The ship, Haven, had been painted a deep gold with an orange sheen. Unfortunately, over time the vessels past had shown in its scarred and worn appearance.
The inside of the hull walls was a smoky grey. An economy ion engine with an older model of drive core, protected by a kinetic field, occupied engineering.
Old and barely holding together, Haven had a crappy FTL speed despite Jormun's exhaustive maintenance skills.
The merc set a course for a nearby sub-station. He's being dropped off instead of air-locked, on the agreement that the fighter will pay for his transport.
At the station, Satima and Jormun decided to go to the bar for a celebratory drink... or two. The merc disappeared after they hit the club.
As they sat, Satima ordered an Azure sunrise for Jormun, dextro liquor. It's neon blue liquid colored his suited hand when he grabbed the glass.
The loud techno music blared in the background. People dancing, waving their arms and grinding on each other like there isn't a care in the universe to bother them.
This wasn't half bad. A little cleaner than places like Omega's Afterlife. She ordered her drink and turned her chair to face the crowd.
"Did you enjoy our little adventure?", she asked smirking.
Jormun slurped his drink through a straw into an opening of his suited helmet, gulping the liquid down fast.
"I didn't like almost being killed by a sentry, but yeah... it was a little exciting.", he reached out to touch her hand.
"Not now, Jormun.", she pushed his hand away.
"Oh, that's right. I'm just an employee.", he said hurt.
Satima glanced his way with a sarcastic glare. Jormun continued sucking the liquid through his straw. She leaned in close, trying to pinpoint correct eye contact through his helmet. His own lavender glowing eyes staring right at her, as he nervously readjusted his seat.
Satima gently brushed his arm with a sultry smile. Jormun nearly dropped his glass from the sudden touch. He always got so nervous when she did that, wanting to make it more, but feeling awkward about his own obstacles.
The damn suit.
Satima realized how nervous he became, and stopped teasing him.
"I'm sorry, Jormun. I like you, and I'm glad you're the voice of caution on our little adventures together.", she touched his shoulder with a smile.
Jormun stared at her. Ancestors she is beautiful.
"I'm going to sleep for a few days. After I finish my drink of course.", she laughed loudly with Jormun. Not realizing they were being watched.
H.I.V.E Reaper's Chambers
Reaper stood in front of the mirror, experiencing a rush of memories flooding her mind. She can't remember why, but she felt remorseful towards the subject Satima.
All those years raising her in a hostile environment, watching her squirm on the examination table when the mutative injections were prepared. Who was she to her? Reaper looked away.
That damn turian will pay in his blood for keeping her from the objective. He beat her down too easily. Still, there was something in his voice that shamed her.
Her bio-tool pinged. The Directive requested her presence, likely considering her failure to apprehend the subject Satima, again.
Was her nano tech getting to be obsolete, making her slow and... old? After all these years, the girl had grown strong and self-reliant. Isn't that what she was told to teach her? All Satima's skills and abilities, an exact copy of herself. But then, who was she?
Again, with the same thoughts, the same questions. Reaper must know, she must find the truth, before the whispers erase her memories.
And escape.
Titan Nebula: Outer Zone
He woke with a cold sweat. The stations air systems never worked well. It had been two days and that shitty ship Haven was still docked. There was something familiar with the structure of the ship. And that strange girl with her odd features, good with tech and keeping that ship afloat.
Doesn't matter. He felt more like shit since earlier from the beating he received and managed to survive from. Getting old had its disadvantages. It wasn't going to stop him from killing Reaper, though.
He looked at a data pad from a week ago, it contained the last conversation between himself and a representative of the Directive. Some anonymous lackey, tired of being pushed around.
"We've given you her location. Kill Reaper, free us from the tyranny of HIVE."
Simple. Yet he couldn't shake that feeling. He's betraying everything he once stood for, but she was a brighter galaxy long ago. He put his armor on and went to the bar. The quarian named Jormun sat at a table eating his nutrient paste.
Spirits, why would she commit murder on thousands of people? Burning colonies and slaughtering refugees for The Directive? He knew that experiments were being held on some of those worlds. What happened to her? She's a monster and he's going to put her down.
What really got him anxious was the fact that Satima had never left. Why is she staying? She's a smart girl, isn't she?
She appeared at the corner of the bar going to Jormun. A smile on her face as she sat next to him like a naïve kid. The quarian boy tried to hand her a nutrient pack, but she seemed preoccupied with something that made her shout at him.
Just then the station had shut down, red emergency lighting illuminated the floors.
Moments before...
"I'm going to kill him! That Batarian bastard and his "noble bullshit"!", Satima had eyed the bar, looking for a hard drink.
In truth, she mourned him. Borlask had been the only family she had. And now he's just like Reaper. Handing her over to them, doing nothing. Her thoughts wondered over to the merc they picked up.
She knew the smug turian was watching them when she hacked the cameras on the station last night. Guy sleeps with a gun.
Jormun nearly choked on his food. "Satima, don't shoot up another bar! I just set a tab. Besides, Borlask is probably dead. Reaper never leaves anyone alive."
"And if he isn't? Old has-been.", she shouted, still shocked and angry on his actions. "Never trust anyone." Satima mumbled to herself, upset.
Red lights came on and most of the doors closed automatically.
"What's going on?", Jormun sounded panicked, pulling out Ish.
Satima had a bad feeling, and looked out a porthole as two fighters drifted into dock.
"Shit! We need to go!", she pulled him up.
Jormun and Satima tried two doors, but her hacking codes couldn't break through. They tried to find emergency hatches. All of them were wielded shut.
At that moment of panic the main door hissed to life and five hive soldiers came in, followed by Archer. An elite droid scientist and second in command to Reaper under the Directive.
He resembled a human male with visible cybernetic parts covering his once organic flesh. His eyes were a cybernetic blue, pewter toned muscles flexed under the nano armor he wore. Archer moved forward to Satima and Jormun.
She swallowed hard, this wasn't good. Satima would rather deal with Reaper.
"Captain of Haven", he gave a cruel grin towards them.
She backed away slowly into Jormun as he protectively put her behind him. His sudden change to brave crew-mate made her blush. The turian merc hid in the shadows.
Archer paced around them, sending a cold shudder down Satima's plated spine. He tilted his head in curious observation of her, then a quick glance to Jormun.
"You are a hard person to find, but found I have. Please, have a seat.", he gestured with a hand over some chairs.
Archer sat, as two of the men grabbed her, forcing her to sit opposite him. It felt like an interrogation. He leaned forward.
"Turn off the shut down!", he yelled annoyed in his droid voice. It held a subtle accent.
The emergency shut down was turned off and all doors were unlocked. Satima as well as Jormun knew, there was no escape.
Jormun stood at a distance surrounded by soldiers. He held a deadly glare at Archer, though no one could tell because of his helmet.
"What do you want?", Satima asked, gulping hard.
Archer gave her an unpleasant gaze. She leaned back in the chair from fear of his unknown intentions.
"I need a sample."
He snapped a finger and the same two men held her down as a salarian came running over with a needle instrument. She panicked. Satima struggled against their hold as they took blood from her. The salarian scurried back out the door with the sample.
"What the hell was that for?", she yelled angrily.
"We need to check how your mutation is going. The Directive is interested in your progress.", he cocked his head strangely. "Your survival has been a fascinating subject, Satima."
"My survival?", she questioned with wide teal eyes. Many thoughts raced through her mind, but that took minutes. Satima doesn't have time to process this.
Archer stood up with a smile, pacing around her. He motioned the guards to let her go. Satima sat up quickly, keeping the chair between herself and him. Jormun's heart raced.
"Why did they send you here? Are you going to kill me?", she asked checking the room for a weapon.
He stood in place, putting a hand to his chin with a smirk. "Kill you?" Archer seemed shocked from that concept "I'm here to take you back and to make sure you never escape again. The Directive has great plans for you, Satima."
Satima continued backing slowly to the bar.
"Then where is Reaper? Why isn't she in charge of this?", she put her arms on the counter and felt behind the bar for weapons. Most bar tenders had them concealed away for emergencies like this. Satima found a pistol, carefully gripping it in preparation to fire.
Archer watched her feel around the back of the bar counter, choosing to ignore it. He looked away to reply. "Reaper has…", he gave a smirk in thought. "Tendered her resignation." Archer paused, taking in Satima's surprised stare. He continued. "Her services are no longer needed."
Satima let out a small gasp. Was he lying? Reaper… left? Why? There wasn't any time.
She brought out the pistol quickly firing on the crowd, pushing her way back for cover. Archer was too fast for her. He dodged every shot, sprinting towards Jormun. He knocked the quarrian over to use him as a shield. Satima shouted in anger.
Archer laughed cruelly, watching her pace, gun in hand. He forced her to make a choice. With a grin, he held his own weapon against the quarian's head. "You'll have to do better than that!", Archer yelled.
Satima realized Jormun is all she has in this horrible galaxy. If she loses him, she'll have nothing left. "Don't hurt him!", she pleaded. But she still held the gun firm.
Archer knew she wouldn't let go of her defense so easily. Too many battles in the stations interior, and too many times Reaper had to bring the child back.
He observed her hesitance. "Interesting how a child stands before me, yet a monster waits deep within you. The Directive's little toy. My perfect weapon." He held Jormun tightly, leaning close to the young quarian to speak. "You can't protect what she is, boy. And if you continue to try, you will die."
Jormun stopped squirming, Archer then waved the soldiers to take her. At that moment, the turian in the shadows decided this was enough.
Undetected, he slid past two guards. The few steps he took brought him behind the reaper monster. He pointed a widow rifle right at Archer's head, cocking the clip and ready to fire.
At the sound of a primed weapon, the droid smirked and looked around in surprise.
"Sneaky bastard, aren't you? How long have you been here?", he asked irritated, his humanoid eye twitching.
"Long enough." The turian with blue markings held a controlled finger on the trigger.
Archer sneered before kicking the rifle out of the turians hands. Using quick reflexes, the turian quickly brought out a pistol and shot him in the chest twice.
He staggered back, the bullet holes closing after impact. "Nice try."
The turian looked on in surprise as the android's chest wound began self-regenerating.
Archer was about to use his weapon before a sudden feeling of time became distorted. Distracted by this, Satima wrested herself from the men and pulled out a hidden blade.
She stabbed the neck of the closest one and flipped backward away from the other. Suddenly, dark armored figures appeared through a ripped singularity in the room. Each stepping out in different places, surrounding the soldiers.
They were named Stalkers, for their ability to appear in many places without being seen or heard. The stalkers started fighting with the soldiers. Archer was in a current battle with two of them when he noticed the turian running to Satima.
"Come on.", he said pulling her from a stalker, who seemed to be shielding her instead of attacking.
Jormun shot a soldier running behind them. "Satima are you okay?", he panted sprinting hard to keep up.
Satima nodded thinking about Reaper's sudden disappearance. Is what Archer said true? What if she's coming after her?
They made it to her ship. Satima ran to the pilot chair, and keyed controls for Haven to unlock from the docking system. Together they piloted it away from the war-torn station, as fighters fired cannon lasers, destroying the once peaceful rest stop.
The ship accelerated through space for a time. A maddeningly silent journey that prompted small talk. He sat next to her in the co-pilots seat, while she gathered herself from another close call.
Satima glanced at him quickly, returning her gaze to the stars. She let out a deep sigh, heavy with fear. "I've never seen a stalker up close before", she spoke quietly.
The turian merc turned facing her with a shaky voice and unsure smirk.
"All that menacing armor and manipulating space-time? It's just too surreal." He pressed a few buttons and clicked his mandibles in reflection.
Satima cleared her throat to speak. "Jormun, check the left thruster again. I think it's trying to break off." Fearful that a stalker would suddenly appear in the bridge behind her, she made a quick glance then returned to her navigational controls.
Back at the station...
Archer threw his blade at the hanging body of a dead stalker. It dangled from the black armored alien, as silver blood oozed from the wound. He took sport in this exercise often.
"Sir, we lost the Haven.", a lackey reported.
Archer turned around and walked to him with a smile. His blue eyes narrowing on theunsuspecting subordinate.
"Is that all?", he asked calmly. The lackey nodded yes. Archer reached out, grabbing the neck of the man with an incredible strength. He could see the fear in the human's grey eyes, sweat beading the man's brow as he squeezed tighter.
But, it would be useless to throw away willing subjects. The Directive will notice and not like him breaking their toys.
Calmed, he resolved to let the human male free, giving a devious smile and straightening the servant's uniform. "Fortunately, your usefulness outweighs your exceedingly lacking ability to find a young girl."
The lackey nodded, gulping hard.
Archer continued with his smile, gesturing for him to leave. "You may go."
He turned swiftly, facing the other Directive soldiers with a glare, as the lackey hurriedly disappeared into the remaining docks of the damaged station.
Archer resumed to pace the stations bar, overlooking a porthole onto space. Turning with a nasty glare, he began to shout orders. "I want all scouts searching the Rim and Terminus systems. FIND ME SATIMA!", he roared
FTL preflight
Satima thought about the merc. His intentions to kill Reaper seemed a bit personal. Then again, her intentions would be too. The long years kept as a tormented protégé to Reaper, trained in the deadliest ways.
It took some time for her to break free from the habits, the constant thoughts that molded her dreams into horrible nightmares.
Satima remembered when she was little that she used to have the most beautiful blue eyes. They were human eyes. Mass amounts of injections later her sclera turned black. She went from normal human girl to a freak.
The only other thing she was born with is the cranial ridges on her forehead, with deep lines that formed a very distinct feature down to the slightly raised ridges on her nose.
Looking down, she observed the four fingers, instead of five. Remembering a human smile, she made to the mirror in the lavatory, seeing back rows of sharp predator teeth. Small but effective.
Overall, she seemed mostly human... mostly. Satima hates what she is and not only because of the obvious alien deformation, but that she was the only one of her kind.
Being alone in the universe is a terrible feeling.
Jormun watched the merc settle in the mess. He brought out dextro paste to eat. His armor shone a deep blue, some gold bird on his right arm. It was old, with scorch marks and heavy scarring. He must have changed from his merc armor. Could have been for disguise.
Jormun was told as a child that you can always tell a person by their suit. What they wear, how long they've worn it and what shape it was in. Giving the small fact that the merc wasn't wearing a suit but armor made no difference. Culturally maybe.
Judging by the merc's, Jormun surmised he was broken and weary. At this speculation, Jormun felt a little sorry for the guy. The merc brought out his nutrient paste, that's when Satima walked in.
She paced as he kept eating. His right face and mandible had deep scars, most of it seemed healed. He had deep avian azure eyes with a glaring intensity. It was unnerving.
Navy colored colonial markings covered the bridge of his raised flat nose to his eye, while an outdated visor covered his left. Satima folded her arms in frustration.
"You going to give us a name now?", she glared his way.
The merc sat on the bench to eat, ignoring her comment. Satima almost yelled her question again before he answered.
"Why is it so important? I'm not hanging around here long.", he nearly shouted at her. The turian then bit off the end of the plastic tube and spit it out. Paste oozed and an unpleasant odor of dead meat filled the room.
Jormun shut off his filters.
Satima sat across, watching him suck out some paste ignoring her presence completely. He finished his meal, tossing the trash on the floor.
"No name. It's better that way.", he got up to leave, irritated by Satima's glare.
She held it longer, trying to intimidate him into an answer. "You saved us back there. Why?"
His gaze narrowed on her. "Because you're weak. An amateur in combat, not experienced enough to wander this galaxy alone, with a boy for an engineer and a pile of junk for transport." He started to laugh mockingly," I mean, what year was this made? 2180?" The turian sat up, beginning to leave.
Satima had enough with this guy's attitude, and stood up to block him. She pushed him back despite his height, unafraid of him.
"How about I shove you out the nearest air-lock? Don't think you can get past me because of my size!", she grinned showing her sharp teeth.
The merc stepped back and cocked his head. He looked at Jormun who reached around for Ish.
Turning back to her, the merc leaned in close, face to face, "Where I come from we don't hit little girls.", he said insultingly.
Satima punched him across the mandible, attempting a jab to his side, but missed. He sidestepped, landing a fist at her ribs, holding back from dealing heavy damage.
She coughed, but regained her battle stance. It seemed familiar. Satime rushed at him, he sidestepped again, then she caught it.
Hitting his throat, making him gasp for air, she backed up from her intended victory. Any harder and Satima could've killed him. He was impressed at her knowledge of hand to hand.
Satima grabbed his fringe knowing where to twist, while he yelled in pained rage. The merc elbowed her in the chest right above the heart. She fell back rolling on all fours gasping in pain.
"ENOUGH!", Jormun screamed waving Ish around threateningly.
They both looked at him, reeling from their blows. Satima used her weight on her knee to stand up. It had been a good while since she was in a scrap like that.
The merc leaned against the wall, he clutched his side, breathing heavily. She got him good, especially since it was the same spot Reaper kicked in days before. Smart little brat.
Jormun walked to Satima who vehemently pushed his efforts to help away. She stared at the turian, wincing from the fight.
" now... tell me your damn name, and apologize for mocking my ship!", she tried shouting it, wheezing from his elbowed blow.
The merc gave a mandibled smile with a laugh," No, but I'm sorry your ship is a piece of shit.", he slid down the wall resting, with a smirk. Satima started before Jormun held her back firmly.
"You boshtet's!", he said while going after the first aid kits.
The merc used his last medi-gel kit to heal up the recent assault on his ribs. Satima's childish complaints at her boyfriend gave him a headache.
Jormun tried to apply the small tube of medi-gel to Satima's chest, above her shirt. It had a big round bruise on the skin. She was lucky that turian didn't hit harder.
"OW!", she stared at Jormun in displeasure. He fumbled with the tube as she yelled insults in his attempts to soothe the pain.
He headed out of the mess area. Alone he wandered into the engine room. An old soul of the machinery lingering past its due. Maybe it needs some work.
Parts of the hull resembled a ship he used to serve on. He got down on the floor and found data pads with plenty of calculations on the various systems the ship held. Completing all the tasks would take a few hours, but he needed the distraction.
As time passed, he fell asleep leaning on the wall. His grey dream turned from serene mountains of Palaven to a nightmare, filled with reapers, husks and Shepard.
This horrific dream gave no indication of letting him wake. Even though he wanted to, an eerie feeling drew him deeper in the sub consciousness of his dreamscape.
There she was. Standing in front of him in full N7 armor, wielding her rifle with that sure gaze. He slowly walked to her, and tried speaking as words formed in his mind.
Nothing but a cold silence fell between them. She looked down with the saddest stare. Suddenly a red light covered them, as he shielded his face to block out the harsh beam. When his eyesight recovered, the woman stood closer. He could almost touch her.
The armor was burnt, flesh shown in patches covered in the crimson blood humans were known to have. She wavered in her stance, her eyes watery and bloodshot, seemingly surprised. He began tossing and turning on the floor.
"Help me.", she asked. "It burns, and I can't feel my arms." Her shaky voice and feeble stance nearly brought him to tears.
He grips his rifle tight, as someone enters the engine room cautiously. While he put a finger on the trigger, baring his teeth in anger, and growled at nothing in his sleep, "I can't help you.", he repeats loudly in the room, "...shepard...". Putting his taloned hand into a fist so tight, it pierces flesh and bleeds.
He lets go, unclenching his fist and suddenly he can't remember her face anymore. She turns away, walking into a red beam that swallows her whole. A new form emerges. Reaper.
He opened his eyes to a feeling of being watched. She stood there still as stone. Then she blinked her teal eyes at him.
Satima hovered with her head cocked to one side.
"Who is this Shepard?", she asked.
He sat up quickly and stood facing Satima. His avian gaze searching angrily at her question. She didn't back up or blink.
A brave and defiant stance that gave him a second or two of pause. He shook it off, walking hurriedly while knocking her out of the way rudely.
Satima scoffed loudly, staring at him in a personal rage.
"Asshole!", she shouted angrily down the corridor.
