STAR WARS DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. MASS EFFECT DOES NOT BELONG TO ME. BIOWARE CAN KEEP ITS LAME ENDING, BUT I'M KEEPING MY ORIGINAL CHARACTERS.
Wow, two chapters in two days! I'm spoiling you, aren't I?
Today, I looked at this story and I thought to myself, 'Self, you know what this story needs? More characters!' I should start making a list to keep track. Enjoy!
Outcast Effect
Chapter 4
Meeting the Natives, Part 3
Luna Base, Sol System
Admiral Hackett, commanding officer of the Alliance Fifth Fleet, scanned the space beyond Earth's moon from his fleet's flagship, the Dreadnaught SSV Kilimanjaro. He had been given the summary of what had happened half a day ago, and despite the dangers of skepticism, he felt that he had to see it to believe it.
Visitors from another galaxy. Not only that, but a good number of them were Human! He'd run the numbers through a Virtual Intelligence, and the VI had said that the odds of another species evolving the same way and choosing the same name were over a trillion to one.
That was why Hackett found himself staring at where this 'Battlegroup Maverick' would be arriving.
And then, in a flash of light, the seven vessels pulled out of lightspeed, stopping just a few-hundred kilometers from the Fifth Fleet. Hackett's gaze immediately locked onto the largest vessel, half-again larger than his own. Even from this distance, he knew that that ship was meant to utterly annihilate its enemies.
For once, I'm glad that Udina is part of the Council, Hackett thought to himself, who knows how bad things could have been if he hadn't done what he did.
"Admiral, we're being hailed by the lead vessel," his comms-officer reported.
Hackett nodded. "Put it through."
Unlike the previous times that the Ren's Vengeance had communicated, this time there was an image. As the blue hologram of Admiral M'zan appeared on his bridge, Hackett couldn't help but marvel at how Human she looked. Finding out that the Asari were so physiologically similar to Humans had been amazing, but if the reports were correct, then this other galaxy had hundreds of species that were classified as 'near-Humans'.
"Admiral M'zan, I presume?" Hackett asked, nodding his head respectfully.
M'zan gave the older Human a smirk. "I am, but you have me at a disadvantage. I don't know who you are."
And here's where Udina failed, Hackett thought, he didn't tell the New Republic who they were meeting.
"I'm Admiral Steven Hackett of the Systems Alliance, Fifth Fleet," he said out loud, "My ships and I are here to escort you to your berth at Luna Base."
"Sounds good," M'zan replied, "I hope you left a wide place for us—the Vengeance is a little on the large side."
"Don't worry," Hackett assured her, "We've cleared out half the moon for you."
"Well, then," M'zan said, "Lead the way."
…
Maverick was led to the dark side of Earth's moon, where they were able to dock with the furthest section of Luna Base; before they arrived, they got a good look at the planet they would be staying near. The small, blue-and-green planet was certainly attractive to some of the crew, but most of them preferred to stay on their ships; it was the only familiar thing they had left.
When they docked at Luna Base, they found that it had been cleared of civilians, on the pretense of a major technical overhaul that required all but military and scientific personnel to leave. Considering how much advanced technology was being parked right next to the base, it wasn't a complete lie.
For the first few days, the crew of Maverick acclimated to their new surroundings and explored the base, under the watchful eye of Alliance marines. Most of the interactions between the Humans of different galaxies were cordial, but the New Republic personnel found it disturbing how the Alliance was so mistrusting of non-Humans; it reminded them of the Empire. On the other hand, it wasn't treating them like scum, but more like they still weren't used to the idea that there were other sapient beings in the galaxy.
After the second day, Ryan found himself staring at Earth from behind a window. For the first time since arriving in this galaxy, he was wearing his civilian clothes instead of his armor: black combat-pants, boots, a gray shirt and a brown greatcoat, with his beskar dagger clipped to his belt.
He was so caught up in staring, he wasn't aware of the person behind him until an arm wrapped around his.
"Credit for your thoughts?" Tanith asked, also dressed in her civilian clothes: the lower half of an orange jumpsuit, a black, sleeveless shirt and a pair of elbow-length, fingerless gloves, with several engineering tools on her belt.
Ryan looked up into Tanith's eyes and smiled. "Oh come on, you know my thoughts are worth at least fifty credits."
Tanith smiled back and gently nudged him. "Keep telling yourself that. Now seriously, what's on your mind?"
Ryan took one of Tanith's hands in his own, then gestured to the distant Earth with his chin. "It's just… right there is where Humans in this galaxy evolved. For most Humans, that's their homeworld, and that's it. It's just so… small."
"What do you mean?"
"Back home, Humans have so many home worlds; Bitters is from Corellia, I'm from Dantooine… we don't care about where our species came from, we care where we came from. I guess we've moved past caring about where our original ancestors lived."
Tanith was silent for several minutes. She wasn't used to Ryan thinking about things like that; usually, he was only concerned about whatever situation was happening, the people in Maverick, the other Blades, and her.
When she thought about herself and Ryan, she smiled and kissed him on the cheek.
"What was that for?" Ryan asked, though he didn't look like he minded.
"Well, we haven't had a chance to do that since before we arrived in this galaxy," Tanith told him, "You wouldn't want me to feel neglected, would you?"
Ryan responded by wrapping his arm around her waist and bringing her close to him.
"Never," he whispered, before kissing her; the kiss lasted for several seconds, but was interrupted by a cough behind them.
Slightly annoyed, the couple turned to see a dark-skinned Human behind them. He was from the Alliance, that much was obvious; his face was lined, but still had a look of strength and resolve in it. He was tall and fit, though his formal uniform concealed his muscles.
"Sorry if I caught you in the middle of something," the man said in a baritone voice, though he had the good grace to sound sheepish, "I was looking for a Commander Ryan Nimbus. Who are you, Miss…?"
"Tanith Tsor," the Mirialan said, then glanced at Ryan.
"I'm Commander Nimbus," Ryan said, still a little annoyed, "Who are you?"
The man extended a hand. "Admiral David Anderson. I was told that you were one of the people I could go to if I had questions about your galaxy."
It was true; since Ryan wasn't privy to New Republic secrets, he was considered one of the 'safe' people that could be interviewed by the Alliance. Unfortunately, this meant that Ryan could rarely get a moment to himself—or with Tanith—without someone trying to talk to him.
"I'll try to answer any questions you have," Ryan said diplomatically, shaking Anderson's hand, while Tanith suppressed a huff; she had hoped to have some time alone with her fiancé.
Anderson gestured for both of them to walk with him; after a few moments, he spoke.
"From what I've gathered about your galaxy, there must be some incredible things," he said, "I was hoping you could confirm the existence of something for me."
"And that would be…?" Ryan gestured for the man to continue.
Anderson took a deep breath. "Have you ever heard of the Reapers?"
Both Ryan and Tanith froze; seeing that they were no longer walking with him, Anderson turned to see their shocked faces.
"Yeah," Tanith said, "We've met them before."
"You have?" Anderson was amazed. "How did you beat them?"
Ryan shrugged. "Once you get past their armor, they're pretty easy to take down, just like any Human."
Anderson blinked. "What? The Reaper we fought was easy to stop once its kinetic barrier went down."
"Um… I think we're talking about two different things," Ryan said, "We're talking about an Imperial Regiment that we took down a little over a year ago. What are you talking about?"
Anderson sighed, then activated his Omni-tool; a moment later, an image of a large, dark-gray ship that was shaped vaguely like a cuttlefish was frozen as it neared the Citadel, over a dozen burning ships surrounding it.
"This was Sovereign," Anderson explained, "A Reaper, and it was two kilometers long, capable of taking out just about any ship's barriers with a single shot. From what we understand, they come from outside our galaxy every fifty thousand years to wipe out and harvest all advanced species. Three years ago, Sovereign tried to use the Citadel as a doorway for the rest of the Reapers, but we were able to destroy it. Two years later, their agents, the Collectors, were stopped before they created a Human Reaper; shortly after that, the main Reaper invasion was delayed, but I believe that they'll show up en masse very soon."
Tanith examined the image of Sovereign, her mind taking in its dimensions and properties. After a moment of that, she turned to Anderson.
"I've never seen a ship so… organic-looking. Who built it?"
Anderson shrugged. "I have no idea who made the Reapers, but the reason it looks the way it does is because it actually has organic and synthetic properties, and is controlled by an artificial intelligence. No crew is necessary, but people can get inside."
Ryan tapped his chin as he looked at the Reaper. Even though it was only an image, it still gave him an uneasy feeling.
"So these things are just giant, semi-organic droids?" he asked.
Now it was Anderson's turn to look confused. "What's a droid?"
Tanith answered. "A droid is a catch-all term for a mechanical being with an artificial intelligence, but many ships and stations have them in their computers as well."
Anderson looked uneasy. "Just so you know, AIs are illegal in Citadel space. The best example why would be when the Geth drove the Quarians from their own world."
"Yeah, that doesn't happen in our galaxy," Ryan said off-handedly, "Almost all droid rebellions are led by an organic, and those that aren't are easily beaten. We developed weapons to defeat droids millennia ago.
"Besides, I read what happened to the Quarians. From every piece of evidence I've seen, the Geth reacted in self-defense after their creators tried to kill them." Ryan's voice took on a slightly darker tone. "And before you say anything, droids have been a part of our way of life for thousands and thousands of years; some of them are as close to organics as other organics are. So if you try anything—"
Anderson held up his hands. "Hey, as long as they don't try to wipe us all out, I have no problem. The thing I'm worried about is the Reapers. I'll be honest with you, none of the races in the galaxy are prepared for a war with them; hell, it took two whole fleets to kill one. If there's anything you and your people can do to help us…"
As Anderson trailed off, Ryan and Tanith looked at each other. The Admiral had seemed completely serious about the Reapers, but then again, he could have just been a convincing actor.
"I'll talk to Admiral M'zan about this," Ryan said, "I can't promise you anything, but if these Reapers attack, I'm sure we'll help. None of us are the type to ignore people who need help."
Anderson opened his mouth to thank him, but a sudden beep from Ryan's chronometer stopped him.
"Oh, that's right," Tanith said, smacking her forehead, "You were going to spar with Starkiller, weren't you?"
"I almost forgot," Ryan said, then looked nervous, "I was hoping that he'd forget, honestly."
Tanith kissed him on the cheek. "Don't worry, you'll be fine. Why don't you take Admiral Anderson with you, and I'll tell M'zan about the Reapers, okay?"
Ryan smiled and kissed her back. "Okay, thanks. I'll see you soon… provided that Starkiller doesn't kill me."
After Tanith left, Ryan saw Anderson giving him a knowing look. "What?"
"So, how long have you been a couple?" Anderson asked.
Ryan shrugged. "A few years. We're engaged, actually."
"Really?" Anderson sounded genuinely surprised. "Sorry if that offended you, it's just that Human and non-Human relationships are still pretty new… and aren't you a little young to be getting married?"
"Hey, I'm twenty-four!" Ryan protested, "Besides, with all the high-risk missions the Outcast Blades have done, we decided not to hold off. We were actually going to have our wedding after our latest mission… but then we ended up in another galaxy."
Anderson smiled. "I can see how that might make you take a rain-check. So, who's this Starkiller person, and why are you worried that he'll kill you?"
Ryan gave a slightly fearful smile of his own. "Come with me and you'll find out."
…
The Ren's Vengeance
Inside the hangar of Maverick's flagship, a small ring had been constructed for the best close-combat fighters, though that was mostly for the Outcast Blades and Force Team. Today, a small crowd had gathered to watch a practice-fight that all knew the outcome to, but wanted to see regardless.
After introducing Anderson to those gathered, and making sure that he got a front-row seat, Ryan removed his coat and dagger, picked up a training-sword and stood in one corner of the ring. In the other corner, a young man with training robes and an identical sword was taking a few swings to warm up.
Galen Marek, more commonly known as Starkiller, smirked as his opponent got ready.
"I don't know why you keep trying to beat me," he commented, "Why don't you ask PROXY? It's his job to train people in swordsmanship, after all."
"Because PROXY will just spar with me now," Ryan answered in all seriousness, "You, on the other hand, fight to win."
Starkiller had to give him that one.
Outside the ring, Anderson watched as the two fighters prepared for their match. From the files he'd gotten, this Starkiller was one of those so-called Jedi, and had powers that seemed similar to biotics, but magnitudes more powerful, and had other abilities as well. Ryan, on the other hand, wasn't a Jedi; he must have wanted to improve himself by going up against the very best.
"What do you think, Sera?" a voice next to Anderson said, "I'm betting that he'll actually get a hit in this time."
"I will take that bet," a female voice said; Anderson turned to see a young Human woman staring intently at the ring, while an alien—a Nautolan, if Anderson remembered correctly—grinned at her.
"You've seen this kind of thing before?" Anderson asked the two of them.
The girl looked up at him with unblinking eyes, the first sign that she wasn't quite what she appeared, and nodded.
"This is the eighty-fourth duel waged between Commander Nimbus and Jedi Knight Starkiller," she said emotionlessly, "In that time, the Commander has yet to hit Starkiller once. The odds that he will succeed today are eight-point-zero-five percent."
"That's… surprisingly exact," Anderson commented.
The Nautolan next to the girl shrugged. "It's what she does. Hey, Sera, I thought you were trying to be more Human; you're not going to do that if you keep acting like a droid."
"I am a droid, Wek," Sera said, a slight amount of annoyance in her tone now, "I simply desire to be more Human. That will not change what I am."
Anderson was shocked. Here, standing next to him, was a droid who not only looked exactly like a Human being, save for her slightly-glowing eyes, and yet she was treated just like anyone else! In fact, he recalled seeing people waving to her as she and the Nautolan, Wek, were heading to the ring just a few minutes earlier. If an AI had walked so casually through the Citadel, it would have been shot instantly. Just how different were their galaxies?
Before he could pursue that thought any further, the cheering around them intensified; the match had begun.
Starkiller made the first move, dashing forward at speeds only surpassed by a Biotic Charge. Instead of blocking or dodging, like Anderson thought he would, Ryan actually jumped, his knee aimed right for Starkiller's face; in an incredible display of agility, the Jedi bent backwards, avoiding the blow and allowing Ryan to jump over him.
As soon as Ryan's feet hit the ground, he spun around and lashed out with his sword, which Starkiller then parried. Ryan kicked out, only to have his foot caught by Starkiller's hand; with a grunt, the Jedi hurled Ryan across the ring, where he hit the cables separating the ring from the audience with a meaty thud.
Ryan shook his head to clear the cobwebs, then stood and charged; Starkiller brought his blade down, aiming for Ryan's shoulder, but the other man rolled out of the way, jumped up and swung.
There was a loud crack, and a collective gasp from the onlookers. All around Anderson, eyes were wide in disbelief; even the optics of Sera had nearly doubled in size. Ryan's sword had passed over Starkiller's intended block and had connected, hitting him squarely in the left cheekbone.
From the looks on both Ryan's and Starkiller's faces, neither of them had expected it. Then, Starkiller grinned in a feral, dangerous way.
"It's about time you learned," he said, "Now it's my turn."
Ryan had just enough time to gulp, and then all he felt was pain. To Anderson, and everyone else, Starkiller's sword-arm became a blur; Ryan was able to block a few strikes, but far too many hit his chest, limbs and head. After a few seconds of this barrage, he fell to the floor, dazed.
Starkiller smiled and brought a towel that had been sitting outside of the ring to him with the Force.
"I know we normally go for more rounds than this," he said, "but I promised Juno not to get any of your blood on the Rogue Shadow this time. You all right with that?"
Ryan gave a weak thumbs-up, then allowed his arm to fall limply to the floor. Despite the pain he was in, he was grinning like a madman; after almost five years of sparring, he'd finally landed a hit on the Jedi!
As Starkiller left, most of the crew, marines and engineers outside the ring began to cheer. The only ones who weren't were Wek, Sera and Anderson; the latter was watching as Sera handed Wek a handful of money—like in this galaxy, it was called credits—with a disappointed expression on her face.
"Has the Commander ever won a match?" Anderson asked, surprised; in this day and age, hand-to-hand combat was extremely rare, save for a Krogan, and even they didn't use swords.
Wek smiled ruefully. "General Kota said that Ryan was as good as an above-average Jedi Knight, but that was almost three years ago. He's probably a lot better now, but Starkiller is on a whole 'nother level."
"I am still surprised that he was able to land that strike," Sera said quietly, and Anderson would swear that she sounded genuinely disappointed that she had lost her bet.
Anderson was later escorted back to Luna Base, where he then headed to his quarters. His report to Alliance Command would be interesting, to say the least, and it left him with quite a lot to think about.
…
Luna Base
Three days later, M'zan tried not to sigh as, once again, the Alliance tried to convince her to share her peoples' technology with them. Specifically, the weapons and shield technologies.
"Admiral, please be reasonable," the other Admiral, an ass of a man named Mikhailovich said, "I've seen the reports—your engineers have scanned our equipment, but we aren't allowed to scan yours? That's a double-standard if I've ever seen one!"
It wasn't just the constant needling from the man that M'zan found irritating. It was the way that Mikhailovich eyed her with both disgust and lust, something that she had seen in the faces of Imperial officers before. They had been disgusted by her because she wasn't Human, but they lusted after her because, from the chin down, she might as well have been. She didn't need to be a Jedi to get the same feeling from this man.
Finally, she could take it no longer.
"Listen, Rear Admiral," she growled, "My people have not been scanning your ships' technologies—mostly because everything we have is far and away better than your own—they were scanning the structural integrity of their construction, because I did consider if your ships could actually handle our weapons. Do you know what my engineers told me?"
Mikhailovich opened his mouth to speak, but M'zan cut him off.
"They told me that your ships just couldn't handle the power used by a turbolaser of any size, unless you scale it down to the point that you might as well be using the same weaponry anyway. The power from our weapons would shake apart your ships after only a few shots. Imagine mounting one of your mass-accelerators to a rowboat, and you'd get the picture. If that wasn't enough, your ships don't have enough power to fire more than a few shots, if they're anything like the Turian ships we scanned when we first arrived."
"Fine, forget weapons," Mikhailovich said, exasperated, "What about your shields?"
M'zan shook her head. "You're asking for two foreign systems to work together like magic? I don't know how much you know about engineering, but you should know that it doesn't work. Besides, the power-supply is still an issue; you'd be able to take one hit, maybe two, and then your shields would burn out.
"I'm just going to tell you the same thing I told your bosses: we're willing to upgrade your sensors, medical and engineering equipment, but at the moment, that's all we're going to do, because it's not possible to do anything else. Your Mass Effect tech is a bigger handicap than you think; it keeps you from thinking big."
Mikhailovich's face turned almost as red as M'zan's, but only nodded curtly and left. When he was gone, leaving her alone in the conference room, M'zan leaned back in her chair and sighed. The Alliance had been pushing for access to the New Republic's technology, but other than a brief tour of the Ren's Vengeance yesterday—and making sure that all Omni-tools were disabled, to avoid scanning—no Alliance personnel were allowed near their technology. It wasn't completely the Alliance's fault that M'zan was upset; she really did want to make certain trades, but the limitations of the damned Mass Effect technology simply couldn't measure up to their own.
On the other hand, Maverick had been making some interesting acquisitions; the most important had been when Bitters had gotten his hands on some medi-gel, an invention of the Alliance's that was technically illegal, but since everyone across the galaxy used it, that law was simply ignored. The Blades' medic was currently experimenting with the medi-gel, combining it with bacta, and the results were promising; the new mix could heal larger wounds even faster, and with only half as much being used.
A handful of Omni-tools had also been acquired, though M'zan ended up giving them to the Outcast Blades and Force Team, mostly because they were the only ones who had an interest in the things. Despite only being thirty, M'zan idly wondered if she wasn't interested because she was getting old; with all the stress over the last week, she certainly felt as if she'd aged a decade.
Besides the annoying and downright boring negotiations, M'zan was still trying to wrap her head around the fact that she and her people—her family, really—were stuck in another galaxy. The Alliance's best scientists were still puzzling over ways to get Maverick back home, but for all M'zan knew, that could be years away.
And then there was the matter that Tanith had brought to her attention, these 'Reapers'… if they were coming soon, then Maverick might not have years to wait around. They might not even have months.
M'zan shook herself out of her spiral of depression, then got up and headed to her ship; it had been a long day, and she wanted a drink. On her way back, however, she was stopped by the man who had warned Ryan and Tanith about the Reapers, Admiral Anderson.
"Admiral," he said, nodding respectfully.
"Admiral," she said back, giving her own nod.
The two of them shared a quick chuckle.
"Call me M'zan," the Twi'lek said, "Before you ask, I don't like it when most people call me by my first name."
"All right," Anderson said, smiling, "but only if you call me David. I was hoping that you could answer a question that's been bothering me for the last few days."
"If it's anything to do with our technology, forget it," M'zan said crossly, "I just got out of a meeting with Rear Admiral Mikhailovich, and I don't want to have to explain the same thing twice in one day."
"It wasn't," Anderson assured her, "But you might want to watch out for the Rear Admiral—he can be a pain in the ass."
M'zan raised an eyebrow. "You can talk about your superior officer like that?"
Anderson shrugged. "In order to keep groups like the STG from hacking our security network and spying on you, we disabled all surveillance systems, which is why we have so many marines on guard. I can say whatever I want here, and no one will ever know."
"If that's the case," M'zan said with a smirk, "Then you're right, Mikhailovich is one of the most annoying little fierfeks I've ever come across." After both Admirals laughed, M'zan asked, "What did you want to ask me?"
"It's about the group called the Outcast Blades," Anderson said, noting the slightly defensive look that appeared in M'zan's eyes, "I wanted to know why they're held in such high esteem by your people; aren't they just mercenaries?"
M'zan relaxed somewhat. "You know, a new recruit once asked me that a couple of years ago, and I nearly punched him. The Blades… they're the reason Maverick was even formed."
"Really?"
"Oh, yes. Before they came into the picture, the Rebellion rarely fought against the Empire; sure, we spouted anti-Imperial propaganda, we occasionally attacked a small outpost, but other than the destruction of the first Death Star, we weren't really fighting a war. We were just running away.
"Then Ryan showed up with Ahsoka. Ryan didn't want to join the Rebellion, not after escaping Imperial service; he ended up taking a few Rebels who didn't fit in, gave them some of the highest-quality weapons and gear outside of Imperial Intelligence and started fighting the Empire. They were damn good at it, too; supply depots were raided, critical intelligence was stolen and high-ranking officers were killed. But they did more than that; they inspired others to start being more aggressive against the Empire. For the first time since the Death Star was destroyed, we had hope.
"Then came Mon Mothma." M'zan's lip curled in distaste. "She ordered the Rebellion at large to not be so aggressive. Some of us weren't going to take that, however; General Kota founded Maverick, a battlegroup that went against Mon Mothma's orders. We hit the Empire any way we could; did quite a bit of damage, if I do say so myself. Eventually, we crossed paths with the Blades, and offered to be their mobile base of operations, as well as a place to offload captured Imperial equipment. They might be mercenaries, but they fought just as hard against the Empire as anyone I've ever met."
Anderson was a little shocked at how passionately M'zan had spoken for the Blades. "No wonder I saw some of your crew treating them like heroes."
M'zan actually laughed. "Oh, the Blades aren't heroes, far from it, and they'll be the first to tell you so. They're an ex-Imperial who doesn't know the meaning of a fair fight, an engineer who wasn't allowed free reign on most ships because she'd take it apart from the inside and forget to put it back together, a sniper who understands complex technology better than anyone I've met but will access classified data from his own side, a medic who's a borderline sociopath and a droid who has developed a gambling problem. They're a mishmash of oddballs and rejects; dangerous oddballs and rejects, but oddballs and rejects all the same."
"Then why do you have them with you?" Anderson asked, "If I had a unit like that under my command, I'd have them drummed out faster than you could blink."
M'zan smiled. "What, you don't have weirdoes in your family?"
…
The Desperate Measures
Early the next morning, Ryan woke from a nightmare, snapping upright and throwing the sheets off of him. His organic eye darted around wildly, searching for an enemy that wasn't there. It was only the sound of a moan next to him that brought him back to reality.
"Ryan?" Tanith groggily sat up and reached for him. "It's okay, it's okay; I'm here."
Ryan sighed, brought the sheets back up around them and leaned into Tanith's sleepy embrace. "Sorry about that. Go back to sleep."
Tanith shook her head, her eyes still closed. "No, I'm waking up anyway. What time is it?"
Ryan glanced at the chronometer on the wall. "Just past oh-four-hundred."
"Yeah, I might as well wake up," Tanith yawned and stretched, "I thought I'd give the hyperdrive a tune-up today anyway; I'll take a nap after I'm finished."
"Sorry," Ryan apologized again, but Tanith shushed him.
"It's all right," she said; she kept her arms wrapped around Ryan for several seconds, before asking, "Do you want to talk about it?"
"Just a nightmare," Ryan said vaguely.
"About what?" Tanith asked, finally opening her eyes and giving him a stern look.
Ryan sighed, knowing that she wouldn't stop asking until he told her. "It was about when I was… being tortured."
Tanith stiffened slightly, her hand lightly tracing over Ryan's bare chest, where a mass of faded scars were still visible.
"I was back there, with Moff Laar," Ryan confessed, "But unlike what really happened… you never came for me. Laar just kept cutting and cutting and—"
Tanith stopped him by grabbing his face and forcing him to look at her. "Ryan, stop. You're not there anymore, okay? We rescued you and Laar is dead; you killed him. Remember that, all right? You are still alive, which means that you can move on."
Ryan nodded. The nightmares came more often than he'd like, but Tanith was always there to reassure him. He smiled and wrapped his arms around her tightly, a move which she reciprocated. When they finally separated, Tanith had a mischievous glint in her eyes.
"You know," she said slowly, "I'm not completely awake yet. You wouldn't happen to know any… remedies for that, would you?"
Ryan grinned as they lay down on the bed. "As a matter of fact…"
…
An hour later Ryan, now clean and dressed, was sitting in the cargo bay of the Desperate, cleaning several of the weapons that the Blades had in their armory. Besides being the Blades' commanding officer, he shared the duty of armory chief with Sera, and it was his turn to keep all the weapons ready, even if they were ones that they didn't use.
After the comforting words and his 'wakeup-exercises' with Tanith, he was in a much better mood, even whistling as he finished polishing the last blaster pistol. Though he knew that each weapon was in the best condition possible, he couldn't resist activating his new Omni-tool and, as the holographic gauntlet appeared on his left arm, scanning the blaster for any imperfections.
When they had seen what the Omni-tool was capable of, all of the Blades had been excited; half of the functions on the things would cut hours from the time they spent on their normal duties! The only problem Ryan had had was the color.
"Orange really isn't my color," he had said, "Do you think I can get it in black?"
After some tinkering, Wek had actually changed the color of all of their Omni-tools, matching the color of their armor—Ryan's was in black, Tanith's in blue, Bitters' in copper, Wek's in silver and Sera's in red—with the holographic buttons outlined in white, for Ryan's, or black for everyone else's.
The best part about the Omni-tool was its easy use; it had only taken Ryan a few hours to master the basic functions, and was soon using it to easily access the Extranet for information on any questions he had about this galaxy. If there was one thing Ryan hated, it was not having information, something he shared with Wek. Lack of information was what allowed the Rebel fleet to be trapped at the Battle of Endor and, on a more personal note for the Blades, cost Maverick its previous flagship, the Blaze of Glory, along with over two hundred of its crew.
Just as Ryan was deactivating his Omni-tool, a beeping noise caught his attention. Putting down the last blaster, he found the source of the noise: it was the communications device that the Alliance had supplied him, along with General Kota and the other leaders of Maverick. The devices worked similarly to a holocom, but had to be linked to larger power-sources for the holograms to appear. After Wek thoroughly scanned each one for surveillance devices, they were plugged into each ship's power core; thankfully, each device could be easily disconnected to save power, even though they didn't take too much energy.
As Ryan activated the communicator, the hologram of someone he didn't recognize appeared. It was a middle-aged Human male, wearing a fancy suit; he was well-groomed, with glowing cybernetic eyes, and a lit cigarette in one hand.
"Greetings," the man said in a refined voice, "Commander Ryan Nimbus, leader of the mercenary group called the Outcast Blades, I presume?"
Ryan was immediately on edge. This man wasn't wearing an Alliance uniform, and the look in his artificial eyes made Ryan want to grab those closest to him and run—or shoot the man in the face, whichever was easier.
"I am," Ryan replied, his expression and tone neutral; after years of playing sabaac with Corellians, he had a great poker-face. "Who might you be?"
"I represent a group known as Cerberus," the man said, "The Alliance has given me the pseudonym, 'the Illusive Man'."
Nonchalantly, Ryan sat on a chair and activated his Omni-tool, but kept his organic left eye on the Illusive Man while his cybernetic eye focused on the Omni-tool. It had been a challenge to do things like this when he first got his artificial eye, but over the years, it had become fairly simple.
"Don't bother trying to trace this call," the Illusive Man said calmly, "The best Alliance cryptographers can't find me, I doubt someone who barely has any idea how this galaxy's technology works has a hope."
Ryan shrugged. "Can't blame me for trying."
What he didn't say was that he wasn't even trying to trace the call.
"I called you, Commander, because I believe that you and I are alike," the Illusive Man said, "You and I are men who know the cost of war, and how sacrifices must be made in order to get what we want. From looking at you, I'd say that you make more… personal sacrifices than I do, but the principle is the same."
Everyone always looks at my eye first, Ryan thought, even as he continued to type. "Your flattery needs work. What do you want?"
The Illusive Man paused to take a drag on his cigarette. "Cerberus' goal is to protect Humanity from all threats, whatever the cost. This is a dangerous galaxy, Commander, and Cerberus is the only thing keeping Humans from becoming enslaved or destroyed."
"A noble goal," Ryan said noncommittally, "But what does that have to do with me?"
"I know that you spoke with Admiral Anderson," the Illusive Man said, "I assume that he told you about the threat of the Reapers?"
Ryan nodded. "The evidence seems to say so, but the Council seems to believe that they don't exist."
"They refuse to see the truth, but only because a Human told them," the Illusive Man allowed a touch of anger to creep into his voice, "Because the Alliance is afraid to anger their neighbors, they too have buried the truth, claiming that Sovereign was just a Geth Super-Dreadnaught. Without Cerberus, Humanity will fall to the Reapers… and the other aliens in this galaxy."
"You still haven't told me what you want from me," Ryan pointed out.
The Illusive Man nodded. "I was getting to that. You're a Human with significant influence among your forces. Without your people's weapons, Humanity will lose the war with the Reapers. It is inevitable. If you assist us, I can assure you that Cerberus will be very generous in its thanks; perhaps we can even find a way to get you home."
As the Illusive Man spoke, Ryan got a better understanding of him. Behind the calm exterior, there was a man full of spite and paranoia. Then his Omni-tool beeped.
"Excuse me for a moment," Ryan said, "I think this is important."
While they had been talking, Ryan had been scouring the Extranet for information about this 'Cerberus'. What he had found had disturbed him. Anti-alien propaganda, blowing up tankers full of eezo over inhabited Human worlds to cause children to be born with biotic powers, at the cost of thousands to be poisoned. Even worse, the torture and experimentation of Alliance personnel, all in the name of 'protecting Humanity'.
"Wow," Ryan said, "I was going to just tell you 'no', but this… this changes everything."
The Illusive Man's mouth started to curl upwards, but Ryan wasn't done. He stepped up to the communicator and gave the man a glare that had caused Imperial soldiers to soil themselves.
"I know what you've done, you piece of filth," Ryan spat, "And the only technology I'd give you is a single blaster bolt, right in your bigoted skull. I don't care who you are, and I don't care what galaxy you or I are from; you come near me or my people, and I'll kriffing kill you."
"Don't be shortsighted," the Illusive Man protested, crushing his cigarette in one hand, "Humanity needs to stand together, our galaxy of origins be damned!"
"You're just like every Imperial I've ever faced," Ryan said darkly, "You think that your way is the only way to victory. Well, I've got news for you: if the Reapers attack, it won't be Humanity alone that beats them, it'll be everyone, pulling together and forgetting their differences in the face of a common enemy. And if you think that that's a bunch of sentiment, well, we did it before, and I'm guessing that you don't have a galaxy-spanning Empire, do you?"
Before the Illusive Man could respond, Ryan yanked the power cable out of the communicator, ending the transmission.
"Ryan?" Tanith called out from behind him; Ryan turned to see her, a concerned expression on her face. "What's going on?"
"Wake the others," Ryan said, in the tone that he saved for combat, "I'm going to get M'zan, Kota and the Captains together.
"We've got a problem."
…
Sur'Kesh, Salarian Union Space
A few thousand kilometers from the Salarian homeworld, a bright flash of light appeared and disappeared just as quickly. STG vessels were scrambled to investigate, and found a strange device floating in the void.
Silver in color, it was vaguely diamond-shaped, with three clawed legs pointed at one end. While the STG operatives couldn't figure out what the technology was, they did recognize the symbol painted on one side. That symbol, or rather, the people who used it, had been the talk of STG for a week now: the same symbol was painted on the hull of the Ren's Vengeance.
At first, the operatives wanted to take the device apart to uncover its secrets, but then they remembered Councilor Valern's orders. If something from the other galaxy was found, and if the people of Maverick found out that someone had tampered with it, any chance of establishing a friendly relationship with them would be lost forever. The risks involved with learning the device's secrets on their own were too great.
With great reluctance, the STG crew locked the device in the hold of their ship and set course for the Citadel. With any luck, Valern could get the Salarians into the New Republic's good books. Of course, no one said that they couldn't scan the device along the way…
And there you go! This is the last chapter (to my knowledge) that won't be action-packed, because next up, we start the events of Mass Effect 3!
Now, there are a couple of things that I'd like to mention. First, having the SW guys have an easier time understanding the ME tech makes sense to me; it's like if I was asked how to use a cell phone from ten years ago. I'd raise an eyebrow at how old the thing was, but I'd be able to use it. When the reverse is applied, well, like M'zan said: attaching a cannon to a rowboat. Not good.
So, the Illusive Man is now in the picture, but if he was trying to get our favorite Blade to go all 'Humanity First', he was sorely mistaken. Like Ryan was ever going to join a group that would probably dissect his closest friends… Cerberus is kinda stupid.
Also, I can't be the only one who wanted different-colored Omni-tools. I never liked the bright orange. Besides, how cool would a black Omni-tool look?
As fun as this story is, I don't want to burn myself out. I'm going to take a bit of time to work on Unlimited Justice, probably a couple of chapters, and then I'll come back to this.
Anyway, I—oh my god. I just realized: The Illusive Man. The Incredible Muffin. I share the same acronym as one of the most hated characters in the entire ME franchise *headdesk*!
I'm looking for my Muffin, you bosh'tet!