Chapter Ten: Meetings
A/N: Thanks to all the people who reviewed, favorited and followed. Also, special thanks to Jade Tatsu for revising this chapter!
As usual, reviews are answered below.
Despite their lackluster reputation, quarians certainly knew how to make good first impressions. Hundreds, if not thousands of ships littered the star system. They had been intelligently arranged to counter any exterior or interior threat. Despite the aged and sometimes shoddy state of the fleet it was still a sobering experience for Ronald Trump, diplomat and ambassador for humanity. He couldn't make an enemy out of these people. They would pose a significant threat to human plans.
He stood in the meeting room of the Significant Accord, one of the few diplomatic ships in the human fleet. A large bay window opened up on to space, offering him a pleasant view of the dying sun. Its light sharply outlined the single quarian liveship in the system.
He frowned and turned away from the sight. The diplomat ran everything he knew about the quarians through his head. The extranet had been an invaluable resource. They must have been truly desperate for humanities good-will if they were willing to part with such an advantage on their first meeting.
He glanced at his reflection in the glass conference table. Bare white face, milky eyes and a shot of dark red hair. His father's face had been covered in freckles, Ronald was fortunate enough to have avoided that.
"Ambassador, your guests are en route," said a synthetic voice in his ear.
"Very well, I will greet them personally. Have the welcoming group set up."
"It is already done, Ambassador. We are waiting only for you."
Ronald took an elevator down to the hangar levels and quickly found his place in the bustle of activity on the landing pads. The hangar was as dark as the rest of the ship. Ronald smiled, the shadows made it look better and more mysterious than industrial lighting anyway.
In front of him stood two rows of soldiers in full armor. To his sides were his aides, each one flanked by a Project.
"What is your prediction, sir?" asked Mikael, a young black-haired man with a scar running down the left side of his face like a fleshy river.
"They do not want to fight us but they certainly do not want to be seen as weak. They have lived through a similar situation to ours." He shrugged, "I don't think anything bad will come of this."
Mikael nodded and fell silent.
"Shuttle, twelve seconds," said the ship AI.
Ronald gave himself a once over. His plain black and red three-piece suit was unwrinkled. The decorations on his chest shown in the dim light and none of those pesky cybernetic implants were showing. He'd even managed to hide the ugly rad-marks on his throat with a tasteful collar.
The shuttle broke their protective shielding and landed. It was nothing like the blocky military ones that Ronald used. Probably a second-hand purchase, from the asari if the sleek lines were anything to go by. He glared at it.
"Ten'hut!" yelled the officer on deck. The soldiers snapped to attention, their guns pressed against their chests. With a hiss the shuttle doors slid open and four quarians stepped out. Two unarmed ones led the way while their guards brought up the rear, each one holding a large mass accelerated rifle.
Ronald eyed their intricate clothing with interest. Despite the trove of information on quarians, they hadn't found much that actually showed them in a good light. Perhaps he could glean some information about their way of thought during this meeting. They were certainly a strange people, living in beautiful shells with ramshackle homes.
They reached him and he put his hand out, keeping his face blank. "Greetings, I am Ambassador Ronald Trump for Humanity."
The male quarian stepped forward and shook his hand firmly. His eyes glowed brightly beneath his mask and his voice had a strange, husky accent. "Admiral Rael'Zorah vas Rayya of the Migrant Fleet. I represent my people with Admiral Shala'Raan." He indicated the woman next to him.
Ronald extended the same gesture of greeting to her and swept his arms to his sides. It had just occurred to him that their masks would make this meeting all the more difficult. "These are my aids, Mikael Slavinask and Rachel Gremmel."
Greetings were repeated though Ronald caught the quarians looking at the Projects more than once. Admiral Raan was clasping and unclasping her hands. Perhaps it was a sign of nervousness among their people.
He broke the silence before it became awkward. "Please, we have prepared a room for a more comfortable meeting." He spun around and marched towards a door. It slid open and lead him out, followed by all quarians, his aids and the Projects.
"Ambassador?" Admiral Zorah drew next to him.
"Yes, Admiral?"
"I hope I do not come across as rude, but I am curious about the lighting in your ship? Does your species simply require very little light to see clearly?"
"That is correct, Admiral Zorah. Our species have adapted to our current situation. We no longer need a bright sun or good lighting to see clearly." Ronald bit the inside of his cheek. Damn, he'd almost let slip the reason. He swished a hand through his short hair and took a discrete breath. No more mistakes!
"Adapted to your current situation? I am not sure I understand," said Rael'Zorah.
"Here we are!" Ronald flicked a hand and an ornate door similar to twenty-first century design swung open. The meeting room itself was probably one of the most lavishly decorated rooms in the whole fleet. A thick red carpet covered the floor and muffled steps while the great bay windows offered an impeccable view, enhancing the feeling of greatness that permeated the room. From the ornate mosaic on the walls to the painting on the roof. All were survivors from before the Old Contact. Seeing such art always made Trump grin. His race was still capable of creating beautiful things.
"This art is...incredible, ambassador. Who is the creator?" said Admiral Raan. She walked over to one of the walls to inspect the spartan soldier depicted upon it. He was brandishing a spear and his shield was lifted to ward off a blow. It was an appropriate picture, Ronald had chosen it himself from the limited collection on Earth.
"It is a Spartan. A warrior from ancient times where sword and shield were still the weapons of war. They gained fame through a near mythical feat. Three-hundred of these soldiers held back thousands upon thousands of enemies, protecting the city-states of Greece, an old country from our homeworld." He sat in his high-backed chair while Rachel escorted Shala'Raan to hers and Mikael pulled back Rael'Zorah's.
"Three-hundred against thousands? They must have been formidable," said Rael in an interested tone of voice.
"Certainly. They are a role-model for our soldiers these days," Ronald said.
Rael'Zorag stiffened. He had caught the underlying intention. He propped his hands on the table and turned his full attention towards Ronald. "To business. First of all, the quarian people would like to insist that we have no conflict with humanity and we seek none."
Ronald nodded. He was starting to get warm. He always did when negotiations started. A small breeze traveled down his back and he barely suppressed a sigh of relief. Mikael had fixed the air-conditioning pack on the back of his chair. "We understand, Admiral. Our quarrel is not with the quarians. In fact, we believe a mutually beneficial agreement could be arranged between us."
"That is quite straightforward," said Raan, leaning forward. "I am sure you have your... reasons for attacking the Citadel but for us to associate ourselves with you would have extremely severe repercussions."
"If we knew the reasons for your attack, perhaps we could sympathize," added Rael'Zorah.
Ronald knit his eyebrows into a frown. Perhaps they were the ones who would have the easiest time understanding their plight. He nodded once and tapped a message into his wrist computer.
"Perhaps you are correct. However, here is not the time nor the place to discuss such things. While you may not truly trust us, I ask you to put your faith in me with this. Ask your questions but keep those queries for a more appropriate time."
Shala'Raan crossed her arms and Rael'Zorah sat back in his chair. Ronald eyed them both briefly, obviously the quarians relied on body language to some degree. It wasn't surprising with their masks.
"...Very well," said Raan. She pointed to the two towering Projects at the back of the room. "Your soldiers are much larger than you are, ambassador. Are you divided into different sub-species?"
Ronald put another discrete note into his wrist comp. They were rather blunt, a good thing when it came to politics. Nobody had time to play around.
He waved a dismissive hand towards them. "These are not soldiers, our soldiers are the ones you saw upon entering our ship. These are Projects."
"As in, an experiment?" asked Rael'Zorah.
"Of sorts. They passed the testing stage a few decades ago but the name stuck. It is a good one. They are rehabilitated prisoners," replied Ronald.
"Is... Is it not dangerous to trust convicts with such delicate tasks as these?" asked Raan. Rael'Zorah passed a hand down the side of his helmet and blew out a quick breath. Ronald hid a smirk behind his hand, Admiral Shala'Raan could be considerably heavy-handed at points. It would be amusing to see their other leaders if she was one of their more diplomatically inclined ones.
"There is no danger. We implant control ships in their brains. If they were to somehow bypass these, which is quite impossible, I assure you," he added quickly when they both glanced at the silent men. "They would only be capable of limited damage. Their hands have been removed and they are unable of repairing or removing their armor. Neither can they disappear from radar as tracking devices have been implanted in random spots on their bodies."
Shala'Raan covered her mouth with one hand and Rael'Zorah recoiled. "That is...barbaric!" he said.
Ronald frowned and clenched his fists in his lap, his jaw working to hold back sharp words. How could they say that? "These men were murderers, Admirals. Murder is the most abhorrent of crimes in human society. Instead of summary executions we put this trash to good use. There is nothing unethical about our actions."
"You do not seem to have a problem with murder from what I've seen," muttered Raan.
Ronald's face turned ever whiter than before and his lips formed a tight line. He stood up slowly, his fingers splayed on the sparkling table. The refraction stung his eyes. "I will pretend I did not hear those words, Admiral Raan, for you spoke out of ignorance. Perhaps this is not the ideal place to explain our situation." He licked his lips and turned up the air-conditioning. "For this reason, I extend an invitation to your admiralty and a delegation of your choice. An invitation to visit Earth, our homeworld. For now, you will be escorted off this ship. It was a… pleasure." It had been a mistake to invite them here first, they couldn't understand yet.
The two quarians got up and their guards relaxed significantly. Rael walked up to Ronald while the second admiral made her way to the door.
"Forgive her attitude, ambassador. She has never been one to take pleasure in violence, or see the justice in bloodletting."
Ronald took a deep breath and forced a smile onto his face. "Of course, Admiral. I am sure she will soon change her mind." The admiral nodded and left the room with their second guard. Ronald finally unclenched his fists. His nails had nearly punched through his skin.
"Repeat," said John.
"Sniper squad surrounded by turian advance. Undetected. We are readying the forward push so I advise you to aim for these coordinates." A notification popped up on John's HUD and he nodded to the holographic man.
"Copy that captain. Appreciate the intel."
The hologram faded away, its meager light replaced by the ever present shadows. Nothing was ever really lit on Morag, be it the dust, a storm or the damned towers. John couldn't even get a glimpse of the sun. He clenched his fists and turned toward the rest of the squad, swallowing a bitter curse.
"We're pushing with the grunts. Gonna try and get Kelly and the guy from Vulture out of there." He pulled back his rifle's loading lever and checked the chamber. One gleaming bullet was firmly lodged inside, ready to embed itself into vulnerable turian flesh.
Williams rose from her seat and walked up to him, crossing her arms. He caught onto her mannerism quickly, she was irritated. You had to learn body language fast in the army, few people ever showed their faces and even then, goggles obscured their eyes.
"Problem, Williams?"
"Look John, we know that you and Chambers are close. I just wanna know that you've got your head screwed on straight for this one," she said in a diplomatic tone.
John bit his tongue and clasped his hands behind his back. He straightened and stared her down until she looked away. Damned if he'd let her insult his military discipline. "I think you know me better than that."
She muttered something under her breath and he leaned forward, putting a hand on her shoulder. "What was that?"
"Nothing, sir," she turned around abruptly and picked up her gun, clicking the safety off with a sharp movement. James shrugged from behind her and turned back to picking off crusted blood from his light machine gun with a small piece of wiring.
John shook his head. His body felt unusually tense and a sense of urgency kept buzzing around his head, urging him towards irrational decisions. Maybe Williams was right, maybe he was getting too emotionally involved with Chambers. He swiped a hand over his face as if to ward off the disturbing thoughts. "Let's suit up and see what we can do to help the main force."
He slipped on his mask and slapped a pistol to the magnetic belt around his waist. It worked like a charm, the familiar feel and weight at his hip released a surge of calm in his mind, bringing him back to his senses. Military training came to the fore, along with the words of Sergeant Rosefield. 'Fight for Humanity, for the fallen. Sacrifice everything for our cause!' He would shout as the recruits did push ups on agonizingly hot rock.
The three of them stepped out of their hideout and into the crowds of soldiers rushing two and fro. His worries were soon drowned out by the incessant noise surrounding him. Yet even in so hectic a time, John was able to navigate his way through the crowd with ease. Nobody stood in the way of a RIG. Especially three of them.
The team reached the front lines in good time. All was quiet, only the distant echo of sniper fire and the occasional explosion hinted at the ongoing combat, excluding and blast marks on the walls. A few soldiers guarded the walls, they didn't look away from the road when John approached.
"Situation?" He asked.
"Clear for now, we think they smelled our offensive and are preparing," said one soldier. John's HUD told him he was a corporal, Corporal Javier. A mere thought and he had the name and home bunker. He jotted down a mental note to remember the man should he survive the attack.
"Astute of you, corporal. Anything we should know before heading out?" He peered down the deserted street, zooming in on the lonely turian corpse a few dozen feet away. The xeno had been peppered with bullets. It made a grim smile flash across the RIGs face.
"Yeah." The man rose and pointed to the farther corner, it lit up on John and the rest of the team's HUDs. "We're pretty sure they set up explosives over there and have some men watching over it. They don't see us though, snipers back there." he jabbed a thumb towards a building surrounded by a multitude of soldiers. "Tell us they killed any watchers."
"Alright. Good luck on the offensive soldiers," said John to the men surrounding him. They all saluted. A shiver skittered down John's back like a cockroach would at home. It was strange to think that half of the men he had spoken too could very well be dead by the same time tomorrow.
"Move out," he said over the private comm.
"We got your back, John," said James. "Seems like you've got the blood of a leader of men in there somewhere," he added.
"Shut up." John flicked a button on his wrist and with a shimmer of refracted light his body faded out of sight. Behind him he heard the characteristic hiss and crackle of cloaks engaging. A lone leaf drifted down the deserted street and flittered along John's armor.
The followed the road. John's eyes ran over every flat surface and hole in the street, looking for any sign of movement. His heart beat quickly in his chest and the familiar rush of adrenaline made him feel light. He flicked his hand towards James across the road. Another gesture towards Williams and she was crawling up the wall like a spider.
"Tell us what you see, Williams."
He watched her blue outline jump from roof to roof with agility until a ledge blocked her from sight. John hunkered down with his rifle aiming towards the street corner. The urge to kill was rising, to strike at the turian scum, annihilate those that had stolen his family from him. Finally, after an interminable wait Williams reported.
"Five turians in a house with a good angle on the corner, some sort of explosive at the corner itself," she said coolly.
"Tripwire, laser?" asked James.
"Laser."
"Damn. Okay John, how about tossing a rock, and then Williams kicks their butt?"
"No." John frowned and looked up towards Williams position. "I'm going in with her. Toss the rock and stay back, James."
A heavy sigh. "Copy that, sir."
John leapt up on the wall. Tiny titanium hooks clutched at the weaker metal and he pulled himself up with ease, vaulting over the low parapet. He saw Williams crouching on the edge of the roof. With a few quick bounds he had joined her. She pointed out the targets without a sound and started crawling her way towards them.
"I'll take them from here, you toss in a grenade and spray from the roof window," he snapped. His eyes flicked over to James then back at the targets. They hadn't moved, one was still leaning on a wall, two watched the road and the remaining ones were playing some sort of stupid game. He shook his head. Had they been humans they might have survived their encounter. Now they were already dead.
"In position, ready to blow these shits to hell," said Williams. Shepard could hear the glee in her voice, he shook his head. One day it would get her killed.
"James, you're up." He rested his rifle on the parapet and aimed at the first watcher's head. His finger slipped from the trigger guard to the death dealer itself, curling around it like a snake ready to strike. His body thrummed with barely restrained energy.
The building next to his exploded into a mass of twisted metal and shrapnel, spraying the opposite wall with a deadly rain of steel. John stabilized his gun and opened fire, pouring lead into the first turian's head. It popped open and his gun fell from limp fingers. The others didn't have time to react before a grenade fell into their midst and exploded on impact, tossing two more against the wall, lifeless.
John could hear them shouting now, waving their guns around as they frantically sought out their aggressors. John grimaced as he opened fire again. They tore into one of the remaining turians and he fell to his knees, clutching his throat. The last one fell to a burst of fire from the rooftop.
"Clear them," snapped John. His muscles relaxed and a sudden nervous feeling clutched at his gut. He leapt up and jumped to the ground, landing with a thud. "James with me. Make sure nobody else is coming." They tore down the street and took cover behind a small dumpster, gazing down the street. Nobody.
"They're dead," a sharp crack. "Now," said Williams.
James ran up to John, huffing as he lugged his large gun along. "Grunts are attacking, we need to get going."
Only a few hundred meters away, John could hear the eruption of gunfire as both sides clashed. So this was it, the deciding factor. They still needed to save Chambers. "All right. We'll hit what we can on the way but Chambers is the priority."
The team nodded and with a flick of his hand they were off, running through the streets with the cloaks on, barely more than wraiths flying through the sand, evil spirits come to haunt the turians. John chuckled at the thought. He'd make sure that they were the turian's nightmare before this ended.
He ground to a halt a few minutes later and ducked into a building ruined by a bomb. The followed suit and uncloaked on his signal. It was useless to waste power when they were invisible to turian eyes.
"What's up John?" asked Williams, crawling up next to him.
He didn't answer at first and kept his gaze focused on the small crack in the concrete before him. Or rather, on what was outside. He had heard the tramp of boots and the chatter of turians.
Sure enough, they came marching around the bend a minute later, fifteen of them armed to the teeth with spiky helmets covering their awful faces. He felt Williams tense next to him and put a hand on her shoulder, squeezing once. "Stay cool," he whispered.
She nodded once but John could feel her trembling with rage, or was it excitement? They all had reasons to hate the aliens, but Williams held a burning fury that few others could muster. It was commendable in battle, not so much when infiltrating.
But she didn't move when they walked past and John blew out a sigh of relief. Their last words caught his attention.
"I heard that the asari creeps managed to trap those xeno special ops somewhere. Going to make an example of them," said the last one in the line. His armor was covered with shrapnel marks and he was limping rather badly. Like many of the survivors of the Old Contact John used to see as a kid. People from before the age of real prosthetics.
"I hope they rip em apart. Show them that they aren't here to stay."
"We've got help coming our way. They're no match for us," added the last. He smacked the other speaker on the shoulder and they rounded the bend after their comrades.
John turned towards James, who had a small antennae poking out of his shoulder. "You got that?" He asked.
"Yeah. Recorded and streamed back to base. Hopefully they knew in advance about the enemy. If not..." He looked around slowly.
"We're not gonna lose here James. We're humans." John jumped up and darted back out of the building with his gun pointed forward.
"If you say so..." said his heavy-weapons man.
"Forget about it. We need to get to Chambers and fast. Alone she won't hold against a group of those freaks," said Williams.
John nodded and they started along the road in absolute silence. Nobody felt like talking after the sobering news. John kept remembering the vid's of his youth, large alien ships hovering above a beautiful Earth and shooting down on it, or sending down waves of troops. Was that what they were going to face?
It had never occurred to him that they would have to go into frontal assaults in space. He just hoped that command knew what they were doing.
Jon Lopes: It's not about hate, it is about practicality.
Thepkrmgc: Worry not, you will be seeing that too. :)
Review! Your comments always encourage me to keep on writing. Until next time.