Things Worth Keeping
A Mass Effect 2+ Story in Seven-Odd Parts by Urdaniel
Disclaimer: Bioware/EA owns all applicable characters and trademarks (e.g., names). I make no claims of ownership and certainly make no profit.
Rated M for language and the occasional smidgen of innuendo. No, they still haven't had sex and they won't during this arc of TWK (and when it happens, it won't be at all explicit); though I know which follow-on chapter it'll happen in, I'll beg your indulgence and ask you to wait for it to get posted. Critiques and comments are welcome; flames will burn unremarked and trolls will remain unfed beneath their bridges.
I know that those of you still interested are wanting to get into things ASAP so I'll just let you get on with it. If you want to read some more author-note rambling, it'll be after the end of this portion. Regardless, I would like to thank all TWK's readers, old and new, for being patient with me during this long silence and for liking the story enough to be so. And as always, a shout-out to the forumites on the Jack-related threads on the Bioware Social Network: never would have dared to do this without all you folks.
[2010.11.01]
Day 6: Pinnacle Freefall (Part 1 of 2)
The sensation of weight settling onto the mattress woke Gabriel from a light, fitful sleep. Though his first instinct was to reach for the Shuriken under his pillow, two things stopped him. First, there wasn't a Shuriken underneath his pillow: it was up on the wall, which was where it had been ever since the beginning of their stay on Intai'sei - apart from the odd times they had left the apartment of course. He sincerely hoped that breaking that particular longstanding habit wasn't a bad decision, but he felt it was one thing to keep a loaded weapon under your pillow when you were sleeping alone and altogether another when someone else was in bed with you. Not that he didn't trust Jack - far from it - it was just that he didn't want to complicate matters should something arise out of mutual agreement. Besides, between their combined biotic arsenals, anything too tough to handle would be just that. At which point they might as well have stayed on the Normandy.
Second, and perhaps more importantly, he knew that it was Jack who had unceremoniously planted herself at his right side. Apart from there being no one else who would reasonably have been there, any outside party would have had to have gotten past Jack first - seeing as how she tended to be up and about before Gabriel even got out of bed. That kind of commotion would have woken him up long beforehand, and anything capable of taking Jack out without a fuss would only be irritated by something as light as a machinepistol. All of which meant that there really wasn't any point in making the gesture.
This entire train of reasoning traveled from origin to destination in less time than it took Gabriel to sit up in bed and open his eyes. When he did, sure enough, Jack was sitting cross-legged beside him, her hands busily working at the mass effect generator housing that comprised the majority of her Carnifex's barrel and upper receiver assembly. While her gaze was directed mostly at the matter in hand, her eyes flicked unceasingly around the room, her manner one of utter alertness. Furthermore, her hands were never very far from the fully-assembled and undoubtedly fully-loaded and unsafed Eviscerator that sat on the towel she had spread over the sheets before beginning work on the Carnifex. Mostly relaxed she might have appeared, but anyone even remotely familiar with how it was to live with danger would be able to tell that she was as prepared for trouble as she could be under the circumstances. It was thus no surprise that Jack looked over at him when he sat up. But it was only the briefest of glances before she turned back to her task.
"'Morning," he said, as the grogginess of sleep quickly fled his brain.
"Hey," came the reply, delivered without looking. Gabriel had never stopped being entranced and amazed at how her voice could make such a simple, mundane word so alluring. At least when she said it with any degree of affection - as she did now.
"There's a workbench for that sort of thing, you know."
Jack looked at him then, her gaze level, almost completely expressionless except for the very fractional raising of one eyebrow. Without looking back down, she reassembled the heavy pistol, slapped in a thermal clip, waited for the low whine that indicated the weapon was functional, then safed it. Still not looking away, she laid the folded Carnifex on the bedside table, then went to work on the shotgun. Her hands were deft, obviously well-practiced; Gabriel was willing to lay odds that she could have done field-stripping with her eyes closed and one hand tied behind her back.
"Fine, fine. Do what you want," he finally conceded after another minute of trying to stare her down and failing miserably. Instead, he sat up straighter, resting his back against the headboard. Seeing him capitulate, Jack just smirked before looking back down. They were both silent for the next few minutes, the only sound coming from where Jack's hands still worked.
"So, no shirt today?" Gabriel finally said, inclining his head slightly in her direction.
"No," she said, gaze once again locked with his, her mien completely unselfconscious. "Problem?"
"Course not. Worse things to wake up to."
"Better be a lot worse, you know what's good for you," she said, her tone vaguely threatening. But the slight smile that touched her lips and eyes said otherwise.
"Aren't you cold though? It seems a bit…nippy this morning." Gabriel simply couldn't resist making the comment. To his pleasant surprise, the slightest hint of color actually came to Jack's cheeks as she looked down at her torso. She recovered quickly, however.
"Christ, Shepard," she retorted, rolling her eyes. "That is so lame. I'm beginning to wonder if you're not really a goddamn virgin. Can't imagine how you ever got laid with lines like that one."
"Besides," she went on, not letting him get in a word edgewise, "I can always do this if I really get cold."
With a few deft motions, and before Gabriel could react, Jack reassembled and folded the Eviscerator before placing it beside the Carnifex on the bedside table. Then she swept the towel onto the floor and climbed underneath the covers even as she pushed him back down onto the bed. Molding herself around him, she settled her chin onto his chest, looking at him with mischief in her eyes.
"I believe you have me at a disadvantage, Miss Jack," Gabriel said, trying to keep his tone light. It wasn't easy, especially when Jack wriggled ever-so-slightly, but oh-so-maddeningly against him. She knew it too, if the grin that formed on her face was any indication.
"I'd say so. So would someone else," she went on, looking pointedly down their melded forms, her grin growing even wider. It was Gabriel's turn to blush, and he did. But he didn't look away. He didn't want to. Jack must have seen something in his gaze or in his manner, because she did look away, laying her head on his chest and saying one word, so softly Gabriel barely heard it. Instead, he mostly felt it as the faintest susurrus of air across the fabric of his shirt.
"Sorry."
"Why?" he asked, even as he laid one arm across the scarred flesh of her back and used his other hand to gently caress her head, in the process noting that she had once more shaved her scalp down to the tattoos. Some impulse stopped him from commenting on it, however.
"For being a tease."
"You're not a tease," Gabriel replied, "Said it before and I'll say it again. I'll take what I can get that's freely given. That you're comfortable with. No pressure. Well, except for, you know-" he said, still trying to sound nonchalant. The short, sharp, bark of her laugh was all the reward he needed for his efforts.
"Always wondered why they called it the one-eyed liar," Jack replied, her tone brightening. "By my lights, it's always been the most honest thing about guys."
"No comment," Gabriel said, eliciting another laugh. Silence fell for several seconds before he said what was on his mind.
"Are you sure we should be doing this?" he asked, his voice quiet, neutral. "Don't get me wrong, I'm enjoying myself. Maybe a little too much, but I am."
"Don't know about should," came the equally-quiet answer. "But I want to." As if in emphasis, she snuggled even closer.
"Just a little worried. Old ghosts, and all that." Gabriel kept his touches light, gentle, almost feathery, tracing patterns across the tattoos that covered her skin. Static discharge sparked at his every touch, but not painfully so, more of tingle or tickle than anything else. Been happening more and more lately though, he thought to himself.
"No ghosts. Not like this." Jack's fingers traced patterns of their own up and down his left side, then pushed up his shirt to do the same across his chest. She said nothing for a little while.
"The shower? Too damn close to what happened to me on Purgatory," she said eventually, voice low, but with a brittle edge to her tone. "This-" Again she paused. When she resumed, the edge was gone, replaced by something softer, almost happier.
"This-," she repeated, "Nobody's ever held me like this. Most times they didn't give a shit about me, just wanted to get their rocks off. Other times, I didn't let 'em. Didn't let anyone come close to holding me. Not like this. Not even him." The name went unsaid; Jack had told - and Gabriel had heard - the story before. Only once, but it had been enough. She cleared her throat before going on. "This...works."
"Thanks," was all Gabriel could think of to say. And he wondered if he should even have said that much.
"Whatever," Jack replied, although the way she said it lacked her usual dismissiveness. "Just don't fuck with me. It won't be pretty."
This time, he said nothing, just held her, if not tighter, then just a touch more firmly. She moved against him in response, setting fire to everywhere their skin touched, but she never moved for very long. Gabriel knew her well enough, was physically close to her enough in those moments, to feel her reining herself in. It was as though she were stepping close to a brink, every muscle yearning to take the leap - but on contemplating the drop, reconsidering, stepping away. Not coyly, not teasingly, but hesitantly, almost fearfully.
So Gabriel kept his hands - and other things - away from areas of potential trouble, with some measure of success. Though he had always been more proactive over the course of his two lives, in this the first move was hers and hers alone. He settled for placing his lips softly against her scalp, doing nothing more, and savoring the intimacy for as long as it lasted. As it turned out, it lasted just long enough for both of them to get comfortable, but not long enough by half - by his lights anyway.
That was when the comm console chimed for their attention. Gabriel fully expected Jack to bounce out of bed as she had on previous occasions; instead she slowly, quite reluctantly, disengaged herself from their embrace and sat on the edge of the mattress, giving him a quick backwards glance, her expression shadowed, before looking away. Then she stood up and walked over to the desk; there, her finger hovered over the controls for a brief instant before stabbing down with enough force to break the keyboard had it been anything but a haptic interface. Incongruously, Gabriel hoped she had remembered to switch to audio-only before taking the call. The fit of strangled coughing that emerged from the terminal said otherwise, however.
Funny, Gabriel thought, with just the slightest hint of smug self-satisfaction, I could have sworn Ahern wasn't a prude - or easily flustered. Smiling to himself, he pulled his clothes into place and got up to stand behind and slightly to one side of where Jack stood.
"Ah, good morning, Shepard and- Jack," said an obviously unsettled Tadius Ahern, who alternated staring bug-eyed at the visual pickup with looking away, the slightest tinge of color darkening his weathered skin. "It's- ahem, good to see you both up and about to- whatever it is you're doing. None of my business, of course, but there it is. Anyway, I was just calling to tell you that we've just seen the last batch of trainees off and Pinnacle is at your disposal for the rest of the day."
"Of course," he went on, his voice growing steadily more confident, "I'd understand if you didn't want to go, given last night's business and your, your, preoccupation at the moment-"
"We're going," Jack interrupted. As she spoke, she crossed her arms under her breasts, the gesture making Ahern look hurriedly away. "We'll be ready for pickup in an hour and a half."
Her finger stabbed down again, cutting off the call. Then, her back still to Gabriel, she turned her head and fixed him with the same expression she had worn when the call came in. Her tone was brusque, businesslike, almost cold, and every line of her body was tense to the point where Gabriel could have sworn she was thrumming like a guitar string.
"We better get ready. Not about to let you go up there on an empty stomach. Not after last night."
"In a little bit." Given her body language, those words might have been among the bravest things Gabriel had ever done. Her response proved it.
"What?" Her voice was incredulous, shading over into anger, and Gabriel thought he could see a glow forming around her. He couldn't be certain, though. Too much sun coming from the windows.
"You said hour and a half, right?"
"Yeah-" Jack replied, curiosity leaking into her tone.
"Figure twenty minutes to shower, twenty to gear up, and thirty to chow down. Leaves us, what, twenty more to spare? Maybe even thirty if we shower quick."
"Guess so. Where you going with this?" Jack's voice was now equal parts curiosity, confusion, and hope. She relaxed, slowly but definitely, the tension draining from her stance.
"Back to the bed. C'mon," Gabriel replied, gently taking her hand in his and coaxing her in that direction. He didn't take her eyes off hers the entire way.
"It's only a few more minutes," he went on, as they settled onto the mattress and he pulled her back into an embrace. "But we take what we can get."
The trip to Pinnacle was mostly uneventful. The beginning had been a touch rocky – he and Jack had had something of a paranoid moment when the shuttle pilot turned out to be someone unfamiliar, Chief Reddy already having shipped out with the first wave of personnel going on leave. But once things had been sorted, the ride had settled into the sort of quiet routine that had marked their earlier forays outside the apartment. Gabriel sat to Jack's left, her hand resting lightly on his forearm, neither of them saying anything – at least until they got to the midpoint of the journey.
"This going to be as dangerous as you said? Or are you just shitting me?" Jack's tone held its usual bite, but there was something else in the undercurrents that Gabriel couldn't quite put his finger on.
"About as dangerous as the real thing. Medbay's right outside the door - which is a plus - but if you get tagged badly enough, still might not save you," Gabriel replied, looking at her. She didn't meet his gaze; instead, her hand left his arm and twined with with her other hand in her lap, the slightest shake in her fingers betraying the tension in her clasp.
"Good. Not much point to it otherwise." Jack's response lacked its usual certainty, almost as if she were giving the answer expected of her rather than the answer that was really in her mind. Though it might well have been wishful thinking on Gabriel's part.
Their conversation had brought the gravity of the situation home, raising to the fore the doubts that had been lurking in the recesses of his mind. Why were they doing this? There was nothing material at stake, nothing tangible to gain. Chasing bragging rights was chasing a will o' the wisp that led to perdition more often than not. But there was everything to lose.
In truth, he found that he had come to rue accepting the bet of three years before. The decision had been impulsive, ill-advised, and tainted with not a little machismo – things he had striven to avoid since the warrens of Torfan. That he, Garrus, and Wrex had survived was ultimately irrelevant; he should never have put them at risk in the first place. And while the apartment was a nice reward – especially now, given what had passed between himself and Jack during their stay – he now regretted the road that had brought it to him. Because he was on that road again – perhaps for different reasons, but still the same road – and what was at personal stake now was far more important to him than mere pride or money.
Never should have mentioned it, Gabriel inwardly berated himself. But no, just had to open my mouth to brag. Should never have let her goad me like that. Stupid. But maybe there's still time to fix it.
"We don't really have to do this, you know," he said. "Could just go there, say our goodbyes to everyone, then come right back. Ahern would understand. I've already beaten it once. Got nothing to prove."
"You, maybe," came the response. Jack's hands unclasped, coming to rest on her thighs, the motion making her sit straighter.
"You don't either," Gabriel said, trying to keep the growing desperation from his voice. "He knows your history. Between the dossier and what you've done since, it's more than enough."
For the first time since they had left the apartment, Jack turned to look at him. Gabriel nearly recoiled at the heat in her stare; the words accompanying that stare were tight, full of barely-suppressed fury. It was the angriest he had seen her in a while.
"We. Are. Doing. This." Each word emerged as though it had been bitten off then spat out. "You calling me chicken? Think I can't handle it? Or is this kid gloves again?"
"I know you better than that. And you sure as hell know me better than that," Gabriel retorted, trying to control his own voice and not entirely succeeding. "I'm just worried about one or both of us getting hurt!"
"And what's it all for?" he went on, fear and anger mingling, feeding each other, making his voice rise. "Nothing, that's what! No money, no apartment, not even pride. It's just a goddamn pissing contest. But who for? Not me. I'm the last person you have to prove anything to."
Jack's manner went suddenly cold, dismissive, and a matching chill ran down Gabriel's spine. When she spoke, her gelid tone was worse than her anger.
"Not all about you, Shepard."
"What?"
"Clueless as ever. Doesn't matter," she said, shaking her head. "You got two choices – either we do this, or I'm asking for a ride off that station soon as we get there. Alone. And not back to the apartment either. What's it gonna be?"
"Jack-" Gabriel began, trying desperately to reach her, but afraid that he had already failed. She cut him off, voice level, almost matter-of-fact.
"What's it gonna be?" It was a choice between the possibility of losing her, and the certainty. A choice that was no choice at all.
"We're going," Gabriel replied, voice dull and dead, even as he felt a frigid knife twist in his stomach.
Jack switched on her visor, then moved across the aisle. The rest of the trip was spent in silence, but there was nothing silent or calm about Gabriel's thoughts.
Pinnacle was quiet when they arrived. Not soundless; there was too much ambient noise from all the various things that made up the station and kept it running. But there was none of the bustle that Gabriel had come to associate with the place; apart from the guards at the docking bay, it seemed as though he and Jack had the place all to themselves. Under other circumstances, it would have been fine, even pleasant, but with the gulf that had opened between them, Gabriel found himself desperately wishing that someone would pop up, say something mundane, and break the uncomfortable silence. It wasn't until they reached the final checkpoint, where Dahga worked intently at his terminal, that Gabriel got his wish.
"Sorry Shepard," the turian Guard Captain said, not looking up from his console. "Paperwork. There's more of it involved in shutting Pinnacle down than there is keeping it running. Beginning to think I shouldn't have sent the admin staff home in the first wave."
"Well you did say that you'd be here till they turned off the lights," Gabriel replied, trying to keep his tone casual. Jack said nothing, leaning one shoulder against the nearest wall, her body language making her disinterest plain. Her visor was still up, hiding her eyes.
"Hah! I did, didn't I? Serves me right," Dahga said, his mandibles moving in the turian equivalent of a wry chuckle. He sobered quickly, however.
"I guess I'm just trying to put off the unpleasantness for as long as possible. I know I'm needed on Taetrus. More to the point, I want to help. But-" Dahga paused, looked up briefly, then lowered his head to his screen once more.
"It's still bad, no matter which way you cut it," Gabriel said, grateful for the chance at something resembling a normal conversation, no matter how somber the topic. "Been there. I understand."
"Yeah. Thanks. There is a bit of good news though. Sort of."
"Oh?"
"Vidinos made it out alive. Barely, but alive." The unexpectedness of the news made Gabriel forget his troubles, albeit all too briefly.
"Really? How?"
"He was coming back from hunting rebels in the hinterlands. The attack happened just as his shuttle landed at one of the military bases on the outskirts of the capital. Avoided the worst of the blast wave. Got hurt but lived. Always was a tough bastard."
"Huh," was all Gabriel could think of to say.
"Preliminary word is that he's coming back to Pinnacle once he recovers and the station opens up again. There's a new counter-terrorism initiative being drawn up between the Hierarchy and the Alliance, and he's going to be part of it. You might even catch him here if you come back sometime."
"Maybe," Gabriel replied, adding, "Depends on how full my dance card is." The attempt at humor sounded lame even to his ears.
"I understand," Dahga said, looking up once more. "Need to keep moving and all that. Speaking of which, we've completed the preliminary investigation into last night's incident."
For the first time since they had arrived, Jack looked interested. Out of the corner of his eye, Gabriel saw her stop leaning against the wall and devote her full attention to the conversation. He nodded once, indicating that Dahga should continue.
"The chef is a humans-first advocate, but has no known formal ties to Cerberus. In fact as far as we can tell, he's been actively trying to be recruited – so far unsuccessfully. It's beginning to look like he was trying to score points, maybe get another chance. We've handed him over to the Alliance for further questioning and the admiral has already made arrangements for you to be informed should anything further come up."
"Thanks. Appreciate it." One concern addressed, but it was small comfort, Gabriel found.
"Now then, I don't want to seem to be shooing you away, but I will. This paperwork isn't going to finish itself. Besides," Dahga said, one claw indicating the flashing light on his console, "Javos and the admiral are ready to see you."
Still not saying anything, Jack brushed past him and headed for the simulation area. Gabriel was just about to go after her when Dahga raised his hand.
"Not that it's any of my business, Commander," he said, using Shepard's formal rank for the first time. "But are the two of you, you know, okay?"
"No," Gabriel replied, preferring to be forthright over being rude, but unwilling to offer anything beyond the bare answer.
"Ah," Dahga said, as if Gabriel's answer explained everything. "Like I said, none of my business." He looked down at his board for a moment, then looked back up at Gabriel.
"Take care of her – and yourself – in there. Good luck."
"Thanks again. See you on the other side."
Nodding at the Guard Captain, Gabriel turned and followed Jack's rapidly-disappearing form.
Gabriel caught up with her just as she passed through the second set of doors that separated Pinnacle's Operations Center – now empty except for a skeleton crew of three – from the simulation control room. He didn't reach out, didn't touch her arm, didn't say a word. He wanted to, but he knew it would lead to nothing good. When Jack was in one of her stony silences – more so than when she actively, verbally pushed him away – forcing the issue was, putting it mildly, unwise. So he didn't.
The expression on Admiral Ahern's face when he saw them come in told Gabriel that his friend had noticed the tension that existed between them. Javos, muttering to himself in typical salarian rapid-patter fashion as he bent over his console, was oblivious as usual. Ahern cocked an inquisitive eyebrow at Gabriel, looked as if he were about to ask a question, reconsidered, then spoke to the room instead.
"Welcome," he began, crossing his hands at the small of his back, his tone and manner much more serious and formal than they had been on any of the previous occasions Gabriel and Jack had visited Pinnacle. "While the two of you have been through the simulator before, the scenario you are about to enter warrants further explanation, as one of you," he said, giving a curt nod in Jack's direction that she acknowledged with the barest shrug of her shoulders, "Has never run it before."
"It is my responsibility as commander of this station," he went on, "To prepare you as best I can so that one, you will succeed, and two, do so in a manner that is as safe and problem-free as possible. As previously agreed, all safety protocols have been disabled for the duration of the scenario. This means this is as close to actual combat as it gets. The rounds are live, and you will get hurt or even die if they get through your barriers. I emphasize this because one of you," he nodded at Jack once more, "Is not wearing armor under those barriers. Recklessness is ill-advised."
"Our chief medical officer has graciously and generously agreed to stay on should his skills be needed. I hope they won't be, but better safe than sorry. Our medical bay is also state of the art. Between those two facts, your chances are a lot better than even should you get hurt. But if one of you gets unlucky enough, that still might not save you. So be careful."
At this point, the admiral stepped toward the holo-table and touched a control, causing a schematic of the strong point that was the focus of the scenario to spring to life. Gabriel had seen it before, but he looked it over again. He couldn't afford to take anything lightly; not that he ever did, but now more than ever.
It was an enclosure, walled in on three sides and partially built into the side of a hill on the fourth. A large moveable bulkhead dominated the wall opposite the hillside, serving as a door through which vehicles could enter and leave the facility; parked approximately in the center of the enclosure was one such vehicle – an early-model M29 Grizzly. Flanking the door were two heavy turrets, their fields of fire sited so as to cover the space immediately inside the bulkhead, as well as the interior of the facility.
Gabriel had always wondered about that. To his mind, they would have been better situated higher up and pointing outward, the better to cover the external approaches; as they were, they could only engage targets inside the walls – and what commander would want an enemy within a strong point? The only possible explanation he could come up with was that it was designed as a trap, which was certainly likely, as Ahern and his squad had found themselves pinned down inside the area by wave after wave of turian infantry assaults. However, the turrets had turned out to be an advantage for the Alliance troops: early on, the squad had hacked the turrets and used them to somewhat level the playing field.
The remainder of the strong point was a maze of pillars, haphazardly-stacked crates, heavy equipment, and raised platforms and walkways that ran around the inside of the exterior walls. There was one other door. Historically, it had led to a connecting corridor to some other facility; within the simulation, it was the door through which participants entered before being sealed in. All in all, there was cover, but little of it was contiguous, and most of it was unsuitable for extended shelter from incoming fire. The crates, pillars, and machinery were too easy to flank and surround, and the railings on the walkways, while solid, were low and had regular gaps through which well-aimed rounds and direct-fire grenades could be inserted; indirect fire weaponry could simply be lobbed over what cover there was. It was a killing zone, and it was nothing short of a miracle that Ahern and his squad had managed to hang on for five minutes. In fact, only two troopers had been left standing when it was over, both of them wounded; the rest of the squad was either combat-ineffective – or dead.
Gabriel completed his examination of the schematic just as Ahern finished his own verbal description. The admiral then launched into a summation of the scenario objectives.
"The goal in this scenario is simple: Survive for five minutes. This timer begins when you," he said, looking at Gabriel and Jack in turn, "Kill the turian squad guarding the Grizzly, and retrieve this data module." One hand grabbed the model of the Grizzly and pulled straight up, creating a larger copy of the vehicle in the space above the table. Ahern stabbed a finger at a point on its right side to highlight the module in question, paused to make sure they both knew where and what it was, then swept his hand from right to left, banishing the model.
"This will trigger the assault waves. Historically, we faced four waves of steadily increasing size before extraction. The scenario re-creation has a bit of randomness programmed into it – you could face as few as three waves, or as many as six within the time limit. The fewer the waves, the more troops will be in each. The more the waves, the fewer the troops. But the number of troops will always increase as the timer winds down."
"This models turian tactics of the era," Ahern went on, resting both hands on the table edge. "Whenever they found the forces thrown at the objective insufficient, they sent more and more until they either took the objective or ran out of troops. They've learned more subtlety since – thanks to us – but this will not be the case in the scenario."
"Historical accuracy extends to OpFor equipment. Turian armor and kinetic barriers are of the level of sophistication appropriate during the First Contact War. This gives you a slight advantage as your weapons are more recent and therefore somewhat more lethal against their defenses."
"Their armament is also appropriate to the period. While you might think that this also works to your advantage due to your more modern defensive strategies, there is one important difference between their weapons and yours. Unlike you, they will never run out of thermal clips, as weapons of the era had integral, non-disposable, cooling mechanisms. This might lead you to the conclusion that there will be extended lulls in enemy fire due to the need to let weapons cool down instead of simply slapping in a new clip and resuming. You would be mistaken. Turian fire discipline – which I hate to say is significantly greater than that of the average Alliance trooper, even today - means that this will not be the case. Once they start shooting, 'rain' will not even begin to describe what you will be facing. Stay out of cover too long and you WILL die." Ahern stood up straight, once more crossing his hands behind his back.
"The one true advantage you have is in your biotics. Turians then and now still have little use for them – something about an inherent distrust of biotics as a skill and the ethics and motives of a biotic as a person. The turians themselves only make limited use of the small number of biotic-capable individuals available to their armed forces, usually keeping them in small biotic-only teams called Cabals, essentially another branch of their Special Forces. No such teams were present during the action recreated by this scenario. The turians might have been keeping them a secret until they needed them, might not have trusted them enough to commit them, or may have simply decided we weren't dangerous enough to warrant the effort. The fact remains: you will not be facing Cabals."
"This does not mean they take biotics lightly. They respect them and they plan for them. However, as your particular biotic skills had not yet been developed at the time of the First Contact War, the simulation will not be programmed to use present-day tactics that counter or mitigate them. Abuse this for every edge it can provide. You're going to need it. For all that I have faith in both of you, you are still trying to do with two people what I did with thirteen. And I lost eleven of them in the process."
"Which brings me to my final point." Ahern's voice rose, gaining strength and filling the room; its tone was one that brooked no argument. "If at any juncture I feel, in my experienced judgment as both a veteran combat officer and longtime commander of this training facility, that either or both of you are at risk of truly serious injury or death, I WILL pull the plug on the scenario. Complain all you want, I will not listen. I consider it my duty as a ranking officer of the Alliance, but more importantly, as a friend. I will keep you both safe, even if it means either or both of you end up hating me. Is that clear?"
Gabriel and Jack nodded their assent, the latter a little more reluctantly.
"Let's get you prepped then," Ahern finished, turning around to lead them toward the simulator itself.
It turned out that Ahern wasn't quite finished with them, or at least he wasn't quite finished with Gabriel anyway. He was about to enter the simulation ready area with Jack when the admiral motioned him over.
"Shepard? A moment, if you will. I won't keep him long, Jack," he said, nodding in her direction. "Hope you don't mind."
Jack just shrugged and went into the ready area. For his part Gabriel doffed his helmet, which he had already put on, and gave Ahern a level expression.
"Admiral?"
"Are the two of you all right?" Ahern asked, echoing Dahga's earlier question.
"Is it that obvious?"
"Yes. Not that the two of you were exactly swapping tongues in public at every opportunity, but you're acting like a couple of cold-warring exes now. I've been around the block more than my fair share – I can tell."
"No. No we're not," Gabriel admitted. Ahern's eyebrows rose at the answer and he took a deep breath.
"I'm suddenly of a mind to stop this even before it gets started. Dammit, you know you shouldn't be going into combat without your head screwed on straight."
"We don't always get a choice in the matter. And you know that. Sir."
"Don't you goddamn 'sir' me, Shepard. We passed that point three years ago. So what happened? Was it her way or the highway?"
"With all due respect, that's none of your business. We'll handle it," Gabriel spoke the words, though he was nowhere near as certain as he sounded.
"Not if you're not on the same page, you won't."
"I'm a professional. And contrary to all appearances, Jack is too. You've seen her record, know what she's done. We may not be seeing eye to eye right now, but that's out here, not in combat."
"Can the bullshit," Ahern snapped, his hand moving from left to right in a curt chopping motion. "'Out here,' five minutes is nothing. In there, where things can and will turn to shit in an instant, with the fucking safeties off no less, it's a fucking lifetime. And it's gonna be a a nasty fucking short lifetime if you don't have each others' backs. Or have you forgotten what happened last time, when you had two people with you instead of one?"
"No I haven't," Gabriel replied, struggling to keep his voice under control. "But this time is different. Gear's not the same. I'm not the same. And her? She's damn good. We can handle it," he repeated.
"Jesus H. Christ on a fucking raft. Has she really got you that pussywhipped? Is she really that good a lay?"
"That's uncalled for," Gabriel said, finally letting the anger enter his voice, though much of that anger was for himself.
"Maybe so, but this sort of crap is why the Alliance military has rules against fraternization."
"She isn't Alliance military, admiral. And neither am I, remember?"
"Oh I remember. But it causes the same goddamn problems whether the people involved are military or not. So I hope for both your sakes that you can 'handle it.' I'm not going to insult you by making the scenario easier or turning the safeties on, but I meant what I said earlier. The second I smell things going to pot, the scenario is over. 'Cause I sure as HELL am not going to be explaining to the Alliance how I let Commander Shepard die on my watch. We clear on this?"
Any vestige of camaraderie in Ahern's voice and manner was gone; in its place there was only the steely authority of Pinnacle Station's commanding officer. Gabriel met it with cold formality, although inwardly he hoped he hadn't just cost himself a friend.
"Crystal, admiral."
"Then get going. The sooner you're done, the sooner you can get it out of your systems and take your goddamn personal problems off my station."
"And Commander?" Ahern added, as Gabriel turned to go, "The two of you better not come out of there in body bags. Or I'll bring you back to life myself just so I can kill you again."
Gabriel kept his helmet cradled by his side as he entered the ready room. Jack was busy pulling spare thermal clips from the supply lockers and fitting them into every open spot on her gear, including an LBE harness she had apparently found in another locker. Her visor was off and she didn't look up until he drew near.
"So how are we playing this?" she asked, tone brisk, businesslike. Despite the lack of anything resembling warmth, the fact that she was even talking to him was encouraging. Gabriel laid his helmet on the arming bench, using the short interval to marshal his thoughts.
"Before we get to that," he finally said, "We need to be clear on one thing."
"You don't say," Jack replied, crossing her arms.
"We don't have time to get into why you're mad at me," Gabriel said, keeping his own voice to-the-point. "We'll talk about that after. But I need to know you won't buck me in there. There's enough to worry about as is."
"It's a fight, you're the boss," Jack said, shrugging. "Unless you wanna whine and hide, I'm following your lead."
The answer eased Gabriel's mind, if not completely, then considerably. He used his omni-tool to pull up a smaller version of the schematic Ahern had used during the briefing.
"All right. The way we did this three years ago is that Garrus, Wrex, and I turtled up here." Gabriel's finger pointed to a pile of crates in front of the large vehicle door. "Garrus kept the enemy pinned with his rifle while Wrex and I provided fire support and charged groups that got too close. The turrets here, and here," he went on, indicating two pedestal-mounted guns set on the elevated walkways forward and to either side of the door, "Took care of the rest. It wasn't as easy as I make it sound."
"Problem is, we can't do that today. Not only are we a squaddie short, but neither of us is the marksman Garrus is. We are, however, more mobile, individually and as a pair, than Wrex and I were, and we can hit harder, with weapons and especially with biotics. We also have better barriers and I have better armor. We're going to need to play to those strengths."
"So this is the way it's going to go: First thing we need to do is take out the guard squad around the Grizzly." Gabriel tapped his omni-tool, and half a dozen lights appeared around the vehicle in the center of the enclosure. "They move around so this is only an approximation. But each guard always keeps at least one other trooper in his field of vision, and is in constant contact with all the others. So the minute we hit one, we're getting the other five in short order."
"But not the waves," Jack interrupted.
"No."
"Sorta stupid that they won't."
"That's how it happened and that's how the scenario does it. Try and be grateful. I am."
"Whatever."
"Anyway, the scenario timer doesn't start until we pull the module, so we don't need to rush this too much - we can conserve energy and clips. Also, I'm thinking we can split up for this part. Not because it's quicker, but because if we hit them from two directions at once, it'll confuse and split the response. But this is the only time during the scenario that we're flying solo. Once the shit hits the fan, I want us joined at the hip."
"You would," Jack said, voice derisive. Gabriel ignored the comment.
"Once we take out the guards, we grab some bars and juice, get our energy back. Then we hack the turrets so they can start firing as soon as the waves spawn. Don't need to hack them for real – it's just a timer."
"The turrets going to do all the work? No fun if they do."
"No. For one thing, they were originally designed to hit vehicle-sized targets – hard-hitting but low fire rate. The hack simulates the kludge job Ahern's squad did on them so they would engage infantry. For another, the clutter and the Grizzly break up their fields of fire something fierce – can't just sweep the entire area. Lastly, the hack made their control and targeting protocols a bit wonky, so there's a chance that they'll just stop working. Didn't happen to Ahern, but it did happen to us. Probably won't have the chance or the time to hack them again if that happens. All in all, we just need to stay out of their way and let them do what they can. They'll help, but we can't rely on them."
"Good."
"When we're done with the turrets, we meet back up at the Grizzly to pull the module. That's when all hell breaks loose."
"My favorite thing." Again, Gabriel let the interruption pass without comment.
"We'll only engage groups we can put down fast. Anything bigger, we try to avoid. Reinforcements will just crawl up our asses and cut us apart if we get hung up on any one group. Same thing if we try to hunker down and turtle. So we're going to stay on the move for the whole five minutes – kill what we can then head for another section of the compound."
"Didn't want to just hole up anyway, so I'm game."
"Going to burn a lot of energy though. So we get a chance, we eat. The other fly in the ointment is that the enemy waves spawn in random locations. We could end up pincered or even surrounded. That happens, we're going to need to break through pronto. About the only good thing is that they'll never spawn at our current location, so we'll have a few seconds before they vector in on us. Might even be enough for us to get away."
"What about the Grizzly?" Jack asked, pointing at the vehicle.
"Inoperable. Nothing works. All it is is cover. There's one more point about enemy spawns. They're random except for the one behind this door," Gabriel indicated the vehicle entrance. "A pair of troopers come in from here approximately every thirty seconds unless we hit either of these controls and close it." He highlighted two panels set on each side.
"Once those controls are activated twice in total, they stop coming in. The reason I only mentioned this now is that it doesn't really affect our tactics today. Three years ago, we had to keep watching our six so we didn't get blindsided. Since we'll be moving, odds are we're not going to be near the door when stuff spawns, so it's less of an issue. That said, if we get a chance, we're going to close that door. That about covers things. Any questions?"
"Nope."
"Consumables check, then. Bars and juice?" Gabriel asked, banishing the schematic so he could check his harness as well as his armor's internal fluid reservoirs.
"Full up," Jack replied, slapping at her own vest and belt to indicate the bars, then at the lightly-armored camel pack locked next to her assault rifle.
"Thermal clips?" Gabriel took extras from the equipment lockers and filled every spare compartment before checking the counter on his omni-tool and following it up with a visual count of the clips themselves.
"Pulled a shitload of spares before you came in," Jack said, tugging on the LBE she had fitted over her vest.
"Medi-gel?" Again Gabriel consulted his omni-tool while Jack inspected the injectors in her harness. She nodded in confirmation.
"Weapons check." Over the next few minutes, they busied themselves running diagnostics and physical inspections on their respective arsenals. Knowing what they would be facing, Gabriel had traded in his customary Shuriken for a fully-automatic Tempest, and had added a scoped version of Jack's Carnifex to his Claymore. He might not be the marksman Garrus was, but he could still place shots in a group that would comfortably fit into a turian's faceplate at fifteen meters. The scope was there to help him do that at twice the range if necessary. One never knew.
He finished before Jack since she was, after all carrying more guns. Apart from her Carnifex and Locust, which she had already checked over, she had an Eviscerator slung across the small of her back. The weapon which seemed to have occupied the lion's share of her time, however, was her pulse rifle. Its fire rate was tremendous for all that its heat generation was next to minimal, but it had been designed for geth, who had the processing capacity to operate the weapon with ease. Humans had to work harder both at firing and maintaining the weapon, but Gabriel knew Jack had accepted that in exchange for the veritable torrent of fire it could put out. Gabriel waited until she nodded at him once more.
"Last one. Gear check. You first," Gabriel said. Wordlessly, Jack stepped forward so Gabriel could inspect connectors, fittings, and buckles. He paid special attention to the connectors between her barrier implants and harness; it was a while before he pronounced himself fully satisfied. He ran a quick but thorough diagnostic with his omni-tool as a final measure.
"No issues. You're set."
He stepped back to give Jack room. Still not saying anything, she picked up his helmet and handed it to him; Gabriel put the helmet on and sealed it, keeping the visor up for the moment. Jack's hands moved deftly across his armor, checking and double-checking seals, attachment clamps, and equipment pouches before using her ear-mounted interface to run her own diagnostics on his implants and armor systems. She straightened, slapping him on the shoulder.
"No issues," she parroted, voice faintly mocking, "All set."
Gabriel nodded, feeling his mouth go dry as the enormity of what was going to happen truly sank in. Not trusting his voice, he settled for closing and locking his visor, running a final diagnostic as his HUD came online. In front of him, Jack activated her visor. The amber field sprang up, covering her eyes, and Gabriel felt a brief pang shoot through him. He had to clear his throat and take a sip of juice before he trusted himself to open a channel to the control room.
"Control? Ready to begin the scenario."
"Control acknowledges," Javos replied. "Scenario will begin when you enter the simulation area. Good luck, Commander."
"Give 'em hell you two." There was a trace of anger in Ahern's words, but they sounded sincere all the same. Maybe Gabriel hadn't lost a friend after all.
"Thanks. We will. Shepard out."
~ End Day 6, Part 1 (to be continued) ~
Author's Notes: Since you've made it this far, I'll go ahead and assume that you're interested in what I have to say outside the scope of the narrative itself. As those of you who have read the status updates know, a death in the family sapped my will to write last year. While that particular crisis is not yet over - mostly due to corrupt bureaucracies and their red tape, but also for reasons I won't get into here - I feel that I've managed to reach a point where I can begin writing again (which manifested as my muse nagging me to get back in the saddle). My first foray back into the writing waters is an as-yet incomplete Jack/FShep story called "In Her Eyes," the first two (short) installments of which are right here on FFN (and yes that's a slightly-ashamed plug). It was (and is) planned as an experiment, both to try and get my hand back into writing and also to go outside my comfort zone. I know Jack/FShep is not exactly the soup du jour for everyone, which is certainly fine. But thought I'd mention it just in case anyone was interested.
The second foray is the story portion you've just finished reading: the first part of the penultimate chapter of Things Worth Keeping. I am perfectly aware that ending this portion where I have is going to induce the reader equivalent of blue-ball, but just like Day 5, it was running on long enough to make me decide to break it into manageable portions (that still run a damn sight long even so). More importantly, the second part is rather heavy emotion-lading-wise and to be brutally frank, I'm struggling mightily with it, a situation made more difficult by how atrophied my literary muscles are. In fact, I'm running scared right now that this first part is going to highlight that deterioration. In the end, however, that'll be up to you, the readers. All I ask is that you be honest - for me, it's more important than being kind. In any event, I decided to release because it's been more than long enough between installments and I thought that TWK's readership deserved to get something for their dedication and patience. I simply hope that I do not disappoint.
Now if you will continue to indulge me for a bit longer, some other notes about future projects (a precursor to this was contained in the 03.15.2012 update which has since been deleted):
Apart from the abovementioned Jack/FShep project and the associated bridge piece (which allows both my Shepards and their respective versions of Jack to meet), I already have notes and titles for several sequels to TWK. These will be predominantly one-shot affairs, covering the gap between ME2 and ME3, and extending into the latter game to tackle events I want to highlight from that title. At the very least, this means a story tied to Grissom, but there's certainly room for a lot more. There will also be a story containing my take on the notorious "endings" and their aftermath (the canon versions of which I absolutely despise); I will warn folks that my current plans for this are considerably darker than my initial outlines, but while it may not be unmitigated "unicorns and rainbows," I feel it's better than what we did get (although your mileage may vary, of course). All of these will be added on to this story, placing them under the TWK banner; that means that the 8 days covering their stay on Intai'sei and its immediate aftermath are now called "The Intai'sei Arc," with all the follow-ons receiving subheadings of their own. I decided to do things this way to keep my FFN page relatively simple looking and not have a bunch of links cluttering it up. To summarize, there will be three groupings:
1) Things Worth Keeping - Jack/Gabriel Shepard, comprising the Intai'sei Arc and assorted follow-ons. These include "Departure" (dealing with the events immediately before and immediately after ME2's Arrival DLC, which I only managed to play this year); "In More than Anger" (dealing with the events surrounding the Grissom Academy mission in ME3); and "Paths Unwillingly Trodden" (my aforementioned take on the ME3 ending and its aftermath).
2) In Her Eyes - Jack/Maya Shepard, comprising the main arc (which does not yet have a name as it's still very early in its development) and assorted follow-ons.
3) Through a Relay Darkly - the bridging story between the two universes, kept separate since it takes place outside either one.
In closing, I would once more like to thank all TWK's readers both old and new, for their patience and for spending their valuable time to read this story. As I've said before, I bid all of you welcome and hope that you enjoy your stay. Your attention, and any reviews or critiques, are very much appreciated. I apologize for the long delay and hope to not be away for so long in future.
P.S. You'll notice the date at the top of the page before the story proper begins. Your eyes do not deceive. It took me that long to write this part, for which I can only offer, once more, my humble apology.
