The alien stands on the platform, above the drop into the glass covered arboretum, before the three members of the Council which have the final say in matters of the Citadel. He is covered in red armor reminiscent of a Samurai from Earth's distant past. Two eyes flanked by two smaller eyes, hourglass shaped irises and pupils centered on them. The Salarian, first, then the Asari and the Turian.
Primitives, he would call them. The Salarian especially. They used to lick their eyes.
But now he is here. Awakened, with less than three years to spare before the Reapers come. Awakened, in the middle of one madman's quest to bring the Reapers through the Citadel Relay. Awakened, with his second in command. To bring hope to the galaxy, along with the human who found him.
He has not told her, but he knows.
He knows the truth, from her. He knows the lie she has carefully constructed to maintain the sanity of those around her. But he will not speak of it.
It is not his place. This is.
"I am Javik," he says, "I am the Exemplar of Vengeance of the Prothean Empire. I am the last voice of a dead people, demanding blood be spilled for blood that was lost."
They fall silent. Many of the youngers have done that around him. Humans especially. But, their ascension was due to the archives they found on Mars, which they probe carefully, safely. They wouldn't even find the Crucible until it was too late.
"The man you know as Saren Arterius is Indoctrinated," Javik continues, "He is a slave to the Reaper he calls Sovereign. His will is no longer his own. He will stop at nothing to bring them to this galaxy, and should he succeed, your empires will die. He must be stopped. The Reapers must be stopped. And she-"
He turns, leveling an armored finger at Shepard.
"Is your best chance. If you wish to save this galaxy, you must put your trust in her. The Beacon entrusted her with what we know for a reason. Trust her like it did. Hesitation is not an option."
Turning, back to the primitives who claim to rule the galaxy, he walks off the platform. Eyes scanning, he finds his second speaking to an olive skinned Asari, grinning as her cheeks turn darker. Grabbing him by the collar of his armor, Kova chokes as Javik drags him towards the elevator.
"You will have time to mate with them later, Kova," he says, "We have business to conduct."
"Which is?" Kova asks, rubbing his neck as they walk into the elevator.
"We must find the Hanar ambassador," Javik responds, "We must find our people."
And as the elevator doors close in front of them, they see the crowd assembled. And hear the Asari councillor, Tevos, speaking.
"Commander Shepard, it is the decision of this Council to grant you the powers and privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel..."
Chapter 2:
Team Building
Spectre Authority.
Beautiful words. What they translate to is roughly, cut the red tape right now. She didn't use those words enough. She just played along with the plot as it unfolded. But now, she has ideas. She has ideas of how to work around the twists, around the forks. She just isn't sure how.
"I don't know how you knew about him," Garrus says, "I admit, I'm curious."
The elevator continues its slow tick down. Changed back to her black and navy armor, she folds her hands behind her, eyes straight ahead.
"I did a search," she says, "Mercenaries, Krogans. Saren has deep pockets, and anyone he hired would have to be good. So a giant, experienced, biotic Krogan mercenary?"
"Try not to think too much like Saren," he says, mandibles twitching, "It's a bad place to go."
She nods. He folds his hands behind himself. She recognizes the armor he wears- blue and white, silver at the edges. Probably higher end, like what he wore when they met on Omega. Probably higher than his paygrade when he worked for C-Sec. Only now he doesn't. Now he's a Spectre. How the Hell did that happen?
"I appreciate you asking me along," Garrus continues, "I would understand if Saren's betrayal would have soured you towards working with a turian. That barefaced son of a bitch has a way of turning us against each other."
A rumble from his throat. She remembers how he would get like this. Angry, dark, seething. Usually she's get his mind off those things by changing the subject. Might as well see if some things are still constant.
"Barefaced?"
His mandibles twitch. A small smile on his face.
"All turians have face marks. They're not personal decorations, they're markings that say where you come from. Mine," he points to the blue lines by his jaw, "Say I'm from the Hadiger district. It's a small city cluster on Palaven. Barefaced means...no markings. No allegiance."
"No trust?" she asks.
He nods.
"It's a stereotype," he says with a sigh, voice a low rumble, "It's just...it's like every bareface I meet is an untrustworthy son of a bitch. The problem with the stereotype is that you keep meeting people who meet the stereotype. It's annoying."
The door chimes and opens. C-Sec headquarters, the domed ceiling high up, the masses moving back and forth, reporting, processing, enforcing. The video of her swearing in is still playing on the screen up top, and she shrinks slightly as she walks alongside Garrus, walking past saluting officers and uncaring, unseeing Keepers. She recognizes some of them. Chellick, Bailey. Some she can't remember the names of.
And they walk into one of the waiting room, past an arguing volus and salarian, and find him slumped on one of the chairs, red eyes wandering over the room. She read that the placement of the eyes mean they're prey animals. Even if they're only prey to Thresher Maws and Harvesters. Red shell over his forehead, hump higher than his head, in blood red armor and leaning forward. He is, apparently, in a staring contest with two officers, who are once again warning him of the consequences of his actions.
"Spectre authority," Garrus says, "We'll take it from here."
The two officers, humans, salute and walk out. Folding his arms, Garrus locks eyes with the Krogan sitting in front of them.
"Wrex," he says.
"Vakarian," the krogan grumbles, and glances at Jane, "Shepard."
"Wrex," she responds, "How do you know me?"
"Spectre video playing on every damn screen," the old Krogan grumbles, "So you two come to visit me." A grin, tight, and a chuckle. "Should've figured Vakarian'd come with you. Garrus has always had a thing for human redheads."
Garrus rolls his eyes. Jane shakes her head, folding her arms and nodding to the turian. Her partner.
"Wrex, I understand you're between jobs," she says, "What happened? Fist should be halfway to Omega by now."
"Yeah. Cause it turns out the quarian you saved was the same one he was tracking," Wrex responds, leaning on one knee, "And that spooks Fist. After all, the new shining example of humanity apparently figured him out. An' I'm still trying to figure out how the Hell you knew."
A hand balls into a fist, curled up against her other forearm. Crap. She should've expected. Should've known, but didn't want to risk it. Tali was with her until the clusterfuck at the galactic core. Wrex lost half his head on Virmire, but still-
"Fist wasn't subtle," Garrus responds, "And neither are you. Half of C-Sec heard you saying that the Shadow Broker wanted Fist dead. How much was he going to pay you?"
"Enough."
"How's twice enough?" Garrus asks, leaning in, voice a conspiratorial whisper, "We're going after Saren, and you used to work for him. I doubt it was a happy parting."
Wrex only grins.
...
It is taller than a man. Bright pink. Long arms ending in three fingered hands which are legendary for their grip. And it is speaking of the Enkindlers, while the turian officer softly begs it to stop. Well, him, but the specifics of Hanar gender are not a subject one delves into idly.
Anton Bellick has a pile of paperwork on his desk, two investigations in his mailbox, and a strong wish to take out his sidearm and shut the big stupid jellyfish up. But no. He has to do public relations. He has to show the gentler, firm hand of C-Sec and not, say, mercilessly beat the Special Snowflake Preacher who he has been trying to convince to leave for the past day.
"Please," he says, "Please. Please move along."
"You cannot prevent this one from spreading the message of the Enkindlers," the hanar says, idly turning his horn to the turian, "They must know the glories that they visited upon this one's people-"
"Excuse us."
Two...maybe Drell...walk over. One is in red, very...he's not sure how to describe it, antique armor. The other is in a suit. One button, black jacket and pants, newly tailored. Anton tilts his head. They look like Drell, but gray and the eyes...but, well, cosmetic surgery isn't a problem if you have the money in the Wards. Even if the surgery looks like it went real bad.
The one in the suit walks over while the armored one stares. He touches the Hanar's tentacle, and something passes. A spark, maybe. The air shifts around them, a green light at the base of the drell's skull. Releasing the tentacle, the hanar falls silent. Finally. And then begins squealing.
"This one is not worthy!" he shouts, "This one has seen the face of the Enkindler!"
"Indeed you have," the drell responds, "Take us to your ambassador, please. We must speak with him."
"Yes! Yes! At once! This one is so honored to do so!"
The Hanar flies off, floating towards the embassies with the two Drell walking behind him. And Anton shakes his head, marks this case as solved and closed on his omnitool, and begins his trek back to C-Sec.
...
Earth was burning.
Not burning. Burning away.
She looked down, breath rattling in her throat as she sees the enormity of her defeat. The enormity of her failure. The gun in her hand shakes as she takes it in, takes it all in, realizing this is all her fault, that she has lost. That in her anger, in her grief, she has done the unthinkable.
Shepard.
The voice shakes the air, tears her senses, vibrates the walls. A shadow comes over the firing room of the weapon, and she looks up to see the arms of the great giant blocking out the light.
You think you have won. All you have done is perpetuate the Cycle.
The shockwave gains speed, burning ally and enemy alike. But the bulk of the dreadnought does not care, perching over the white light at the center of the platform. Its many yellow eyes bore down upon her, staring at her as golden slits. Screaming, she raises her pistol, her arms heavy, and fires. More anger, more desperation, than honest belief this will do anything.
A pop and hiss, and the heat sink falls to the ground. The pistol is spent.
You believed that you could make a difference. But your faith is as hollow as the future of your species. We had such hopes for you. A belief that you could become one of us. But all you have done is denied yourselves your future.
"You weren't here," she says, voice cracked, throat raw, "You weren't there! It didn't happen like this!"
I am always with you, Shepard.
And then, she runs. Not on the Crucible. Not on the walkway. But through metal hallways, the back of her mind recognizing it as Arcturus Station, shifting and blending in with the Eisenstein and the Citadel, places she grew up in, places she was safe but nowhere is safe. A shudder in the ceiling, the metal bulkheads peeling back, and the stars are exposed and filled with them. The uncaring machines. The destroyers of empires.
Every door opens, and everyone is there. Everyone she lost.
Did you think our device would defeat us? Did you believe our beginning was our end?
Gray skinned and covered in blur circuitry, moaning as they shamble towards her.
A rumble in the sky, the terrible language of the Reapers filling her ears as she falls to her knees, screaming. And she looks up, just as the lanky, skeletal thing with Liara's face wraps its hands around her throat.
You cannot defeat us, Shepard. You can only become us.
...
And she opens her eyes with a sharp intake of breath, pulling the pillow over her face to muffle the scream. Pulling off the sheets, she sits up, eyes bleary, focusing as she realizes she isn't there. She's in her quarters on the Normandy. Her new quarters as the CO, having been handed her commission by Anderson. After she gave Anderson some advice not to hold a grudge against Udina, because she never told him that the first time. Hoping it would make things better this time.
Hoping.
Heart thunders in her chest. She climbs to her feet, stumbles to the bathroom, her arms feeling heavy and a phantom pain in her side. Looking down, she realizes she slept in her uniform. She always had that habit.
She has time, though. She tells herself that, splashing water on her face. She has time. She's already found two Protheans, already started changes. Hoping for something different this time. Hoping to shed the unease and fear she's had gripping her chest since she got here. Hoping that she can make them see.
And she looks up. And sees.
Sees two orbs of golden light staring back at her.
Assuming Direct Control.
Instinct takes over. The implants on the base of her skull spark to life and she throws out her hands with a scream, a shockwave of biotic force slamming into the mirror and cracking it vertically. And she looks up, seeing not the terrible golden light of the possession, but a hyperventilating woman almost wetting herself in terror.
The door chimes.
"Commander! Commander, is something wrong?"
Alenko's voice comes from the outside of her quarters. She exits the bathroom, and a moment later the door chimes as it opens. His eyes are tight. His face looks pale. His entire expression one of pain. And worry.
"I'm fine," she says, closing the bathroom behind her, hiding the evidence for now. Of her crime. Or her insanity. "I couldn't sleep. A tried practicing lifting," she raises her hand, "Ended up throwing a cup into my mirror."
Kaidan nods. His eyes narrow slightly, but he shakes his head.
"Okay," he responds, "Well, if you ever want to practice, I can help. I end up staying up later than most, anyway..."
"Because of the migraines?"
He starts. She swears at herself inwardly, clenching a fist behind her.
"You read my personnel file, Commander?" he asks, "Didn't think you'd know about the side effects of my obsolete amp setup..."
"Thought it would be a good idea to know the crew," she says with a shrug, "Chakwas mentioned it, too."
He opens his mouth to say something. She's not sure what. But the comm crackles overhead, Joker's face appearing on her oscillating omnitool display.
"Hey Commander? I know you said you didn't want to be disturbed until we were ready to launch, but we've got a VIP on the dock and it looks like Prothy made a friend."
...
The airlock opens, revealing the dock bathed in the purple light of Widow and the Serpent. Standing on the metal dock are three people, but only two draw her attention initially. The first is the one in the red samurai armor.
"Javik?"
"Commander," the prothean says, hands folded behind him, "I wish to come aboard."
She glances around, side to side. Only one prothean.
"We're Kova?"
"Kova is traveling to Kahje," Javik responds, "He wishes to use the resources of the Hanar Illuminate to seek any remaining members of our kin. I wish to fight the Reapers."
She nods, extending a hand.
"Welcome aboard, Javik."
He stares down at her hand, and cocks a double eyebrow.
"Commander," comes the melodious voice, a dark pink Hanar floating next to Javik, "This one greets you most happily. This one is overjoyed that you have brought back the Enkindlers to the waking world, and the Hanar Illuminate is bursting with joy and revelation as a result. And this one has a proposition that will aid you in seeking out the enemies of all galactic life."
She blinks. Not sure what a proposition by a Hanar entails. Not sure she wants to know, as she remembers that they have a Hell of a grip.
"Ambassador," she says, "What can we do for you?"
"This one wishes to send someone with the Enkindler. The Illuminate will, in turn, generously compensate you for allowing us to learn from him."
"And by 'someone', the Ambassador means me."
The third person steps out. Green skin with mottled brown, slim figure and lithe. Large black eyes blink sideways and she parts her thin lips in a smile, the scaly skin around her mouth folding as a result. Dressed in a white, black lined long jacket and a black dress suit, she stands next to Javik, who glances at her once and turns back to Shepard.
"The Hanar Illuminate wishes to have someone aboard the Normandy to speak with the Enkindler."
"My name is Javik, drell."
"Yes," she responds, "It is." She sighs. "The Illuminate wants someone of theirs to speak with Javik and find out as much as they can from him. As well, I am also a trained counselor, and am more than willing to speak with any of your crew if any needs come up. Consider it a win-win proposition, Commander. The Hanar will supplement the budget of the Normandy, and you have a therapist aboard the Normandy in case of any stressful situations."
She glances at the three. Javik, who looks annoyed. The Hanar, who looks like he wishes to hug her. And the Drell, who is still smiling, albeit not as...genuine...as the Hanar. If a hanar could smile. Or had a face.
"Okay," she says with a shrug, and extends her hand towards the drell, "Deal. Welcome aboard..."
"Irikah," the drell responds, shaking Shepard's hand, "Irikah Krios. It's a pleasure."
...
Personal Pilgrimage Log: Tali'Zorah nar Rayya vas undecided
Pilgrimage, Day 82.
Fuck.
Fucking fuck fuck fuck.
Fuck!
Fucking fucking fuck fuck fucking fuck fuck FUCK!
Father is going to kill me.
Father is going to kill me, launch my ass out of a tube into an exploding sun, and/or then launch the remains directly at a Geth ship.
He is then going to impregnate as many women as possible, so that in twenty years he can hold up me as an example to his army of children and say, 'This is what you do not do on a Pilgrimage.'
Fuck.
How did I screw this up so badly? I just wanted to find something on the Geth! Something that would be able to say, 'Look, this is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya vas Kwib Kwib! She's the daughter of one of the ADMIRALS. She naturally brought back something so great and this is why we're now going to take back Rannoch next week!'
Fuck.
Fucking fuck.
FUCK.
Keelah se'lai
End log.
...
Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko
Personal log
I'm worried about the Commander.
End entry.
...
Dr. Irikah Krios
Observational notes:
Javik does not refer to me as either 'Irikah,' 'Doctor,' or 'Krios'. He refers to me as 'Drell.'
Most of the crew seems level headed.
I believe Lieutenant Alenko is worried about the CO.
I believe Ms. Zorah, the quarian VIP, is under stress.
End log.
...
Tapping her fingers on the desk, Irikah feels the lurch. The ship has gone underway. Her office, set up in the corner of the doctor's office of the Normandy, is well lit, the faint blue glow of the interior lighting giving it a calming aura. She has her things, she has what is necessary: A chair, a diagnostic bed if she needs to speak to someone to make them relax, and her personal things.
Her computer and a picture of her family;
Her, Thane, Kolyat, and Lyta.
"Your children?"
The doctor, Chakwas. Or Karin, as she insists on being called. Her smile is warm, genuine and optimistic. So is Irikah's.
"Yes," she says, turning her chair, "My son and daughter. My husband is off on business, so my sister is taking care of them right now."
Ah, Thane. Always away, always off, as he puts it, taking the bad things out of the universe. One would mistake the expression he holds in these pictures for sourness, but that is not true.
'The good is too rare to waste on images,' he would say, 'And too wonderful to share with just everyone.' She knows his smile, as do their children. He's made a point to show it so much more these past few years.
Since that day they nearly lost her. That day the enemies came, in vengeance for the death of their leader. She saw them coming, murder and torture in their eyes, watching them stalk up the walkway to their home. She was on the phone with Thane the entire time, he told her to hide, to take Kolyat and run.
And then their heads began disappearing.
There were a dozen of them. And one by one, their heads vanished. Save for the last, who saw her in the open doorway of her home, who pulled out a gun. His gun disappeared, along with his hand.
Then, too, did his head.
Thane was home in less than an hour. He swore he did not do that and she believed him. She knew what he was capable of. It was how they met.
A scant few months later, Lyta was born. Kolyat still gets shivers thinking about that day and says he doesn't want to talk about it, but he jokes it is less because of what nearly happened, and more because it meant that his parents were doing that after Thane got home.
And smiling at the picture of her family, she opens up her notes again, and begins writing down her initial impressions of Chief Williams.
...
Engines flare white in the darkness. Banking like an atmospheric craft, carried aloft by its gravitational field and thrusters instead of air, the Normandy turns towards the glowing, gun shaped megastructure. Engines flare in time with the pulse of the Relay Core. Deftly, nimbly, it maneuvers, flying alongside the relay as an arc of blue light plays over it.
The Normandy goes from silver to blue, the light from its engines shifting from white to red.
And in a flash of light that stretches out into infinity, it is gone.
...
"Therum? Why are we going to Therum?"
The soldiers by the door salute as instinct as their new CO walks past, followed by one of the officers. Neither of them pay any mind to the ever present enlisted. They're too distracted by other things.
"Therum has a prothean dig site," Jane says, running a hand through her hair as she eyes the consoles next to the galactic map, bathing the C&C in blue, "It's the last known location of Liara T'Soni. She's a noted expert on the Protheans."
"Yeah," Kaidan says, "And we happen to have one in the hold. I'm pretty sure he can tell us what we need to know about the Protheans."
She fixes him with a sideways glance, and turns back to the console, hopping up the steps to the map.
"Javik doesn't really know that much about Prothean civilization," she says, "Asking him is like asking a soldier how a jet engine works."
"Intake and air," Kaidan responds, folding his arms, "Burn fuel, push out the air faster."
She turns, leaning on one of the handlebars surrounding her raised platform. He shrugs in response.
"She's also Matriarch Benezia's daughter," she says, and sighs, "She's Saren's second in command, and if Saren's as much of a complete bastard as Anderson said he was, he's probably sending troops to either retrieve her..."
"Or to kill her," Kaidan says, and nods, stroking his chin, "Yeah. Make an example out of your second's kid so they don't turn against you."
He shakes his head, grinds his teeth. His face turns tight as he taps the console next to the map.
"Besides which," Jane continues, the holographic display appearing in front of her as she touches the icon for the volcanic world, "Ever read the theories on what happened to the Protheans? Beings of light, ascended to another plane of existence, left the galaxy. Liara got laughed out of the archeological community for suggesting something big and nasty came and killed them off. And has been doing that every fifty thousand years."
"Which is what happened."
"Exactly, Kaidan," she says, "Saren said something in Tali's recording about the Conduit. I asked Javik, and he has no idea what the Conduit is. Professor T'Soni's right, and since she's right, she might know something about it."
Because, she thinks, We need an excuse to get to Noveria, as I sure as Hell don't remember where the damn Mu Relay is.
The speakers crackle. She looks up, as does Kaidan, as Joker's voice comes over it.
"Commander, we're on approach to Therum. And we're not alone. Normandy's long range sensors are picking up at least fifty geth dropships in orbit. Looks like the Doc's got company."
She swears. She should have figured this. Just because Saren doesn't know doesn't mean Sovereign doesn't know.
"Take us in quiet," she says, "Drop us in the Mako."
...
Five seater. She's not sure why she only took three all the time, but the tank seats five. Well, if things go like she remembers, they won't need a sixth seat as the Normandy will save them from an erupting pillar of smoke, ash, and possibly lava. So, might as well take as many as she needs, this time around.
The forward most seat belongs to the driver. Upon entering the unfolded ramp, Kaidan sees Jane already in the driver's seat, flipping switches on the horseshoe shaped console in front of her. Her hands rest on the two joysticks on either side of the seat, screens flickering on as the main windshield polarizes. Above, the gears whirr as the turret swings from side to side.
"Strap in," she says, "We're going to go as soon as everyone's seated."
Warily keeping his eyes on her, he sidesteps to the seat across from him, sitting down and pulling on the seatbelt. Then, the belts over his shoulders, locking them in place. Wrex grunts as he enters, sitting behind Kaidan, tapping his fingers on his knees. Javik enters next, taking the seat across from Wrex, hands folded in his lap, and Ash enters last, glancing between the stone faced, unblinking Kaidan and Shepard.
"Okay," Shepard says as Ash straps in, "Let's get going. Joker?"
"Stealth systems engaged. The Geth can't see us. Unless they, y'know, look out a window."
A final switch. The floor of the tank interior vibrates, as behind the passengers the hum of a starting up element zero core comes to life. A light from the console, and a red sphere folds out, blue lights dancing over it.
"Hello. Welcome to the M-35 Mako. Please follow these safety instruct"
A wave of Shepard's omnitool, and the face disappears.
"Commander?" Kaidan asks, "Don't you...think...you should listen to that?"
"I read the manual," Shepard says, "I know how to drive this."
Kaidan shifts in his seat. Slowly, he reaches up and grips the safety handle above him. Across from him, Ash taps a button on the inside of her right gauntlet, blue crackling around her as her kinetic barriers start up.
"Ready," she says with a smile.
The rumble becomes louder, as the forward display shows the shuttle bay of the Normandy opening with the sound of grinding gears. Louder and louder, a whirring that increases in volume and pitch. It is not until Kaidan finds his gaze drawn to Shepard's feet, and the two pressed pedals, that he realizes it is from her revving the engine.
And as the VI declares that the Mako has the all-clear for launch, all Kaidan can do is clench his eyes and pray.
...
Therum. A volcanic world, geologically unstable, covered in active volcanoes and rivers of Magma.
On one of the many volcanic planes, spiked feet dance across the black rock. Shaped like a blue, silvery cross of spider and horse, the slender forms of a pair of Geth Armatures stalk across the surface. They seek their enemies. They seek their targets.
One realizes the target has arrived. Silently, it raises its glowing head skyward.
Right as the Mako descends from the sky, the wedge of its front splitting the Armature in two as the hull of the tank glows red from air friction.
And bouncing off the shattered Armature, the Mako guns the engine and drives away.
...
The Normandy class of frigate is a fusion of design philosophies. The silhouette of the Normandy would appear to be similar to a Turian frigate of similar size- slim, avian, agile. It bares the colors of the System Alliance, the engine configuration, and the weaponry. But inside, the most blatant example of this fusion is the Combat Information Center. The C&C is built into the back of the ship.
This comes from the Turian philosophy that, as the most important part of the ship, it should be protected by the entire ship rather than be up front and an easy target.
It is for such a reason that Garrus Vakarian is comfortable staring at the holographic projection of Therum, standing and tapping his foot on the raised platform commonly occupied by one Jane Shepard.
Therum, crackling blue light playing over it, hangs in front of him. Folded arms, tapping his fingers on his armored gauntlets, Garrus stares at the fleet of Geth hanging on the other side of the world. Segmented, a small head at the front, they resemble wingless, armless bees more than anything. And they're not moving.
"We're sure they never spotted us?" he asks.
The balding human nods, walking from his station to the platform.
"They can't see through our stealth systems. The only way would be to spot us visually, and we're moving too fast. That, and we can't spot anything like a window on their ship."
Garrus nods, watching the blue blip representing the Normandy, circling the planet on the opposite side.
"Pressley, right?" Garrus asks.
The human nods, a small smirk on his face.
"Yep," he says, "You're the second turian Spectre we've had aboard. Crew seems to like you more than the last."
"Nihlius," Garrus says, and sighs, "Yes. He was...difficult...to work with. Thankfully not my mentor, Vasir made sure to keep me on the straight and narrow. Not to speak ill of the dead, but, well. Nihlius."
"Stick up his..."
"Hard and long enough to be used as a melee weapon, yes," he says, "I've been getting less looks over the fact that I'm a Turian Spectre and more looks over the fact that I seem to like human women. Something to do with entertainment, right?"
Pressley shrugs.
"In the 20th, there were a spat of science fiction movies," he explains, "Aliens would invade and want to steal our women. Then we go out into the galaxy and, well, it turns out to be true."
Mandibles twitch. Garrus shrugs, smirk on his face.
"What can I say?" he responds, "Turian women don't do anything for me. I think it's because humans look like Quarians, myself. Keep scanning the planet. I saw something weird coming over comm chatter and I want to look into it."
...
The Mass Effect.
That is what the races of the galaxy call it. An Element Zero Core, when active, alters the inertia of an object by creating a field which alters mass. A positive current increases mass. A negative current decreases mass.
This allows easy transport between worlds, faster than light travel, and the creation of superdense materials. Like the hull of the Mako. As well, considering that the Mako was designed from the ground up for high altitude drops, a negative charge field reduces its mass to the point where it doesn't splatter when it hits the ground.
This usually goes over her head. Jane has come to the conclusion that one of the reasons she is a shitty driver is that she never fiddled with the controls. In essence, during her original time with the Mako, she drove around a six wheeled armored personnel carrier that weighed around eight kilograms.
On the way to Therum, she studied the controls, read the manual, ran a simulator on her omnitool. Combine the velocity of a high altitude drop, reduce mass to almost zero. Increase mass after bouncing off the armature. Gun the engine, engage the jets, and point it at the dig site.
Hence, why the Mako is now half embedded into the rock around the metal tunnel that leads to the dig site, one of the wheels hanging off of its frame, its cannon turned around and pointed at the horizon, and a sheen of pulverized rock, Geth, and ash covering its frame.
"Normandy," she says, "We're going to need shuttle pickup when we're done here."
"Roger that, Commander. Garrus said he's monitoring radio transmissions on Therum. He said he's picking up something odd."
Behind her, Wrex is on his hands and knees, breathing heavily. Kaiden is leaning against the railing of the walkway while Ash stretches, smile on her face under her sealed helmet.
Javik, face completely uncovered, has a small smile on his face. She walks over to him, past the others.
"What's with the smile?" she asks.
"You drive like me," the prothean responds.
She rolls her eyes, unlocking the assault rifle from her back and turning to the squad.
"Alright, arm up everyone," she says, "Let's go!"
...
Heavy breathing. Vision clearing in a haze, replaced by the pop up HUD of the combat systems. Coughing, pressing his hands against the metal floor, he pushes himself up. Dizziness clears. A cough, but nothing bad, nothing major. He looks himself over, finds no blood, no wounds.
"Sir!"
Standing, sees one of his men walking over, helping him up. Slapping him on the back, he shakes his head, getting his bearings. Outsider temperature's high, but not dangerous. Barriers are holding. Flick of his wrist and he pulls out his pistol, seeing it undamaged.
"We on Therum?"
"Shuttle crashed," the man says, walking out with him, "Some sort of virus. No one's hurt, though, and we're detecting chatter on the comms. Looks like there's an alliance team on the surface about ten kliks from our position. They're at the ruins."
He nods, finding his men waiting for him, all of them with weapons out. Assault rifles, sniper rifles, rocket launchers. He gets the feeling this mission just got a whole lot more complex.
"That's the good news. What's the bad news?"
"Fifty Geth cruises in orbit, sir."
He sighs. Should have figured.
"Well, shit," he says, "That's not good."
He shakes his head. He's in charge. He's in command. Reaching behind him, he pulls out his rifle, unfolding it. Heat sinks check, full ammo block. Stability mod in place.
"Alright!" he yells, "We're heading towards the ruins ten kliks from here. Everyone stay tight. Set your omnitools to white noise so those synthetic bastards don't see us! If you have something to say to each other, you do it verbally. No radio contact. Keep in line of sight. We get to those Alliance boys, and we get out of here. You hear me?"
A shout of "We hear you, sir!" Damn proud of those boys. They're going to get through this, he tells himself.
"Let's move out!"