Chapter Ten: Hard Revelation
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"NO GOOD, FUCKING, COCKSUCKING, PIECE OF SHIT! TURN OVER GODDAMN YOU!"
Galas'Yoad could not help but roll his eyes at the tank commander known as Hertzer and turned back to the engine, his omni-tool alive as he scanned the Tigers relatively massive engine. They had broken down a few hours ago, leaving the team trapped seventy odd kilometers from the target and waiting on the tank crew to get them moving once again.
It was clear to that Hertzer and his crew were too proud to ask anyone for help until about an hour ago when Joachim'Hoch lost his temper and assigned Galas to help inspect the tank for any sort of maintenance issue causing the delay. It gave Galas a chance to see just how flawed this machine had been. Its track system was far too complex for its own good. The tank was much too heavy for serious cross desert traversing. It would be almost too heavy for urban fighting. It was an open field tank.
While there were problems, he had to admit it a neat looking machine. Powerful and a first step towards a main battle tank Quarians had long before the exile. But for now, it was in serious need of a redesign.
"Could you possibly get any angrier?" Yoad inquired, attempting to keep the humour from bubbling up to taunt the man with.
"Yes I could!"Hertzer snapped back at him. "Sigrid is supposed to perfect. This isn't right at all!"
"Well... It appears that the engine is being overworked." The pilot spoke as he closed the engine shield. "You've been pushing the tank far too; too much tank, not enough engines."
The panzer commander blinked at the quarian and suddenly smiled.
"You know... you don't exactly have much of a role in your little group. The muscle role seems to be filled by that big brute over there," Hertzer spoke, gesturing to Fuhrmann as he sat by the Tiger, his MG-42 in pieces and in the middle of being cleaned. "My tank needs a fifth member. What will it take to recruit you? I'm always in need of a decent engineer."
Galas didn't have the heart to tell Hertzer that it was rudimentary education for post elementary school education for quarian teenagers. Not quite the Mass driver engineering that he had not a clue about. Still... it felt good that it was appreciated. The human known as Hertzer dropped his hand onto Galas' shoulder.
"Come along, boy. Let's go get a drink," Hertzer suggested. To which Galas shook his head.
"I can't consume anything you have to drink," the quarian informed Hertzer.
"Alright then," Hertzer said, turning away and looking to Fuhrmann as he added. "Fuhrmann! I have a couple of bottles of brandy I stole from some Italian, go get them out of Sigrid. We will drink, yeah?"
Fuhrmann looked up from his dissembled machine gun and stood up and climbed onto the tank, leaving Hertzer and Yoad by themselves. Sighing, Hertzer slumped into the sand, his eyes glancing off. A strange look of amusement was suddenly written on his face.
"They seem... close…" he finally spoke.
Galas raised his brow at the remark.
"What do you mean?"
He pointed off to something. Galas followed his gesture and found that Hertzer had been looking at Joachim'Hoch and Captain Hanala'Jarva. Both of them were studying a map produced by her omni-tool.
"Your captain is always hanging off Hoch," Hertzer spoke as though it was the most obvious thing in the world.
"They're officers, they have to coordinate... right?" Galas reminded him, unable to keep his eyes off the odd sight.
Hertzer only smirked as he gestured to the two of them. Together they watched as Joachim'Hoch's hand grazed against Hanala's back as they both read the readings from the omni-tool. Hanala'Jarva actually squirmed in place, but she did not move from his touch. The lack of response to him and then her pulling off his field cap to wear actually made the tank commander grin as he looked between them and then finally to Galas' shocked expression.
"For clarification, officers in the Heer don't touch each other quite like that," Hertzer grinned as Hanala shifted slightly closer to the man next to her. "I cannot say I'm too sure about the Waffen-SS though...I once heard half their ranks were faggots in denial."
Galas shook his head, disgusted by the intolerance as his translator slanged the slang into the word homosexual.
"I'm going to go... Find a bathroom or something…" he muttered, earning a nod from Hertzer.
He left, trying to forget what he had seen between the quarian and human, both of whom much higher ranks than he was. He could not quite say that he thought it was disgusting... wrong even about the way they seemed to have been flirting, toying with the idea of exploring whatever that they were doing. They had been on this planet for no more than twenty days... it just seemed far too... rushed.
Maybe it would be better once quariankind stopped being an all powerful force in the eyes of huma-
Galas hissed and gave a violent scream.
Pain shot through his body and dropped him into the dirt, making him lose control of his breathing. He landed on his back, screaming again in an agony he had never felt before. Above him was an explosive exchange of gunfire. His hand touched against his torn open chest.
He moaned and tried to move. He couldn't. As he struggled to breathe, his chest started spitting blood out. He rolled his head to one side and was faintly aware that his people were completely caught off guard. Only one or two of them had their weapons readied. He could make out Fuhrmann exploding from the tank, his hands wrapped around the turret gun but like Fuhrmann, he too was shot several times, slumping inside the tank once again.
Hoch and Jarva found their sidearm's both of them firing but Captain Jarva was screaming was to him in a desperate act to get the pilot's attention.
Galas looked away from his people and instead towards the attackers. They rushed in with roofless trucks and grimy uniforms, all of them so alien looking, coated in facial hair and sneers as they rushed in and overwhelmed the barely prepared team. The heavy gun on one of the vehicles forced the group of Germans and quarians to scatter and hide.
"DROP YOUR WEAPONS!" his translator interpreted. "No harm will come to you if you drop your weapons and give up! You have fifteen seconds to comply!"
Galas groaned and rolled over. He would survive this. He would get out of this alive...
...
...
In the end, they surrendered as the English soldiers had demanded.
The last of the weapons were tossed into sand in the direction of the English. Most of the English remained locked in place. Standing their ground, their rifles and machine guns raised at the surrendered Germans and quarians. Two of them however approached, one armed, the other more casual and higher ranked. He was a lieutenant by the looks of it, maybe a captain.
Hoch couldn't believe this. They had a Panzer they were leaning against, a mounted MG-34 no more than a few meters away. He glanced to Hanala who held her gloved hands over her head, her expression blank. Of course, being captured wasn't new to her of course. No more than twenty days ago; he had done the same thing to her.
Though her expression was empty, her eyes remained on the fallen Galas'Yoad and with concern and fear for his man flashed out of the barrier she hid behind.
A cough and a sudden attempt to belly crawl came from Yoad, startling Hanala. Ignoring her own situation and Hoch's attempt to keep her in place, she started towards him. Bullets fired by the officer approaching hit the sand in front of hert, forcing her back in place. The man approaching the group only glanced at Yoad once.
As though Yoad had been a minor pest, he raised his sten gun aimed at the quarian casually and fired a short burst into his back
And just like that, Galas'Yoad was dead.
Hanala nearly screamed. Joachim reached back and wrapped his hand around her mouth to prevent a stream of her first lanague being blurted out. The Commandos didn't know about her yet. The last thing they needed to find out was Hanala's alien language. Hanala's legs collapsed under her, and Hoch followed after her, keeping her in place and screaming silently into his hand.
He watched Hanala's eyes mist before he turned back and found the Commando who shot Galas dead had closed the gap on him. His sten gun slammed into the side of Joachim's head, knocking him down on the ground. Dazed he tried to sit up but failed to get to his feet.
He felt a hand wrap around the front of his uniform, dragging the scatterbrained Obersturmbannführer from off the ground and back onto his feet. There was an expression of malice splashed over the grin the Englishman wore
His eyes tried to focus, they searched his attack. There was nothing extraordinary about him, other than the look of disgust written on him. His eyes dropped as he rocked back and forth in place. He noticed a sparkle, a five pointed star...
"Juden..." Hoch mumbled, still dazed, his head throbbing.
The man before Joachim's eyes hardened
"That's right, you stupid Nazi fuck. A Polish Jew," the commando sneered, letting go of Hoch's collar. Hoch fell to his knees and the Jew turned back to face his friends.
"You know, sir...I bet he is probably the same son of a bitch who killed my brother in '39," the commando said to his approaching officer.
A punch to the gut winded Hoch and dropped the officer back into the sand and dirt. Wheezing as he felt Hanala's hands clutch his back, Hoch chuckled and looked up, a bloodied grin planted on his face for the son of a bitch to take in. His senses came back to him, his dizziness was gone.
"Probably…" the German baited to the Polish national, switching to English which was an act that startled several of the Englishmen. "I killed plenty of Poles. It was almost embarrassing to do that… a nation of backward idiots... just like your brother. I imagine he was one of those idiots that tried to fight tanks on his hors-"
The commando interrogator nearly screamed as he hit Hoch over and over again. Finally he had enough. He pulled his pistol out of his holster and pressed it just under his chin. He could feel Hanala grabbing his shoulder as though she could save him. At this point, Hoch just stopped caring.
"Go ahead Pole... Go right on, Jew," Hoch slurred his eyes half open as he stared at the Webley pistol barrel pressed against his forehead. "Do it, shoot me. Show me how righteous you are..."
Hoch closed his eyes and simply waited.
"Kaplan!"
The interrogator turned away from his target and back on his approaching Captain. He looked ashen faced and was occasionally glancing back to Galas'Yoad's husk. Hoch knew exactly what he had found.
"Kaplan, the one behind that Nazi bastard, grab him and bring him here," the Englishman breathed unsteadily. "Something's not right with him."
Kaplan stared at Hoch for a moment longer before hiding his pistol once more his attention turning to Hanala, her goggles still wrapped around her eyes. Kaplan reached out and grabbed her by the forearm and pulled her towards his Captain, who stared on her curiously.
The Captain removed the gloves, revealing her hands, her goggles were next, her bright eyes made the commando leader step back, obviously shocked.
"What in the hell are you?" he swore lowly.
Kaplan tugged off Hanala's hat, allowing her long hair hidden to fall down, touching her shoulders. The man raised his brow in disbelief.
"A woman..." Kaplan wondered, unmoved by her being an alien, but rather by her gender being out in the battlefield.
Hanala didn't reply. How could she? Instead she struggled against him, against his grip. Joachim, bloodied and woozy from the assault on him lost his self-control and stood up. He couldn't let this happen! The commando interrogator looked away from Hanala and turned his attention back to his first victim.
"If you know what's best for you and this... thing, then you won't take a single step," the man threatened in a low hiss at Hoch. "Now... What in the hell are you?"
Hanala didn't reply to the question demanded by the man manhandling her; the same man who killed one of her last crewmen. No, instead she reared her head and head butted him. The sound of his nose breaking could be heard from both sides. The man let go of Hanala as he clutched his nose.
She started to run from them; at the sight of her, Joachim nearly lost his own self-control. She fell to Galas'Yoad's side, attempting to see if the dead man could be saved. Before she had the chance to touch him, the interrogator grabbed her by her hair and yanked her back up towards him, one hand wrapping around her throat.
"I was hoping you would do something like that..." he admitted in a low growl to the woman.
Like Joachim before her, Hanala found herself being another victim to the rage of the Polish interrogator.
...
...
Christ up in the kingdom. He didn't want to die now.
Heinrich Fuhrmann half opened his eyes. There were only two things he could feel at the moment: the pounding in his chest and the wounds that seared through every nerve in his body. The pain was good, it meant that he was alive and very capable of survival if he tried hard enough.
As for the others, he needed to help them, but how? He was wounded; they were trapped by the commando force... wounded, maybe even dead. Oh God in heaven. What did they deserve to earn this fate?
He looked around the interior of the Tiger, moaning softly as his hand fell over his wound. Muffled by the steel that separated him from the outside, he could hear the screams in that odd English language.
Clanging against the steel plates of the Tiger caught Fuhrmann's attention. The hinge above his head opened. Fuhrmann closed his eyes and feigned death as a stocky looking commando climbed into the tank. His shallow breathing ceased as he felt a pistol barrel touch against his skin, as though the man was inspecting him.
He stood up and popped his head out of the hatch.
"One dead inside, sah!" the wiry Englishman shouted out to her fellows. "Try to get one of the tankers to talk about this beast!"
The soldier re-entered the tank and turned away from what he believed was a dead Fuhrmann and started fiddling with the Tiger controls. Fuhrmann opened his eyes, his hand unsheathing his bayonet, moving as slo as he could as to not draw attention to himself. He needed to be quick and as quiet as he could about this.
"Jesus..." the man breathed in dismay as he inspected the vehicle. "Why do the Jerries always get the neat tanks-"
The commando didn't get to finish the sentence.
As quick as he could move himself, Fuhrmann sat up. Ignoring his physical agony, his arm reached out, grabbing the Englishman by his throat. He didn't even blink as he shoved his bayonet into the commando's back, stabbing him again as deep as he could and twisted the blade until no life was left in the man. The dead man collapsed on him and his wounds, nearly making Fuhrmann cry out as he tried to roll the bleeding body off him.
Panting and swearing to himself violently, He glanced to his side and noticed two objects that made his mind work in overdrive. Two of Hertzer's confiscated bottles of spirits. One empty the other half filled with amber liquid.
Heinrich pulled himself up, groaning as his hand grabbed the bottles and unscrewed the one that still would get him drunk. He took a deep swig, managing to force the contents in the bottle down in an effort to numb the searing pain.
He coughed and wheezed as he dropped the now empty bottle beside him. Clutching his side, He glanced up and noticed the gas canisters stored near the ammunition storage. Though his mind was foggy from the wounds and the alcohol flowing through his vein, he knew exactly what he was going to do.
Fuhrmann tugged out his bloodied bayonet and carefully cut off one of his sleeves.
He was going to firebomb those bastards.
...
...
"One dead inside, sah! Try to get one of the tankers to talk about this beast!"
Fuhrmann.
Joachim lowered his head. Another was dead because they were stupid enough to lounge about with repairs. Heinrich didn't deserve to pay for the mistakes made by him.
The interrogator finished working Hanala over, he grabbed her and tossed her back against his first victim. She was battered bad, her nose and mouth was bleeding. Her face covered in fist marks. She crawled into him as though he was a protective cocoon of sorts, her arms wrapped around his neck. She was shaking badly, a mixture of adrenaline and fear flowing through her veins.
The interrogator turned away from the two messes he created. He pointed to Hertzer.
"You're next..." the Pole announced to Hertzer, switching back to German.
Glancing to Joachim and the quivering quarian woman, Hertzer stood up from where his men were huddled and stepped in front of them. His expression remained defiant as he glared at the Pole.
"If you want answers, I dare you to get them," Hertzer challenged the commando with an arrogance that made the Pole blink. "If she broke your nose; I'll break your fucking face!"
Before the interrogator could make good on his threat, the hatch of the Tiger flew open, banging against the top of the turret. Everyone, from Hoch to the Commandos, looked and watched as Heinrich Fuhrmann stood upright, shot up badly, he wore a look of uncharacteristic rage splashed across his face directed to the English.
The look, though filled with hate, was not what made the English pause. It was the lit Molotov cocktail in his hand.
He threw the improvised weapon hard.
The bottle smashed and exploded on the leader of the Commando's, engulfing him in petrol fuelled flames that engulfed both him and the ground he stood on. The man screamed like an animal writhing in agony as he stumbled out of the fire, his flesh burning off his cooked muscles.
Another Molotov cocktail was thrown higher than the first. The improvised explosive hitting the manned machine gun on the American built 'jeep' the vehicle was engulfed in flames,
This time the English weren't surprised. They raised their weapons to stop Fuhrmann, who ducked briefly before coming back up, swivelling around the turret mounted MG-34 and tearing through each and every commando that still stood. They fell like puppets with their strings cut; soaking Hoch, Hanala, the interrogator and the rest of the team in English blood.
The interrogator's eyes was wide, his pistol was once again pulled out and snapped towards Hoch. Before anyone could comprehend what had happened, Hanala lashed out, placing herself between Hoch and the interrogator. Her arm swung out, her ceremonial blade half decapitated the Englishman where he stood.
Hanala wasn't done, not by the long shot. Hoch sat there and watched the captain actually growl, jumping onto of the dead but still twitching man, her knife plummeting into the fresh corpse over and over and over again. She was still screaming at the top of her lungs in her language.
Hoch grabbed Hanala around her waist, pulling the still screaming woman coated in English blood her knife high above her head from off the dead body and onto his lap.
"He's dead, Hanala. It's over." He soothed the woman still filled with nothing short of unquenchable rage for everything that had happened to them, to Fuhrmann, to Galas. Still she looked as though she was in the middle of a blood haze. He saw it before among his own men back in Russia. The bitter cold, the deplorable conditions and the endless waves of Russians thrown at them made some of the sanest men he knew break, some even cry.
He looked back to the Tiger. Fuhrmann had crawled out of the Panzer and fell down the side hitting the dirt. He screamed, his hand clutching his wounds which were pulled immediately off by Martus'Xen who appeared to have some medical training. He was quickly joined by the mostly unharmed scar faced radio operator Tiger crewman.
"We got a runner!"
Hoch turned from Hanala and to the call made by Hertzer. Indeed one of them survived. He was unarmed and frantic as he zigzagged back to one of the vehicles that they came in. Scooping the closest weapon he could find, an English Enfield from off one of the commando's he fell to one knee and placed the retreating commando in his iron sights.
Stilling running, the commando turned back. His eyes wide as he noticed the rifle aimed at him. Or so Joachim had assumed until Hanala charged into his line of sight, bolting like an enraged cheetah at the panicked SAS trooper who continued to run for his life. In her hand was still that bloodied blade of hers. It was low as she swooped across the desert, hunched over and running at the man.
The commando reached the truck; he reached in and grabbed what looked like a trench shovel which he swung wildly at the much more agile woman. Hanala dodged it and swung her blade out, piercing through the man's hand, forcing him to drop the shovel.
Armed, unarmed. It didn't matter to Hanala. She simply rammed the blade through his throat over and over again until he dropped to the sand underneath him, dead before even he realized it. Hanala remained latched onto the dying man, her blade still entering and exiting his body.
Hoch's swelling eyes blinked. What in the hell did he just witness?
Breathing heavily as the rage subsided; Hanala took a step back and turned to Joachim. Her expression blank and blood soaked, still clutching the knife like it kept her alive. Her chest was heaving as she stepped back to him.
"Hanala... I'm sorry... I am sorry…" was all the Joachim could say.
Hanala paid no mind to his concerns. She moved past him and planted herself next to Galas.
Numb, Hanala reached up, her hand tugging off her Stahlhelm, dropping it into the sand before the fallen quarian. Her head was bowed to him; her hands reached up and pulled the braids from out of her hair. Silently she sunk next to the body. Carefully she rolled Galas over, her hands trembling as they closed his eyes.
As she softly whispered what sounded like small prayer to Galas, Joachim's hand pressed against her shoulder. She slowly reached up, taking the hand offered as she stared blankly at the body before her.
"We need to burn his body, Joachim," she murmured out loud. "We can't bring him, and we can't risk it falling into enemy hands."
Hoch nodded without Hanala witnessing it. He found himself somewhat stunned at the use of the word 'enemy'. He remained silent, his hand pulling from her. As he left to find some petrol, he could hear the faint muffled sobs coming from the Captain.
...
...
They had decided on night time to perform the burial. In preparation, both Martus and Joachim dug a grave to burn Galas in. Hanala didn't see the reasons why until Joachim explained that it would conceal the flames down in the pit.
As for Fuhrmann, the young soldier who really saved them all, he was unconscious and being treated by The Tiger radioman - the scar faced man named Rolf as he was called once by Hertzer - and eventually Martus after he finished digging. He would make it according to Martus, but it would be best not to move him for some time.
For now, the expedition was on hold as everyone gathered round the pit as Hoch and Hertzer carefully placed the stripped down Galas into the pit.
Hanala watched with silent reverence as Joachim splashed the husk of Galas with fossil fuel stolen from one of the English light roofless trucks. As the last of the petrol was soaked into Galas, the blood caked human pulled himself from out of the pit and placed himself next to Hanala.
It was silent as the group stared down to the fallen quarian. Hertzer reached up and tugged off his cap in respect to the dead. He nodded his head respectfully as he and his tank crew left Hanala, Joachim and Martus to the task at hand. Hanala tilted her head slightly up to Joachim, who nodded in support.
"I didn't know him well, I wish I did," Hanala broke the silence as she turned from him, wiping the dry blood from off her face. "But he was my crew, vas Devoas. Family, under my command..."
She trailed off and took the lit improvised torch they made from out of Joachim's hands. She dropped the flaming torch into the pit, engulfing Galas in flames. The three of them stepped back as the smoke poured off the body and blended into the night sky. She shook her head as Joachim grabbed a second canister of fuel to feed the fire.
"He's another I failed to protect."
Behind them, a voice spoke.
"It was damn foolish to come here... but he knew the risk."
Hanala looked up. It was Martus, staring hard at the burning body before them. There was respect in his voice that surprised Hanala and Joachim, who looked up as well in surprise.
"He was a soldier first, a pilot second, Captain Jarva," the older quarian muttered lowly as he looked up to his captain. "He knew better than most that his life could end at any moment in war, no matter how primitive the people we may be fighting."
Joachim closed his eyes and ignored the barb.
"Xen is right, Captain..." Joachim grudgingly admitted. "A soldier accepts that risk... as much as a captain must be ready to lose a men."
Hanala glanced at both of them. With one last look to her fallen and without any more words for her fallen pilot, she turned and left the two men and departed off into the direction of the jeeps. Hoch and Martus turned and shared a significant look.
"Go on…" Martus tersely broke the silence. "I'll make sure the body is... well... you know."
Martus shrugged helplessly. Understanding that his intentions were to oversee the cremation of Galas'Yoad, Joachim nodded his head, his head bowing respectfully to the rare moment of humble decentness he had witnessed in Martus'Xen, who turned away and stepped back to the pit, leaving Joachim alone as he wandered to catch up with the still stunned looking quarian captain.
She stopped moving as she heard the thud of boots approach her. She turned back, revealing her eyes brimmed full of tears that were escaping down her cheeks. She sniffled, cleared her throat and furiously dabbed her eyes.
As she looked up her despair was suppressed and back on her face was confidence as she examined the man standing before her.
"Come along, Joachim'Hoch." She decided, still smiling oddly, her mouth trembling as she struggled to retain control. "Let's… let's get you cleaned up... preferably away from... well, the smell."
Joachim nodded and together they headed in the direction of the furthest English vehicle.
...
...
"Watch your hand!"
Hanala glared at the man who was easily two or three heads taller than she. Keelah, he whined like a child!
They sat together mostly in silence as Hanala went to work cleaning and dressing the wounds that Hoch received from the interrogator. They both were pretty hurt, but they were alive and not seriously wounded. Much more then what could be said for Galas, and Fuhrmann who was lucky to be alive and would soon find himself being owed many times over for his actions. He had saved them all.
"Sorry about Fuhrmann." She mumbled half-heartedly.
"He's alive," Joachim assured the only half paying attention woman. "That big bastard is going to need more than a few English chunks of lead in him. Good thing I fattened him up a bit... slow the bullets down."
Joachim smiled at his words, Hanala did not. She simply ran her fingers along his skin, tracing each bruise very carefully. Satisfied, she reluctantly let go of his face and cast her sight downwards. She did her best not to remember Galas' death which had been plaguing her like a new added guilt.
This was all her fault. Her foolish pride demanded she be here. Standing in lands that reminded her of the stories grandmother and father told of the home world. It was her abhorrent arrogance that demanded her to march them through occupied territory instead of waiting until it was safe.
Hanala felt her chin being raised by softer, slender fingers. She found herself gazing into the cool blue belonging to that of Joachim. They were bruised but filled with a concern she rarely so received. Being a captain meant that people stopped viewing you as quarian. That she was just as capable of as many mistakes as those who served under her. Every insult she heard uttered by Martus... they hurt. They made her chest implode and her heart dull as she had no outlet to tell what she felt.
It seemed that Joachim didn't mind actively confronting him... perhaps he could stick around...
"Your turn, try to relax." he said finally. Hanala nodded.
"Cigarette," she ordered lightly, her hand reaching out in front of her.
Joachim nodded and retrieved a cigarette for her, lighting on her behalf and placing the filter into her lips. She inhaled it slowly as she watched Hoch damp his own cloth in water and brought it up to her face, stroking it with a gentleness she could not imagine the man could have. She closed her eyes and leaned against the abandoned jeep.
"How many men have you lost?" she asked as smoke billowed from her lips, touching Joachim who inhaled her second hand smoke as though it was sweetened air.
Hoch shrugged.
"Two hundred and thirty seven between 1939 and today," he stated dispassionately, like he could not bring himself to feel anything about it.
Hanala blinked at the number. It was a startling number.
"How... How do you deal with it?" she again questioned him, still very much stunned by the number. Here she was crying for the twenty-six she had lost under her command.
Again, all the human could do was shrug.
"I don't…" Hoch admitted with a humourless rumble. "This war is long and everyone has lost someone to it, so why am I anything special?"
Hanala nodded and fell silent for a moment. She suddenly laughed slightly.
"Is it wrong that I'm glad that Martus is still alive?" she asked him.
Joachim could only smile at her gaffe. Wiping the last of blood from off her face, he followed her lead, his hand pressed lightly against her discoloured face. Wordless like she had been, he leaned in closer, much too close for Hanala's brain to properly work. She felt his hand pull the cigarette from her mouth. He felt a gentle tickling of air escaping his nose and finally she felt his lips touch his.
She closed her eyes, her toes curling as the human threw her cigarette away and run up the back of her neck, tingling her spine as his clumsy looking hand ran through her hair. He pulled back, he looked almost... bashful.
Odd.
"I am… sorry…" was all he murmured and turned away. Hanala shook her head, refusing the apology as she stood up and offered him her hand. Joachim took it and pulled himself up, briefly colliding their bodies together.
With nervous smiles shared between the human and the quarian, the two of them wandered away from the jeep, Hanala glanced at him and, in a moment of personal bravery reached out and took his hand. The fading star known as Sol still had enough life in it to reveal that Joachim was still looking right back at her, a silly look of smug satisfaction written on his face. She leaned in to him, her body now pressed against him as they walked. She gasped as the hand that she had been holding pulled out of her grip and wrapped around her waist as though he had decided she was already his.
They sat down in the sand, far from the jeeps left by the dead SAS, far from the Tiger tank and the smoldering remains of Galas'Yoad. They needed somewhere private where they could explore this... thing.
Hanala turned her body around her mashed up face contorted into a slight smile s she pushed her onto his lap. She paid no mind to the surprise note escaping Joachim's lips which was swiftly silenced by Hanala's pressing tightly against his. She felt him melt into her affection as she pulled back.
"I thought that you-"
Hanala glared at him slightly, her uniform unbuttoned and pushed off her body, revealing her modest, perky breasts to the suddenly very silent male underneath her. He simply stared at her exposed and very pale body. She felt both thrilled and very nervous about this man's attention.
She wasn't an expert in this. She had... tried this before as a teen. It never went far, nothing particularly special, just a boy or two fumbling around ignorantly. It did not help that her father had obliged her request for Captaincy training by 18, which wasn't very good with developing personal relationships.
Still... ignoring the failed intimacy in the past, ignoring he belonged to another species and especially ignoring he didn't understand even the most basic concepts she was taught in early schooling on the fleet. She instead took his hand and carefully had it cup her breast.
"Joachim'Hoch, just shut up and kiss me," she demanded, pushing the man down onto the dirt and kissing him hard.
Not bothering to wait for a retort, Hanala pulled both of Joachim's arms over his head and went in for the kill. They wouldn't have sex... But what was the harm of fooling around?
...
...
The morning sun broke over the two people in quite possibly the most complicated relationship on Earth. One belonging to a private army that touted racial superiority, the other an alien hundreds of years more advance then he was. She would most likely be ostracized for what she did with him in a moment of personal weakness, if she felt anything for the primitive.
Primitives... The quarians may have been a technologically superior race, but they still allowed emotions to dictate their actions. He did not need much more of an example then Hanala killing two men out of rage then nearly making love to him as though he was a prize after a good day of killing.
Shaking his head, Joachim cracked his neck and glanced down to the quarian lying still in his lap, wrapped inside of a commandeered blanket from one of the SAS jeeps, only half dressed like he was all thinks to her very efficient hands.
As his groggy state faded, he suddenly found himself extremely itchy. She had warned him that there was a good chance they would be allergic to one another. Something mumbled about being two different genetic types or whatever. Dextro and Levo's were at one point mumbled but quickly forgotten as the two of them lost their inhibition and gave into urges building since they first met.
Scratching his neck, Joachim felt Hanala's head shift on his lap then a sudden low moan as though she too was feeling the allergies coming on as well. Her head pulled up, her lips dragging against his chest, inflamed by her saliva and sweat. As she pulled back, she managed to chuckle, appearing almost dazed as she looked up to him.
"Oh Keelah..." she mumbled into him. "That... that didn't happen…"
Much too elated to be offended by her second denial of him, the human chuckled at the quarians groaning tone.
"Look at the bright side." he said, offering her a painful smile. "At least the bruising will cover up the swelling."
Hanala tried to laugh, but was caught up in a sudden round of coughing against his bare chest. She blinked furiously and looked up to him. Her face nearly as mashed up as his. Slowly she smiled, her sharp teeth showing for the man holding her as though she was his already.
She leaned up, through blacked out and hooded eyes, she leaned in and kissed him once again, albeit much more tenderly and with a lot less of her saliva involved. He kissed her back, hell, he wanted to do more, but every comprehension thought told him that he had to remain respectful. He could not simply... well, take charge with her.
Not yet at least.
With a great reluctance in her expression, Hanala pulled back, buttoning up several buttons of her Afrika Korps uniform to conceal her breasts from out of his sight. Firm, generous flesh that was just as inflamed as the rest of her body where his lips met the dense, easily excitable flesh.
Her long hands reached out gripping, moving through his hair as they did last night. They pushed him down, forcing his face to rest just under Hanala's chin.
They kissed again, slow and extremely careful, despite it being much too late for that.
"Herr Hoch, Fraulein Jarva!"
The two pulled back from each other's lips as the loud call erupted from no more than a hundred meters from them, their foreheads touched one another briefly before they both stood up reluctantly, fixing one another's uniforms like they were already an old couple.
With a final kiss on the side of Joachim's lips, Hanala took his hands and dragged him back to the rest of the team, both of them guiltily satisfied with themselves.
...
...
How in the hell could she have done that? It was obvious and extremely disturbing.
He knew that look written on his Captain's face. Martus had seen it on his wife's expression after being intimate with him. Well Galas certainly wasn't doing anything and Martus was not only married but would not touch Hanala'Jarva even if she begged it... which meant one thing.
Joachim'Hoch.
Of course it did not help them to deny it that they were both swollen up as though they both had allergenic reactions which again, meant only one very disgusting thing.
Captain Hanala'Jarva, daughter of Admiral Alaan'Jarva vas Rayya had gone native... oh... Martus could only imagine the family shame that their daughter made first contact with a race by fucking a local. It made her look like a common asari whore, really.
Spitting, Martus sat alone at the open pit, staring at the ashes and what little of Galas was left. As the two of them approached, he looked up wearily for only a moment before turning back. He really did not want to look at their swollen faces, self-inflicted by their experimentations or not.
"Hertzer, we will be commandeering a jeep and continuing on to the objective," Joachim'Hoch spoke to the tank commander. "We'll meet you there... take care of Fuhrmann, will you?"
Martus could not believe what he was hearing from the naïve primitive. They had taken casualties and still they were pressing their mission. A hunt for a fuel source that didn't even exist! Captain Hanala still had this fool believing that the very planet was at stake if they didn't find element zero?
"Tell me, Captain," he called out. "Is your little secret worth it?"
Hanala froze at his question posed. She turned from the human and faced him. Her expression was blank but her body was shaking with anger as her eyes hardened and glared at him.
Hoch looked between the two quarians.
"There's no choice in the matter," Hoch spoke up, chastising the older quarian for his statement. "We need fuel, right?"
That was all it took.
"You idiot… you damnable idiot, there is no element zero on this godforsaken, insane planet!" Martus exploded now inches away from the human. "The esteemed captain played you for a fool! There's something out here that only she and her deceased surveyor knew about. Something her father, an admiral, told her undoubtedly!"
Martus paused and watched as the ancestor forsaken human's colour seem to vanish before their very eyes. He smiled as Hanala sputtered with rage.
"Admiral's daughter or not, do you really think they would destroy your race simply because we were missing or killed?" Martus cut off Hanala, staring at Hoch, who remained locked in place. "It was a horror story told by Jarva to put fear in you to keep you polite and subservient to her. This excursion is a leisure trip she made that cost Galas his life. It nearly killed your attaché; it nearly killed each and every one of us. How delusional are you to want to contin-"
A sudden and resounding crack made Martus' face explode in agony. He dropped to the ground, clutching his mouth as it bled. He looked up and found himself staring down the barrel of a pistol covered in Martus' blood. Gone was the charm and civility that Hoch was manipulating them with. His face was contorted into rage much like when he held Hanala as a shield.
Hoch's boot fell onto his chest. He leaned down and placed the pistol's barrel into Martus' mouth. His eyes went wide as he gagged on the cold steel that was now pressed against the roof of his mouth. Hoch's lips curled back, his teeth bared at the quarian navigator underneath him.
"You really did not think that one out, did you Herr Xen?" Hoch taunted him, his voice growing cruelly then neither of the quarians head before. "Since I don't have to fear extermination, what's holding me back from simply killing you?"
"Joachim, please don't."
From behind the human, a hand belonging to the quarian captain fell onto his shoulders. Her touch was enough to make the angered Hoch blink, slowly and very reluctantly, he pulled the pistol back and snapped the weapon back into his holster. He stepped off Martus' chest and pulled him back up to his feet.
"Consider yourself alive only by your captain's charity," Hoch spoke finally as he wiped the dust from Martus' jacket. "Now gear up and get into that truck, or I'll burn you in that pit like Galas. Only you'll still have pulse."
Martus glowered at the human and turned from him, storming to the jeep, not far behind him were Hanala and the bastard human.
…
…
Watching as the bastard quarian stepped back; Joachim Hoch turned his attention back to Hanala'Jarva. She slowly came to realize he was not done with her.
"Joachim…" she started. "I'm... I'm sorry."
"I want an explanation," he demanded his voice almost as hard to her as it had been to his. "I've given you a wide berth, Hanala. I have made allowances to your privacy. I have even withheld information you have shared from my superiors, information. Langer is doing his best not to prod, but he answers to superiors far more demanding then he is."
He gestured to Martus as the male quarian spat the blood out of his mouth and into the sand.
"If Martus isn't full of lies, then I want an answer."
Hanala turned from Hoch, but before she should follow Martus, Hoch's hand grabbed her forearm and snapped her close to him, slamming her into the much taller human. His sharp blue eyes burned into her.
"Why are we here, Hanala? Why did Galas die?" Hoch demanded, though his voice was much more in check the only moments prior.
Hanala's hands rubbed together, clearly in a state of personal conflict. Joachim rolled his eyes as he climbed into the vehicle. Hanala followed him, she seemed to be shaking, her nerves were getting the better of her as she debated internally. She looked like a frightened little girl, losing her little relationship already.
Finally, she relented.
"You can't breathe a word about this... either of you two." Hanala finally spoke to them. Joachim nodded, and Martus merely inclined his head. He would listen to what she had to say.
She stepped back from him, her hand running through the back of her hair as she attempted to figure out how she was going to word what she needed to say to the pair of them.
"On our way, I'll tell you about a race known as the Protheans..." Hanala murmured lowly to Hoch's ignorant stare. "My father and the rest of the Admiralty Board believe that they crashed a Dreadnought here... in Libya. This find is going to advance both our races by hundreds of years."
While it meant nothing to him, Martus'Xen blanched.
…
…
Changes: Significant reduction in melodrama between the WJewish interrogator and Hoch, less Martus being an arrogant dick. Cutting back on the swearing as well.
This took a little longer and I suspect that the next few chapters will be the same. They are ugly as hell and I am surprised no one really told me how bad it was.