Fallout: Stardust
Act 1, Issue 4
Taking a Breather
Colonel Shepard-Dare stood across from her foe. The massive raider rippled before her, his muscles swelling as something bubbled behind his painted hockey mask. The power fist wrapped around his forearm hissed with a release of high pressure steam. For her own part, Shepard-Dare clamped down on the throttle of her Ripper. The teeth of the long chainsaw blade rattled to life as the motor roared. She flourished the humming blade in an unmistakable challenge. "Come on then," She muttered. The two of them circled each other on the deck of the Eagle, Shepard with the grace of a trained duelist, her foe with lumbering footsteps that almost shook the deck plates.
Shepard was the first to strike, lashing out at the raider's unclad chest. The raider reeled back out of range of her lunge and came back with a wide swing. Shepard ducked, barely avoiding the crack of the power fist's hydraulic plate. Her attempted follow-up was slapped away with a casual backhand to the chest. The blow drove the air from her lungs and sent her skittering across the deck plates on her rump. She shuffled backwards as the raider gave his own follow-up. His fist drove through the metal grille, crumpling the metal between her feet. Quickly she gained her feet and parried another blow, this one aimed at her head. The Ripper's teeth shrieked against the power fist's chassis. Before the raider could recover, she grasped her sword with two hands and swiped across at the raider's other arm, biting deep into the space-bruised flesh. Blood splattered the deck and boots of the two combatants.
The raider roared and struck out with his wounded arm. Shepard-Dare had no time to dodge this time, and the monstrous pilot got his meaty fist around her throat. She tried to escape, wriggling in his grip. Her efforts where fruitless against the titanic grip of her opponent as she was lifted into the air and driven backwards across the bridge. Her bones creaked and stars lit before her eyes as the raider smashed her against a steel bulkhead. Her Ripper dropped to the deck plate where it slowed to an idle.
"Colonel!" The rough timbred voice of her ghoulish manservant called from across the bridge. "I'll fix him up, mum!"
Shepard-Dare focused past the hulking beast that had her pinned to a wall and saw her space-suited batman pushing his way past the stunned and gaping bridge crew with his trusty laser rifle up and ready. She shooed him away with a dismissive snort that was choked off by the tightening grip of the raider. He raised his mighty power fist above his head, ready to bring it down on her head. Behind his mask, the raider's eyes were wide, the pupils shrunken to tiny points. Shepard-Dare's mind raced as the fist began to come down, her own eyes darting about. She gripped at the bleeding wrist that held her but could not peel away the thick fingers. Inspiration struck just before the hydraulic assisted blow. She planted her boots against the raider's chest and pushed hard. For just a second, the grip around her neck loosened, but it was enough. She grabbed the assailant's massive thumb and wrenched it aside with all her might, earning herself a precious breath of air. Emboldened, she threw her weight aside and slipped from the raider's grasp. Surprised by the sudden disappearance of his trapped prey, the raider was unable to pull his punch. With an almighty Krang, the power fist impacted with the bulkhead, imbedding itself and lodging in the crumpled metal. Shepard-Dare scuttled over to her dropped weapon and leaped to her feet as the monster tried to pull its hand from the wall. She swung at his head in a flashing arc, neatly decapitating him. The bridge was filled with a stunned silence as the Colonel thumbed off her now bloody weapon.
"Well, that seems to have sorted him," She rasped with a voice that almost matched that of Digby. She massaged her throat with a wince. "Are we clear of them?"
"Uh, yes, ma'am," Lieutenant Gordon was the first to speak. "Scopes show no further raiders ahead, and those that fell behind are still harrying our pursuers." The blond mopped second officer stepped up to catch his commander as her footing faltered slightly.
"Oh, good. I suppose we should be on our way, yes?" She asked. The adrenaline of combat was gone, leaving her the weaker for it. "Lay in a course, Lieutenant. The Ranger's shall want to hear about a nest of raiders this close to their station."
"Right away, ma'am," Gordon answered. He tossed his head to two crewman loafing about just beyond the ruin the raider pilot had made of the deck plates. "Right then, as the skipper orders, men!" The men scurried off and the rest of the crew floated back to their posts as once again the mighty impulse drives chugged to a start. "Do you think that other ship will have any luck with their own raiders, ma'am?"
"Oh, I don't think we'll be seeing them again," Shepard-Dare answered ruefully as she shuffled alongside the other officer towards her command chair. Somewhere above, an engineer must have already thrown up a patch over her busted ventral turret, because her facemask flexed with the return of air pressure. She gladly doffed the badly scuffed helmet as the 'Doc ran up to fuss over her. "They may be smart enough to sneak up on us, but no one takes on super mutants and walks out with all their limbs."
Garrus Vakarian half sat, half collapsed atop his slain opponent. The giant green mound of tumorous muscle and flesh still steamed where it had been punctured over and over again by flash formed diamond. The well-worn turian nursed his shattered right arm with an air of aggrieved annoyance. Wounds he was no stranger to, he had suffered far worse in his time fighting the Reapers. His old bones ached surely enough on their own that a few new fractures barely added to things. What really bothered him these days were the long hours spent in the medlab after all the noise was done.
"I don't know what these things are," he groused, wincing as one of his marine medics pumped the cracked bones full of biofoam. "But I think I hate them." He brushed the medic off with a wave of his battered talons.
"I can't help but agree with you," His equally damaged second in command spoke up from where she leaned against a bent railing. While Liara T'Soni's biotic barriers had saved her from the worst of the bizarre rocket hammer's meteoric strikes, it had not been enough to prevent the blizzard of metal splinters thrown up by its backswing from creasing her ribs. "Whatever these things are, if just one of these things can do this to the Archangel, then a whole system full of them… it doesn't bear to mention. This might just be the single largest threat since the fall of the Reapers."
"And that might be understating it," Garrus replied. "You were right to advise setting a course back to Spectre Vau. In fact, might be that isn't going far enough. I fear the Fleet will need to hear of this." He sighed and hauled himself to standing. "I didn't come here to start a war." He cleared a handful of cabling away from his command pulpit and brought up navigation. The command board flickered a little before the damaged relays stabilized. "Come on, let's get out of here." He gave one last look to the disappearing glimmer of the retreating ship he'd chased into this viper's pit. He memorized the lines of that cursed ship, etched them in his memory. They'd not get away with this; that much he swore. The starfield turned about his ship as the thrusters sputtered back to life under what was sure to be the severe admonishment of his chief engineer. Then, with a flicker of light and radiation, the ship was gone.
"Head Spectre Vakarian. Always an honour. Would like to invite you aboard my ship, if you would be so obliged. Current state of the Archangel… not ideal for meetings, plannings," the salarian on the screen unleashed as a single torrent of words. His wide black eyes blinked as he appeared to prepare another salvo. Garrus raised a claw.
"Spectre Vau, my crew and I would be happy to join you aboard the Kirrahe. Just as soon as the wounded are unloaded." He replied, trying to edge his words in while remaining diplomatic. The salarian seemed to catch the point for once.
"Yes, of course. Our forward docking tube has been prepared for your ship. We will have medical teams and additional damage control personnel waiting by the doors. Vau out." The reserve holo display deactivated with a snap as the connection dropped. Garrus let out a relieved sigh as the image was replaced with an exterior view, Vau's cruiser already looming closer as the navigator nudged the Archangel in towards the extended docking tube. Really, the Kirrahe was a marvel of engineering. Salarian built and crewed, the cruiser was fully stealth capable, it's flowing hull guiding both eyes and LADAR away from its mass. It was said that fully powered, it would show up with the cross-section of a fighter to even the most advanced sensors in the Turian Fleet, and with emissions even less than that. And it was wholly owned and operated by the Spectre Peacekeeping Forces, the fist ship of its size to be so. Looking at it always filled Garrus with pride. It was a shame about its captain, though.
"Not thinking of leaving the Archangel behind now that she's not the latest thing, are you Vakarian?" Slender, three fingered hands wrapped themselves around his midsection from behind. "I even here the Kirrahe's got a quarian in engineering, a pretty young thing. Vas Rannoch."
Garrus chuckled at the possessiveness in his engineer's tones. "Don't you worry. You know I'd never leave the old girl behind for a newer model. Too many memories, even if she's a little dinged up." He ran a claw across the buckled ceiling girder that marked the entry point of the suicide mutant's boarding pod. He hissed as the arms tightened around his waist. "By which of course I mean the Archangel, It is of course a given that I'd never give up my own little part of the Migrant Fleet. I'd be much too intimidated." He gripped the quarian's exosuited hands and slipped them of his waist until the two of them stood face to face. "Besides, you know I have no patience for dallying with children."
"I'd noticed," Tali replied, her bright eyes narrowing almost unperceptively. "Still, sometimes these 'children' have good ideas. I've been meaning to talk with you about a few upgrades, while we have techs putting the deck plates back together."
"Whatever you think is best," Garrus said, looking back over to the Kirrahe. "But you'll have to ask Vau yourself, they're his techs. Over dinner perhaps." He offered light heartedly. Tali slapped at him playfully.
"You turian tyrant," she joked, poking him hard in the thorax. The Head Spectre winced as the hammer wound twinged. "Fine, but you're doing at least half the talking. I'm not going to a dinner if the food has to go cold on the plate before I can take a bite." She let go of his hands as the docking klaxon sounded. "Shall we?" The ship shuddered as the clamps got a good lock. The Quarian gestured towards the forward air lock.
Relenting, Garrus flattened his dress uniform and strode forward. Sergeant Victus and a brace of his marines fell in behind him. The NCO hadn't left his side since the fight with the massive boarder, much to the elder turian's chagrin. Even now his master of marines scanned the ship, vigilant against whatever threats he imagined lurked there. Not that Garrus could blame him. He himself found his eyes wandering over familiar hallways searching for threats. Those were the days he often ended with half a bottle of fine Palavan Brandy, reminding himself that the Reapers were gone, their indoctrinated agents no longer the ever-present threat they used to be.
"Head Spectre Vakarian," The soft salarian voice broke him from his reverie. He quickly snapped out a salute in answer to the junior Spectre standing in the docking tube. The group stepped aside as stretcher carriers began to stream past across the narrow steel and glass void bridge.
"Spectre," He responded, "I have a few unmovable cases. Make sure that your med bay has a few teams ready to come aboard the Archangel once we've got our wounded out." As if to underline his words, a stretcher bearing a covered body passed between them. The bearer shook his head sadly. Garrus laid a hand on the young man's shoulder and muttered a few comforting words. The younger medic shrugged the Spectre's claws away and pushed the anti-grav stretcher onwards. The salarian Spectre nodded eagerly.
"Oh course, sir. We already have teams prepping with the engineers."
Another stretcher floated past, its anti-gravs taxed by its occupant. The regulation medbay sheet barely covered the bruised green flesh of the strange boarder. The salarian blanched. "What is this… thing?" He tried to edge away from the hulking corpse.
"A most intriguing specimen," answered the salarian pushing the stretcher. His wide grey eyes blinked twice. "While the scientific research facilities of the Archangel are limited, I've already begun preliminary investigations. It seems the creatures that attacked us are surprisingly simple organisms. Why…"
"Thank you, Doctor Wiks," Garrus intercepted the elderly researcher before he could unravel a yarn that would put the commander of the Kirrahe to shame. "I have my own question, though. Why is it going aboard ahead of our walking wounded?" He gestured with his head towards the now stalled queue of battered turians. The doddering salarian quavered slightly before setting his jaw.
"Why, Spectre, I thought it more important that we know our enemy. In war, actionable intelligence…"
Garrus cut him off again. "We are not at war, Doctor. This was a skirmish with an unknown species, nothing more." He pulled the stretcher aside and waved his wounded men on. They stumbled back into motion as Padok Wiks muttered darkly, dragging his intriguing specimen behind him and muttering darkly.
"You shouldn't be so hard on him," Tali whispered aside. "He's had so little to do since the end of the war. It's been hard for all of us to go from heroes out saving the galaxy to surveyors and peacekeepers putting out brushfires." The way she stressed 'us' left no doubt as to Garrus' own inclusion in that accusation. The turian felt his hackles lower as mild embarrassment replaced righteous indignation.
"I suppose you are right. I will apologize when I get the chance. But for now I stand by what I said. Casualties come first while at peace. And we are at peace, raiders or no. I am sure that this is the action of pirates, not a hostile government."
"Pirates that freely nuke garden worlds, though?" Tali didn't seem convinced.
"Really nasty pirates," Garrus said darkly. The stream of wounded had slowed to a trickle, with engineers now coming the other way. "I suppose we can't put this off any longer. If we want to catch this pirate, we'll need some reinforcments. Well, Spectre, show us the way to your captain."
"…and that's when the raiders boarded my ship. It's all in my report of course, but I thought of a few additions on the flight over. Sir." Colonel Shepard-Dare finished, standing smartly at attention before the bored looking New New California trooper. The glass helmeted man seemed unimpressed as he made a show of entering the additions into his terminal.
"Will that be all, Colonel, is it?" He droned, looking up from his work.
"Erm, yes. I think," Dare said, suddenly unsure of herself. "Unless you'd like me to go back over my tactical assessment of the pursuing ship." She added brightly. "I think I remember a few additional points on their close in gunnery."
"That won't be necessary," the trooper said quickly, scooping up the Colonel's report printouts and shuffling into a dirty manila folder. "Please be seated, a Ranger will see you shortly." He shoved the thick folder into an overstuffed filing cabinet that looked like it had started life in some RobCo warehouse more than a century ago, and had obviously seen better days. The man went back to looking dead ahead, ignoring the young woman in the dress uniform standing before him.
"Yes, well, alright," She said. She stepped back out of the queue already forming behind her. Prospectors, long haul caravanners, the ship captains of a half dozen government's merchant marine, all of them stood in line for this single sleepwalking soldier. Shepard scanned the long row of empty booths that would have easily handled this small crowd had they been staffed and quirked her head inquisitively. The clerk at the desk made a none too polite shooing motion. Seeing no other option, the commander of the Eagle took her seat in a worn out chair beside her constant companion. The ghoul leaned over in his chair.
"Tea, mum?" He proffered the upturned lid of his ever-present vacuum flask. Shepard accepted the cup gladly as her ghoulish batman popped the cap on the flask with a hollow thunk and poured a small portion of his potent brew out into the handled lid before passing the steaming drink to his commander. Shepard-Dare took the drink thankfully and sipped quietly from the dark brown brew as the line continued to grind slowly past her. For what seemed like hours, she and her ghoul adjutant sat waiting, the barely moving line slowly shortening. They were almost out of tea when a small side door opened. Dare's eyes snapped up from the sheaf of administrative reports that Digby had produced from somewhere and focused on the new arrival. A blonde haired woman in simple tan uniform had stuck her head out, her blue eyes scanning from behind thin framed spectacles. They alighted on Shepard and her companion with a flash of recognition.
"Colonel Shepard-Dare of Her Majesty's Space Force?" The blonde asked in a bubbly voice that set the Colonel's teeth on edge. "Ranger Corry will see you now."
Shepard-Dare near leapt to her feet at the announcement, upsetting her cup of tea. Digby caught it expertly before it could spill. "Yes, I am she. I mean, that is me. I am Colonel Shepard-Dare." She ran a hand through her dark brown hair self-consciously. "Wish me luck, Dig." She strode across the cramped waiting room, trying to ignore the looks she was getting from the poor sods still in line. That same trooper was still keeping his lonely vigil behind the sole open booth. The New New California women motioned for her to step inside, stepping back to allow her entry to the open side door. Beyond was another long corridor of dirty glass doors and grubby walls papered over with decorations that looked like they'd be more at home on Old Earth than on the Space Ranger's asteroid base. Her guide stopped before a door left slightly ajar. Neatly stenciled atop the frosted glass pane was a name. Ranger Captain Corry.
"Right this way, Miss," The woman who had lead her here said with a gesture towards the door. Shepard-Dare nodded her thanks and pushed aside the slightly creaky door. The office beyond was spartanly decorated, the bare steel walls adorned only with a few certificates and awards. This looked more like it belonged on a space station, if one discounted the rickety wooden desk and chair in the center of the room. Shepard's eyes flicked to the hulking form hunched in the corner of the cramped office. A suit of power armour, expertly cared for if her eyes did not deceive her, and painted in the lavender on lime livery of the NNCR Space Rangers. A sound of a throat being cleared almost made her jump. There was a man sitting in the chair behind the desk, somehow having gone unnoticed as she walked into the room. Shepard-Dare felt her face colour a little as she took in his broad, handsome features and serious countenance.
"Colonel Isabella Shepard-Dare?" The man asked, shuffling through the thick sheaf of reports almost overflowing the basket perched on the edge of his desk. "Any relation to the famous Daniel Dare?"
"My grandfather," the colonel answered quickly. "It's the same Eagle, too. I'd like to thank you're quartermaster for putting her up for repairs."
"It was the least I could do," the square jawed ranger said as his face split into an easy grin. "My people dropped the ball on those Raiders moving into our protection zone. Way I figure it; I owe you a bit more than a tune up and a patch job for putting them down. Atom knows I don't have the rangers to spare hunting every band of scavengers picking their way through the outer belts." He gestured for the chair sitting in front of his desk as if inviting her to take a seat.
"So you've had more problems with the raiders recently?" Shepard-Dare asked as she carefully shifted a further stack of paper from the steel chair and sat down. "I thought the New New California Republic had a fairly firm grip on the Rim."
"We did until recently, I'm afraid. This area had been declared clear until the break-up of Hab Ring B1. A lot of Raiders called that hunk of junk home, now they've nowhere to go but straight through our little patch of space. Not that Command has reacted to that little reality yet. I've got a backlog of unfilled requests for fresh troops. Maybe this new bunch of guys showing up on the scene might get someone back on Aradesh to pay attention for once."
"You're awfully open about this kind of thing," Isabella said. "I'd heard that the NNCR stayed pretty tight lipped about their military operations."
"I guess things out here break you down a little," Ranger Corry replied with a slight chuckle. He riffled through what Shepard-Dare recognized as her own report again and pulled out a printout of her stellarscope imagery. The grainy image of the hawk-like alien craft stood out against the dark background. "Now this, this is going to get a lot of people talking all over the Cluster. And you say that this ship was working with the raiders?" With that sentence, the ranger's temperament changed as if a switch had been flipped. Gone was the easy going smiling Space Ranger. In his place sat a rigid and professional officer.
"It definitely seemed that way," She replied. "After clashing at the munitions dump, I ordered my ship to take an off-axis approach back into the system. Without forward scouts, it's unlikely that they would have found us as fast as they did. That and the Raider attack launching at the same time the new ship caught up to us confirms it. I think."
The burly Space Ranger leaned back in his chair and scratched at his chin. "I can definitely see that interpretation. We'll call it our worst case scenario. One ship is a little small for an invasion fleet, must be a scout or some kind of infiltrator. Stirring up trouble on the Rim, could cause a lot of trouble for us if we leave it." The man leaned forward again and pulled across his terminal to tap in a string of commands. "The subject of another report, I suppose. Thank you for bringing this to our attention."
"That's it?" Shepard-Dare asked, somewhat taken aback.
"That's it," Ranger Corry replied. "I'm sorry, but there's not a huge amount I can do with my available manpower. We've seen a lot of growth out here, prospectors and colonists all. Policing them, keeping the raiders down, and now this? I'm afraid the NNCR is frankly swamped out here." The Ranger stood and extended his hand. Shepard-Dare joined him in rising and shook the proffered hand. "Actually, I'm afraid I'm going to have to ask one more thing of you. There are a few major settlements scattered about out here. I know some of them are going to be a little out of your way, but they need to be warned that there's a new threat out here. I don't suppose you'd be willing to warn them, get them at least thinking about going on a defensive footing?" He gave her a winning smile as he held onto her hand a little longer than she was entirely comfortable with.
"I suppose I'll need to resupply," She answered carefully. She dreaded to think about how her crew would react to being asked to spend even another week out in space. Then again, she wouldn't be able to live with herself if she let the outer Rim burn to avoid a couple of terse words with her subordinates. "You wouldn't happen to know of anywhere convenient for me to put into port on my way back home, would you?" She attempted a smile of her own.
"I think I can find a few ports able to accept the Eagle for refit," Corry replied, taking her drift. "I'll have to warn you, it might keep you out for a little while longer. But isn't that a price worth paying for a safe and comfortable trip? I'd like to think so." The Ranger sat again, tapping new commands into his terminal. Somewhere in the back of the office, a print machine began clattering loudly. "Here we are. These are a few excellent places to go in for a short overhaul. I imagine you could get a steep discount if you told a few war stories on your way out. Maybe mention your adventures with the raiders?"
"I think that can be arranged. I know my aide to be a talented storyteller," Isabella replied, taking the proffered printout. The names crisply printed on the yellowed paper were unfamiliar to her, but that was a job for her Navigator. Selling so many stops would be difficult, of course. Such difficulties were banished from her mind by the flashing image of that hawk ship swooping down on unprepared homesteaders, raiders and super mutants descending in their wake. Isabella suppressed a little shudder. "Thank you, Ranger. You stay safe out here, those colonists, prospectors, and caravanners are counting on you."
"And the same to you, Colonel. And don't you worry about me. It takes more than a rabble of scavengers to take down the New New California Space Rangers." The man took the Colonel's arm and led her from his office. Digby stood at the door with an air of barely disguised impatience. His leprous face split in a wide grin that rapidly faltered as his commander walked out on the arm of the NNCR man. Something sounding suspiciously uncharitable found its way to the ghoul's lips, earning him a sharp look from Dare.
"Message from the Eagle, mum," Digby said, his ghoulish rasp more pronounced than usual. "Chief Engineer Turque is anxious to put back to space now that the hull's space worthy again. Says he don't like the yanks crawlin' around in his engine spaces."
Colonel Shepard-Dare felt her face heat as she dropped the arm of Ranger Corry. "You'll forgive Digby. He often speaks more bluntly than is appropriate."
Far from being disappointed at her aide's behavior, the Ranger's face split in a wide smile. "So this is the great Digby! I real treat to meet you, sir." He took the ghoul's hand, shaking it vigorously. Shepard almost caught herself gaping. When it came to Digby, with his stiff attitude and rad rotted features, very rarely was he greeted with apparent glee. "Why, you're just the same as in the comic books!" The Ranger's professional front had fallen away utterly, to be replaced by boyish excitement.
"Digby, I didn't realize that you were in comics," Colonel Dare said, her voice tinged with both surprise and good humour.
"Well, yes," Digby said uncomfortably. "From my time with your grandfather, mum. A few of our adventures might have captured the public eye a bit."
"A few?" Corry laughed, going so far as to slap his thigh. "I have them all. Your fight with the Treens, the Colonial Wars, the Vault-Tec skirmishes. Why, you must have had close to fifty adventures published in print here in the NNCR alone! I suppose they will have to print a new one now. New Dare, same Digby."
"Well, this has been eye opening," Dare said jokingly, "But I don't imagine they'll print anything if we don't take off soon. I fear what Turque will do should we delay any longer. Perhaps we'll meet again, Ranger Corry." She smiled and turned back towards her ship. Space called again, and a Dare would answer it.
ACCESSING CITADEL EXTRANET. . .
RETRIEVING CODEX ENTRY. . .
Turian Hierarchy Ship Archangel
The Archangel was first conceived as part of an effort to sooth tensions between the military arms of the Turian Hierarchy and the Salarian Union following disagreement over the handling of Batarian expansion into the Terminus Systems. (See: Turian-Batarian Conflict, Known STG Operations; Entry 3 of 4. Also See: Turian-Batarian Conflict, Suspected STG Operations; Entries 12-15, 23, 26-28 of 37) Though many of its systems and the technologies involved therein are still classified, at launch under the command of Spectre Nihlus Kryik the ship was widely touted as a breakthrough in the field of stealth technologies. At the core of this breakthrough is the revolutionary Tassartras drive, said to harness the Mass Effect to accelerate the ship without producing emissions. This, combined with Salarian designed heat sinks rendered the ship all but invisible to contemporary sensor technologies.
While primarily a Turian ship, flying under Hierarchy colours, the Archangel represents a departure from the traditional Turian aesthetic, adopting a more Salarian forward swept wing configuration. The ship did, however, retain the angular construction often associated with Turian frigate designs. This is most obvious in the ship's extended neck, which held the pilot's station separate from the rest of the bridge. The design of the bridge itself is also distinctly Turian, being rectangular in shape, with the commanding officer's station at the rear and raised above the consoles of the bridge crew.
The dimensions of the Archangel are small, even for a frigate. From bow to stern it measures only 190 meters long. The superstructure is divided into three decks, the command deck, the crew deck, and the engineering deck. The command deck is the smallest of the three, consisting of only the pilot's station, the outer airlock, and the CIC/bridge. The rest of the ship can be accessed through elevator shafts and the rear of the CIC. The crew deck as originally designed was strictly separated between 'officer country' and 'rating country,' in deference to the Turian Hierarchy's strictly stratified command structure. However, under the command of Spectre Garrus Vakarian, these restrictions were lifted, with space and facilities being shared more evenly. The commander's quarters are placed at the bow end of this deck, right across the central corridor from the elevator bank. The crew deck also holds the ship's modest mess area as well as support facilities such as the infirmary, recreation facility, and a small gym. Lastly, the ship's largest and most important deck, that of Engineering, is tucked within the frigate's belly. This deck holds the ship's powerful and oversized mass effect core along with all the essential power linkages and regulators required to keep it running. The armoured midsection contains the Archangel's bank of He3 Fusion reactors and the advanced computer core. This core is rumored to contain an advanced Quarian designed VI, though its exact specifications are classified. The engineering deck also serves host to the Archangel's compact shuttle bay, and is capable of servicing a number of small craft, from land attack crawlers to a Tiger Hawk-class gunship.
At launch, the ship carried a standard armament of quick firing mass accelerators in the nose, and a launch bay for short range disruptor torpedoes. Following the Citadel Incident at the advent of the Reaper War, the Archangel was uparmed with reverse engineered Thanix hydrodynamic weaponry and improved cyclonic barriers. It was stated for armour improvements, though these were never completed as the ship was hijacked by elements of the Turian Separatist Movement.
For Additional information regarding the Turian Hierarchy Ship Archangel's involvement in the Reaper Wars, See: The Reaper Wars, The Palavan Campaign, The Turian Separatist Movement.
End Transmission
Author's Notes:
A Certain Member's Fandom: Hope I haven't lost you with this new chapter. Personally, I believe that the two would have eventually drifted together over the course of the events of canon, especially given the conspicuous absence of a Commander Shepard. You're free to disagree though, I just hope that it isn't going to poison the story for you enough to unfollow.
Alkeni, 5 Coloured Walker: I admit the opening is a little chaotic. While I do plan on explaining more as the story goes on, I'd be happy to take any questions you might have, either in more of the Codex entries and the like I'll be posting at the end of new chapters, or by PM. Let me know if there's anything you can clear up for you.
HikariNiwa: That's for sure. I can't imagine that access to space age combat drugs and rocketry has calmed them down any.
Thank you all for taking the time to review. Hope to see you again next time, with something a little more action based.
-Liddle Out