Date Published: 2014/03/15
Date Re-Edited: N/A
Warhammer and Mass Effect, are the sole properties of Games Workshop/THQ and Bioware/EA Games respectively. This is a work of Fiction, as well as non-profit, and thereby complies with their 'Terms and Conditions' stipulated by the Companies themselves. The only thing I seek to gain with this Literary Work; is to improve my Creative Writing abilities, and if in the process someone were to enjoy what I have written…
So be it.
Writing Styles
"Talking Normally"
Thinking/Projecting Thoughts
=Radio Transmissions/Synthesised Voices=
+=Computer Text/Coding/Written Text=+
Warhammer Date/Time Keeping
+=[Mark: +/- The Time since or before the Mission Started]=+
+=[Seconds:Minutes:Hours]=+
+=[Days (1 to 365):Years(1 to 999):Millennium (M3=2000/M31=30000)]=+
Chapter 9
- From Sycorax with Love -
Part 2
+=Urdnot Wrex=+
+=Citadel=+
+=Tayseri Ward=+
+=Flux=+
+=[043.183.M03]=+
+=[21.23.15]=+
+=[mark: +21.23.28]=+
A nice slow burn… is not what most sane sentient beings would expect when drinking a glass of Ryncol…
An unholy brew whose only purpose is to incinerate everything between your teeth and your arse…
Is how most sane people would describe even a small glass of Ryncol…
A grand contribution to the Galaxy as a whole is how Wrex liked to think of a nice big glass of Ryncol…
The most terrifying substance known to science within the confines of all of known space…
Is how most connoisseurs of alcohol would describe even small quantities of Ryncol…
A nice pleasant way to cap off a rare thrilling job is how Wrex viewed a nice tall glass of Ryncol…
A Brutal way to kill hundreds of brain cells AND obliterate all memory of the last six months…
In one foul swoop, is how the rest of the Galaxy would describe a tall glass of Ryncol…
Just one glass was usually enough to give him that nice warm fuzzy feeling of a job well done – or at least well obliterated. Wrex was on his fourth, and he still wasn't feeling it… So here he was sitting in this… tourist trap… glaring down into the bottom of yet another empty tumbler, and Wrex was starting to do the most dangerous thing a Krogan could ever do… he started to think. Now for most Species 'thinking' wouldn't be that dangerous… but for Krogans however, it did cause the last nine out of ten cataclysms to have befallen the Species.
From the discovery of Fire, to the shaping of Steel…
To the invention of Sail, to the first Flintlock Musket…
Leading finally and inexorably toward splitting the Atom…
Each and every single one of these 'advancements' which led to more bloodshed and deaths than ever seen before in their history.
So what Wrex was currently doing, sitting at his little table in Flux; was tantamount to playing Russian Roulette with a Thermo-Nuclear Warhead… or as they liked to call it back on Tuchanka, 'a nice way to spend a quiet afternoon'. It was not a matter if it would go off… but when.
"Bahh!" Wrex growled as he slammed the empty tumbler back down onto his little corner table.
The battle had been glorious… challenging… thrilling… and overcoming great adversity had just made the eventual victory all the sweater… so why wasn't he content? The battle was over and his enemies lay dead at his feet… and he had more than enough credits to fight… the next meaningless… battle…
Arrggghhh!
All he could do was to try and ignore all those meaningless melancholic thoughts… they were juvenile… pathetic… they were thoughts that were unworthy of a great Krogan Warlord such as he.
Unworthy… but what have I done… what have I done in the last Century… to earn back my Honor, and make myself worthy…
And Wrex would've probably sat there wallowing in his own insecurities and getting steadily more and more drunk… until C-Sec got their act together and showed up to cart him away for man-slaughter…
Ha! As if they could…
Of course that was not meant to be…
= This is Khalisah Bint Sinan al-Jilani reporting Live from the Council Chambers for Westerlund News… Our Top Story; the Council has granted a second hearing after a growing public outcry from Alliance Citizens, after the blatant white wash of legitimate claims of misconduct by top – Turian – Council Spectre, Saren Arterius… This after scandalous reports of a botched C-Sec investigation by two – as of yet unnamed – Turian Detectives, and the Death of a Human Witness in C-Sec custody, have certainly tainted the Councils image in the eyes of Humans everywhere… =
Wrex just tuned the loud mouthed Human out… or at least tried to…
= In other news; the unveiling of the Alliance's latest Super-Soldier Program has raised many uncomfortable questions; has Alliance Command forgotten the terrible Lessons of BAaT… will the Alliance finally abandon the stifling restrictions of the Citadel Conventions against Genetic-Engineering… or is this all a Black-Op gone wrong. All these questions and more will be answered during our in-depth special report: 'Humanity on the Rise'… airing at Twenty-One-Hundred Hours CCT… =
With a snort Wrex ignored the rest of the report, focusing more on the collage of images, several were captioned… the human Ambassador, a few Alliance Marines, a Councillor or Two, and then dozens upon dozens of close-up images of Sergeant Sigmund. Wrex really hadn't been listening to whatever the latest human 'pundit' – another great Human-word – but when they brought up image after image of this 'Space Marine'… Wrex couldn't have been more entranced.
"Hmmmmmn…," the low hum of his own voice reverberated within his own ears, making Wrex more and more, "… Curious…"
The more Wrex tried to think about… all this… the more he tried to understand… the more and more it didn't add up. This Sigmund… he was no Alliance Marine… Hell – another Human-word Wrex just loved – Wrex had trouble believing he was even Human. The way he moved… the way he fought… He was a Warrior – born and bred… the way the Krogan used to be… the way the Krogan were meant to be… The more he looked at Sigmund – no… the more he looked at that Armour of his… the more he started to think back… the more he thought about his Grandfathers Armour… his families Armour… He hadn't seen that piece of crap in Centuries… Hell he could hardly even remember what it looked like, but… in his minds-eye he imagined; that maybe, just maybe… his families – no… His Armour looked something like that.
Honour… hmmmn… I wonder if that Big Human knows anything about Honour…
And that brought Wrex to the crux of what he agonising over for years; what is Honour… do I still have Honour… does this strange Human have any… and… can I get my Honour back?
Only one way to find out… but first…
He lazily opened up his Omni-Tool, brought up his contacts, and gave an old friend a call…
"Hey Aleena, I need a favour… I need to find Elanos Haliat…"
+=Tali 'Zorah nar Rayya=+
+=Citadel=+
+=Docking-Bay 422=+
+=Normandy=+
+=[043.183.M03]=+
+=[21.23.15]=+
+=[mark: +21.23.28]=+
"… And here we have Engineering, most of the Crew are on Shore Leave, but you've already met Chief Adams… so don't worry about it. You can leave your stuff in the Hanger, I'm sure Ash won't mind if you use one of the lockers next to her work station… and once you're settled in you can head to the Crew Deck for a quick bite to eat and a couple of hours shut-eye," Shepard declared cheerfully, as she placed a gentle hand on Tali's tired and trembling shoulder.
"Thanks Shepard, I-I think I will," Tali agreed wearily, with as much energy as she could muster.
Give it a few more minutes, the treasonous part of Tali's mind whispered; you'll be little more than a nervous wreck in no time.
Shepard led the way back into the hanger, only to find the blue – not a robot – giant standing there waiting for them.
"I thought I told you to go and see Doctor Chakwas…," asked the very unimpressed Red-Headed Human standing next to her.
"I was hoping that one of you Enginseers, down here in the Engineerium… could assist me," was the harsh sounding synthetic reply, from that very scary looking helm, "I cannot… remove, my own Armour without assistance…"
While Shepard sighed – loudly – in frustration, Tali began to wonder if her Helmet's audio-sensors had stopped working properly again… or maybe my Translator is finally dying on me, she thought morosely.
"I'll just page Adams then –"
"You and I both know that he just started his Rest-Cycle, Shepard," the blue giant admonished as he removed his scary-looking helmet, "I suppose my appointment with the good Doctor will just have to wait…"
"Oh-no you don't, you're going to see Doctor Chakwas even if I have to take a can-opener to that tin-suit of yours myself," the weird hot-headed human declared with determination… or sarcasm… with the lack of sleep it was hard to tell.
"Perhaps… I can help, Shepard?" asked the ever meek Tali, she was trying desperately to prevent – what she thought was – an argument between these two – confusingly scary – Humans.
"I'm not sure Tali, this tech is – erm… sensitive and… uhm… complex –"
"Please Shepard; I'm trying to help dismantle it, not replicate it, 'Oh-no the Quarians are trying to steal out Technology'… wait we helped design half of it," muttered a bemused Tali exasperatedly, "on a serious note Shepard, I said it before; I'm a Machinist… being able to take things apart and put them back together is in the Job-Description."
"I'm not sure…," she hesitated slightly, before she looked toward the piercing gaze of the giant standing next to her, "What do you think Sergeant?"
"Hmmmmmn…," Sigmund raised a hand to gently stroke the stubble on his chin, "I have absolutely no problem whatsoever Commander… I welcome the assistance of Miss Nar Rayya I readily welcome –"
"It's Zorah…"
"Pardon?"
"The Rayya is the Ship I was born on… Zorah is my family name," she informed the pair proudly.
"Well Miss Zorah, my name is Sigmund Tyrannus."
"Your family name is 'Terrible'?" the Quarian asked with confusion.
"No… no, it isn't," laughed the giant good naturedly, "I'm a foundling… what's the word… a-an orphan, 'Tyrannus' was the name I earned for my actions during several… difficult campaigns… before that I was simply known as Sigmund de Sycorax."
"De?"
"Yes… its High-Gothic for 'from'… so I was known as Sigmund from Sycorax," Sigmund clarified.
"Well I see you guys are getting along swimmingly," Shepard commented cheerfully, "I'll see you in the Med-Bay in half an hour Sergeant…"
"Well you heard the Commander, Miss Zorah… we have our marching orders," he declared sardonically, "Let's use those crates over there… they seem sturdy enough."
"Okay 'Mister' Tyrannus –"
"Haha… 'Mister Tyrannus' is my father, just call me Sigmund."
"Very funny big guy, so what's first?"
"Can't wait to get me naked Miss Zorah," teased the giant.
While the poor girl spluttered, Sigmund continued onward 'seemingly' oblivious, "We need to disengage the power plant first… by removing the back pack. Without power the artificial muscle bundles loose tension."
"Hmmmn… that could be problematic," Tali observed neutrally, "without a heavy-duty Cargo-Mover… or maybe someone with Biotics…"
"How about this…," the giant inquired, as right before her eyes his helmet levitated a foot above his raised palm.
Tali was quite impressed with the display, it clearly wasn't tech-based – his Omni-Tool hadn't activated – it was probably the most impressive display of Biotics she'd ever seen… however –
"That's not any kind of Biotics I've ever seen, where's the glow?"
"Telekinesis," Sigmund informed her passionately, "I'm no Apothecary, but according to one or two Geneticists I've talked with over the years… the ability is present in nearly anyone. It just takes a few mutations in the right place… you're not listening to me at all are you?"
"You lost me at Telekinesis," replied the normally shy Quarian, slyly.
"Well… let's just say that it isn't Biotics, but… and I've looked this up… you use the same parts of the brain to do both… none of this 'Element Zero' stuff required."
"Okay if you say so… now, how do I do this?"
"You'll find a pair of rotary locking-pins behind my neck-guard," Sigmund replied factually as he dropped down to one knee, "Twist and pull the right-hand pin clockwise, rotate the left-hand pin counter-clockwise."
"Got it – Woah!"
Ssssht-Clunk…
Tali clung perched atop of the blue-pack, she squeaked as the pack dropped a few inches suddenly, before she heard someone say…
"Please let go, and step back Miss Zorah," came a slightly mocking voice from above her.
Tali huffed indignantly at his tone as she stepped back, as the pack slowly lifted up into the air… rotated slightly before the giant set it down on the waist high – rectangular – crates in front of her… the shiny gilded back plate – and all its beautiful and intricate engraving facing upwards. As Tali watched this impressive display of not-Biotics, a single nagging question started to gnaw at the back of her mind…
"Why don't you just use your abilities to take off your own Armour… why do you need me?"
Sigmund turned round and smiled at her inquisitiveness, "You see these Runes?"
Her body language spoke volumes, she leaned forward inquisitively… as Sigmund raised a hand, silvery-white energy arching between his thumb and fore-finger. With a snap the stream of energy broke; dancing along his raised fore-finger, much to Tali's awe.
"Watch…"
He touched an energised finger to a craved rune on the blue painted plating of the back-pack… and to Tali's growing amazement the Rune started to glow a silvery blue… and as the bright-glow started to fade, the dimming light spread across several of the runes surrounding the first rune.
"The Runes – in essence – act in concert to form a… Psychic Faraday Cage…," the giant explained sagely, "Any and all Warp Energy, such as my Powers, is channelled by the Runes through my Armour… if I tried to use my Powers to affect my Armour, the Runes would simply channel my Powers through my Armour, and back into myself… A giant feed-back loop if you will… Now, there's another clasp at the back of my Shoulder-Plate…"
Tali quiclkly manipulated the rear clasp, while Sigmund unclasped the front-one… with a snap the plate came away and Sigmund instructed Tali to…
"Stick your hand underneath the plate… you'll find a connector there… twist it – and pull…"
Tali expected a little resistance, she was surprised when it came away so easily and with a hiss the connector came free. And as Sigmund lifted the plate up and away, she finally got a good look at the so-called 'connector'…
"Keelah…," Tali muttered, clearly shocked… that 'connector' had to be at least two inches long.
Tali was lost in her own thoughts as she slowly ran a finger over the two inch-long pike that she had just pulled out of the Sergeants shoulder. She just couldn't believe that this… 'thing' just came so easily out of his shoulder.
Didn't… didn't that hurt?
She was drawn from her more morbid thoughts when she noticed that Sigmund had started manipulating the left shoulder plate without her. So she got back to work and in short order they had managed to disconnect the shoulder plate…
"Okay what's next," Tali asked as pleasantly as she possibly could, trying her best to ignore the queasiness stirring in her gut.
"The Chest-Segment, separates into two pieces; a front plate and a back plate… The clasps are situated on the sides, one bellow and one above the shoulder… the lower clasp will release the clamps along the segmented section."
With deft fingers Tali quickly manipulated the clasps, and with a mechanical whine, the segmented section came apart cleanly. She swiftly moved to the other side, and twisted the clasp underneath the plate. She cautiously stepped away, only to have Sigmund call her back a second later.
"Can you climb back up on the Crate, Tali… I need you to disconnect the half-dozen, or so, Chest-Plate connectors," he explained calmly, as she hauled herself up onto the crate.
Without preamble; she quickly reached under the Armoured Plate, and with deft fingers she quickly unhooked said connectors. All the while Sigmund just stood there calmly holding the plate a little away from his chest with both hands. With a final hiss the Chest-Plate came away, before Sigmund placed it – chipped and nicked – face down on the crate. Tali quickly passed a careful eye across the inner surface of the plate checking for cracks, it was around this point that she noticed some alien-looking writing…
Probably human, she observed, let's see what it means…
So she quickly took a picture of the strange writing that ran along the inside of the collar, however before she could even press the Translate button on her Browser –
"Tali can I get a hand here?"
She skittishly turned to find Sigmund still holding up his back plate, guiltily she quickly got back to the task at hand and with deft fingers she detached the dozen symmetrically placed connectors. After a several seconds she had managed to detach all of the connectors, she then stood to the side as Sigmund slowly placed the back plate down on the crate where she had been standing a few moments ago.
"Do you need any help with the rest of it, Sergeant?" Tali asked, while examining the armour which remained below his waist and on his arms.
"That is not necessary… I can manipulate the remaining pieces on my own thank-you," he replied cheerfully, "However…"
His gaze travelled back towards his damaged helmet, "If you'd be so kind as to patch that crack… and may-haps mend the cracked lens?"
Weird, he goes from Intellectual to something out of a History Lesson, at the drop of a wrench…
But while her thoughts pondered his strange turn of phrase, her mouth was already on Auto-Pilot.
"Sure, no problem," she replied, after a moment she realised what she actually just promised.
Bashfully she quickly turned away from Sigmund, once again thanking whichever of her ancestors were listening for full face-masks. Those thoughts weren't helping, so she cast them aside as with a great heave she turned the heavy helm on its side. Without preamble she stuck her left-hand – and more importantly her Omni-Tool – into the helmet, previous experiences had shown that the Plating of Sigmund's Armour was practically impenetrable to regular attempts at scanning. A second later she heard a beep, so she withdrew her hand to give the results a quick once over.
"Hmmmmn…"
"What's wrong Tali?" asked the un-armoured giant with a hint of concern.
"There's a strange crystalline layer within your helmet, I don't know what it does," Tali explained.
"That must be the Psychic-Hood… let me see your Scanning Device…"
"Oh… Okay, but… why don't I just send it to your Omni-Tool?" confusion evident in her meek little voice.
"You can do that?" Sigmund asked thoroughly surprised.
"Yeah… I mean yes, just activate it…"
"Alright…," he seemed a tad bit confused that no-one had mentioned such a capability.
As Tali watched he reached for his Armoured-Belt, it surprised her when she found that it contained several hidden compartments. He then pulled out a small silver tube, and after a few taps on the device… he activated it. It surprised Tali, more than confused her, when the silver little tube turned out to be his Omni-Tool.
"The Legion doesn't use such technology, Shepard purchased this unit – and bestowed it upon me – this morning," he explained, once again with those strange turns of phrase.
Once again Tali was… confused… by the strange archaic langauge that this human kept using.
"If you leave behind your arm-guard and your Omni-Tool, once I'm done with these repairs… I can incorporate it into your Armour. Wait… do you have any implants to interface with your Omni-Tool?"
"Aside from my Sub-Dermal Communicator? Uhm-no…"
"Okay… leave your gauntlets as well, I'll incorporate the finger-tip implants into them," Tali replied offhanded, she was far to engrossed with the task at hand as she tapped away at her Omni-Tool.
Sigmund hadn't moved, and Tali didn't seem to notice, that was of course until, "Erhmm… Tali, you still haven't shown me those scans…"
"Oh right sorry… a – here…" she quickly pulled up the results, enlarged the image and turned the Holo-screen so he could see.
"Damn… that it explains it," Sigmund muttered irritably.
"What… I don't –"
"See those cracks? These crystals were grown into shape, as one solid mass. Each facet placed with mathematical precision, to help channel my… abilities. Like this…?" he paused to sigh, while rubbing at the bridge of his nose…
From what Tali could remember from her orientation on common Human-Asari behaviour that she had before leaving the fleet, it was a… 'stress reaction' that's it!
"You okay Sarge?" she asked worriedly, she had seen him deal with a dislocated shoulder with ease… what could possibly worry someone like him?
"Yes I'm… fine… it's just… this comes as a relief… I feared that I had… 'Burnt-Out' my Psychic-Abilities… unlike Biotics, were the worst you can do is burn-out a couple of 'Eezo' Nodules… I could have suffered a Stroke if I had over exerted my Powers, at best… I could have been dead at the worst…"
"I don't see –"
"I sorry Tali, but… can we continue this conversation later?"
"Oh-Okay, right… I'll… get back to… what I was doing…," Tali muttered awkwardly, as she turned away to get back to 'work'.
It was several minutes later that Sigmund had finished with the last piece of his Armour and Tali, was far too busy with her Customised Developer Design-Tool, didn't even notice when he set the last plate down with a clang. She did notice however when he slid a Golden-Titanium coloured tube under her – unseen – nose.
"I believe this belongs to you," he informed her enigmatically…
However before she could even squeak in surprise, he had grabbed a grey – furry-looking – bundle from the pile of armour he'd been wearing a couple of minutes ago, before he swept away and into the waiting elevator. Even as confused as she was, Tali couldn't help be curious about the gold-plated cylinder lying in the palm of her hand. It looked so strange, and yet familiar… there all these flowing little symbols… engraved so intricately… they looked… Quarian! Amazed, Tali slowly realised that these flowing symbols, so familiar yet so… strange… must be… from before the War with Geth. Tali had never learnt to write – by hand – it was far more cost-effect for the Quarians (with their limited resources) to teach their children how to type. And as she read further, Tali belatedly realise that what she held in her hand was the written history of the development of Sigmund's personal Armour – his Power Armour she now realised – and the most amazing part of it all was that it was written in Keelish… not a poorly translated imitation, but by the Ancestors it was beautiful.
And that was just what was written – engraved – on the casing, and she couldn't hide her excitement, she desperately wanted to see what was written inside. So hesitantly, she moved her fingers over the strange symbol embossed in red – that kind of looks strangely Human in nature… With a twist she broke the strange red material of the seal, and unrolled the odd golden metallic material…
For several minutes Tali just stood there transfixed barely understanding what she was reading. What was written upon this glittering Scroll was just so… hard to describe, for the next half hour… she read on entranced. She willed herself to understand, but by the time she reached the bottom –
"Keehla…"
This Scroll… it was so amazing… there were hundreds… upon thousands of lines… of programming… of Code… Words… History… And what an amazing History it was; this Scroll contained the sum-total of the entire History of Human-Armour Development over thousands of years. From the Crusades in the 11th, 12th and 13th Centuries, all the way to the latest Cybernetic Body Armour of the 22nd Century, and then… nothing. Which was strange, Sigmund's Armour was just so… much more advanced. She turned the Scroll over to see if there was more on the back… nothing, however… when she turned it back over, she found… more Writing. It was still in Keelish, just… more blocky… it looked like some kind of Research Journal.
"Huh? That doesn't make any sense…"
Tali continued to mutter endlessly as she read her way through the strange Journal… the dates just didn't make any sense… the Journal was hundreds of years long, and the stories it contained… they were incredible…
"Strange…"
The Journal just sort of ended… suddenly… it ended with a Manifest. And the very first entry; was a Crate… for her.
But where is it?
The Manifest didn't say, and the longer Tali thought about it the more she started to fidget. While she continued to scan the Scroll yet again looking for clues, her right hand tapped away absently at the Crate right next to where Sigmund's Armour lay. One of her fingers, getting closer and closer to an engraved brass plate… closer and closer… nearer and nearer –
"Ouch… Boshtet!" Tali yelped as she caught the tip of her finger on the very sharp edge of the Brass Plate.
Oh-no not again…
Tali had to hurry; her finger tip was bleeding, and a suit-rupture no matter how small, could be –
"Boshtet!"
Her suits seals weren't responding properly… she had to repair her piece-of-scrap suit – herself – quickly… before she went into anaphylactic-shock –
"Come on… come on… don't do this to me…," Tali begged her Omni-Tool, as she struggled to get the old clanker to flash-forge her a new seal.
Beep!
With a relieved sigh, she slumped against the crate, her head rest on the back of the crate.
"That was too close…"
Well… that was fun, she thought sarcastically as she dragged herself wearily to her feet.
Her eyes quickly flitted angrily over the treacherous crate –
"Whaaaaaaa…?"
Tali couldn't believe it… there right in front of her… was the Crate… with her name on it… her Crate from the Manifest… Wow…
With trepidation; she reached out a hand tentively toward the Crate… feeling across the edges for the clasp… her previous wound completely forgotten… With a hiss the Crate sprung open… revealing –
"Keelah! I'm going to need a clean room for this…"
+=Detective Garrus Vakarian=+
+=Citadel=+
+=C-Sec Head-Quarters=+
+=Priority Crime Section=+
+=[043.183.M03]=+
+=[21.23.15]=+
+=[mark: +21.23.28]=+
Tap… Tap… Tap… Tap… Click…
Bare-faced Politian's…
Click… Click… Tap… Click… Tap…
Haven't they got anything better to do…?
Tap… Click… Click… Tap… Click… Squeak…
Garrus leaned back in his chair, his talons ached… he had been typing so hard that his talons went clear through the Haptic-Interface. His after action report lay forgotten, the ceiling was obviously far more appealing than the words he had just written. But no matter how calm he tried to be, no matter how hard he tried… he just couldn't put a leash on his anger. And like a rabid Varren; it was just a matter of time before he bit someone.
It just wasn't fair.
He was just following orders, but they still gave him yet another written warning.
Damn Chellick, the Bastard got a Promotion… and Jenna? Spirits damn those Politicians in the Hierarchy, they were campaigning to have her thrown under the proverbial bus… And there was nothing he could do about it… for her… for him… for anyone!
Usually at the end of a Case, he'd spend a few hours practising down on the Range. Unfortunately he'd been forced to hand his Duty-Weapons over to the Internal Investigations Section (IIS). So that idea went straight out of the air-lock, and all this meaningless report needed was a few more Politically Correct and Pointless Platitudes that almost all official reports required for some unknown reason. And then… it was onto the next Case, and the next… on and on… until retirement… at which point…
This didn't feel right… it didn't feel right at all… he had a feeling… a feeling in – curse this human expression – a feeling in his 'Gut'…
This wasn't over, not by a long shot… not while Saren and his cronies still roamed free.
He had seen the Quarian's Evidence; it was only a matter of time before the Hierarchy pulled their collective heads out of their asses, and sent someone after the Traitor. So-far though, it seemed that every Turian in Citadel Space was far too busy; filling out forms, requesting this, initialling that and generally wasting good space within the C-Sec Archives. Instead of just doing their jobs and actually catching criminals…
Garrus was drawn from his ever more morose thoughts, by a growing crowd of people – C-Sec Personal and Civilians alike – who were packing into the lounge across from his Cubicle. To Garrus's growing dismay some ass had just put Westerlund News on nearly every single monitor in the room…
What is going –
= … the Council has granted a second hearing after a growing public outcry from Alliance Citizens, after… =
Shit…
This was bad, the humans were mostly scared and many were already on the verge of rioting… the very last thing C-Sec needed was a Pro-Human Network like Westerlund News throwing a Molotov-Cocktail into the mix.
This can't possibly get any worse –
= … This after scandalous reports of a botched C-Sec investigation by two – as of yet unnamed – Turian Detectives, and the Death of a Human Witness in C-Sec custody… =
"Shit…"
What a lovely human word… oh-so appropriate, Garrus thought sardonically…
Garrus returned back to his desk, his report completely forgotten, as he started ruffling through the draws for; his Off-Duty Sidearm, his Off-Duty Assault-Rifle, and he was just moments away from grabbing his Off-Duty Grenade-Launcher… at which point he stopped and thought for a moment, that maybe – just maybe – the Grenade-Launcher was a bit over-kill… So he grabbed his Off-Duty Sniper-Rifle instead. With an absentminded flick of his wrist, Garrus transferred his draft report to his Omni-Tool – he could finish it on the way to his Apartment. Maybe just lay low for a few days, use up some of that Vacation-Time they would've forced him to take anyway.
He was moments away from reaching the nearest Transit-Terminal, when he remembered Westerlund's News Report… and the new Hearing… after a brief moment of uncertainty, he decided that maybe he should take a little detour before heading to his Apartment…
With a single talon he tapped away at the holographic interface of his Omni-Tool, as he sat down to wait for the next Sky-Car to take him down to the Wards…
+=Doctor Karin Chakwas=+
+=Citadel=+
+=Docking-Bay 422=+
+=SSV Normandy=+
+=[043.183.M03]=+
+=[23.30.15]=+
+=[mark: +23.30.28]=+
It had been a long twenty-four hours for the good doctor…
Twenty-four hours ago the Normandy had just arrived on Eden Prime…
Twenty-four hours ago she'd had a fully stocked Med-Bay…
Twenty-four hours ago the world – err-Universe – was a much simpler place…
A lot had happened in the last twenty-four hours…
The Doctor had just finished yet another inventory of the Normandy's Medical Supplies, when – unfortunately – their Requisitions Officer announced the arrival of nearly a dozen new Crates of desperately – not – needed Medical Supplies. Of course it arrived at the exact moment that Doctor Chakwas believed that she had completed her own Inventory. So in accordance with the despised principles of Murphy's Law… the moment you believe you are done, the Universe moves both Heaven and Earth to prove you wrong…
Therefore, when she got a voice-call from Shepard, the poor – exasperated – Doctor spent ten panic filled minutes rushing to prepare the Med-Bay for what – she believed to be – a Critically Injured Quarian. Of course – ten minutes later – Shepard had walked casually into her Med-Bay and told her, 'Don't worry, Tali already had treatment'… which not surprisingly did absolutely nothing to calm her already frazzled nerves. So when the Med-Bay doors opened yet again suddenly and unexpectedly, her response was not that surprising…
"Can I help you?" Chakwas asked exasperatedly, with as much calm and dignity as possible, without even turning around to see her latest irritant – I mean patient…
"Well… Shepard seems to think that I should see you. I told her that I am perfectly healthy," replied a cultured response, that one would expected from an Oxford Graduate.
It was at this point that Doctor Chakwas almost put down her stylus, she almost forgot about her Digital 3D Crossword… almost…
"And what exactly does our Medically Phobic Commander, believe is wrong with you then?" she asked the as of yet unnamed gentleman, her eyes never once leaving the data-pad – and her crossword – that was sitting mostly unused on her desk.
"Well… it probably has something to do with either my dislocated shoulder, or… perhaps… maybe the minor Gunshot wound to my knee," the posh sounding gentleman elaborated ever-so eloquently.
Unfortunately for the good Doctor, it took several long seconds for her tired and stressed – let's not forget stressed – mind to process the exact meaning behind the words the suave sounding gentleman just spoke, and once the frazzled pathways of her synapses caught up with the rest of her… her response was not that surprising.
"What?" she yelped, however before she could say anything further, her medical training took over, "Alright get up on the table… I need scans… I need your name, your Rank and your Serial Number… and needed I them ten minutes ago!"
She didn't give him time to answer, hell… she didn't even give him time to sit down properly. She didn't even give her Omni-Tool time to open the Medical-Suite fully before she started running scans…
Beep!
"Well that's weird," Chakws mumbled, before instructing her latest patient absently that, "I thought I told you to sit down…"
"I am seated Doctor," elaborated the suave gentleman quietly.
"That's impossi –" she stopped speaking as she looked up and suddenly as she realised that – even seated – her patient was indeed very, very big, " – ble…"
With quite a considerable amount of diplomacy, the as of yet unnamed giant decided that maybe an introduction was in order, "I am Brother-Sergeant Sigmund Tyrannus, it is an absolute pleasure to meet you Doctor…?"
Unfortunately dear Mister Sigmund's eloquence wasn't entirely contagious, so it wasn't that surprising that the Doctors reply was noticeably… lacking.
"Who…?"
"Well Doctor Who… perhaps I could help… clarify… your readings? What exactly seems to be the problem?" he queried, once more being as diplomatic as was humanly possible.
"Errr… Why are you so big?"
"That's a tricky one, because… I am larger than your average Space Marine. Generally the average Space Marine tops out at about seven, seven and a half… maybe eight feet… maximum. However my growth was somewhat accelerated, after the implementation of a… certain implant… whose name shall remain 'Classified'. After the implantation my endocrine system was… altered. Two and a half years later, I achieved my current height… Any other questions Doctor?"
Chakwas just stood there blinking owlishly; according to her Medical-Scans his eloquent description was a bit… lacking in details. It didn't explain nearly the two dozen anomalous… organs… that were scattered throughout his body… it didn't even begin to explain his super dense musculature… or –
"Why are the majority of your bones coated… or should I say, comprised of Ceramic Carbide?" Chakwas asked curiously, "And… could you tell me why your rib-cage is fused?"
Those hauntingly blue eyes bored deep into her very soul, before a very melodious voice asked, "Perhaps we should stick to the reason why I am here… Doctor?"
With an arched eyebrow, the Doctor returned her attention to the Scans in front of her and gave her diagnosis…
"Very well; I don't know how long ago you dislocated your shoulder, but according to my Scans it's almost completely healed… and your knee well…"
She frowned at the data on her Omni-Tool…
"That can't be right…"
"What's wrong Doctor?" Sigmund asked ever-so politely.
"It's this scar-tissue; the amount of coagulation, the levels of oxidation… according to my Scans you should be suffering from some sort of blood-clotting disorder… and yet –"
"Ah yes… I am well aware of the… Effect… that you have just described. It is perfectly natural… for an Astartes such as myself that is," he clarified for the good Doctor, "As for my Shoulder… well, I injured it this afternoon. Though I am quite surprised that you were still able to detect the injury… it should have completely healed by now."
All Doctor Chakwas could do was stand there and gape up at him, until –
"Anything else Doctor?"
She blinked owlishly at the enigmatic giant for several seconds, before she had marshalled her thoughts enough to ask, "Uhm… could you perhaps give me a run-down of your Medical-History… or could you at least point out which of these… implants are malignant or benign? I am the Ships Medical-Officer, and for the foreseeable future your health is my primary concern."
And after a few tense moments, Sigmund graciously acquiesced to her request, "So be it; bring out that Scan… first off we have the Sus-an-Membrane…"
He tapped the data-pad indicating the strange cartilaginous structure on the top the scan of his brain…
"Then we have the Catalepsean Node…"
He then tapped a strange jellyfish-like structure, right behind the cerebrum – just above the brainstem…
"Then there's the Occulobe…"
He then indicated the strangely discoloured area along his Optic-Nerve…
"This here is what's called the 'Lyman's Ear'… I actually have two…"
He drew his finger along the outline of a pair of oddly shaped – and yet nearly identical – growths along his inner ears…
"Then we have the Neuroglotsis and the Betcher's Gland…"
He again indicated a strange pair of… implants… at the back of his throat, which seemed to be connected to the Spinal Column…
"This is the Melanchrome…"
He tapped a black-mushroom shaped object at the base of the diagrams throat…
"The Progeniods…"
His finger tapped a diagram of a strange Melon-shaped organ in his upper chest…
"Then we have the Ossmodula and the Biscopea…"
He shifted the image slightly, before he enlarged a strange sea-urchin like structure attached to the pituitary gland at the base of his brain… before he split the screen and focused on a weird looking metallic-organic looking shape in his chest cavity…
"And then we have the Secondary Heart and the Oolitic Kidney…"
Yet again his strangely nibble fingers quickly manipulated the data-pad, before centring the image over a pair of Kidney shaped organs connected to the Primary Heart…
"The Multi-Lung…"
He drew a circle around a strange lung shaped organ lying across his diaphragm…
"The Haemastamen…"
He pointed out a strange lump on his Aorta…
"The Larraman's Organ…"
He circled – with a finger – a liver shaped organ the size of a golf-ball right next to the Primary Heart…
"The Preomnor…"
He pointed out a secondary – and smaller – stomach, implanted right above the primary stomach…
"Here we have the Omophagea…"
He tapped an odd little structure that seemed to be graphed into the lining of the Stomach near the base of his Spinal Column…
"Then we have the Mucranoid…"
He indicated the discolouration of a series of nerve clusters at the base of his Spine…
"And finally we have the Black-Carapace…"
He shrunk the image back down and highlighted a black sub-dermal vest-like structure, as well as a series of black nerve like structures that seemed to contact and entwine with the local nerve clusters.
"Anything else… Doctor?"
After that rather impressive monologue, Doctor Chakwas was at a loss for words.
But after a few moments of silence, she decided on a few, "I have just two questions… you still haven't explained your musculature or skeletal structure… or to put it in layman's terms… Why are you so tall and what the Hell have you been eating?"
Sigmund's only response was a bemused smirk, which brought a smile to the good Doctors face… and a bit of mischief to her thoughts…
"And what happened to the whole; 'whose names shall remain Classified' nonsense?"
With an aggrieved sigh, Ashley stomped her way out of the elevator…
It was like the damn AIA all over again…
"'You'll be debriefed after I have presented my report to the Admiralty at Arcturus'… Bullshit," she muttered in disgust… at least Shepard had the decency to throw her a bone.
"'Keep an eye on the Sergeant for me'… yeah I'll do that…," she continued to mutter under her breath, as she made her way into the Galley area.
With a sigh – that was more weary than angry – she plonked her un-armoured butt down in a nicely padded chair in the galley, while keeping a cautious eye on the door to the Med-Bay, but… since she really had nothing better to do she opened up her Omni-Tool and decided to go through the Combat Footage from her Helmet Cam. And against popular wisdom, watching all that aggression and violence… actually cheered Ashley up a bit. It only really took five minutes; before she was grinning like a maniac as she watched Tali's rescue for the third time in a row.
Hmmmn… all this Vid. really needs is a theme-song and a catchy title… and it'd be perfect…
With a grin plastered across her face that could only be described as sadistic, Ashley opened up her music-library on her Omni-Tool… she spent several minutes flicking through her playlists, until she found exactly what she was looking for.
"Ah… here we go," she mumbled excitedly, as she edited the theme-song, giving the… Action Scene… an appropriate sound-track, "Now all this really needs is the right Title…?"
Which would – unfortunately – have to wait, because right at that moment Ashley heard the doors to the elevator open. And a reflex that had been honed into her psyche by years of service in the Alliance, had her out of her chair, back ramrod straight, hands ready at her sides waiting for the call to salute. Her critical duties – ehm, ehm, ehm – set aside for the moment, her Omni-Tool on Stand-By… she stood ready and waiting to greet whatever superior Office may come her way.
However she soon found out that the latest arrival on deck wasn't from the Alliance at all.
"Hey Tali, what's in the Box?"
"Oh… nothing really," the petite Quarian stuttered with embarrassment, "Just a new suit, a couple of upgrades… oh, and a new Omni-Tool…"
"Really… that doesn't really look like nothing," she replied curiously, "Uhm… don't take this the wrong way, but… where exactly did you get that?"
The shy and petite Quarian went very quiet at that question… and the galley filled with an almost deathly silence…
"You… you think I stole it didn't you… just because I'm a Quarian isn't it… after all I've done for you – how dare you –"
"No, no… it's not – I just…," Ashley paused guiltily, trying her hardest to find the right words, "This Ship was on a shakedown cruise and well… all the equipment I have are the clothes on my back… and the rest of the crew? We've been eating MRE's for the last three days, so… I didn't think the Requisitions Officer would even have a spare tube of Omni-Gel… let alone all that!"
Tali just seemed to deflate with every stuttered word; all that anger leaving her like a very slow puncture… it was as if she just couldn't bring herself to be angry at the exceedingly embarrassed human standing in front of her.
"Sorry… it's just… I've only been on Pilgrimage for less than a week, and… I'm the only one left from my Pilgrimage Crew," Tali tried to explain whilst keeping back tears, she looked so tired, "All anyone… everyone has ever treated my people… treated me as… is… all they have ever seen me as… is a suit-rat!"
Ashley was very surprised at the amount of venom and vitriol, that this young woman could put in just a simple… word… and yet…
"So… where did you get the box?"
"Miss Williams!"
Ashley winced… only one person… one teacher… on Sunday-School Teacher in particular… had ever used her name like that. After a brief moment of panic fuelled indecision… Ashley slowly creaked round to find a vey unimpressed Doctor Chakwas, standing in the door to the Med-Bay.
"It's okay… really," Tali squeaked nervously under the Doctor's disapproving stare, "It's… not really a secret… well… Sigmund gave it to me…"
It was around this point that Sigmund made himself known, quietly and ominously, "Really…?"
His voice came from above and behind them…
How… when did he…?
The question on the tip of almost everybody's tongue was left unsaid…
How can someone so big move so quietly…?
Well except for Tali that is, who carried on talking – undeterred and – with a little bit more determination than what she had a few minutes before…
"Well… that's not entirely true… I mean the Scroll you just gave me, told me where to find it. Adams helped me look through the rest of the Crates, and well…," Tali mumbled her way through most of her explanation, before she started fiddling with her box, "I mean look at it… it's made out of the most expensive materials I know of… and look at the Specs its… this was fabricated to my exact measurements… as if… it was made from me…"
Though sceptical, Ashley had to admit that it seemed that Tali was right. The plastic rapped suit that Tali held in her hands was impressive… it was almost identical to the one that the Quarian was already wearing. It was a bit more of a deep purple, than the dull lavender of the worn suit she was already wearing. It also had some sort of silvery gold segmented neck piece, unlike the black polymer – plastic looking thing – that she current wore. The hood was also a bit bigger and a tad baggier, and now that she got a good look at it up close, she noticed a series of discretely interwoven plates that –
"What's that?"Ashley asked curiously, running a curious digit over a strange looking black – rubbery – bundle.
"Some kind of Artificial Muscle Fibre Bundle… unlike any I've ever seen before," Sigmund spoke suddenly and eerily, for the first time in the conversation, "My best guess would be that this suit is some sort of rudimentary set of Power Armour."
Tali's excitement was palpable when she asked him, "Like Yours?"
"Not exactly," Sigmund almost whispered, however one look at how despondent she looked, he moved to explain further, "Without a series of Sub-Dermal Implants or a Reinforced Skeletal Structure, no-one can don – let alone use – my Armour. In addition this Suit isn't rigid; so the amount of… force? Yes force… that you could exert at any one time, is… limited. And my best guess is this Hermetically Sealed part here –"
He tapped a small segment covered in white plastic with his finger, "– I surmise is part of a Nerve-Suit… Such a Suit is notoriously difficult to maintain, there is also a significant time delay. Implants are easier to maintain, more permanent too."
Silence followed the end of Sigmund's dissertation, and Ashley hoping to get more out of the giant, threw in her two cents to keep the conversation alive.
"Anything else in the Crate?"
"Just this," Tali replied as she pulled out a strange three-fingered slender gauntlet, "I thought it was part of the new Omni-Tool, but no… look… the thumbs is on the wrong side."
"It's a Power-Fist," Sigmund stated succinctly, however at the looks of confusion they were giving him he continued by instructing Tali, "here… give me your hand."
She held out her right-hand; and with care – that belied his size – he supported her wrist with one hand, while the other slid the gauntlet onto her hand with a –
Click
"That's it… now clench your fist until you hear a –"
Click
"– That's it –"
A golden-white field of electricity sprung to life and arched along the gilded gauntlet, distorting the very air around the glove with power…
"Wow, that's… that almost looks like your Sword, Sarge…," Ashley mumbled in awe.
With a sage-like nod, Sigmund explained that, "It's similar… however – one moment… Please clench your fist again Tali –"
Click
"– There we go… This gauntlet is so intricate and so delicate that I cannot even discern where the field generator is housed."
"So… how does it work?"
"Perhaps I can explain," interjected – the not so meek sounding – Tali assertively, "As I understand it –"
Before Tali could explain further, with a blast of static the PA System blared to life… cutting off any further conversation.
=We've got trouble Team= a familiar feminine sounding voice.
Ashley opened her Omni-Tool, before asking, "Where we going Commander?"
=Anywhere but here… there's a Terra Firma rally going on in the Presidium… It's turned nasty… C-Sec has managed to keep them away from the Council Tower. So… three guesses where their headed to now?=
"C-Sec prevented them from harming their Leaders, so these… Rioters have turned their anger on the Arbiters instead…Why am I not surprised… no matter where… no matter when… the ignorant will always behave thus. Shepard… is there enough time for me to reassemble my Armour?"
=Sorry Sarge… we need to leave ten minutes ago…you've got five= Shepard declared with certainty as she shut off her Comm.
"And just when things got interesting," Ashley muttered despondently as she climbed the stairs with Tali and Sigmund close behind, she turned to face Tali as she approached the first door, "Sorry about all this… but I think your new Suit is going to have to wait."
Tali sighed, and looked down sadly at the box in her hands, before muttering, "It's not like I don't have a working Suit already."
"We've got nearly two hours to kill… let me try something," Ashley consoled the weary Quarian, as she opened a Comm-Line on her Omni-Tool, "Hey Shepard, I think I have an idea…"
+=Team Shepard=+
+=Citadel=+
+=Tayseri Ward=+
+=A Non-Descript Maintenance Tunnel=+
+=[043.183.M03]=+
+=[01.46.15]=+
+=[mark: +01.46.28]=+
He was just so quiet… unnaturally so. Every one of his footsteps were silent… each and every stride was lithe and long. The way he moved, was like some sort of Feline Predator, yet… with more Power… it felt more… feral. Every single muscle… every sinew… would strain against the Midnight Black of his slick form fitting leather bodysuit. The Suit itself was an amazing work of art; every inch of the pristine leather was covered in the most intricate carvings she had ever seen. The skill of the leatherworking was impressive, every stitched and intricately carved inch of it.
As amazing as the Body-Suit was, it paled in comparison to the awe inspiring silvery pelt that enshrouded his figure. The pelt was absolutely enormous… it covered nearly every inch of his form, from his collar to well past his knees… but it was not the thick fur of the pelt that the eyes were drawn. No… it was to the head of the fearsome beast, which sat menacingly upon Sigmund's shoulder.
The beast must have been enormous; its head alone was almost as wide as it was long, and… it sort of reminded Shepard of a Polar Bear she had once seen in an Arctic Reserve on Noveria. But it wasn't the same… It was bigger, and more… Wolf-like. When she had worked up enough courage to ask the giant; 'What was the name of the… Creature it had come from'… he had given her but a single word…
Thunderwolf…
Great… he's back to being all mysterious and shit, she groused mentally as she waited – im – patiently for the last elevator down to the Wards to arrive.
Beep…
Back to business… Ashley and Kaiden quickly swept the elevator for threats…
"Clear!"
They led Tali – with her Box – into the empty elevator, while Sigmund and Shepard kept watch… Well, Shepard kept watch, Sigmund on the other hand… he seemed to be completely bored. She didn't even think that he was armed… well she couldn't see his hands, so… but I think he's armed.
However there was no time for these thoughts; as they backed up slowly… carefully… sweeping across the nearly empty hallway, until –
Fwoosh…
Safe…
"Nearly there team… just one more block till we reach the 'Safe House'," Shepard informed them absently, as she quickly checked her gear.
Shepard was the only one really equipped for this mission. She was the only one with Armour… well aside from Kaiden that is, but more importantly she was the only one on the Team who was armed with more than just a mere pistol. Speaking of which…
"Hey Furball, did you bring your Bolter?"
Sigmund didn't move to acknowledge her… hell he didn't even twitch… before he responded quite expressively that, "… No."
"Your big ol' Butter-Knife?"
That got a twitch, "… No."
"So… besides your latest fashion-statement, the only dangerous implement you happen to be wielding is your sharp wit?" Shepard asked ever-so sweetly.
Sigmund smirked at that – not exactly the reaction I was going for – and replied ever-so sweetly in turn, "And that is where you are wrong Commander… I just so happen to have on my person my Combat-Knife and 'Fang'."
"So you have a pocket-knife and a tooth… big-whoop," Shepard muttered sarcastically, "Do you have anything that can do some real damage?"
"I assure you Shepard, my Combat-Knife –" Slick "– and Fang are more than capable of overcoming any threat we may face," he assured her softly, as he patted the head of the silvery axe at his side… but that was not what caught Shepard's attention.
"That's not a Knife! That's a Machette! The blade alone has got to be at least a foot long!"
"It's two feet… but who's counting?" Sigmund quipped sarcastically.
That thing… is no knife… sure it looked like an oversized Combat-Knife, but that's where the similarities ended; the back of the blade was covered in dozens of serrated saw-like teeth, while the blade itself was more of a dull grey.
"Okay?! So… where did you get the Axe then?"
"We have Tali to thank for that," Sigmund replied casually.
"No, no, no," Tail spluttered with embarrassment, before she muttered that, "All I did was read a manifest, and ask Adams to open a few Crates…"
Her curiosity peaked by the Quarians vagueness, Shepard asked the obvious, "So what did you find exactly?"
"Oh nothing much; about two dozen suits of Power Armour, enough parts a pieces to make Fifty new Bolters, a half-dozen wrist-mounted Storm-Bolters, at least three Crates of spare parts for a Crew-Served Heavy Bolter, several hundred thousand rounds of ammunition, oh… and enough spare Armour-Plates to re-equip another hundred Space Marines at least," she listed out ever-so calmly, but when she looked back up she noticed the looks of incredulity writ across their faces, "… What?"
The following questions were a Team effort; Ashley gasped the 'Where', Kaiden stuttered the 'How', and Shepard gulped the 'When'. And Tali politely answered them all, by confusing them even further.
"The Normandy picked it all up on Eden Prime… apparently there was Orders from your Admiralty, signed paperwork and everything."
However before Shepard could splutter out any further Questions, Sigmund gave them all a few 'helpful' words, "I find with such acts of providence such as these, it's better to nod in the affirmative and reload, than waste time trying to understand."
And a few moments later, before the words could actually sink in – Beep – they had arrived.
"Alright Team, we're nearly there… move out…"
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Nearly there…
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Almost…
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Just a little longer…
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
It was just so hard…
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
Left Foot. Right Foot.
It had always been so…
And then he forgot about everything else as he was drawn into his thoughts.
Why is life so hard…?
At first it had been the benign tumours…
Then there were the Biotic Seizures…
The L2 Implants – the cure – was…
Well worse than the Seizures…
Then there was BAat, Brian-Camp… what a Hell-Hole…
The only light at the end of a Dark Tunnel…
Enlistment – on his terms…
A fresh chance to overcome the Odds that were stacked against him…
A fresh chance to prove… to others… and himself…
A fresh chance to prove… well… everything…
He was proud of all the Commendations he had received…
Every single one of them was hard earned…
It was despite of his bad health…
Not because of it…
It was all about control…
Shaping his own future…
Deciding his own fate…
That's what being a Sentinel meant to him…
Every little thing he had ever learnt…
Gave him more understanding…
The more he understood…
The greater his reach…
The greater his reach…
The greater his control…
Control… not something he'd had very much of, in the last twenty-four hours…
So the first thing he'd done when he got back on the Ship, after Eden Prime; was to try and learn… to understand… to further his reach… to regain his control. And for nearly seventeen hours he had tried to do just that… with very little success. Every single one of his carefully crafted tools… useless. All of his hard-work… worthless. Worse than that, he had almost killed the guy that had just saved their collective asses – not once – but twice in the last twenty four hours…
So when they had gotten back to the Normandy for the second time… he hadn't even gotten past the Air-Lock before; the first migraine… the first recrimination… the self-loathing… the blame… had caught up with him… and that's where Shepard had found him fifteen minutes later. Of course he had jumped at the opportunity to put a final nail into that Bastard Saren's Coffin… that's why they were here, outside –
"We're here," Shepard declared confidently as she led the Team toward the closed doorway.
She confidently led the Team through the door and into the Clinic, only to find –
"Hello Shepard, I thought I might find you here."
+=Team Shepard=+
+=Citadel=+
+=Council Tower=+
+=The Dreaded Elevator of Eternal Boredom=+
+=[043.183.M03]=+
+=[58.48.17]=+
+=[mark: +58.48.30]=+
If I ever meet the Brain-Dead Engineer or Retarded Bureaucrat who chose this God-Awful Music… I swear… I will make it my mission to hunt them down, force them to listen to this ghastly… Crap… no, they will beg… they will plead for it to end… and then – and only then – will I drag them out into the street… and have them SHOT!
It was unsurprising that Ashley's vitriolic mental diatribe went unheard by the rest of the occupants in this Elevator – of Torment – except for Sigmund, who gave her a knowing smile.
It's as if he can read my mind –
"Maybe I can…"
Ashley stared at the silent giant with incredulity, but Sigmund didn't seem to notice… he just seemed to ignore her. Not necessarily deterred, Ashley turned her attention on the latest – if temporary – addition to the Ground Team. Detective Garrus Vakarian, he was a strange one; he had tracked down Shepard and her Team, and lay in wait on the off chance that they'd lay low in a Clinic they'd previously had a fire-fight in. Shepard's reaction had been sudden and immediate; she'd roughly taken Garrus aside and a heated – if whispered – argument with him.
And ten minutes later, she had returned obviously unimpressed with the grinning – it was hard to tell with those damn mandibles – Detective in tow. Her next omission had been quite surprising:
"Alright Team… Mr. Vakarian here will be helping us out. He's here as a liaison for C-Sec… he'll be organising our transport to the Hearing and he will be getting us in and out with as much expediency as possible. Afterwards…," she paused to glare at the grinning Turian, "We'll see…"
Shepard finished her odd little statement as mysteriously as it had begun, before she swept Tali off towards the Clinics Clean-Room which had been booked for an hour. Surprisingly it took Tali only a half an hour to change onto her new Suit, but Shepard still insisted that she pay for the full hour. She also gave Doctor Michael a bonus… though the good Doctor insisted that she really hadn't done anything.
And so a quiet and very tense hour later the Ground Team trickled slowly out of the Clinic, only to find a heavily armed Squad of Special Response Officers waiting for them at the nearest Transport Hub. They had been sent to protect the Witness – Tali – and they had been assigned to this detail personally by Executor Pallin. Who according to at least one of the rookie Special Response Officers had, had his rubber arm twisted (by the Human Ambassador) into assigning the protection detail.
The Sky-Car ride had been quiet, and they had to circle the landing site twice, while the local Patrol Officers cleared for them a landing space/site. The Terra Firma Rioters were still out in full force; tearing up the carefully landscaped gardens, smashing the expensive store-fronts, and hurling garbage – and outright abuse – at the nearest C-Sec personnel they could see. It was astounding – surreal – it was so very strange… the righteous anger completely misplaced.
As a Williams, Ashley was by no means a friend of the Council, but still… Terra Firma's backward xenophobia was beyond her. On principle Human Supremacists weren't bright; they never have been and they never will be. From the sparkling dawn of Human History they had come to represent the worst of Human failings; blind, unthinking and irrational hatred. Whether they be the Nazi's and their Neo-Nazi spawn, Stalinists and their degenerate prodigy the Maoists, or the Fascists be they South American or otherwise… well at least the Saliphists had exterminated themselves, before polluting the minds of others. Such… animals… never let things like facts get in the way of their personal Crusades while continuing onward in a haze of their own blind hatred.
Why else would a group of xenophobes settle on the most culturally diverse Space Station at the very heart of Citadel Space… why else, but to stir up ethnic tension and infect others with their own virulent strain of racial prejudice. A stereotype has to come from somewhere – and in this case – the Stereotype of the rash, arrogant and brutish Human… that was burned into the Galactic Consciousness by the very first Terra Firma rally in a small park in the Presidium, on Armistice Day five years after the First Contact War. The current Rioting was bad… those Riots had been worse. For nearly an hour the worst Supremacist Scum… Humanity had to offer… made speech… after speech… filled with venom, with vitriol, with little more than ignorance and blind hatred. Until an Alien – a Batarian actually – had thrown a bottle… then all hell broke loose. Several new C-Sec Regulations had been written that day… and just like the 'LA Riots' were a crucible for the Los Angeles Police Department… and hopefully C-Sec had learnt their lessons well… probably.
Then again they let an unguided mindless Mob dictate the course of the running street battles, so… probably not. At this rate it seemed that they weren't going to make it to the hearing, they were pinned in a doorway that led to the Service Tunnels by the raging mob that heaved and swirled through the Financial District. That was of course until Sigmund stepped forward. He brashly strode past the line of Patrol Officers, and walked straight up to the first 'Protestor' he saw… He delivered an Ultimatum to everyone within earshot:
"Move or be removed."
Unfortunately… no-one has ever accused Terra Firma of having any Intelligence whatsoever. So – before anyone could string a pair of brain-cells together – Sigmund began with the forced 'Removals'. For those of you who have never ever been to the Presidium, well… the most important feature that you should try and keep in the very forefront of your mind is the Water Reservoir. It runs along the very centre of the Presidium Ring, which snaked gently along the bottom of the curve. The gently snaking ocean blue ribbon, clearly dividing the smooth flowing – white – structures on curving walls of the Torus… in between with graceful glass and shining steel, beautiful bridge-like buildings criss-cross the expanse of water in a resplendent display of elegant architecture.
Why is it important to know of the Reservoir? Quite simply put, that is because that is where Sigmund 'placed' the offending Rioters. By 'placed'… I mean 'threw'… why is this important you ask? Well the Reservoir was at least twenty feet from where the furry grey giant was standing, that… and the fact that he was throwing the numbskulls underhanded… extra points for difficulty… and it only took another four more Morons in the drink before they finally learnt their lesson, and made a hole. It took their Squad less than a minute for them to reach the Elevator at the base of the Ivory Tower. They followed in Sigmund's wake, as he parted the angry – now fearful – crowds like Moses parting the Red-Sea… no, that didn't sound right… it was more than that… the fear… the Power… Sigmund looked – he felt – Feral… wild… he was like a drawn bow… taut… full of violence and rage… just waiting to snap… and just like a prowling grizzly… the – now cowed – crowd got out of his way as fast as humanly possible – while making as few threatening gestures as humanly possible – it was almost… cliché.
Walking through that crowd, it was so quiet you could hear a pin drop. It was so tense you could cut the air with a knife. But there was something else… an almost palpable sense of… Fear? No… Anger maybe? No… it wasn't so easily describable… it was unidentifiable. The crowd was waiting for… what? No-one really knew, but… they were clearly unwilling to… challenge… the undisputed Predator within their midst to find out.
It was almost a relief when their C-Sec Minders ushered them into the lower Atrium of the Citadel Tower. That was five minutes ago; and after a quick checking of their credentials at a C-Sec checkpoint, they had stepped into the 'Elevator from Hell!' With a sigh Ashley spared a glance around the compartment, slowly studying the rest of the Condemned. They all seemed to be doing their own thing – in pairs at least; Shepard and Sigmund seemed to be content to just stand there staring at the exit-door for the Elevator, Garrus was engrossed with his Omni-Tool. Occasionally he would start to type furiously before stopping suddenly to – strangely enough – giggle… manically.
I don't want to know…
Tali and Kaiden on the other hand were content to while away their time staring aimlessly out of the rear exit-door. Ashley decided that it may be fun to join the sombre pair; she was quite surprised to find that she now had a front-row seat to the full blown riot going on down bellow in the Presidium.
"And we Humans wonder why the rest of the Galaxy, sees only a pack of arrogant mindless barbarians," Kaiden muttered sombrely.
Surprisingly it was Sigmund that broke the stifling silence.
"The greatest enemy of Truth is very often not the Lie… deliberate, contrived and dishonest… but the Myth… persistent, persuasive and unrealistic… It is the Belief in Myths that allows for the comfort of Opinion without the discomfort of Thought…," the giant shook his head despondently at that, "Those animals down there are but a pale imitation of you… or I… and until the Time comes were they willing relinquish their poisoned ideals… *[Sigh]*… I have said too much…"
It was only after Ashley had worked up the courage to speak, when she heard how hoarse her own voice sounded, that she belatedly realised just how quiet the small enclosed space had become… it felt like no-one had even dared to breathe.
"Please Sarge… I think I speak for everyone when I say; we all want to hear you speak."
"This is not a conversation for… the ears of the unenlightened," Sigmund replied softly, and yet with far more authority than Ashley thought possible.
"At least… tell us who you just quoted Sarge…"
With a sigh Sigmund relented, "The first part… I had once heard from a corrupted Audio Recording, of a man named John Fitzgerald Kennedy… and the rest; well… it was what I was once told by Roboute Guilliman himself."
At the looks of confusion writ large across the faces of the rest of the people in the Elevator, Shepard clarified, "he is the Primarch of the Thirteenth Legion."
This admission didn't really explain anything, but before anyone could voice any further decent, the elevator came to a gentle stop and the doors slid open. And Shepard led them out into the Council Chambers.
"Okay Team, I just got word from Anderson; Udina's already presenting our Case, we just have to wait for him to introduce the Recordings into evidence. Once that happens they will call Tali up to give corroboration… come on."
Councillor Tevos was not having a good day… first this Eden Prime fiasco… that Udina just wouldn't stop sprouting off about it in front of the Press… then there were those Terra Firma Neanderthals… lovely human word… and now she was waiting for word from her Contact… this day couldn't get any worse.
Beep…
"Speak of the Ardat-Yakshi," she muttered under her breath, "Talk to me…"
She uttered the last careful phrase to activate her Sub-Dermal com-link… automatically connecting the Councillor to her most favoured Spectre… Tela Vasir.
= We have a match Councillor… its Benezia =
"Do you have confirmation," she whispered, so quietly in fact that almost no-one could hear her.
Meanwhile next to her Spartacus started to shout down Udina's latest and most ludicrous suggestion – read as demand – yet, a Council Fleet in the Traverse… was he insane…?
Vasir replied, interrupting the Councillor from her weighty thoughts = Yes Councillor… I ran the Voice-Identification Software myself… and I called in at least a half dozen favours from my Contacts within the STG. They lost contact with their Agents following the Matriarch over thirty-six hours ago… They are unaware of her current whereabouts =
While Tevos was listening to the Spectre's confirmation; her college Valern on the other hand, was currently rebuking both Spartacus and Udina, while she raised a hand to her face – feigning stress – thus hiding the use of her Com-Link.
"The Humans have a saying Spectre… 'It was just another nail in her Coffin'."
= Coffin? =
"The Humans place their dead in carved wooden boxes, most of them anyway… they bury them."
= Seems Poetic… they return to the Earth from whence they came – =
"If I may make a suggestion Councillors…," Sigmund announced as he stepped forward, bringing an abrupt end to the bickering between the Councillors (well those who had actually been listening) and the Human Ambassador, "There is a solution… an outcome, that will satisfy all the parties involved with –"
"I represent Humanities interests at this Hearing… Sergeant. It is not your place to interrupt your superiors," Udina spat, his venom and his ire directed solely at the Astartes.
"And I represent my Legions interests… Ambassador," he rebuked calmly, far too calmly in Tevos's humble opinion, "and as a representative of my Legion… I am here to appeal to the Leaders of this… Citadel…"
He slowly turned back to face Udina, and spat with a surprising amount of venom, "Not bribe politicians!"
This could get out of hand fast…
"Gentlemen… please… I implore you to let cooler heads prevail, there is no need for violence here," Tevos spoke neutrally, as she tried to protect a sense of calm and understanding… because anyone with half a brain – or at least one good eye – could see Sigmund fingering the Axe at his waist.
It wouldn't take that much to set him off… and then she would have a front row seat, as the Super-Human hacked the Ambassador to death.
I know a few people who would pay good money to see that…
Tevos went for broke, deciding that maybe projecting an aura of casual interest was in order, "I am intrigued Sergeant… you spoke as if a Leader and a Politician were two separate ideals… They are not mutually exclusive… does one not require the other?"
Sigmund turned back to face the Council, a small sardonic smile tugging at the corner of his lips, "They do not Councillor… like Councillor Spartacus… I too come from a Culture that values the merits of the individual as well as their character –" he turned back to face Udina once more "– and not simply because they are capable of creating the image of competency…"
He turned back to face the Council, raising his voice… and the Voice began to echo throughout the Chamber…
"Councillors… you have sacrificed much in the service of your people… Each and every single one of you… through much hard work and sacrifice… have spent years, decades, even centuries working towards not only the betterment of your people… but the betterment of Galactic Society as a whole. You were only promoted to your position of power, only long after you had proven yourselves worthy… I am here today… We are here today… because one amongst our number has proven themselves… unworthy. They have struck down the innocent… Whom we are sworn to protect… He shot his Brother when his back was turned... A Brother that was family in all but blood… We are here today not to pass Judgement… No!… We are here today… to decide who shall have the Honour… Nay!… the Privilege!… to bring this Traitor to Justice! And if I may, Councillors, here before this most August of Bodies… make but a humble suggestion…"
He paused drawing them in, every man, woman and child within this Chamber were hanging off of his every word; "I know of one that is worthy… Shepard has proven herself – time and time again – in the last twenty four hours alone… Shepard has toiled tirelessly to Avenge a fallen Brother… a Turian whom she owed neither life nor allegiance… She has proven herself a relentless hunter, as she has worked ceaselessly to avenge this Fallen Defender of Eden Prime… The Traitor has proven that you can do far worse, but in Shepard I can find no-one better suited to be a Spectre…"
He paused to draw them all in once more… deeper and deeper, every single individual in the wings were hanging off the balconies in anticipation.
"Shepard has shown that she will neither bend her principles… nor break under the fell clutch of circumstance… Shepard has been bloodied, but remains unbowed… We are all the Masters of our own Fate… but few, are the Captains of their very Souls!"
He raised his right hand – palm open heavenwards – an offer of something… more.
"The Choice is yours…"
Impressive, thought Tevos, however she would never make such an omission out loud.
They had been out manoeuvred… she turned to face the grim visage of – her counter-part – Spartacus…
Sigmund had, in a stroke of brilliance, used his final words to…
She could see the tension rolling off of Spartacus…
Sigmund, though appearing generous, had given them an Ultimatum…
Valern on the other hand, was as unreadable as ever…
Give the people what they want, or I will…
Well played Sergeant… well played…
She looked toward Valern – he gave a nod indicating his accent – she then turned toward Spartacus – who grudgingly nodded – giving his accent as well. The decision made, they each turned to activate their own Holo-Terminals. And so began a process almost as old as the Council itself… in a ceremony that could trace its roots back to before the Krogan Rebellions… Tevos took the first step, by intoning:
"Commander Jane Shepard… please step forward…"
Commander Shepard paused for a moment to – strangely – frown angrily at the snickering Turian C-Sec Officer standing next to her. A moment later she marched up to the petitioner's podium, passing Sigmund as he yielded the stage… a most beatific smile cast across her features. All the frustration from the previous Hearing clearly forgotten.
With a nod to the Commander, Tevos continued; "It is the decision of this Council that you be granted all the Powers and Privileges of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance branch of the Citadel."
"Spectres are not trained… but Chosen," Valern spoke, carrying on the torch and continuing the ceremony, "They are individuals… forged in the Fires of Service and Battle… individuals whose actions have elevated themselves above the Rank and File."
Tevos once again took-up the baton, "Spectres are an ideal… A symbol… The embodiment of Courage… Determination… and Self-Reliance… Spectres are the right-hand of the Council," she swept her right hand out, a gesture that encompassed the entirety of the room; "They are the instruments of our will."
It was the as of yet silent Spartacus that carried on the chant, "Spectres bear a great burden… They are the Protectors of Galactic Peace and Stability… our first, and often last line of defence… The safety of Galactic Civilisation is theirs to uphold."
Tevos spoke next, and after a brief moment of thought she decided to break from tradition.
"You are the first Human Spectre, Shepard… This is a great honour… and an even greater accomplishment… for you and your Species as a whole."
Valern moved to speak, but before he could even open his mouth, all semblance of order was swept away… as a thunderous round of applause drowned out all rhyme and reason within the shining walls of the Ivory Tower, but after several loud minutes Valern continued to formally announce Shepards first Mission…
"We are sending you into the Attican Traverse… after the Former-Spectre Saren Arterius… He is a fugitive from Justice, and you are authorised to use any means necessary to apprehend him… and failing that… Eliminate Him."
"Where is he now?" Shepard inquired formally.
"We do not know… during the last Hearing he contacted us through an encrypted Channel… All we do know is that he is somewhere in the Attican Traverse," Tevos admitted simply.
"We will forward any relevant information directly to you Shepard," Spartacus declared in a tone that brooked no compromise.
"If there are no more petitioners at this time… this meeting of the Council is adj–"
BOOOOM-Crack!
An almost deafening crack of displaced air…
The burning stench of Ozone…
A blinding flash of light…
And from within all this Chaos… a deceptively feminine – if oddly echoing – voice declared…
"I believe I may have some business… that would interest the Council…"
Why hello my pretties, I present to you the most insidious of plot-devices... the Cliff-Hanger... and if you think I'm nasty, my Beta-Reader thinks I'm a Bastard. This Chapter is the biggest to Date at over 13 000 words, and the fact that I managed to type it in under Ten Days is impressive if I do say so myself.
As for Business. Just a few things; Sorry Dinoman1234 but for now I am deeply committed to maintaining the quality of this Story and writing my own Original Fiction so i am unable to commit to anything else at this time. Maybe at a later date once I've finished this Story.
As for my final bit of Business; I'm extending the dead-line for the next Chapter to Mid-April. I need the time to clean-up, correct and plan the direction for Chapters 10, 11 and 12 so stay tuned.
Next Update on 15/04/2014