Heyup! Chapter 3! You know the drill by now I'm sure. I feel like something is off with this chapter but I can't put my finger on it.
Anyway, let me know what you think!
UNSC Scout ship Mu, September 13, 2560
His breath was hot and heavy inside his helmet. The darkened visor did little, however, to protect his eyes from the harsh, white lights that filled the ship.
He rounded another sharp corner. The light grey wall next to him lit up in a shower of sparks as rounds impacted next his head. Metal fragments bounced off his helmet harmlessly. Adrien ducked back into cover. There was at least one of the olive drab coloured aliens at the end, taking cover by a bulkhead.
The alien ship wasn't too big, smaller than a frigate but bigger than a corvette. The hanger his team had boarded through was small, barely large enough to fit the shuttle inside. A few of the aliens had opened fire on them and had killed one of his men. His team proceeded to wipe the defenders out. All that was left now was the bridge. The heart and brain of any vessel. His only problem now, other than the few remaining aliens aboard, was finding it. Unlike Turian ships the bridge wasn't located deep in the heart of the structure, surrounded by armour.
He poked his head round the corner cautiously, another one of the armoured aliens had joined the first, and both had their rifle at the ready. They were talking in their strange language, not as liquid like as the Asari, nor as sharp as the Turian or as fast as Salarian speech, it was like a mix of all three. One of them fired at him and the other pulled something out if its armour but he didn't see what as he pulled himself back again.
Something hit the wall opposite him and bounced backwards, landing at his feet. Small and round, a little red light flashed rapidly on it. It might have been alien but he knew exactly what it was.
"Grenade!" he shouted. Instinctively he threw himself away from it, into the alien's line of fire. He scrambled to a bulkhead further down, casting a momentary glance behind him as the grenade went off. Two of his men were engulfed in an orange ball of fire and shrapnel. He heard the screaming of at least one more of his men. His shields popped just as he reached some cover. He peered round again, saw the damage done; two bodies lay in pieces, the armour and flesh burnt together and blackened. He motioned one of his soldiers.
Overload, now!
The trooper reached round and fired an overload from his Omni-tool. It hit one of the aliens dead on, sending non-lethal sparks of electricity through its body, designed to take out shields and weapons for a short period. Unfortunately for him, it did neither. The alien, though confused, still fired. The rounds coming too close for comfort near his head as they zipped by.
He grabbed his own grenade and chucked it. He heard the aliens shout in panic and scramble followed by the dull, thump of detonation and then silence. Adrien poked his head round again. Nothing. One of the aliens lay slumped against the wall, its armour charred and shattered. The other was still alive, crawling on its belly, one of its legs missing, the other hanging on by the thread of its uniform.
All he could hear for a moment was his own breathing and his heart thundering in his chest.
He emerged from cover and jogged back to what remained of his team. They were another three men down. Out of the twenty that had come aboard with him, sixteen remained. To Adrien, it was unacceptable losses against a foe that, by all appearances, was inferior to them.
As he walked by, put the alien out of its misery with a simple small burst into its back. He couldn't understand them yet and that one was too far gone to be of any use for interrogation so there was no point keeping it alive and suffering.
Adrien led his team forward, to the front of the ship. Eventually finding the bridge. Inside he found the remainder of the crew. As he breached the thick titanium blast doors he rushed in first. Raising his rifle to his shoulder, aiming reticule up, he jumped through the hole the charges left in the doors. Inside were a dozen of them, all of which had handguns aimed at him, but none fired and neither did he. Curious to see what they'd do next. The rest of Adrien's team piled in, rifles ready. These aliens were different, they lacked the drab armour and instead wore grey cloth that ran from their necks to their feet and their uniform was adorned with gold and silver rank markings he didn't understand. The one with gold braid on his uniform, the apparent leader, raised a hand and said something to its fellows. They looked at him, some with anger, fright and confusion. Universal emotions shown through the eyes. The leader repeated itself, its voice sterner this time and the alien bridge crew lowered their weapons. He had his team round the heavy looking pistols up and escort the prisoners back down towards the hanger.
Adrien and a corporal stayed on the alien bridge. A large view screen opened up a clear, beautiful, view of the stars. He walked around the command centre in a slow, wide, circle, looking at all the control stations and screens, taking it all in. it was all so alien. It was strange. He served the Turian Hierarchy and by extension the citadel council- a diverse and complex multi-species government that worked to the betterment for dozens of species. It was strange because there were dozens of species and each knew the others quirks. They'd been in contact for centuries or longer. But this was new, completely alien, it was first contact and he was shooting them and capturing their ships. Not the best first impressions, but they had broken citadel law.
Can you break a law you don't know about? Was the General too quick to open fire? What would the Primarch say? What would the council say?
He tried to stop thinking down that line. Turian's didn't question orders. Lieutenants didn't question Generals. Plus, it was too late now. They'd committed to this action. These aliens would be put down and made into a client race. They certainly had a knack for space travel. Adrien had heard about how the massive dreadnought sized ship had escaped a scouting flotilla by means of a portal. The commander had been adamant about that. They didn't use element zero. They didn't use Mass Effect technology. They used portals. He didn't believe the rumours until this ship- the one he'd just captured- had dropped out of one almost right next to the cruiser he was stationed aboard.
He walked over to the command chair in the centre of the bridge and decided to try it out. He liked it. A lot. He could see every station and command over them and he had access to a command station as well as an unobstructed view into space. Unfortunately his peace was ruined by the arrival of tech teams sent over to scour through the ship databases and see what they could get from it. He doubted it would be much, if anything.
Before leaving the alien ship he looked round again from the command seat and noted small holographic projectors next every station with one on a plinth next to the commander's chair. He wondered what they were for. A VI perhaps. Or communications with other ship captains and officers. He didn't know. It was too alien to guess.
Falkland, Camp Moore, September 19, 2560
"…and in other news, three more freighters have been declared missing in the Shanxi sector. UNSC Naval forces are mobilising to find out what happened to the missing ships."
David snapped the radio off as he finished zipping his coat up. This afternoon was his and he planned on spending it in the city. He had a date. He grabbed his chatter and keyset from his desk, a small wooden piece that barely fitted in his room. It was cluttered with a mass of holo-stills, three-dimensional pictures of his life. His graduation from school, him in his full dress uniform at his passing out parade and one him and his two older sisters playing on a grassy knoll in a park close to the house his grandparents lived in. He'd only been about four or five at the time and the rugby ball he had looked huge compared to him. Rugby had always been his favourite sport.
He cast a quick glance at the holographic clock on his was, surrounded by posters of topless models, sports cars and an England Rugby Team poster, signed by the entire team of that year. He checked himself over one last time in the mirror hanging on the front of his wardrobe before he left his room, the automatic door locking behind him with a swish and thunk.
He was using an old civilian version of the M12 Warthog, the only difference was it was enclosed and lacked the menacing tusks on the tow bar. He hopped into the large, rusted orange coloured, truck and keyed the engine. He grinned at the sound of the twelve-litre engine growling into life. It wasn't the same as the roar of his own sports car on Earth; an early twenty-first century V-12 machine that had cost him nearly everything he was worth. But it still brought him some satisfaction. He whacked the heater on full as he pulled the all-wheel drive four-by-four out of its parking spot and onto a road that would take him to the main gate. His route took him past the air field and he got a full view of it. Coming in on the shuttle he'd missed the large circular pads that reached deep underground to the main vehicle hanger bay where a full complement of Pelican drop ships, UH-144 and UH-142 Falcons and AV-22 Sparrowhawk gunships.
During the war Camp Moore had been turned into a massive staging area, a command centre for military operations in the area. What he saw now was just the remnants of that operation. But its former glory was being returned slowly but surely as more and more troops were arriving at an almost weekly basis. Two destroyers and a light carrier were in orbit as well, for how long he didn't know but it was somewhat comforting to know there was some form of orbital support should they need it. But as he pulled the borrowed truck onto the main highway a few miles from the base and let the road ware system drive him to the city, he doubted the need for so many men. It seemed, in his opinion, daft. There were multiple bushfire wars going on in the colonies, caused by the massive cultural differences of the people in the colonies. Having nearly twenty thousand soldiers here seemed like a waste.
The main highway took him alongside the river. The traffic was moderate he thought, more than he expected but less than the highways on Earth. A massive truck blew past him, sounding its horn as it did so. In the valley the tall mountains blocked the sun, casting the highway into shadow. The surrounding countryside slowly began to transform from river banks grass fields into a developing residential zone. He passed by an incomplete estate and a primary school which was just finishing for the day. Kids ran up to their parents as they charged out of the school doors in a stampede of tiny bodies, grubby faces and brightly coloured backpacks.
Eventually though the low walls, family sized houses and corner stores slowly turned into towers that got bigger and bigger until they dominated the skyline.
Soon enough he pulled into a car park and walked the rest of the way to his destination; a small sidewalk café that overlooked the long beach at the north end of town. His date, or more specifically liaison, was yet to arrive. He grabbed a cup of coffee from the automated dispenser, its voice reminded him of the typical waitress of a New Jersey diner from the old movies in his collection.
He took residence in a seat by the window that allowed him to see over the beach and towards the sea. It was a clear day today and about as warm as it got on the colony, and the people were enjoying it while they could; brightly coloured sail boats and motorboats danced across the cold grey looking water. A pelican sat on standby at the edge of a long, wooden, pier. It's red and white hull bore the symbol of the coast guard.
It was ten minutes before she showed up. He put his chatter down as she walked in, she was more interesting than the news. She grabbed herself a coffee for herself before joining him at the table and they shared pleasantries.
"This is nice," she said. "Small, out the way, not bad coffee."
"I think it's quaint. Plus the chances of anyone we know coming here and finding us are slim. Which is what we agreed upon, isn't it Molly?" Molly laughed.
"True, we don't want Rowkin to find out that his favourite NCO is screwing a Navy girl."
"Well, I wouldn't have called myself his favourite, but essentially, yes. You know what he's like. He'd report it General Bernard and we'd both get put up for it." He enjoyed the time he spent with her, but he loved his career, he didn't want to take too many chances with it. She leaned forward and said in a whisper.
"True, that's why I got us room in a small hotel tonight. What time do you have to back on base?"
He couldn't help himself, he laughed. It was like a classic affair, meeting in a discrete hotel, doing the deed, and being back home in time for supper.
"What? What's so funny about that?" Molly asked, looking almost hurt.
"Nothing, nothing," said David. "Just thought it was a bit funny, you know? Sneaking around, meeting in café's and hotels. It's like we're having an affair, keeping it a secret from our loving spouses." She laughed a little at that.
"When you put it that way then yeah, it is a little funny," she said. "But it's for a reason."
"I know. I get that. Now, let's just enjoy the day, 'eh?" David said, taking a swig from his drink. "How was the stint on Victoria?"
"Boring," she replied with a shrug. Her short, shoulder length hair- way over the regulation length- bobbed every time she moved her head, "It's full of miners and machines. The closest thing to civilization on that rock was the base camp. And it's colder there than it is here. Absolutely horrible place, damn NCA can have it for all I care."
"Sounds like a whale of a time. At least you didn't have Rowkin try to shoot you dozens of times over three days."
"He's a bastard."
"He's an officer from the colonies. He just has a thing against Earth, not enough of one to become a rebel or join the NCA but still, he hates our beautiful home world. Don't know why." David replied with a shrug.
They sat in silence for short while. David was about to ask what else she had planned for the afternoon and evening when a short, high pitched, ringing cut through the air. It was her chatter. With an apologetic smile she ducked off to answer it and when she came back several minutes later, the look on her face was not good.
"I've got to go, a damaged mining ship just jumped into orbit and needs help so the marines are being called in. They also want medical aid hence why I'm going." She said, quickly gathering her things. He tried to ignore the stabbing feeling of resentment.
"Its fine," he forced out. "I understand. We're soldiers, duty comes first."
"I don't know how long this'll take so, don't hold your breath okay?" She said before turning for the door and nearly running out the door. He sighed and shrugged.
That could have gone better. And a whole lot worse, so overall; not too bad. I've got the rest of the day off, and night. What am I going to do with myself? Screw it, I'll ring the lads, they know the best clubs around here.
HSV Abiding Truth, Turian Dreadnought, uncharted space, 2156 CE
The alien captain sat on a lone chair in the middle of the room, strapped down by its feet and wrists. It had been stripped of its grey and gold uniform and instead wore a plain white shirt that covered its chest but not its arms. It still had the grey slacks on its legs and polished shoes on its feet. For a prisoner, it looked surprisingly calm.
The Turian general entered the room, flanked by the lieutenant that had captured the alien command crew and a guard. Desolas Arterius, a veteran of multiple conflicts throughout council space and a notorious leader known for his preference of action over words, said nothing as he circled the captive like a shark circling its prey. The alien captain just watched through narrowed eyes.
It was a while before Desolas spoke. Calm and smooth, like verbal silk, he spoke with confidence and authority. Something the translator did well to express.
"Do you understand me?" he asked. The captive gave no verbal indication but a light rise of its eyebrow gave it away. It was surprised. "You and your crew are now prisoners of the Turian hierarchy and, as such, we are within our rights to treat you as deemed necessary." Desolas paused for a second, letting it sink in.
"Now, if you cooperate, actions that might seem… unsavoury will be avoided. And if you don't we'll make sure you do in the future." He said. "So, first of all, what's your name and rank? You're obviously military, even if it is a primitive military."
"Captain, William D, 098564-47514-WD, commanding officer of the UNSC scout ship Mu."
"Interesting. Well, Captain, you're off to a good start. Now, what is your species called? How many worlds does your government have and where is the position of your home world?" Desolas asked. He stood to the captain's right, Adrien to the captains left. The young Turian lieutenant was watching his superior as he worked.
"Humans, that's my people's collective name. Homo sapiens, if you want the proper name. I won't tell you how many worlds we control nor will I tell you the location of our home world. And before you ask, I won't give up military secrets either." The human captain sneered. Baring his small, white teeth, Adrien could only see four sharp, predatory like fangs in his mouth, suggesting that humans, like the Asari, were omnivores. Something that would fascinate biologists throughout the galaxy but also revealed even more about this, so far, unknown species.
"How very admirable of you. But really it is a pointless and trivial exercise, denying me the information I requested." Desolas activated his Omni-tool, his forearm glowing orange as it surrounded itself with a holographic display. A small projection appeared above his wrist. A planet, islands dotted the surface, four space elevators reached out from the surface. A colony for sure, but which? It could have been any of them. Even a navy captain didn't know what every colony looked like. It could even belong to the New Colonial Alliance.
"A scout ship of mine located this just hours ago. Well developed, large population and if the scans are as accurate as I'm sure they are, a large military population as well. You see, captain, the last few questions were merely a test to see your honesty while answering and to see how cooperative you'd be. Perhaps one of your subordinates will be more willing to help. They might stop what you failed to do; stop the invasion of your precious little world."
With that the Turian General turned and went to leave, only stopping long enough to order the guard to take the prisoner back to the brig. The lieutenant stayed. He looked at the captain, trying to figure out the human and vice versa. Eventually though he left, shaking his head and sighing. Then the guard took the captain back to a small cell located somewhere near the ships engineering section.
Adrien Victus, studied the human weapons. Both of them taken from the captured ship. They were primitive, using chemical reactions to propel the bullet. A digital display showed the amount of rounds left in the weapons magazine, currently zero in its unloaded state, and a tactical lamp was fastened underneath the barrel. The side arm was similar, bulky and unwieldy in his three fingered grip.
They were strange, alien, primitive and highly effective. He'd learnt that one the hard way. An overload won't stop them firing and due to their very nature aren't stopped by the standard issue kinetic barrier. A chilling thought. It meant one of his most advantageous pieces of equipment on the battlefield was rendered moot simply by the difference in technology. Irony at its best; more advanced by being less advanced. When this confrontation between people comes to a head, as it is bound to, the Turian losses would be colossal. Unacceptable. Catastrophic. He could stop it though, before it all went too far. He had a friend, one friend located at the heart of the galactic commerce, the centre of civilization and cooperation; the citadel.
He could inform his friend, let him know and warn the council of the impending conflict they could step in and stop it all. His hands hovered over his holographic keyboard, ready to type the message, but he couldn't. The Turian within him. The pride within him, wouldn't allow it. Turians always won. No matter the odds. He sighed, letting his hands fall to his desk. Maybe the human leaders would be smart enough to surrender, like the command crew. Maybe.