The Cleric
July 4th, 2262 18:07
Galactic Re-stabilization Alliance Headquarters
New London, Earth
"You will be on board the Noble Soul Dreadnaught for the first leg of your journey, only as a passenger," said the dispatch officer, pacing back and forth.
"You will arrive at the Citadel where you will spend three days on standby before being stationed on the Nova Centauri where you will be under the leadership of Commander D'ona. Any questions?"
"No, sir," I said.
"Good luck, Corporal," He said, saluting. I returned his gesture and left the room. The grand halls of the GRA headquarters were certainly something to see; eight wings branching off the atrium, which boasted a 7-meter tall statue of Commander Shepard. He was frozen in a running position with reapers in the background, accented by an explosion, assault rifle in hand.
Things had certainly changed since his time. It had been little more than 70 years since the Great War was ended by the galaxy-wide electromagnetic pulse. A good decision on Shepard's part, but it had both good and bad consequences. The Reapers overloaded and were no longer a threat, but Shepard's cybernetic body shut down entirely. Ships shut down, life support systems failed, weapons stopped working, and nearly everything was gone. Planets broke out into anarchy. Careful operation of the Citadel, however, allowed for one arm to sustain life until the effects of the EMP subsided about ten months later.
Then comes the order. It took a while, naturally, but it happened. Once the Citadel regained power, those politicians and military personnel still alive began trying to establish connections and communication with all the planets and habitable space stations in the galaxy. Within a year, the first "Galactic Congress" met to discuss the next move. Representatives from all of the original Council Races - plus the Krogan and Quarians- met to form the Galactic Re-stabilization Act, which is where we get the Galactic Re-stabilization Alliance.
The Alliance was a loosely organized Militaristic Representative Oligarchy, much like the original Galactic Council. A Council Member (along with his board of directors) from each race governed his race and their dealings, and galactic affairs were handled by the whole group. The Council had control over all galactic armies as a whole, in an effort to maintain peace while the planets and stations were rebuilt.
I walked through the exit and boarded a taxi to the New London Spaceport. New London was a huge metropolis, spanning over the English Channel and going for miles until it blended with New Paris, where I was from.
The taxi landed and I walked into the main entrance of the spaceport. The people of all races bustling around made me a bit uncomfortable. It always did, as I was never one to be in the middle of a crowd.
I walked over to the military gate and flashed them my tags.
"Shuttle to the Noble Soul?" asked the armed guard at the gate.
I nodded.
"Leaves in two minutes, Gate 103, Platform C."
I hurried down the corridor to the gates which led outside to a catwalk that branched off to five landing platforms. A large shuttle sitting on Platform C was waiting for me. I hurried down and crawled inside just as the doors shut behind me. I set in one of the many open seats in the 32-passenger vehicle. I was relatively secluded where I sat.
The airlock hissed and the cabin rumbled as the engines powered up. I felt a lurch as the shuttle separated from the platform and ascended, passing more and more landing platforms in the tiered spaceport that floated atop the English Channel.
Another lurch as we moved forward along with our ascent, and I was leaving planet Earth. I had done this once before, but that was for combat training on the Galactic Naval Training Station which orbited Earth.
As we continued to ascend, the sky grew gradually darker as the air thinned.
"Brace for gravity loss in 5 seconds," a voice over the intercom said.
I felt myself tense up. I always hated the zero-g training exercises we had to do in basic. I never thought I'd actually have to be on a ship that didn't have artificial gravity.
I felt the pressure release off my spine, but I was restrained to the point that I did not move. I felt my empty stomach protest to the lack of force holding my acids in place. I closed my eyes as we flew in silence for several more minutes.
I heard a whistle behind me. "She's beautiful, isn't she?"
I opened my eyes and looked at the man behind me, who was clad in an old white t-shirt and tight pants and was looking out the window. I followed his gaze out my window to see a 2-kilometer long dreadnaught. The words written on its broadside read, "GAD-03 NOBLE SOUL." She was huge -the largest ship I'd ever seen, in fact.
As our shuttle banked around for the approach, I lost sight of the ship. It was another few minutes before I heard the pilot say, "Entering the Noble Soul artificial gravitational field in ten seconds."
As he said that, a small portion of the ship came into view out my window as the ship turned sideways again for docking. We were about 100 yards from the side of the vessel and I was able to see several levels of windows, all lit up, but nothing more.
The craft slowed and stopped just in front of a terminal which we connected to. As soon as the connection was made, the weight returned to my body and my stomach seemed to ease, if not just a little bit. My harness released and I stood, waiting for the airlock to open.
After it had opened, and all those in front of me had made their way out, I stepped into the terminal and walked. I was directly behind the man in the old t-shirt, who was looking around with a smile on his face. Must be an engineer, I thought to myself.
I walked down the terminal and approached the holographic AI who took the form of a man in a military uniform.
"Name, please?" it said in a polite tone.
"Corporal James Withrough"
"One moment," it said, then a pause. "Welcome to the Noble Soul, Corporal. You will be staying in Room 1278 on Deck H. You will be leaving the ship when we arrive at the Citadel tomorrow, and -in the meantime- are granted second-class privileges to anything on the ship. Do you have any questions?"
"No, thanks," I said.
"Have a nice day, Corporal."
I walked down the corridor to the elevator and took it to Deck H. When I exited, I realized I was on the trading floor.
Great, I thought with an inward groan. More people. I walked down a little ways, following the signs for housing. I found my room and showed my tags to a scanner. The door opened to a small room with a twin bed and a small compartment that I assumed was the bathroom on the far side. The door shut behind me as I noticed a data pad on the bed. It read: "Meet me in the bar on Deck C, tomorrow at 08:00."
After a night of little sleep, I emerged from the cabin and looked around. The trading floor was quiet this time of the morning, but there were some merchants and a few buyers talking quietly.
I walked down the hall to the elevator as a merchant called after me offering some sort of biotic upgrade chip. The door sealed behind me and I pressed the keypad to take me to Deck C. I stood still as I watched Decks G and F go by until the elevator stopped on Deck E. The doors opened and an Asari with commander ranks on her shoulder walked in.
My initial instinct was to salute, but I remembered I wasn't on duty. I hesitated a moment, but saluted anyways.
"At ease, soldier," she said, smiling. "I'm assuming you're in the ranks?"
"Yes, ma'am," I said, lowering my hand.
"Then where are your ranks?" she spoke softly, not looking at me but standing beside me and looking ahead.
"I'm off duty ma'am."
"Then why the salute?"
"Just a formality."
"I see," she said. I saw in my peripheral that she was smirking. After a long pause, just before Deck C came into view, she spoke again.
"You're Corporal Withrough, aren't you?" she said. I was a bit shocked.
"How do you know that?"
"I can sense your biotics, but you don't have a bump on the back of your head where most human biotics have their implants."
She was right. I was what the GRA called a "Pure" Biotic. I could harness biotic abilities without the use of a biotic implant, a trait in every 1 in 500,000 humans born from two human biotics. I was one of twelve on earth, and all but three of them were too young to join ranks.
"You'll be serving under me," she said, "I'm Commander D'ona."
The door opened in front of me and turned to the Commander and saluted.
"Commander."
"Look forward to working together, Corporal," she said as I emerged from the elevator.
Deck C was considered the relaxation floor. There were many recreational areas and a small park in the middle. I followed the AI's direction to the bar specified in the note. It was a small commercial cabin, only a few seats apart from the stools at the bar. No one particularly stood out, so I went to the bar and sat down.
"What can I get you?" the Turian bartender said.
"Just waiting for someone." He looked at me for a moment as if unsure what to think of me.
I sat for a few minutes and looked around. A wall clock signified 08:07 hours.
"Sure you don't want something?" the bartender asked, "just got a fresh supply of human whiskey."
"No thanks," I said, "I don't drink."
"Then you're in the wrong place, mate," a thick Australian voice said from behind me. I turned and saw the man from the shuttle yesterday, the one with an apparent fascination with spacecraft.
"Sorry I'm late, slept in a bit," he said, taking a seat beside me, "Name's Yusav, Yusav Tarkay. Named for two Turians I know nothing about."
He offered a hand which I shook and introduced myself with my first name only.
"James," he said, "I noticed you on the shuttle yesterday and just figured you needed someone to talk to."
"What do you mean?" I asked, raising a brow in scrutiny; there was something strange about this man, but I couldn't figure out just what it was.
"Well, you don't talk much, you keep to yourself… I figured you're either lonely or on a mission."
"Neither," I said. "Just like to keep to myself."
"Hmm," Yusav seemed to be thinking. "Two Turian liquors, barkeep."
"No, really I don't—" I began to protest but Yusav cut me off.
"Just drink mate, boost your spirits!"
The bartender slid us two glasses of some green liquid.
"No," I said, nearly quoting what I'd said to the bartender moments earlier. "I don't drink."
Yusav downed his tall shot in one swig, and held out the second one for me. I held up a hand in protest.
"Fine then," He said after a moment, and downed the second glass.
There was an awkward silence after that, which I broke with the question that was still lingering in my mind.
"Why did you really bring me here?"
"Strait to the point, eh? I like that, but I was hoping you'd let some alcohol ease your mind a bit." He wiped his mouth and stared at me for a moment, his aura suddenly somber.
"Corporal, I'll be one of your shipmates on the Nova Centauri, I'll be in engineering. But I was also told to give you a message from command just after we boarded." He stared for a moment as if waiting for a response, but I remained silent.
He sighed then continued, "James, just after we left earth, your parents were killed in their apartment in New Paris by an assassin, one bullet, clean through both of their heads." My eyes widened in terror, but before I could say anything, he added, to reassure me, "Your little sister is safe at training, but she doesn't know yet. I know this is hard for you, but command was hoping you'd be able to mourn before the mission started asking a lot of you."
I was shocked. Not knowing what to say, I simply thought. I had gone to see my parents just before leaving, but it seemed a bit too formal now, looking back at it.
"I know it's hard, mate," He said, putting a hand on my shoulder. "My offer for a drink still stands."
To shaken up to give him a straight answer, I stood up and said, "I think I'm going to go now. Thank you, Yusav."
He let me leave without another word. I retreated to my quarters where I stayed most of the day until we arrived at the Citadel.
"Hitting the relay to the Widow system in ten seconds, anyone wishing to view the Citadel please proceed to the starboard viewing windows," the AI said over intercom.
I stayed where I was at for the moment, laying on my bed meditating in an attempt to stay calm. Meditation was one of the only ways that a True biotic could use their powers, along with anger. I tried to stay away from the latter.
Meditation was something that I had mastered at a young age, drawing on powers that I felt around me to do simple things like lift a cup. I had honed this ability further at special training. I was now able to lift a man off his feet and fling him across the room, rip apart his molecular structure, or rip his weapon from his hand and force him to surrender. Take your pick.
I had watched two other True biotics go through special training with me. It lasted about six months after basic, and was focused on honing the abilities of True biotics and talented minds for use in the military. The two who were with me were from somewhere in Russia, and had the accents to prove it. The boy was much like me, we got along well but we were taught with different methods. The girl was far different than I, much more adventurous and rebellious. They were both trained with the more aggressive techniques, due to the fact that neither of them understood the meditation process -nor did they have the patience for it. In the end, they were both unable to control their anger-fueled biotics and wound up causing more harm than good, and were detained.
Now here I sat. I was the only True biotic from Earth to join the military. Parents just murdered, unsure of my future, the military was the only place I could call home now. And I was okay with that.
I arose from my bed and went to the closest set of starboard windows, just in time apparently. I saw a flash of light and the stars flying by us, then another flash and we were in a nebular cloud. The Widow Nebula, home to the Citadel, was a beautiful mix of orange and pink hues illuminated by stars.
As our massive ship drew closer to the Citadel, all we could see was the cosmic cloud in front of us, but then suddenly, there it was. The center for galactic government and economy, spinning slowly around the inner ring with its five arms extended for kilometers into space. It was massive, big enough to make the Noble Soul Dreadnaught seem insignificant.
"All shore parties are to now board the nearest shuttle, and thank you for flying with the Noble Soul," the AI announced over the intercom.
I took the elevator to the nearest terminal and boarded the first shuttle I saw, and we were flying towards the Citadel, where I would spend the next few days meditating and preparing myself for service before beginning assignment on the Nova Centauri. I stayed in my quarters and concentrated on my emotions, using the negative to add contrast to my positive emotions, which fuled my biotics. I wasn't sure, but I could almost feel more power coming from those emotions.
Optimism was key to my technique. I had to either ignore negative emotion, or use it to contrast my positive emotions, thus making my positive emotions more powerful. Negative emotions deterred concentration, whereas positive emotions improved it. Hiding my negative emotions was a good temporary fix, and worked until I had too much time and began actually thinking about my negative feelings, but meditation was my best method for maintaining biotic ability and relieving emotional stress. I had discovered this in training, but had never spoken to anyone about it. My powers were still a mystery to many, but the military wanted me more than the scientists, and offered the pay to prove it.
I sat in that cabin for hours every day, balancing my emotion from one side of the spectrum to the other, breaking only for a quick run to the local restaurant or to sleep. I would not only be prepared for my assignment, but even more powerful of a biotic because of it.
Early on the morning of July 9th I woke up to my alarm and got out of bed. That day's change of clothes were waiting in the delivery receptacle beside my bed. As a soldier in the GRA Navy, you were not permitted to bring anything that can not fit on your person, so our uniforms were delivered to us as needed. Today's outfit consisted of my formals -slacks with a black, heavy-woven shirt and a black jacket with my ranks. Much less comfortable than the normal military-issue hydrophobic, loose-fitting shirt and pants that I had grown so used to.
The Centauri was a frigate produced to replicate the design of the old Normandy, with a minor upsizing to accommodate more crew members. I boarded her at 06:00, per my assignment instructions. I was still not entirely aware of what my task was to be. I was told I would be on assignment on the Nova Centauri until further notice. No further information, just a ship name and my commanding officer's name. But as a soldier, you do what you're told.
"Corporal James Withrough, welcome aboard," A voice said as I entered. "Your work station is to the immediate left of the Galaxy Map in the Combat Information Center. Report there immediately."
"I assume this is the ship AI I'm speaking to?" I said. Most ship AI's anymore took the form of a holographic sphere that roamed the ship, but still had control over the systems such as intercoms.
"Yes, Corporal. I am a combat and navigational intelligence based on the GRA approved EDI Intelligence. My designate is Noveri." The voice returned. "I hope you will pardon my absence, as my holographic processors are down for pre-mission maintenance."
I proceeded down the corridor to the Combat Information Center -the CIC- where there were several navigators and system techs bustling around in preparation for flight. The center of the room boasted a large galactic map, showing a few specific points and a mark where the Centauri was located in the Widow system. To the left of the map, where Noveri had indicated, was a small desk upon which there was a computer and a datapad. It was the yeoman's station.
But that must be a mistake, it had to be. I was in no way qualified to be a yeoman, I wasn't exactly the most relatable person, and knew little about psychology or how to run a ship.
Commander D'ona stood on the platform that overlooked the galaxy map using hand motions to zoom in on a system on the edge of the galaxy. She wore the standard officer's clothes with ranks on her shoulders, looking very professional but, somehow, also very casual. I stood by my station and came to an attention.
"Corporal Withrough," D'ona said, still navigating the map.
"Commander," I said, saluting.
"I'll need you to open up the ship's intercom for me here in a moment. Get familiar with the system."
I looked down at my screen. It was a basic touch menu, there were several buttons and at the top of the screen were the words "Yeoman Withrough". I pressed the button that said "Ship Systems." That directory held many options, from "Element Zero Reserves" to "Life Support" to "AI Information."
I scrolled down the list until I found the "Intercom" button, which allowed me to select a target to listen to and when and where to begin transmitting. I selected Commander D'ona as the listening subject and set the broadcast to "Whole Ship."
"I think it's ready, Commander," I said.
"You think?"
"Yes ma'am," I was still confused as to my placement but dared not say anything now.
The commander looked at me with a blank expression for a moment as if waiting for something. After a moment, she looked forward and said, "Start it."
I hit the "Begin Broadcast" button and a few seconds later she began to speak.
"Welcome, everyone, to the GAF-014 Nova Centauri," she began in a bored but commanding voice. "I am commander D'ona, I will act as your Commanding Officer while you are on board. My second in charge is Navigator Williams, who will command if I am unavailable or not on board the Centauri. Doctor Gurota will be your chief medical officer, and Captain Gour will be your pilot. If you have any concerns while on board, be it personal or mission related, please speak to Yeoman Withrough. If you need any other information, ask the AI, its programmed to do this sort of thing, I am not."
Her last few words seemed to break her serious tone and issued a few laughs from those in the CIC.
"Our mission takes us to the Outer Rim, where the ground team will investigate a derelict ship that has been causing some controversy to the Quarians on Rannoch. Further information is unavailable at the moment, but will become available at the end of our first mission. The ground team for this first mission will include myself, private Yusav Tarkay, and Corporal James Withrough. Everyone else is on standby during the mission. The landing shuttle leaves at 18:00 today. Good luck to you all, and again, welcome aboard."
She turned and nodded at me to shut off the intercom. After doing so I addressed her directly, my mind swimming with questions at this point.
"Commander?"
"Yes, Corporal?"
"I have a question, if you don't mind."
"Not at all, but please, be quick. I need a nap."
"Of course, Commander," I said. She stood glaring at me with a pair of large purple eyes and I felt a bit intimidated. "I was just wondering why I was assigned to the yeoman position. I expected to be part of the ground team, but I am not qualified to be a yeoman."
She stared for a moment, then spoke. "And what exactly would you consider the qualifications of a yeoman to be, Corporal?"
"Well," I said, "A yeoman needs to be able to communicate with the crew, diagnose any psychological issues, and assist the commanding officer in any way possible."
"And why do you feel like you are unqualified corporal?"
She caught me off guard, it seemed obvious to me why I was not qualified.
"I have no psychological education, ma'am. I don't do much talking."
"I see," she said. She paused for a moment and her eyes looked off aimlessly as she thought. "And what do you feel makes you qualified for the ground team?"
"My biotics, ma'am," I replied. Another rather obvious question.
"Indeed," she said, "You are a rather adept biotic, and a true biotic at that. Perhaps you could – ah – test your abilities, given your new situation, corporal."
Her response made no sense to me, "Commander—"
"I'm sorry, Corporal," She interrupted, "I really must go get some sleep. Alert me if anything happens."
She walked off and into the elevator which then took her to her personal cabin at the top of the ship, leaving me there quite possibly more confused than I previously was.
I stayed at my station for several hours, looking through the computer and learning its systems. Commander D'ona stepped off the elevator just before 15:00, and I turned and saluted.
"Enough with the formalities, Yeoman," she said approaching the map, "as a yeoman you are not required to salute me."
"My apologies, Commander,"
"Anything new?" she asked, zooming in to the Centauri's location on the galaxy map. We had passed through the relay and were using FTL to get to the next system.
"No, ma'am," I said. "and I'm still not sure of my qualifications,"
"I wasn't asking for a personal report, Withrough."
"Sorry ma'am,"
"Are you familiar with combat armor?"
"I used it once or twice in basic,"
"Go to the cargo bay at 16:00, I'll meet you and Tarkay there, let him know. We'll get suited up and have a short briefing on the situation."
"Yes ma'am," I said.
In searching the computer earlier, I had found a means by which to contact specific crew members through the intercom. I brought up the list of crew members and selected Yusav's name, and spoke.
"Private Tarkay," I said.
"Uh—oh," came his startled voice, then I also heard what sounded like metal being dropped in the background. "Yes sir?"
"You are to meet Commander D'ona and myself in the cargo bay at 16:00 for pre-mission suit up and briefing."
"Uh, roger that, Yeoman. I'll be there," he said, followed by more metallic clanging and cursing. I disengaged the intercom and monitored my post for a few minutes before heading to the cargo bay.
I made my way down to the cargo bay after signing out of my post. The bay contained a Kodiak landing craft and several crates. Just outside the elevator was a computer system where the ship's inventory could be checked and another where members could select which weapons and gear to take out of storage for a mission.
The commander was hunched over the equipment computer apparently selecting her armor. She was now in a form-fitting g-suit, a military grade suit worn by soldiers under their armor to prevent shock injuries. Most soldiers on a starship wore them unless formals were requested or the commanding officer allowed for "casual" wear, which was still military-grade shirt and pants. I quickly realized I was still in my formals from earlier.
"Need a g-suit?" She said, still staring at her computer. I was impressed at her attention to detail.
"Yes, Commander, I was actually about to ask where I might find one. I do not have a personal storage locker assigned yet."
"And you won't. This ship wasn't fitted with anything other than what was standard to cut costs. Anything you may need is in storage, accessible from that terminal." She nodded towards the computer across from her.
I walked over to the terminal and searched the ship's inventory for g-suits. Before long I found one labeled "Custom Fit G-Suit – Corporal James Withrough." I selected it and a crate was lifted from my right by a crane on a rail and set down in the center-rear of the bay. It hissed at the seams and opened to reveal a g-suit, but cut in half.
"Um, Commander?" I said staring at the broken suit.
"You'll have to step into the crate and I'll press the button. The suit is built to seam up on your body so that it doesn't stretch while putting it on."
I walked up to the crate and began to step into the suit before the commander stopped me.
"Unfortunately, corporal, custom-fits won't fit with clothes on." She was still bent over her computer, typing away.
What a day I had… I was a true biotic assigned to a yeoman's position with a mysterious commanding officer who now wanted me to take my clothes off in front of her.
"Commander, I—"
"Don't be so juvenile, corporal. When you're going to be fighting alongside someone you shouldn't hide anything from one another."
"Commander, with all due respect, you are the one who won't explain why I'm a yeoman when my specialty is biotics, or why I have had a special-fit g-suit tailored for me. "
She lifted her head and looked at me for a moment. After an awkward pause, Yusav walked in, already in his standard-issue g-suit.
"Well, well, look at that!" he said, "You got one rank on me and you get a bloody custom-fit? How'd that happen?"
I looked to the commander, who had her head in her computer again. "Cut the chatter. Suit up Corporal."
She made one last tap on her keypad and a crate descended from behind her. It opened to reveal a power-suit, colored in a light blue with silver accents. She stepped into the suit while I began to remove my formal jacket.
The sound of a motor could be heard beside me and I looked up to see a small crate descend from beside me.
"Please fold them neatly, Corporal," Noveri said. I couldn't help but laugh at the AI's almost maternal tone. I undressed the remainder of the way, placing the formals in the crate, while Commander D'ona stepped into her power suit and it latched onto her body, and Yusav called his from the crates on the wall.
Within a few minutes we were all three in Onyx-Class power armor with weapons magnetized to our suits. Being a biotic, I carried only a pistol and a shotgun with me. Any other gun would simply be too much unneeded weight. We all held our breather helmets in hand and Yusav and I stood facing the commander.
"I'll brief you on the mission once we are in the shuttle, but do you have any questions about the armor or weapons?" She asked us.
"Yeah, just one," Yusav said, "When do I get a nifty colored suit like yours?"
The commander smiled sarcastically. "When you get enough money."
He laughed and made some crack about the military being cheap before the commander ushered us into the Kodiak shuttlecraft before leaving the bay on the way to our first mission.