A/N: More slandering of the Alliance; Alliance-lovers need not read ;)
Anyways, please please please leave a review. Praises *and* criticisms are welcome.
Disclaimer: Mass Effect, the Mass Effect universe, and all characters within, all belong to BioWare.
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Gardner's Sonata
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II. Scherzo
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At this point, Shepard interrupted politely. "Ah, every society must have its bad apples," he said, while munching on his 3rd or 4th piece of chocolate chip cookie. "The Alliance is not immune to that."
Gardner nodded. "Indeed, c'mander. But things get worse from there."
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I woke up when the alarm rang like hell, yet feeling very tired. Not because of the time difference — I have compensated for that — but because of the nightmares I've been having all night.
Drunkenly I stumbled into the bathroom, pausing only slightly to turn on the holoscreen and set it at its loudest. A cold shower cleared up my mind, and just as I was stepping out of the bathroom while toweling myself dry, I heard the ad for the Alliance recruitment drive. I ran to the holo and made a note of the recruitment center.
After having some breakfast — very nice, tasty, and filling, by the way — I left the hotel for the recruitment center. The doorman said that it's just a couple of blocks away, so I decided to take a stroll there.
Nothing fancy happened during my walk — except for that one time when I and my fellow pedestrians nearly got ourselves rammed down by a speeding Alliance ground transport. We had started to cross the street when the pedestrian light flashed green, and there came this 6-wheeled vehicle barreling toward us at high speed. We managed to jump to safety, though some lost their balance and fell to the pavement. Luckily, no one was seriously hurt. But what really irked me was when someone in that vehicle managed to insult us through an open window before they speed away, "Stay out of the way, meatbags!"
I was having a hard time controlling my fury. But some deep breaths managed to calm me down, so I continued trekking to the recruitment center.
The center was a low slung building, maybe only 4 or 5 storeys high. I entered through the main door into the recruitment area. There was a line already forming. It's not too long, maybe just ten or twenty deep, but I had to wait for almost an hour before finally getting to talk with a recruitment officer. The delay was, ironically, caused by his being late. Well, he was not late, actually; I had seen him flirting with a pretty young cadet when I entered the building, but for some reasons he did not take his post until we all started to grumble.
Needless to say, my mood, which hasn't been well to start with, soured really seriously.
Finally they called my name and I entered that interview room.
"Mr. Rupert Gardner?"
"Yeah, that'll be me."
"You look old. How old are you?"
When I stated my age, the officer looked at me incredulously. "You're that old? And you still want to join the Alliance? No kidding?" he asked in a condescending way.
"Yeah. Why?" I asked, my dislike of this guy starting to well up inside me.
"Well, Mr. Gardner, the Alliance are mainly interested in young people. Between 25 and 35. Unless you have something of great value to us. What extraordinary skills do you have?"
"I am a miner. I'm well-versed in operatin' heavy machinery and heavy explosives."
That officer clucked his tongue. "Miner, eh? Don't see how that skill is valuable to us."
Why, you little tyke! I had thought. I was just going to give him a piece of my mind when he continued, "Any other skills? Flying a space vessel? Weapon wielding? Electronics?"
The nearest I ever got to being skillful at electronics would be when the holoscreen in my house went on the fritz and I had to bang at it several times with my hands. "Electrics yes, electronics a bit. But I can cook, and I can do handyman repair stuffs."
"Cooking, eh? And handyman? Naah, we outsource them. Well, I guess there's no use of you. Your application is rejected."
My anger erupted. "Now see here! My wife and kid were killed when batarian raiders attacked my colony at Gei Hinnom! I want to get back at 'em! Surely there is some way —"
"Ah, the attack at Gei Hinnom. Yes, it was the talks lately. Some backwater colony got raided, and some collateral damage was accrued. Not really my concern. Please leave, Mr. Gardner."
I don't really recall what happened. I vaguely remembered losing my cool and jumped at the tyke, grabbing him by his collar, and that got me thrown out to the pavement by the guards.
So there I was standing on the streets of Demeter, still trying to calm myself, not knowing what next to do, when someone called me with a friendly voice.
"Rupert? My God, Rupert? Is that you?"
I turned around to look at who is calling me, and I saw an Alliance officer looking at me, smiling wide.
"Yeah, who are you?"
To my surprise, that guy ran towards me and bearhugged me.
"Rupert! It's Thomas! Thomas DeMarco! Remember me? My God, how time has passed!"
"Tom!" suddenly I remembered. Tom was one of my pals back in highschool. We split ways when he entered college. I didn't recognize him because he was so clean-shaven. Back in highschool, he had a long hair he tied in a ponytail that even girls would get extremely jealous of. And since he's 190cm tall (6'4" in the creaking antiquated system some Earth-dwellers still use) and very well-built, no jock in his right mind dare make fun of his hair.
But here he was, clean-shaven with a crew cut. And wearing an Alliance officer's cap.
"Yeah, it's been quite some time. Didn't recognize you with that hairstyle, or lack of it," I half-apologized in jest.
Tom laughed his trademark booming laugh. "We need to get together, remembering old times. You busy this evening?"
"Can't say I'm taken. I'm on a free-schedule vacation. What time?"
"Say, 1800 hours? Where do you stay, by the way?"
"Oh nearby. Novotel. Not far from here."
"Great! There's a nice diving hole near your hotel called The Tashkent Bar. Meet me there, 'kay?"
"Will do Tom. Great to see you again," I replied with a sincere smile. Apparently, there are non-jackasses in the Alliance after all.
"Alright, it's a date then," he said, winking. "See you later then, bro! I gotta have a meeting with some higher-ups here."
"Okay, don't let me stop you. Surely don't want 'em make you do 100 push-ups because you're late."
With a wave, he entered the building I had just gotten thrown out of.
Time passed by so slowly. To vent the pent-up frustration I just had, I decided to kill time by doing some work out. My hotel had a nice, fully-stocked gym, and Olympic-sized swimming pool, to boot. So, I did some treadmills, weight lifting, and sandbag punching. It's a real good way to relieve stress, you know, punching the sandbag while imagining it to be those young tykes of the Alliance.
Well, I won't bore you with the details on how I spent the rest of the afternoon. So let me jump directly to the Tashkent Bar.
When I entered the Tashkent at exactly 1800 hours — punctuality has always been my forte — I saw Tom already sitting there in the corner booth. He's already out of his Alliance uniform. He waved at me when I noticed him. I seated myself across him, and ordered an ice-cold mug of beer. They had Heineken, by the way. Amazing.
"So, I guess life's been good to you," I opened up. "What are you now? An admiral?"
Tom laughed. "How I wished, Rupert. I'm still a captain. The competition to become a commodore is intense, and I don't really like office politics."
It's my turn to laugh. "Yeah, I remembered how you punched your competitor for student board's president and landed us in the principal's office."
"That's because I was defending *you*, you bastard! He's been insulting you, and honor is at stake," he replied with a faux pride chest-puffing posture.
We laughed and spend maybe the next half-hour just being nostalgic of our time in highschool.
As the laughter died down, we became more serious.
"So, what brought you here, Rupert? Last I know, you were with Eldfell-Ashland digging up some eezo out there?"
So I told him my story. How I moved to Gei Hinnom with my wife, raised a family... and the batarian raider attack. I started to cry when I recounted what happened on that faithful day.
Tom shifted to my side and gave me a brotherly hug. "I am very sorry to hear that," he sympathized sincerely. "So, you coming to the rec center to get back at 'em?"
I just nodded my head, still trying to control my sobs.
"Alright. I happen to know some higher-ups in the ops. I'll see what I can do. I'll tell you in a couple of days. In the meantime, let's just drown our sorrows."
We spent the rest of the night getting ourselves buzzed on Serrice Ice Brandy (Tom's treating). Needless to say, I can't remember what happened, except some vague memories of people carrying me to my room using a forklift or something.
I woke up *very* late the next day, with a head-splitting headache. Checking my company-issued omni-tool, I noticed a message from Tom. He said that I was in good luck, he was going to talk with the ops guy this afternoon. And he wished me recover quickly from my hangover.
That sonofabitch. I really must learn his secret for overcoming a Serrice Ice Brandy-induced hangover.
I spent maybe an hour putting my head under cold water to regain proper use of my senses. When I've sufficiently recovered, I noticed it's almost time for lunch, so I skedaddled into the town for lunch.
I was really yearning for a nice, juicy, medium-rare steak made from genuine earth cow. I had barely settled my butt on the restaurant chair when in came this bunch of rambunctious Alliance officers. Lieutenant Commander or higher, I guess. I never could memorize all those insignias. Anyways, they have an aide. What happened next really made my blood boil.
"The Alliance requires the use of this restaurant for an important meeting. All visitors must leave, immediately!" barked the aide poodle.
I heard murmurs around me, people complaining under their breath but not wanting to 'raise the wrath of the almighty alliance'.
Well, being the field-forged miner that I am, I did not budge an inch. I am *dying* for my steak, and goddammit I am going to *have* my steak.
Apparently those Alliance brasses did not find my hunger for steak all that important. So, the poodle approached me and said, "Sir, you must leave this restaurant."
"I am a paying customer here, and I have the right for a steak, goddammit!"
"If you don't move your sorry butt, I'll remove you by force!"
"You and what army?" I challenged him.
Big mistake. He said, "As you wish," and gestured outside. I had not paying attention, but apparently that poodle had gotten backups out there. Within seconds, some military goons grabbed my arms, dragged me outside, and beat me to hell with their boots and rifle-butts.
"Enough! Let's just ignore that meatbag," I heard one of them brasses giving orders to those goons. Laughing, they left me there lying bloodied on the sidewalk.
I had considered getting back at 'em, but decided against it. Even though I can hold myself in bar brawls, when you're talking about rifles... hell, I value my life more.
A good Samaritan helped me up and accompany me to a nearby hospital, where I got treated for cuts and bruises. But they insisted, I gotta spend that night at the hospital for observation.
The next day, I got discharged after the doctors are satisfied that I got nothing more serious than a bruised ego. I returned to my hotel in some pain. Thankfully the doctors had provided me with some painkillers, and apparently all my hospital expenses was covered. I was pleasantly surprised; I never thought my company's health insurance extended to Demeter, but one shouldn't look a gift horse in the mouth, right?
I had decided to spend the rest of the day just recuperating in my room when my omni-tool beeped. Tom sent me an email, asking if I can meet him tonight at the same place, same time. I replied that I surely can. Then I took a nap.
Later that evening, again I entered the Tashkent at 1800 sharp. I immediately saw my pal, but the frown on his face was a bad omen, indeed. Without words, I slipped into the chair across him.
"Bad day at the office?" I asked.
He took a glance at me and was surprised. "God, Rupert! What happened? You look like shit. Don't tell me you're here just a couple of days and already brawled your way around?"
"Just had some run-ins with arrogant little tykes of the Alliance, is all."
"I see," he replied, before going back to gazing into his mug of beer. "There are bad apples, and there are rotten apples. And the Alliance has no shortage of them," he continued bitterly.
"Hey, don't bad mouth your employer," I tried to jest.
Tom humphed. "If only you knew..."
The pause that followed was mighty uncomfortable, so I piped up, "Alright, so what's up, Tom?"
Tom sighed, and avoided my eyes. "I had talked to the ops guy. You're not gonna like this, Rupert."
It was my turn to sigh. "Try me. Shoot."
Tom played with his mug for several seconds before saying, "The Alliance never thought your colony deserves high priority. So they've pushed your incident way down the list, with the note 'to be investigated when resources are idle.' I am sorry, Rupert. There's nothing I can do."
I took a deep breath. I *really* wanted to lash out, but then again, it's not Tom's fault. "I understand. Thanks for trying to help."
"I'm sorry again pal."
I left the Tashkent feeling very depressed.
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A/N: Heavy, huh? Only one chapter left. At most, two. But most likely, one.
Again, please leave a review. Don't be afraid to criticize me, if you want. I don't bite :)
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Edit #01: Change chapter title.