DISCLAIMER: Bioware owns Mass Effect. I take no credit or part in such except for this story. Inspiration of this story goes to theorangeguy's 'Saren's Effect'. Jennifer Hale is a real life person. Same goes for Mark Meer. These are merely fictional representations, and do not reflect the actual opinions and personalities of said persons.
Chapter 10: Arterius, Quarter Deck
SSV Normandy, Arcturus Stream, March 23, 2183, 2147 Zulu
Saren Arterius moved through the Normandy's Medbay, stalking through the ship with as little wake as he could muster being a Turian aboard a human System Alliance vessel. That meant no matter what he did, where he moved, or how much he tried to stay in the shadows, at least half-a-dozen eyes were at him at any given moment. The effect was maddening, though the SPECTRE should have been use to it by now; he was a Counsel Agent, and any who knew that would always give him their full attention, whether it be a law-abiding citizen or someone who was a little less than a role model. Perhaps it was being with a species that he didn't like or trust that got under his plates, though he knew better than to judge an entire species and write them off as worthless. Had Humanity not produce some accomplished warriors, some grudgingly brilliant results? He thought of some of the actions in which the Alliance was responsible for; Elysium, Benning, Korvan, LV 426, and of course Torfan. Sol and Khar'shan were so close to one another, and something had put the Batarians at odds with Humanity; probably the fact that Humanity didn't take tark from anybody, no matter how far down the list in strength or technology they were. That was something that the Turian in him could respect. That the Humans wanted to stand tall and proud among their galactic kin was something that he recognized as a Turian trait, and he could see some similarities between their species. So they were a few centuries behind in technology and numbers, that didn't stop the Turians from taking on the Krogan. He thought back to Major Jennifer Hale's words, how Humanity and the Alliance had to… 'wing it', to show their worth. It wasn't dishonorable to bluff your enemy, to make them think that one was better than one really was. It was a war tactic, and sometimes, it meant the difference between a victory and a defeat. It was just another point in Humanity's favor, that sometimes gall and bravado were more powerful weapons than Dreadnoughts and mass-accelerator cannons.
Saren wanted to talk, and there were only two Humans aboard the Normandy that he thought worth a damn.
The Turian SPECTRE went to the door that would lead to the Major's personal room, a piece of silver tape ubiquitously known to the humans as '90 MPH tape', despite the fact that it didn't provide any means of locomotion, had been put on the door with 'Maj. Hale' written in black permanent ink. The ship's Doctor, an older human woman who was arching a eye-plate, called an eyebrow, at him, watching him as he was to hit the intercom to request admittance, stopped his talons when he heard the sound of something he had never heard before coming through the door. It sounded like… well, some sort of musical instrument, a stringed one at that. No synths, no warbling, and none of that Asari dubwash-trance techno tark; someone was playing an honest-to-Spirits musical instrument. Saren paused as he listened to the melody of the instrument, muted through the door, though he heard it well enough to recognize individual notes coming at a speed that was rather complicated and impressive for something not done on some software.
And then the words came, and Saren felt his mandibles flare.
The song, something about being behind blue eyes, was a painful one, and the voice that sang it was thick with a sorrow that had his spirit twist inside of him. That a Human voice could reach inside of him and wring out pain and agony could only prove that sometimes there really wasn't anything different between two separate species besides the physical. Saren had never heard the song before, never having been interested in Human music, but the words were surprising. The lyrics themselves were of loss and anger, yet the voice that sang them, the tone that set the mood spoke of an agonizing anger and tortured spirit that flowed through the instrument and words. The Turian wasn't one to cry, but that song, that voice… it was worse than the most agonizing torture he could imagine.
"I listen to her play, every night." The older human Doctor spoke softly, and Arterius turned to her, looking at her clear blue eyes as she looked at him, her face set at an impasse that showed that she was hiding her own emotions. "She picks up that guitar of hers and plays it for an hour or two, and every song's like that. First time I heard it, I wanted to cry and drink myself into oblivion. Never have I heard a more heart-wrenching cry of pain than I've heard from Major Hale."
"Spirits." Saren muttered, a little embarrassed that the Doctor had figured out his thoughts, though he wasn't shamed by it. She felt the same thing, too, and had admitted to it; a brave act in itself. "So no other Human musicians are like that? I would think it would drive your species to suicide!"
"No!" The Doctor laughed, shaking her head. "There's been a few, but no one sings the Who like Jennifer Hale. At least wait until she finishes the song; I think that's her Zen." Saren had to look that up. Evidently, 'Zen' was a state of equal balance or tranquility within oneself, something related to a philosophical religion called Buddhism. The Turian looked through a bit of it, and found himself fairly impressed with the idea. The song had finished inside the room, and Saren pressed the signal button on the door, notifying Hale that he wanted to come in, looking at the camera that would show his image to her. A moment later, the door slid open, and Saren Arterius saw Jennifer Hale sitting on her bed, a wooden instrument in her hand. His eyes scanned the small room, which was a little smaller than what most Turian officers had in terms of space. He noted a few personal objects that the Major had; the instrument on her lap, a small portable vid display with an actual physical screen as oppose to a Haptic one for watching vids on, and a large Alliance recruitment poster on a wall facing the bed, so that whenever Hale woke up, it would be looking at her. The poster caught his eye for a long moment, specifically the subject.
The subject was a Human woman in Alliance armor, standing in a heroic pose with the Alliance banner planted in the ground in one hand, and a Marshal Light Machine Gun in the other, barrel to the sky. The banner was swept back as if caught with the wind, along with the woman's red fringe hair. He of course recognized the figure of 1st Lieutenant Jane Catherine Shepard, the poster seemingly making her larger-than-life, the Lion of Elysium proud and defiant. The poster was a good one, making Shepard look like some deified spirit, standing in front of the city of Bernard, Elysium, as if she had landed in front of it from the heavens to protect the people. He had seen the poster enough in the Citadel, near the more human-centric areas, meant to inspire the men and women of humanity into joining the Alliance. Even Saren admitted that the Hierarchy could learn a thing or two about making such propaganda. Hale noticed where his gaze went, and she scoffed out loud.
"I've had that poster for years. Since '77, in fact." The Major told the Turian, though her eyes were on the image of Lieutenant Shepard, her adopted sister. "Whenever I raided a slaver base and rescued people, put some slavers in the ground, I'd tell her all about it." Hale nodded to the poster, indicating what she meant. "Every good day or bad, I'd talk to my sister, knowing that she was really out there somewhere, doing what she does best. We couldn't be together, but I knew that if she were here, she'd listen. So I'd talk to her, and I'd think about what she would say after a nice long bitch session. I guess with you being Turian, you'd understand about having the spirit of somebody with you."
"I do." Saren nodded, looking to the poster, and then to the Major. He did get it. He himself still had a picture of his elder brother, Desolas, that he took with him everywhere. Even after what his brother did, Saren still loved his long-lost dead brother, and talked to his image. He could most definitely understand. "Sometimes it feels good to talk to someone you trust, even if they aren't there. No reservations, no secrets, no fear of reprisal. Part of being a SPECTRE is the secrecy. Being an N7, I'm sure you're use to some of the finer things in life in dealing with the scum and making sure that it never sees the light of the day." To that, the Marine slowly nodded, looking at the guitar in her hand, obviously deep in thought.
"My… my first real mission as an N7 was hitting a pirate base, just some two-bit loser thugs who somehow caught up with the ire of the Alliance. One of the ships they hit up was the private yacht of an Alliance Senator, not something an N7 SKT goes after…"
"SKT?" The Turian asked. He was about to look it up, but there were so many Human acronyms that it would be pointless.
"Scout Kill Team; sneak in, eliminate, sneak out. Or, Tuesday for a SPECTRE." Hale smirked with her horizontal mandibles. "It was on some shithole planet in the Traverse; Hekate System in the Hades Nexus, but I can't remember the shithole planet. Ker, I think? Anyhow, we find this pirate base shoved into the side of the mountain, some 'over-zealous Batarian patriots' that the Hegemony loves to foist the blame on for the people they hire to pirate, slave, steal, and murder in the 'verse, and in less than five minutes, the five of us N's have got twelve pirates trying to breath through the new nostrils we punched into their lungs and skulls, and their leader is holding a gun on a hostage. Hostage is a 16 year old human girl, a Carnifax pointed at her temple."
"Spirits. Savages…" Saren shook his head, detesting any scum that would bring children into the fold, or use them. "Wait, weren't you that age during Mindoir?"
"Yes." Hale admitted softly, looking away for a moment, her eyes touching the poster. "I won't lie; my entire life flashed before me right then and there, and I couldn't help myself but love what I was about to do. I'm considered one of the ten best shots in the Alliance, and here's this Batarian scumbag hold a Human girl hostage, standing right in front of me. The situation couldn't have been more perfect for me, and I had this gun, a heavily-modified M-3 Predator Mk. 4 that didn't collapse into a smaller carrying configuration so I could fast-draw and fire it if the situation ever dictated it. Bangkok Rules is something I've practiced at the range, and I'm scary fast." The Turian looked up 'Bangkok Rules' and found it to be a duel between two humans with guns, where both would draw and fire at the same time. The winner was generally the one with the fastest draw and the straightest shot, and harken back to a time when Humanity was using chemically-propelled firearms and no armor. Brutal… but the idea of a duel of speed and skill piqued his interest. He'd have to give that a shot. Hale continued after he looked up the information, having stopped to indulge his curiosity. "I remember snapping up my Predator and putting a round right in between all four of the Batarian's eyes, splitting his skull into quarters, that weak point where a good shot will completely collapse their skull and nervous system and prevent them from pulling a trigger or hitting a detonator on a bomb even in death." Saren nodded, knowing exactly with the Marine was talking about; the major nerve cluster was in line with the spot that was centered in the middle of a Batarian's head, right in line with the foci of their eyes. A round in that spot, the size of small pebble, would obliterate a Batarian's skull and lock up their nerves, preventing them from having any death throes or muscular response to a sudden demise. Even at close range, hitting it on purpose was an amazing shot, but with Hale, the SPECTRE knew she wasn't fabricating it; it was as she said, the Marine was considered one of the ten best shots in the Alliance with just about any firearm. "Girl jumped and Batarian fell back, and I couldn't have been happier with the result; just saved an innocent life, and killed some Batarian scum that deserved it.
"But then the girl started crying over his body."
"That's… unusual." Saren mused, thinking it over. "Even Human mercenaries and pirates generally don't get along with Batarians, either. Did the girl care for him?"
"Yes, as we later found out." The Major answered, her voice thick, obviously still disturbed by the incident that happened years before. "It took us a bit to get the story out of her, but what we learned was… revolting. The Batarians were hired by her to kidnap her from her Senator father. She had forward them the yachts' itinerary, paying them money she embezzled from her father's accounts." The Turian's mandibles slowly widened in disbelief. Spirits, the girl hired the Batarians for the sole purpose of kidnapping her? What was she thinking? "We came to learn that the fine Senator was using her for child pornography and pedophilia purposes." That had Saren's anger flare up, having busted a few rings of such things in the past. "The Batarians that she hired weren't pirates, but actually legitimate independent defense security contractors with the Blue Suns Security Solutions Corporation. She had hired them to get her out, with the intent of escaping. And a part of her contract stated that she would rather die than be rescued. That last Batarian I killed? He wasn't holding her hostage… he was trying to save her from us."
"Spirits, Hale. You didn't know." Saren replied, though disturbed by the thought. What would he have done if he had been put in that situation? The same as Hale, to be sure, but to discover that he had been duped? He would have killed that Senator… but then again, he was a SPECTRE, and he had the authority. He doubted the Marine Major had the same type of discretion available to her. "What happened?"
"I handed her to the only person I knew that would tell a Senator to go fuck himself and not give a shit about the repercussions; Fleet Master Jon Grissom." The N7 smiled grimly, the look savage on the Human woman's face, the diagonal scar on her face making it look more brutal. "The Alliance Bureau of Investigations took her statement and actually ran with it as oppose to shying away from political repercussions, and they found that everything the girl said was true; her father was the Goddamn child porn king of Earth, and he was very much into having sex with underage girls. His ass went to prison for a very long time, but that was when doing the right thing felt like shit. I wish I hadn't killed those Batarians, I wish I had done a little more digging into the mission when it didn't sound quite right to me. I had never asked for a surrender, and though I doubt the Blue Suns Batarians would have told me the truth, I feel like I murdered them. That I was the bad guy that day."
"Did you know that we were looking into Captain Anderson as a potential candidate for being a SPECTRE?" Saren asked the Major, who looked at him with some surprise. "It wasn't anything official, and the Alliance hadn't been informed. I had… simply requested him for a mission that was rather extreme and dangerous, to see the man in action before pushing forward with the possibility of making him a candidate. We had this mission in Camala dealing with weapons shipments and illegal AI research that ended up on the wrong side of a victory; I was forced to destroy the entire complex to erase the research and prevent it from getting into the wrong hands. There were a few unfortunate victims in the blast, ones that Anderson was pleading for me to save by giving them the time to escape. Unfortunately, when it comes to AI research, even a single Omnitool can infect an entire network, and I deemed that the loss of those innocents more preferable than the possibility of an AI-ran vessel or communication hub. I even remember the scientist who was running it trying to entice me with the thought of a sentient AI from some strange Prothean-era artifact. I didn't take the chance, and destroyed both."
"The terrorist and hostage scenario." Hale recalled, bringing up what Saren had offered a few days before, making the Turian nod. "How did Anderson handle it?"
"Not well." The SPECTRE admitted with a shrug. "He blamed me for the death of the innocent workers and the destruction of the Eezo refinery. I realized that Anderson, while a fine warrior, was too good a man to be a SPECTRE. I took responsibility for my actions, and the Counsel agreed with my decision, though it cost hundreds of workers their lives. Your Captain didn't agree with either my assessment or the Counsel's. In some ways, I don't blame him. I did murder those people in the name of galactic peace and security, and would do so again without any hesitation. We Turians have an expression for such an action; 'the cruel calculus of war'." The Turian explained, looking at the Human female in front of him. "What price are you willing to pay to prevent another Mindoir or Elysium? Humanity really hasn't had that opportunity or scenario yet, where both choices that are faced are both horrifying."
"We usually call it the lesser of two evils, but I see your point." Hale replied thoughtfully. "I was thinking of Commander Forsythe, talking down that uprising. It ended well, but what would have happened if the revolutionaries weren't willing to discuss or negotiate? What happens during the next revolution, when they think they can take hostages because they know that the Alliance is more willing to talk than it is to solve the problem?"
"Exactly." Saren nodded, pleased. "It is best for one to think of such situations, and search oneself for their own personal choices; what would you do in such situations. It is not to reflect on my actions, but your own. Would you kill an innocent to save five others? Would you kill one just to save another? These are choices that we have to face, and though it rarely comes to that, remember that it was Turian SPECTREs and Salarian STG members that delivered the Genophage to Tuchanka in order to put down the Krogan Rebellion. What do you do when the best answer is a catastrophe?"
"I… hadn't thought of it that way." The Marine admitted, obviously thinking it over. "As you said before, it depends on the situation and what I would be willing to take responsibility for. Would I drop an atomic bomb on a town to save millions, knowing that I would forever be labeled a monster?" To Saren's surprise, the N7 didn't immediately reply, obviously mulling it in her mind. "What does the Counsel say on such matters?"
"That is exactly why the Counsel created the SPECTREs, because they trust us to make the decisions they can't due to politics and current trends." The Turian explained. "Did you know that despite that half the SPECTREs are Turians, not one fought in the First Contact War?" Hale indicated that she hadn't known that. "Some SPECTREs make for great front-line fighters, which was why they were selected to become Agents of the Counsel. Yet when the Hierarchy tried to subtly ask Turian SPECTREs to infiltrate into human space for deep-space strikes and behind-the-front sabotage, each and every one of them refused. Turians refusing an order to a man."
"That's… wow. Completely the opposite of what I know of your species." Major Hale pointed out, looking surprised. "I… well, I never thought about it, but I had assumed that SPECTREs were there on Shanxi. What was their reasoning behind the refusal, if you don't mind me asking?"
"Because they thought that, despite Humanity trying to illegally activate a Relay, they were the ones that were being wronged." Arterius explained, something he had been told in the years following the Relay 314 Incident. "The Hierarchy had never tried to stop that science vessel, to get in its way and posture a threat. If they had done so, the entire incident could have been avoided. If that had been a SPECTRE, the vessel may have been destroyed, yet that would have been the only ship to have been attacked. The rest of the matter would have been handled by the Counsel, the threat explained to Humanity. Instead, the Hierarchy took it upon itself to be the aggressor, without Counsel sanction or approval, I might add, ignoring all First Contact guidelines as well as authorized force against colonies and defenses. The Turians were in the wrong, and the Turian SPECTREs saw it. It was, in fact, a Turian SPECTRE who had come forth to the Counsel to explain what was going on, which ended the Incident in a matter of weeks instead of months or longer. While Humanity fought proudly and bravely, we would have won due to the size of our fleets and our vastly superior technology. One SPECTRE made that difference."
"Wow." Hale leaned back, obviously surprised by the revelation Saren had told her. "I take it that no one else really knows about this, do they? Classified SPECTRE mission and all?"
"No."
"Can I ask the Turian's name? If I ever meet him, I want to shake his hand."
"That will be impossible, as he has gone to the Spirits some time ago." The Turian replied, the common euphemism among Turians to indicate that someone was dead. "But his name was Karlus Korvar. I've always wondered if I would do the same thing in his position. It's that doubt and wonder that makes me strive to be better, to push myself into making sure I'm making the best possible choice, be it the ones that will save the most amount lives immediately, or in the long run."
"Now I see why the SPECTREs are so strict in choosing their members. Here I thought they just look for the best warriors, but what they are looking for are the best example of warrior, not necessarily the best fighters." Hale pointed out.
"Exactly." Saren agreed. "Anderson might have done well as a SPECTRE, but it was obvious that his conscious would not let him chose a hard right, that the result of his action might be something that he would be more uncomfortable with. There have been SPECTREs who were like that in the past, and sadly, they do not last long. Most end up hiring their services out like mercenaries and saboteurs, and end up turning into the very same things that we hunt down. That is why SPECTREs such as myself go through a selection process for each candidate, to have them do a series of missions; to gauge their decisions, and also why they chose those decisions. The last thing we ever want to hear is 'it was the right thing to do'. Trust me on that one."
"Ha! I get that! And I definitely agree with you there." The Major replied, chuckling. "That sounds like Dravonich, a jumped-up legal thug whose all too keen on pulling the trigger and killing everything in front of him. I… won't say anything about Meer. I'm sure you know your job well enough, and I can't say for certain that he is or isn't good for the job. Just be careful around the man; way too many accusations have been leveled his way without sticking to make me think he doesn't have someone upstairs pulling for him. That kind of thought scares me, honestly."
"I remember Grissom bringing up the rumors and accusations of credit-stealing in the battlefield, as well as being a racist and… what is a 'sexist'?" Saren asked, remembering that he hadn't remembered to look up that word.
"It means someone who is gender-biased." The N7 replied darkly, her face going grim. "I know that one for a fact, but I'll just let you see it for yourself. It's probably frowned upon if I start mudslinging the other candidate."
"I believe I've already seen such an incident already; he never seems to address any of the females by their ranks." The SPECTRE replied, in which he saw the Marine nod her head in agreement, obviously quite aware of what he had noticed himself. "Considering the most advanced race in the galaxy is comprised of Biotic blue females, he might want to rethink that position."
"What, and miss the chance of him eating a singularity?" Hale asked, completely dead-panned, and for the life of him, Saren couldn't help but laugh.
"Jump translation successful." The voice of Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau came over the intercom near the Helm, where Commander Jennifer Hale stood, standing at Guard, what Humans called 'Parade Rest', watching as the galaxy map in front of her began to display the Argos Rho system, updating planetary positions, the ship's relative position, any known vessels in the area, signal intercepts, and any plotted areas to avoid. The Haptic display of the system showed the ship to be within a few hundred kilometers from the Relay, the forward thrust of the ship being at zero for Mass Relay translation. Saren Arterius had to admit that the ship's translation was one of the finest he had ever felt; there was almost no vibration or cavatation throughout the ship as the vessel was propelled at speeds greater than three thousand light years an hour. It either spoke of the ships' ingenuous design or the pilot's skill that one hardly felt the beginning or ending of a translation. Saren had been on ships that had shook so badly that one wondered if the vessel was going to break apart mid-translation. For the Normandy, though, it didn't even disturb a crew member's sleep pattern.
"We have arrived in the Argos Rho Cluster, Hydra System, all systems green, drift at 800 km." The pilot's voice came through the intercom where Major Jennifer Hale stood, both Saren Arterius and Nihlus Kryik standing in the back of the Bridge. Both SPECTREs stood silently, watching the activities of the Normandy as the men and women of the Alliance worked diligently at their posts, sailors at their workstations, monitoring Haptic displays as their fingers input on Haptic keyboards and Haptic touch screen displays. All the while, Commander Jennifer Hale watched as they worked, the display having the Normandy seemingly right next to the Mass Relay in the Hydra System.
"Acknowledged, Lieutenant Moreau." Hale spoke in reply over the intercom, studying the updated galaxy map. "Set a course for… Syba, it's the closer of the two gas giants before we burn for the Phoenix System. Bleed any excess heat from the IES when we discharge at Syba, and let's see if we can sneak up on Pinnacle, see how close we can get before someone notices us." Saren snorted at the thought; they were on a stealth ship, why not use it on friendly forces? "Keep us at 95% Light Speed before we hit the Phoenix System. According to the Alliance Operator's Manual on this vessel, the stealth system should work as long as we don't red/blue shift into warp speed. That'll give us," The Normandy's XO did a calculation on her workstation, inputting numbers into a calculator, "four hours stealth time. We'll mark the time someone hails us or targets us."
"You're nuts, Commander, but I like the way you think." The pilot returned over the intercom, his voice cheerfully sarcastic. "Seventeen minute flight to Syba, 3 hour and 7 minute discharge at Syba, a 3 hour and 5 minute flight to the Phoenix System, and another 2 hours and 14 minutes to Pinnacle Station at 95 Sub-light." The Turian merely turned to his partner, who was grinning; Nihlus always did love taking risks. Another eight and a half hours to kill on an Alliance Frigate; what, by the Spirits, was he suppose to do in the meantime? He had already been stuck on this ship for over three days sucking down barely-palatable Turian military rations that had probably expired back during the Relay 314 Incident and being uncomfortable in a sleeper pod that might have been designed for a Vorcha. Despite the ship's state-of-the-art design and innovations, Saren wasn't thrilled with the prospect of spending almost another half of a day in the Normandy. Thankfully, the holographic range was available at all times of the day, and the only ones who really used it were the Marines, who were on a schedule as to when they could use it for their squad firing exercises. The SPECTRE had silently attended one of those, watching Master Sergeant Maldonado run her platoon through a series of battle drills, scenarios, fields-of-fire exercises, and one iteration that was called 'hogan's alley duck hunt wack a mole'; random targets would fly out, pop out, sprint out, or nest out on a holographic backdrop of an urban environment, and the Marines had a free-for-all. The idea was that a Marine could 'win' by having the most kills, meaning they outshot their peers at a much faster rate. The scenario was intermixed with non-targets, forcing the Marines to positively identify hostile from non-hostile, as well as friendly forces, to prevent fratricide. The platoon spent two hours in the range, and Saren stayed the whole time, practically unnoticed saved by the Master Sergeant herself, watching the squad work. The Turian in him had to admit that the squad of Marines in front of him were impressive; they would hold their own against an equal size of Turian soldiers.
Coming from him, that was about as grand a compliment as the Humans could ever hope to receive.
"Acknowledged, Flight Lieutenant. Engage." Commander Jennifer Hale replied, returning Saren from his fantasy of stealing the Human shuttle down in the cargo bay and leaving monkey-town. He missed the smell of a Hierarchy ship, the sight of short fringes and supportive waists, the soft undertones of the female voice that could sooth or agitate with just a few words. Thankfully, Nihlus was there to relate; Turians were a social creature, after all, and they didn't do well alone as they had evolved from migratory flocks of avian-like land creatures. Thankfully, being a SPECTRE meant that he had his own ship and crew, populated mostly with Turians, which helped avoid such a situation as separation anxiety. No one wanted to see a Turian on the lunatic fringe from separation anxiety.
"Something is bothering you." Nihlus pointed out softly, low enough in his second voice-box to keep the other Humans from known that they were even having a conversation. Saren didn't even look at his partner, the SPECTRE Commando's voice being communicated to him by means of a throat-mike that humanity developed centuries ago for means of communications without having to use one's hands. For a somewhat backwards race, the people of Earth had certainly evolved into an interesting race that came up with chaotic inspirations and innovations. Like the throat-mike. Or MediGel. It would be interesting to see where their species would be in the next century in terms of technology and advancement. Would they have a Counsel member? Would their species rock the boat further, or would it help stabilize? At least they were better than the Spirits-be-damned Batarians; he never did trust those four-eyed slugs. "It isn't Pandorum, is it?"
"Spirits, even you know it is too early for even mild symptoms to be onset now." Saren growled, and immediately frowned, not-at-all pleased that he had lost his temper. Turians were a predatory race that had evolved from flightless birds, and were not only group hunters, but clannish as well. Space travel, unfortunately, had adverse effects on the species of the galaxy, and Turians were one of the more susceptible species. Countless credits had been spent on research and development of psychological factors, pharmaceuticals, and even lighting and design to aid in lessening the impact of long-term space voyage on the species as a whole. Saren knew that Humans had to change interior windows to fool the brain into thinking that there was a day/night cycle, while giving crew members and travelers a series of medications, such as sleeping pills and anti-anxieties, to lessen such impact. For the Asari, it was subtle music played in sleeping quarters and gentle lighting that matched the color of Thessia's sun. For Turians, it was sociological; the feeling of being with one's own species. For a Turian SPECTRE, the Agent was required to have a crew of no less than ten members of its own species to avoid the strain of the condition known throughout the galaxy as Pandorum; an onset of symptoms that included paranoia, psychosis, and even suicide. He himself was more susceptible than most Turians, having been a member of the Cabal, as well as a Blackwatch operative and a veteran of the Relay 314 Incident. What Humans called Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder evidently affected the militant race from Palaven, and Humanity's contributions into the disorder had helped the Hierarchy in working towards progress against the effects of Pandorum. Saren didn't like the accusation of Pandorum given to him by Nihlus, but his partner was to monitor him for any signs, just as he was to monitor Nihlus. It was a nasty, if necessary, business. "Perhaps it has been a bit too long for me in interacting with others. I did just get off a three-week mission after all, and haven't visited with any Clan members or even just taken a small vacation."
"No worries. Pinnacle Station has a healthy Turian population in it. Something like a few dozen Talons for the Counsel Defense and Engagement Force." Nihlus pointed out, making Saren purr in reply. "Got some females, too. Be nice for a little R+R on the Alliance's credit."
"Ah, always thinking with your head and not with your brain." The SPECTRE accused his partner good-naturedly, making Nihlus chuckle quietly. "I believe we shall be at Pinnacle Station for a few days. Perhaps a visit to the Turian Quarters will be a good reprieve. Maybe Pinnacle has a Companion that I can look into."
"Knowing your luck, it will be a Elcor Cow with the scale itch." Nihlus jested, and Saren's only response was to sigh.
A/N: The psychological effects and impacts of long-term space habitation is a new field of study that is actually real. I borrowed the name 'Pandorum' from the movie with Ben Foster and Dennis Quaid; the movie was an interesting concept, if lamely executed. Geospatal Studies are based upon Astronauts/Cosmonauts and space effects, in which I believe the longest single stay in space is only been four or five months. No one wishes to do longer due to physical atrophy of the body, decalcification of the bones, and other physical side effects of space, not to mention living in what is essentially a damn soda can in space. Have you seen the old SkyLab or the International? My fucking shitty apartment has more cubic footage.
Yes, I mention a Companion, like Firefly/Serenity. No, Inora will not be making an appearance. Deal with it. They are more like the Consort and her harem... I mean acolytes.
The mission to Camala, in which Saren and Anderson were on, is in fact the Mass Effect: Revelation story. Dr. Quan is the one who bribes Saren with the sentient AI research, which leads him to Sovereign in ME. This does not happen here, as he actually kills Dr. Quan and blows up the faciility just to be on the safe side. Saren Arterius is not the bad guy here; no Indoctrination, no Reaperfication. Stay true, faithful reader.
I mention LV-426 of Aliens fame. Yes, Hadley's Hope is in this story, though no Xenomorphs are present. It won't be either Aliens, nor will it be my Mass Effect vs. Aliens: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope story. This will be explained later one when I introduce a character from that storyarc, though by no means a crossover, just borrowing. El Riesgo Siempre Vive!
I'm doing my best to keep as many locations as canon as possible, like Ker and Syba; Ker is a landable planet in ME, and Syba is a gas giant that is acknowledged as a good discharge point in the Galactic Codex in the ME series. Korvan and LV-426 are original locations, just like the Briars, Vegius Sector, and Korrman from Hale: Office of Naval Personnel. There will be new locations in this story.