commander Shepard was having none of that.
He shut her down, more than once, before finally moving on to interrogate Joker on why he wasn't working as effectively as he could.
Joker put the blame on his bad legs and unsatisfactory academic life, but just like with Kelly, Shepard was having none of that.
It took a long time—more than a few hours—for Legion to finally return with the offending anomaly clutched tightly to his armored chest. The anomaly itself was a round thing, about the size of a beach ball, and appeared human in design. It had a lens, though it was dim, and the whole thing appeared in disrepair.
"Shepard-Commander," Legion chirped as he approached Shepard, who was eyeing the round anomaly with a gaze that radiated suspicion. "We've recovered the object."
Shepard rubbed his brow and gave an exasperated sigh.
"What is it?" he asked. "Is it Geth?"
Legion looked down at the peculiar sphere in his arms.
"We have not come to a consensus," he answered as he looked back up at Shepard.
Odd. As a creature of synthetic origin, Shepard found it strange that Legion couldn't identify the anomaly that he held to his chest. Well, whatever it was, it appeared offline and unable to function.
Maybe Garrus could use for it something? He'd probably enjoy the prospect of pulling apart some random drone and picking through its wires and memory core (granted that it had one).
"Pass that along to Garrus," Shepard ordered. He gestured a thumb back towards the elevator. "He'll have a good time with it, I'm sure."
Garrus huffed noisily and gave a nearby stray bit of metal an angry smack. His calibrations that day weren't going well so far. In fact, he'd been up for hours trying to perfect them. He was running on a slim two hours of sleep, and those damn sirens weren't helping his already throbbing headache.
The only thing that could piss him off more would be some kind of random interruption.
"Archangel."
Of course.
"I told you not to call me that, dammit!" Garrus roared as he spun around to face his synthetic addressor.
Legion looked down at the odd thing in his arms and then back up to Garrus, giving a soft hum as he did so.
"Shepard-Commander instructed us to deliver this," he spoke and held up the strange ball.
Hm. What...was that? Garrus would be lying if he said that what Legion offered didn't peak his interest.
"What is it?" the turian grunted as he crossed the room to accept the object that Legion offered. It was bulky and awkward in his hands, and he roughly turned it every-so-often to get a better idea of its construction. "A...satellite?"
"The origin of the object cannot be determined at this time."
So, it was a mystery?
"Alright, I'll take a look at it," Garrus answered, giving a disinterested shrug.
Legion took his much appreciated leave without another word.
It had been a few hours since Legion had dropped off that ball. Garrus had said that he'd get to looking into it, but of course, that was a lie. He had gone back to his calibrations, but this was done in vain. With that strange sphere in the room, he wouldn't be able to concentrate on anything else.
He picked up the ball and again began to turn it repeatedly. Where would he start?
By the looks of it, the thing had a small hatch on its back. Garrus picked at it for some time, his frustration mounting at his continual failures to get the thing open. Eventually, after much grunting and growling, Garrus finally pulled the hatch open. Though a small success, it was enough to brighten up his gloomy day.
"Alright," he mused and stared into the small square opening. "Wow...this is a mess..."
Truly, it was. Within the round anomaly was a tangle of circuits and wires.
Well, if he didn't start now, he figured that he never would. As delicately as he could, Garrus began to pull at wires, cross circuits and clean out whatever gunk that he found. This took quite some time, as this...thing proved to be more intricate than he had anticipated. But finally, after much hot toiling, it would seem that Garrus had finally brought the thing to life.
Beep beep boop beep beep...whirrrrrwhirrrrrhwiirrrrrr...
The optic on the thing started to flicker as the eye shutters – they were eye shutters? – started to move.
This thing...was turning on?
Garrus, quite proud of his own work, finally put on a smile. He set the object down on the floor. In all honesty, he was done with it. He'd probably throw it out the airlock later – or maybe he'd pawn it on Omega.
"This... This is fantastic! Not being in space, getting hit by particles of dust... just... nice, cozy... gravity..."
A-Ah... Did that thing just...talk?
At this point, all Garrus could do was...stare at the thing. He'd honestly pegged it to be some sort of high-tech security cam or drifting satellite, not...uh...whatever it was now.
"Um, hello," Garrus spoke, his voice unsure. He raised a hand and waved awkwardly.
"Uh, yes, uh, hello," the sphere spoke, eye wide. "You're quite... uh... rough... looking."
Was that supposed to be a compliment? Or just...a stated fact?
"...thanks," Garrus said. He looked around, as if hoping for someone else to join in on the awkward conversation. Legion would probably be a major help right now.
"Yes, that's, uh, good. Good to uh, meet... meet a... whatever you are," the sphere said. "If you could er, pick me up. Just bend on over, pick me up... and... tell me where I am."
The sphere's eye darted towards Garrus's hands. The turian looked down at them and made a face.
Well, it couldn't hurt, could it?
Garrus bent over and grabbed the sphere, holding it up at eye level.
"You're on the Normandy," the turian explained. "You're...in space."
"No don't mention that word," the sphere quickly blurted out. "I've had enough of that bloody word."
Was this sphere neurotic, or something?
"Sorry," Garrus quietly apologized, although he wasn't sure why he had bothered to do so. "Anyway...where did you come from? Your insides looked particularly...advanced."
"I'm from a dirty old lab down in Aperture. It's nothing, really. Just the fact that I was hand crafted out of top of the line materials that scientists put painstaking hours into."
"Aperture?" Garrus shook his head, "Nevermind, I don't want to know"
The sphere seemed to be mulling something over in its head, then finally it spoke. "So I'm assuming you're a... cancer victim of some sort?"
"...what would lead you to believe that?" Garrus scoffed and shot the sphere an accusatory glare.
"I mean it would account for the rather unpleasing appearance. Not that I mean you're ugly, oh no I just meant that. Uh, you look rather, uh..."
"Non-human?"
"Yes, that."
Garrus sighed, "I'm a turian. We come from a high-pressure planet called Palaven."
"Ah," the sphere said, feigning like he knew what the turian was talking about. In reality he had no idea. "Makes total and complete sense. Knew that from the beginning, of course. I'm Wheatley, it's great to meet you. With air. And gravity."
The turian opened his mouth to answer, but something happening behind the sphere interrupted his train of thought. Something was sparking.
Oh no. No no no no no no. Had something gone wrong with his calibrations?
With further investigation and after much pointless fretting, Garrus found that his calibrations had not gone wrong. No, it appeared that Wheatley himself was spraying sparks, and quite a lot at that.
"Would you like me to take a look at that?" Garrus offered. "I think I can patch that up for you."
Without bothering to wait for a response, Garrus turned Wheatley around in his hands and began to address the sparking problem. He pulled the hatch open again and began to fiddle around with the wires, crossing the circuits again and stimulating the sphere's synthetic nerves.
"Wait hang on, just a moment, don't just fi—nnnngh..."
Wait what. A noise of... pleasure? Could robots even feel pleasure? Garrus, his curiosity piqued, began to work with Wheatley's wires again. He crossed them, rubbed them, and twisted them so that they were but sensitive knots.
"Wheatley, are you alright?" the turian whispered, concerned.
Wheatley's only response was a shuddering moan, and it was a noise so completely wrought with pleasure that it brought a rare blush to Garrus' face.
"Do it again," the sphere whimpered. "Do it again."
Would it be rude to deny Wheatley such a priveledge? Probably, since it seemed that Wheatley had traveled such a long way... He was probably lonely and feeling quite strange in such a new place. It was Garrus' duty to make him feel comfortable on the Normandy, was it not?
Garrus snuck his fingers deeper into Wheatley's warm compartment, and he stroked at the fibrous wires, stimulating the filaments and the sensitive nerves. The inside of him was messily packed with wires. Garrus was doubting the robot's claims of being expertly put together.
He was a mess on the inside – a hot mess.
Wheatley let out another whimpering moan. It was just like when he was in charge of Aperture; the rush of euphoria when Chell completed the tests.
It was fantastic.
Why were the noises that Wheatley emitted so delicious, so pleasing to Garrus' ears? As time wore on, it was becoming more and more difficult for the turian to keep his cool. In fact, he was having trouble remembering why he had started fiddling with Wheatley in the first place. All he could think about now was the rush of blood pooling in his nether-regions. His turian manhood was beginning to make his armor more and more uncomfortable.
Fuck it.
The turian placed the sphere onto his workstation. Wheatley looked disappointed. Garrus stripped himself of the lower-half of his armor, leaving him in his boxers.
"Wait, what are you doing?" Wheatley panted, panic rising in his voice.
"Shhhh," Garrus whispered. He put his hands in his boxers and retrieved his engorged turian manhood.
The AI looked concerned, but not concerned enough to stop Garrus. He watched, his artificial pupil dilated.
"Don't worry," Garrus purred and moved his hand back into the AI's exposed panel.
Wheatley shuttered.
Simultaneously, Garrus began to stroke his swollen length as he fiddled with the wires of the AI.
It was surprising how well Wheatley could mimic an organic moan, and make it sound so needy and desperate.
Garrus groaned throatily as he continued to massage his cock.
Wheatley, in turn, moaned like a whore.
"Oh yes, oh yes... that's the spot," the AI gasped, another moan swallowing his words.
This was the first time in a long while that Garrus had felt such raw ecstasy. He knew that even after such a short amount of time that he was on the edge.
Wheatley, too, felt an impending end to his orgasmic bliss. It was hard for him to focus on the fornicating turian smirking at him. Everything was a blur.
Soon, all of Wheatley's moans and shuddering noises of pleasure proved to be too much for the well-seasoned turian. Garrus grit his teeth, as to prevent himself from howling too loud in pleasure, as he was driven over the edge. His fingers gave a firm tug on Wheatley's wires, which spurred a high-pitched shriek of pleasure out of the AI. Line after line of alien seed leaked and burst from Garrus' stiff appendage, and Wheatley himself reached his climax through a fit of moans and shakes.
It seemed that now, on both ends, that the waves of pleasure had been surpassed.
Spent, all the two could do now was stare at each other. Their gazes carried no hints of regret or resentment, but they – oddly enough – seemed to be filled with new found affection.
"Garrus."
The voice cut through the air like a hot knife through Joker's legs.
"EDI had informed me of some strange noises coming from..."
Gasping, all Garrus could think to do was throw Wheatley into a corner and pray that his commander hadn't seen him. He dared not turn any farther, as he did not want his now flaccid cock on display, but it would seem that that harm had already been done.
Shepard was staring at Garrus, blue eyes hard and void of emotion.
"Garrus," the commander promptly spoke, "put your dick away."