~0~
UNSC CODEX ENTRY: GOVERMENT: ROYALTY
In the multi-cultural society of the modern Unified Earth Government, not every colony follows the same system through which the state or community is controlled. It is estimated that seventy percent of the colonies are part of the UEG. Twenty percent is governed in a different manner, while the remaining ten percent consists of organizations and communities like the Insurrection, the Black Fang and the Templar Order.
Royalty denotes those who are in a royal position or authoritative power. As kings or queens, they lead their group and maintain control, but are also fully responsible for their people. There is a difference between the royalties of humans and royalties of Liminals. The Humans' leaders are chosen on birth. Their position is hereditary, whereas Liminals choose their leaders based on their power. In addition, the leaders of humans rule over provinces and regions, whereas Liminal queens, or the rare kings, rule a section of a single race.
Additionally, Liminal Queens and Kings do not always assume a position of power. They may simply continue on with their daily life, or use the community's acceptance of their physical or political prowess for other, lesser pure reasons.
In the galactic community, Liminal Queens are often compared to Asari Matriarchs, in terms of experience, wisdom or martial prowess.
~0~
09:35 Hours, January 24th , 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC Reach
Docked to the Citadel
Take a girl out shopping, they'd told her. It'd be fun, they'd told her…
Miia was rummaging around the shops in the lower Wards, searching for medical supplies and ammo for their coming missions. The people down in the Markets didn't get a lot of Liminal visitors, so they caught plenty of weird looks. Now, that alone wouldn't have been a problem for her. Miia had nothing to be ashamed of after all, and she was quite confident she could hold her own when an alien harassed her.
No, it was her shopping buddy who was making her somewhat nervous.
"Quit staring back," Miia told Corporal Draco, who had spotted a creepy Krogan leaning against a wall at the other side of the room. "They don't like that."
Of course, little miss Dragon didn't listen. Didn't even bother replying. She just leered right back at that Krogan, giving off the impression that she was figuring out how best to kill him, or how best to eat him.
Knowing how Dragons went about their business, it was probably a bit of both. Miia didn't know a lot about her new teammate, safe for her actions during the Human-Batarian war. It was one of the main reasons why she'd taken the girl with her. To talk to her, to get to know her, like teammates were supposed to do.
That was the plan, at least.
The Salarian behind the counter noticed her eyeing his goods. "Hey there. Looking for supplies?"
"Actually, yes," replied Miia. "I'm looking for ammo mods for UNSC gear."
"Hmm…difficult to get, mods for UNSC gear. I have some Shotgun ammo, though. Favourite ammo for Krogan."
"For Krogan? Like, to be used against Krogan or to be used by Krogan?"
"Both, both! Krogans like the punch, helps them kill other Krogan. You hunting Krogan?"
Miia looked over her shoulder at the Krogan standing right there in the room with them. "No…we're hunting ehm…mechs."
"Mechs?"
"Yup. Synthetic guards, you know? Big, heavily armoured, lots of shields."
"Ah, ah! Mechs! Yes, yes, solid shotgun slug excellent for hunting mechs!"
Miia wasn't sure she trusted this alien's expertise. He felt like the type of guy who'd claim these shotgun slugs could solve indigestion if properly applied. Still, the Master Chief had given her the order to gather supplies, so that was she would do. "What kind of slugs are we talking about?"
He pulled out a box. A UNSC ammo box. Great.
On the upside, it guaranteed good quality.
On the downside…he had a damn UNSC box. "Where did you get that?"
"Ah-ah-ah! Buyer's secret!"
"…that's not how it works."
"…these solid slug rounds come in two varieties. One with an armour-piercing tip and an incendiary one. The specifications are printed there."
Miia sighed. The ammo was legit. They could use legit ammo. "Fine, I'll take them. How much do they cost?"
Being a soldier wasn't the best-paying job in the galaxy. Sure, the dental care was fine and all, but saving for retirement was a pain. Still, she had figured that hanging out with a Spectre allowed for a bigger budget when it came to buying gear. They were going on a mission of galactic importance!
Well, she'd also thought that shopping with the new girl would be fun, and here she was, hoping that her teammate wouldn't eat the Krogan.
Because, as it turned out, Spectres didn't get paid. At all. They were expected to buy all their own equipment, which had made for a very awkward surprise when the Master Chief had discovered that.
Miia imagined how the Spartans had functioned if they had been forced to buy their own gear. Humanity would probably be down a few billion people had that been the case.
They'd probably find a way to fund themselves. Start a restaurant or something. But for now, Miia made sure she only bought what she absolutely needed.
"Come, Draco," she said after she wired the cash to the creepy Salarian. "We need to pick up the prisoner as well…"
The Dragon didn't budge an inch, so Miia reached out and took nudged her shoulder with the tip of her tail. "Come on."
She swore, had she not known about the girl's legendary service vitae, she would have thought there was something wrong with her head.
The two Liminals then made their way to C-SEC Academy, where their new prisoner was waiting for them.
Miia had been debriefed on the whole thing, and she had tried to put it behind her, but just thinking about it made her all mad again. Those Black Fang terrorists gave Liminals a bad name! And the Unified Earth Government was already pretty isolationist on its own, unity was their biggest asset!
That any Liminal would try to go after the Master Chief so shortly after the Human-Covenant War ended was almost unthinkable. Miia wouldn't forgive the Black Fang for that.
The prisoner was waiting for them at the C-SEC lobby. She was one of those creepy Arachnes, with the upper body of a young woman and the lower body of a large, black spider. She had her arms crossed over her ample chest, and didn't look worried at all. Her legs were slender, faintly reflecting the blue light of the Academy's lobby.
Miia looked her over, feeling somewhat nervous at the Arachne's presence. Her attire consisted out of a halter top that revealed a good deal of the lower half of her breasts and waist, with shoulder-less sleeves and a shirt.
"Lieutenant Lucifinae," Miia told the guard. He was looking somewhat nervous. Had he heard about the danger that Arachnes could pose to aliens? "We're with Spartan-117, the Spectre."
"One second, looking you up." The Turian walked over to a terminal and typed in a string of code. "Lieutenant, Corporal, with the Master Chief, verified." He gestured at his comrades, who stepped away from the Arachne. They kept their eyes on her the entire time, however, and they never quite let go of their triggers. "The prisoner's all yours."
They seemed to have cuffed her with flash-forged omni-cuffs. Her hands were tied together tightly, preventing her from attacking people with them. But Miia didn't miss how her legs were completely unsecured. She knew for a fact that the Arachne could easily lash out with one of them and impale someone. Heck, she'd seen it happen during the Human-Batarian war.
She doubted it'd still be such a pretty sight when it happened to the good guys.
The Arachne shot them a look, then sighed. "Sending women to do his dirty work…some war hero."
Miia gritted her teeth, but ignored that remark. "Thanks. We'll take her from here."
"Be careful. She can still bite."
"She has a name, you know," commented the Arachne.
Draco pulled her shotgun out and shoved her towards the elevator.
"Hey, what the hell? That hurt!"
"Corporal, cut that out," said Miia. She pressed the button and called the elevator. "She may be a terrorist, but she's still a person."
The Arachne shot her a look. "A terrorist? Don't make me laugh. The only reason you can be called a soldier is because you're on the winning side."
Miia clenched her fists. "How about the fact that I am a soldier, hmm? I was trained, I was hired. It's my job!"
A smile played over the Arachne's features, sly and cruel. "Hired by a military junta, you mean. Your UNSC took over control over the civilian state during the war. What does that make you?"
"That's crap," Miia shot back. "The UNSC only took over because we were losing people by the billions."-
"Is that what they told you?" The Arachne chuckled and was about to say something when Draco marched towards the elevator, which finally arrived.
Perhaps realizing that not complying wouldn't be best of ideas, the Arachne climbed inside on her own. The elevator was barely big enough fit an Echidna, an Arachne and a Dragon at the same time and the damned thing still took ages before it reached the dock. It made for a very awkward ride.
After about half a minute, they finally arrived at the docking bay. There, a Pelican Dropship was already waiting for them, with the troop bay still closed.
"There we go," Miia said, gesturing to the Dropship. "Get inside."
"No expenses spared, I see," she dryly said.
"Criminals don't get luxury," Miia bit at her, and that was it. Still, she kept a close eye on the prisoner, even as the Dropship accelerated away from the Citadel and into the dense nebula that surrounded the Citadel. If the Arachne decided that she wasn't going to be taken into custody, this would be the best time to do so, and Miia knew it. She kept a close eye on the terrorist for the entire journey, ready to pull out her sidearm and shoot the woman should the situation demand it.
Fortunately, the Arachne didn't try anything. She just sat there, watching Miia in return.
"We're coming up on the Reach," said the pilot. "I'll send word to the Master Chief, tell him to prep the brig."
"Copy that," replied Miia. "
She hadn't actually seen the UNSC Reach yet. None of them had. On a top-secret mission like this one, it was vital that they remained at least somewhat secretive about it.
Which made it kind of weird that they'd bring a prisoner aboard, now that she thought about it…
But Miia kept that thought to herself. She wasn't one to second-guess orders.
A shudder ran through the ship as it docked with the Reach, and the three of them stepped onto the flight deck. There were several single ships and Pelicans, and a disproportionally-large number of boxes and crates.
Miia felt a pang of disappointment. The flight deck looked…small. It wasn't anything special.
She had been on several ships classes in the past, and this flight deck just felt too small for a top-secret warship assigned to a Spartan-Spectre. The ship couldn't be much larger than a Frigate.
Then again, it made sense that the UNSC wouldn't send a large warship into the Terminus Systems. Their fleet was stretched thin as it was, fighting the Batarian Hegemony on multiple fronts. The last thing they needed was a swarm of pirates attacking their vulnerable colonies.
"Start unpacking the gear, Corporal," said Miia. "I'll take the prisoner to the brig and report to the Master Chief."
Most military vessels had a prison aboard their ship, more as a formality than anything else. Due to the high stakes of the Human-Covenant war, very few officers ever rebelled or mutinied against their CO's. Soldiers on the ground even less so. War had a tendency to unite people, after all, and no soldier would dare to even dream of screwing over their brothers and sisters in arms.
But throughout the war, the UNSC continued to take prisoners instead of following the Covenant's example and killing every hostile they found, so they continued building brigs into their ships.
As Miia marched the Arachne towards the brig, spotting the occasional Marine hauling gear and unpacking crates, the Arachne suddenly said, "Why do you work with them?"
Miia frowned. "What, the UNSC?"
"Them, humans in general."
"For the same reason any Liminal signed up with the UNSC. To fight the Covenant and protect the ones we love. And to stop people like you, I suppose," she added.
"Yes, very noble. I'm sure the humans will repay you when everything is stable again. Unless they cave in under the Templars. Again."
"Templars…" Miia scoffed. Every Liminal worth their tail knew and despised that name. "They're just religious nutheads, a bunch of psychos. That's not what humanity is about."
"Ho? And does your UNSC share that point of view"
"That…"
"Do they undertake military operations against them like they do against the Black Fang? Or speak out against them in public?"
"At this point, half the UNSC consists out of Liminals!" growled Miia. "The only reason we weathered the storm was because we worked together. Hell, humans and Liminals are dependent on each other by now, while you lot start shooting people because some colonies offer unequal payment!"
The Arachne snorted. "Where did you grow up, girl? Unequal payment for equal work is the least of our concerns. Have you ever seen the lynch mobs, the government-sponsored violence? Five centuries after the public reveal of our races and still the humans can't accept our existence."
"I'll judge that myself, without getting innocents involved."
"They'll get involved either way."
They reached the brig, and Miia was quick to open a cell and gesture the Arachne inside. "The Master Chief knows what he is doing. If you're smart, you stay out of trouble."
The woman sighed, but kept her remarks to herself. Miia closed the cell door and double-timed it to the bridge
~0~
The Chief rode the elevator to the bridge to meet his new crew, using the brief moment of respite he had to read up on the most recent developments. The ship had been stocked with supplies, ammo and weapons, and his transfer list had been processed by the UNSC. His current two teammembers had made it to the Reach with the prisoner, and no incidents had been reported.
All in all, it seemed things were going smoothly.
"I've intercepted a news broadcast, by the way. A Salarian genetics lab was raided just a few days ago. Several of their gene-mod banks have been emptied."
The Chief snorted. "News broadcast?"
"News broadcast, STG communications, what does it matter? Anyway, the culprit hasn't been found yet. Councillor Valern is pissed."
"Why is that relevant?" He asked, even as the lift doors parted.
"Because the people who would raid a Salarian genetics lab are most likely pirates, mercenaries or terrorists. Guess what we'll be facing in the Terminus Systems?"
"Point taken." The Chief made a mental note to look into that theft and stepped on the rubberized deck. "Captain Keyes."
"Ah, the memories."
The Captain turned to face him, even as some of his crewmembers whirled around in their chairs and stared. They weren't used to seeing a Spartan in full MJOLNIR armour up close. The ghostly iridescent green of the armor plates and the matte black layers underneath made him look part gladiator, part machine. Or perhaps to the bridge crew, he looked as alien as the Citadel races.
"Master Chief. Meet the crew."
Of the various officers present on the bridge, two of them leapt to their feet and saluted. One of them was a woman of Asian descent, delicate-looking, but with a steel gaze that could put an Elite to shame. The other was a young man, tall and thin, with dark hair that was longer than the regulations allowed.
Four officers, all males, remained seated, staring at the Chief.
"Lieutenant Hikowa, sir," said the woman. "Weapons officer."
"Ensign William Lovell, sir," said the man. "Navigation officer."
Keyes nodded approvingly, then glanced at the other men. His gaze hardened. The Chief took it that these were the eccentric ones.
"Holy shit," one of them said, with an old-fashioned Earth-British accent, "That's the flipping Master Chief!"
"Don't be a moron, Gav," his nearest colleague whispered, before standing. "Lieutenant Jones, sir. Communications officer."
The others followed his example. A Second Lieutenant with an impressive, well-groomed moustache and a slightly-overweight Lieutenant with a beard that could make a Brute Chieftain think about his life choices. Ramsey and Pattillo, respectively.
That left the British officer, who hastily climbed to his feet, bashed his knee against the deck and nearly fell over again. "Ensign F-Free, sir!"
The Master Chief knew Hikowa and Lovell from the Pillar of Autumn. The crew had fought against overwhelming odds on Halo's surface, evading capture time and time again until a small strike force, led by Avery, had managed to save them.
They hadn't arrived in time to prevent the Covenant from getting their hands on the Captain, but that was where the Chief had stepped in.
"As you were," he told the crew, memorizing their faces and names. If Keyes said they were competent, they would be competent.
He felt the urge ask the Captain his next order, then reconsidered. He was a Spectre now. He was the one in charge, the one who made the decisions. Asking someone else would be a sign of weakness at this point.
"How long before the rest of the crew arrives at the Citadel?" He asked. The the bridge crew returned to their stations. The view screens showed the eerie pink nebula that surrounded the Citadel, as well as distant stars.
"It'll take them some time to ship them away from the battlefield. Getting them to the nearest Relay, then all the way to a rendezvous point within Council Space? That'll take at least a day or three."
Three days…the Chief sighed. Desolas might find and activate the Conduit in a week's time. The Turian was getting ready to point the metaphorical gun at the head of the universe, they didn't have time to wait for more crewmembers. "Do we have any leads on Desolas?"
"Desolas is gone. Looking for him is going to be a waste of time," replied the Captain. "But we know what his target is."
"The Conduit."
"Sir," said Ensign Free. "Receiving a forwarded message, from Matriarch Benezia."
The Captain frowned, then looked at the Chief, who realized that the officer had meant him. This was going to very confusing in the future.
"Play it."
Moments later, one of the screens blurred. The viewpoint of the colourful Nebula made place for the blue visage of an Asari, with bright eyes and a somewhat revealing outfit.
She didn't look that old to the Chief, but he knew that the Matriarch was at least twice as old as Shepard was. "Spectres. I do not know if this might help you on your mission or not, but I require your assistance. My daughter, Liara T'soni, is a scientist and an archeologist. She specializes in the Protheans. Seeing as how General Arterius is looking for an ancient Prothean device, I feared he might turn his attention towards her."
"Liara T'soni…" muttered the Chief. Asari could reproduce with most, if not all species out there, but the offspring would always be an Asari. To Desolas, getting his hands on a young Asari with knowledge of Prothean architecture seemed like a sound tactical action.
"My fears, I believe, have come true. My daughter was leading an archeological expedition on Therum, in the Artemis Tau Cluster, when all communications suddenly ceased. I…Liara is very dear to me, Spectres, and it is not like her to refrain from contacting me. Something has happened, I know it." Her voice broke, if only for a moment, and her composure slipped. She took a second to calm herself. "This…was a week ago. If you could diverge from your path to find her, and assure her safety, I would be very grateful."
"It uhh…kind of stops there."
Cortana appeared from the nearby holotank, crossing her arms and staring at the frozen image of Matriarch Benezia. "Who forwarded that message?"
"The UNSC Balmung, which has been docked to the Citadel for the past few days," replied Free.
The Chief looked at Keyes. "The Balmung?"
Keyes turned towards Free and said, "Cross-reference that name in the database, son. Who is the Commanding Officer?"
The helmsman quickly tapped in a string of commands, staring intently at the screen. "Ehm…you are, sir."
Around the Ensign, several of the crewmembers groaned with frustration.
"You're a goddamn idiot," said Jones.
"No," protested the Ensign, "It's right here! USNC Balmung, Halcyon-Class Cruiser. Commanding Officer. Keyes, M."
"Miranda…" Keyes muttered under his breath, barely audible enough for the Chief to hear.
"That's a different Keyes, you moron!" Lieutenant Pattillo bit at his colleague.
"How was I supposed to know!"
"Aside from the fact that the Captain is standing right here?"
"I'm detecting a secondary, encrypted message," Cortana suddenly said, silencing the bickering crew. "Playing it now."
After a brief moment of silence, the rough, boisterous voice of Avery Johnson played through the speakers. "Chief, Commander. Nihlus just got a message from Matriarch Benezia. It's about her daughter, Liara something. I'm gonna be too busy to tackle this one, so I'm giving this one to you. She might know something about the Conduit. I'm guessing, the first one who gets to her, gets her expertise. So, good luck."
At least now the Chief knew which vessel Johnson would be taking. A Halcyon-Class, just like the Autumn had been. Somehow, it seemed fitting.
"Sir? An Asari expert on Prothean tech seems like an asset," said Ensign Lovell.
The Chief could see why that was the case. However, he was more interested by the fact that all communications on a UNSC outpost had ceased. As far as he knew, the Artemis Tau cluster lay in UNSC space. "How come the UNSC didn't hear about a colony going dark?"
"Therum's a small mining outpost, nothing official, sir," explained Hikowa. "There won't be a sizeable UNSC presence there."
That made sense, considering supposed the alien presence. Asari scientists working on UNSC soil weren't common. The isolationistic point of view was still retained by the leaders of the UEG, despite good relations with the Council Races.
"Commander Shepard will be heading towards Therum as well," Keyes said, reminding the Chief of the "competition" part of this war. "But we're still running on a skeleton crew. It's your call, Chief."
Andthere it was. His first decision as CO of the ship. Luckily, it wasn't a very difficult one. If the outpost had stopped communicating a week ago, it either pointed to equipment failure or a hostile invasion. He wasn't going to risk the latter by assuming the former.
"It's better than nothing," said the Chief. "Plot a course to Therum, Artemis Tau Cluster."
"Aye aye, Master Chief," said the Captain.
"Hah!" Said Cortana. "Racing the stealthy Normandy to Therum to save the damsel in distress…I'm already liking where this is going."
The Master Chief couldn't agree on that. He watched the crew -his crew- get the Reach underway, directed by Keyes, and felt a kick of frustration. He didn't know what irritated him more; that the UNSC seemed more interested in playing political games and turning a vital military operation into a competition between assets, or the fact that he now answered directly to the Council.
To top it off, the trip to Therum would take them about eighteen hours. He wasn't eager to wait eighteen hours for his next mission.
On his way out, he overheard Ramsey and Pattillo talking.
"So a thankful Matriarch is a powerful ally, right?"
"Probably. Unless she simply pays credits."
"Credits is good. We don't get paid anymore now that we're with a Spectre, and I really need that whiskey."
"Seriously man, a grateful Matriarch in debt is more useful than simple credits."
The Chief hadn't thought about that. To him, this was about rescuing civilians from a possible invasion, not about gaining favours. Would Shepard see it that way? Would Johnson?
Was this what being a Spectre was about?
On his way down in the elevator, Cortana spoke up. "How about a tour? This ship might look like a Destroyer from the outside, but on the inside, it's a completely different story."
The Chief shrugged. He could use a distraction. "Sure."
"Good. Follow the directions to the crew deck."
He did as Cortana asked him, and soon, he stepped onto the crew quarters. Experience told him that the crew quarters of a Destroyer were cramped, with limited recreational facilities.
So when he saw that these crew quarters were large enough to offer a dozen packs of Brutes comfort and luxury, he felt somewhat puzzled.
"What is this?"
"The crew quarters," Cortana smugly said. "The decks and corridors are designed with Liminals in mind, there are several access tunnels and shafts for easy transport for flying Liminals and the crew quarters have been reinforced. Probably for pillow fights."
"Isn't all this open space dangerous?"
"Hydraulic reinforcements can be activated in an instant. Besides; we have Kinetic Barriers and the stealth system. If everything goes according to plan, we won't be shot at. And I just realized how stupid that sounded, once I said it aloud."
"The ship is outfitted with weapon systems. Seems getting shot at is still part of the course."
The Master Chief continued on, heading towards Engineering. "How potent is the stealth system, anyway?"
"When compared against the Normandy?"
He sighed. "Just in general."
The AI sounded disappointed. "Oh. Sure. The outer hull is coated with stealth ablative coating, which hides the ship's radar signature and acts as a form of active camouflage. Engine emissions are hidden via the use of heat sinks, just like the Normandy, except we are more dependent on Slipspace."
"Meaning?"
"Meaning that we're always running cold, instead of several hours. If the Captain and his crew pilot this tub the right way, we are completely radar-invisible. Even better, when the baffled engines run below 30%, the craft is as dark as interstellar space. No nukes, though."
The Chief cocked an eyebrow at that. "No nukes?"
"No nukes."
"Why not?" He asked, even though he probably already knew the answer.
"I see the pulse from the Prothean Beacon knocked all knowledge of naval details out of your helmet. No problem. It's because nukes emit a detectable Cherenkov radiation flare upon transmission from Slipspace to normal space. Unless you want to send the bad guys a postcard with your name on it every time you arrive at their doorstep, no nukes."
"No nukes," he repeated. "We'll make do without it."
After that, the Chief made his way towards his private quarters, a section of the upper deck dedicated to the Commanding Officer. Not the Captain's Quarters though, for which he was very thankful. There was no way he would take Keyes' quarters for himself.
When he entered the room, he found that it was bigger than what he had expected. Big enough to contain a bed, two closets, a table and even a piece of oak strapped to the wall, to which a Plasma Rifle had been fastened.
Curious as to why someone would strap a piece of ordnance to the wall, the Chief picked the weapon up and checked its sights and battery. Maybe it was dead, and they had hung it there as a reminder?
But no, the alien weapon was active. Fully charged, even.
"That's art, Chief. A decoration."
To someone else, maybe. To the Chief, it was now an emergency weapon.
Further observation revealed that there were no windows in the room, luckily. After almost falling out of the Autumn's broken viewscreen during the Monitor's ambush, he had grown to resent that particular design.
There were plenty of other amenities in the room, including something that looked suspiciously like a shower.
The Chief felt a strange sense of longing when he saw that. The last time he had had a shower with actual, warm water had been back…what, back on the Cairo?
That had been months ago…
He had eighteen hours to kill.
And they had stashed an engineering pod in his quarters as well, he saw. It could be manually operated, automatically operated and even overridden by an AI in case of an emergency. He had the time; he could get out of his armour in a matter of minutes and-
A loud knock on the door shook him out of his thoughts.
The Master Chief sighed. That had better be Desolas Arterius himself knocking on his door, ready to turn himself in…
As it turned out, it wasn't the Arterius he was looking for.
"Saren," the Chief upon seeing the geared-up Spectre standing on his doorstep.
"Spartan," Saren dryly replied. "I wanted to speak to you, before we embark on our next operation."
The Master Chief felt a sense of unease creep up on him. "Yes?"
"I have read your files, including the ones your ONI doesn't generally want people to read. There is no denying you have…potential."
"Potential?" Repeated the Chief. His mind raced to process what Saren had just told him. What files had he read? Had his Spectre status given him the security access needed to discover the origin of the Spartans? "I've served longer than you have. The Spartans have hundreds of thousands of enemy casualties on their name."
"Certainly, your potential for destruction is hard to match. But what of your judgement, your ethics? You're not soldier anymore, Spartan. Recognizing and destroying your enemy is now the least of your concerns."
"What are you saying?" The Chief asked, starting to harbour some serious regrets about his decision to allow Saren aboard the ship.
"I'm saying that a Krogan Battlemaster can be a great soldier, but to make the right decisions? That takes a specific state of mind. I'm curious to see if you can attain that."
The Master Chief stared at Saren for a few moments, reminding himself that, yes, he definitely had reasons for keeping him on the team. Those reasons existed, he was certain of it.
He just couldn't remember them at the moment.
"I guess we'll find out," he eventually replied. "Was that all?"
Saren scoffed. "Of course not. I wanted to talk to you about the Initiative. Specifically, Desolas."
"Alright. What about them?"
"I would prefer capturing him alive, if at all possible."
The Chief felt somewhat surprised at that. "What for?"
Saren's default expression -a smug, arrogant one- made way for a hint of discomfort. "That audio file…something's wrong with it. The superstitious bits, that's not like Desolas."
That thought had crossed the Chiefs mind too, before he discarded it. Religious superstition had worked for the Covenant, so it would work for the Initiative, he reasoned. "Capturing him alive would be preferable. Whatever the Conduit is, he can't be allowed to find it."
"In case it's a weapon, yes," Saren said, basically vocalizing the Spartan's thoughts, much to his frustration. "I have been debriefed on the original purpose of the Halos as well."
For some reason, that frustrated the Chief. "But if he forces our hand…" he started, eager to steer the conversation away from that particular topic.
"Then we will have no choice but to eliminate him, and set our sights on other members," Saren finished his thought.
Again.
He observed the Chief for a few moments, his expression inscrutable, before scowling. 'And yes, that will be all."
With that, Saren skulked off again, leaving a thoroughly-annoyed Master Chief alone with his thoughts.
In a manner of speaking.
"I think it's just me, but I'm getting used to him," said Cortana.
"Like getting used to assassinations, yes," replied the Chief. He thought about spending eighteen hours aboard a ship with a skeleton crew and what that meant for his chances to accidentally run into Saren again.
The calculations did not lie, and he didn't like his odds. "Cortana?"
"Yes?"
"Which way to the cryo bay?"
"Cryo bay? What, did the big, scary Turian ruin shower-time for you?"
The Chief merely shrugged. "I changed my mind. Furthermore, where did you station the crew?"
"Well, you know what they say; the mind of a Spartan is fickle. I stationed Miia and Draco on Marine rotation, by the way. They're unpacking right now, but they'll drop off their stuff at the crew quarters when they're done. "
"Good job," said the Chief. "We'll pick up the rest of the enlisted crew after we've checked on Therum."
"So why ask about the Cryo pods? Are you going to do what I think you're going to do?"
He shrugged. "That depends."
"Oh, have you have GOT to be - Spartan one-one-seven! You are not going to sit out eighteen hours by cryonically freezing yourself!"
The Spartan sighed. Another plan, dashed to the winds. Now what was he supposed to do?
~0~
0600 Hours, January 25th, 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC Balmung,
Crescent Nebula, Tasale System, Illium
"Welcome to Illium, Ave," said Johnson's newly-assigned personal Artificial Intelligence, Sylph. "Systems at the Balmung have been recalibrated and are now standing by. By the way, I'm good with people, so just let me walk you through this!"
"Damn good work."
The Sergeant Major didn't wear fancy-schmancy armour like the Master Chief did, which meant that he couldn't carry his AI partner with him to the bathroom if need be. For this mission, he'd settle for a direct comm-link to the Balmung, giving him roughly the same result.
Johnson disembarked onto the landing pad that had been assigned at Nos Astra's Azure Docks, a busy, yet rarely-visited little starport bordering on Nos Astra's commercial district where the Asari had somehow managed to legalize slavery by wrapping it up in bureaucracy.
Waiting for him was an official-looking Asari in a business-suit, but Johnson's sharp eyes immediately detected a pistol strapped to her boot and a Biotic amp in her neck.
She met his eyes, and then approached him. "Welcome, Spectre," she started, but Johnson interrupted her.
"Sergeant Major," he corrected.
"I…apologize. It seems there was a mistake. I was informed that a Spectre would be arriving."
Johnson reached for his cigar. 'Yup. That's me."
"But…your rank does not coincide with that of a Spectre."
"I know. It's still Sergeant Major. I'm a Spectre."
"I must insist on seeing some credentials, please."
Johnson booted up his omni-tool, linking it to hers. "There."
A hint of recognition crossed her features. "Ah, yes. That verifies it. Now then, Sergeant…Major…what brings you here?"
"Keep it secret," advised Sylph. "Don't let her fish for info. Confuse her!"
"My name's Johnson," the Sergeant Major said. "I'm looking for Johnson to proof Desolas is a Johnson."
The Asari stared at him with a horrified expression.
"Excellent confusion! Now walk past her like a real man!"
Johnson didn't need a little pixie of an AI telling him how to be a real man. He had invented the art of being a real man. He politely lifted his hat to the Asari and brushed past her, pressing deeper into the port.
He was looking for a club called the "Assurance", which proved to be just a taxi ride away from where he had landed his Pelican. Normally, the Sergeant Major wouldn't bother going to clubs. He'd learnt his lesson before joining his beloved Corps.
But he was here on a mission.
Johnson's shiny new ship had enough room for an army. Literally; the Halcyon-Class had eight docking bays, six armouries and a dozen vehicles. There was room for an entire battalion of Marines plus a couple of hundred Naval personnel. Almost enough to equal him. The problem was that, as it stood, the massive Cruiser was piloted by Miranda, Nihlus and him alone, while Sylph did most of the heavy lifting. The armouries felt lonely, and the ship just didn't feel the same without a full complement of green.
He was here to supply that green.
The Assurance was set up on the lower levels of Nos Astra, which weren't all that bad on the eyes. Still, there weren't a lot of humans here. They didn't feel comfortable enough on alien worlds. Hell, Johnson could relate to that. The only "human" thing he could see on this world were the various Liminal people, visiting Illium because they had nothing to keep them home, in UNSC space.
Johnson walked to the club's entrance, where a scene between a bouncer and a pair of Krogan was rapidly escalating. The bouncer was a fair-skinned Centaur, with blue eyes and long, blonde hair. Her clothes looked like a mixture between a business suit just like the Asari at the docks had worn and a cannibalized UNSC uniform.
He knew that the Centaur species was old, even by Liminal standards. They were known to be proud and strong-willed, drawn to places where they could live out their lives in honour or tradition. They had been invaluable allies during the Human-Covenant war.
So seeing one work as a bouncer at some Asari club was a bit strange.
"Thou has returned?" Said the Centaur.
The Krogan marched up towards her, his attitude screaming trouble. "You're going to let me in, female!"
The Centaur placed a hand on her hip. No, Johnson noted. Not on her hip, but on the extendable stun baton she seemed to keep on her person. "After I threw thee out already? I do not think so."
That was when the Krogan pulled out a shotgun, snarling as he did. "If you think-"
The bouncer didn't hesitate a moment. She pulled her stun baton from its holster faster than the Krogan could sneeze and whipped him across his face, hard.
The Krogan stumbled, spitting out a glob of orange blood. When he didn't back down, the Centaur hit jabbed him in the fork of his legs with the baton, before grabbing him by his head and slamming it against the wall, which cracked under the impact.
"Hmph…hardly a challenge…" muttered the bouncer.
Only then did the second Krogan realize that his buddy had been taken down, and he charged at the Centaur, bellowing a challenge.
The Centaur met his challenge and reared back on her hind legs, slamming the hoofs of her front legs into the alien's face.
Said face proved to be even less sturdier than that of his friend, and he too went down in an instant.
Johnson had to admit that he was almost impressed. KO'ing a Krogan by means of blunt force trauma to the face wasn't an easy thing to pull off for people who weren't part of the Johnson lineage. Still, he couldn't shake the thought that there was something military about that maneuver. About her entire demeanor, even.
A good Sergeant Major could sniff out a Marine from a mile away.
So again, it felt odd to him that she was here. A long time ago, in a somewhat darker period of his life, Avery had spent his time picking fights with bouncers in clubs just like these. It ended bad, for everyone involved. Still, after seeing this bouncer knock out two Krogan as if it meant nothing, he couldn't help but picture what would have happened if she had been involved.
Hell, had she been the bouncer, it probably wouldn't have gotten to a fight in the first place.
"Can I help thee, sir?" She then said, addressing Johnson.
"Yeah," he replied, taking a step towards her. "I'm a Spectre, looking for a Hel named Halifa?"
The moment Avery mentioned that name, the Centaur's expression darkened. She didn't comment on it, though. "A Spectre? Truly, here?"
Johnson sent her his authorization codes, verifying his business. "She here?"
"That solely depends on thine intentions, Spectre," she replied. "I will not have violence within this place!"
Johnson peered past her, into the dark interior of the club. "It's a club. An alien club. Why do you care?"
"Because it is my job! I was hired to safeguard this place and by my ancestors I will fulfill my duties!"
Same old Centaur pride as he saw in the others. But why in an alien club? Why not on the battlefield, or in an PMC, or any other place that didn't have to deal with aliens? "Uh-huh. Well, I'm sure the boys and girls back on the homefront will be happy to hear that."
The Centaur bristled. "What does thee mean by that?" She hissed.
Johnson crossed his arms and did what came to him naturally: chewing the scenery. "Lady, humanity just recovered from getting her its ass completely kicked by the Covenant. We're at war with the Batarian Hegemony, three different terrorist organizations are spilling blood on our soil and to top it off, some secret lunatic raised an army of toasters to kick the ass of one of our colonies and now he's searching for some toaster-superweapon to kill us all!" He paused to let that sink in. "And some folks think he's trying to bring back a race of ancient killer aliens to resurrect a goddess of some sort, but that's classified."
She stared at him with a mixture of confusion and horror, too shocked to respond.
But Avery had heard enough; the bouncer's suspicious attitude confirmed his own suspicious suspicions. The girl he was looking for was inside, and if that was so hush-hush too, her reputation preceded her.
He excused himself and entered the Assurance. The club's dark and moodily lit interior was made up out of two separate floors and a round platform overlooking the dance floor from the entrances. The club was crowded, and the atmosphere tense. It reminded him of the nightclubs back home. This place even had the mob of wild dancers and loud, repetitive techno-crap that young people listened to these days.
It grated him, but years of army experience had turned his nerves to steel, and his blood to ice water. His senses would not be affected by the noise and strobing lights.
The Sergeant Major pushed on, heading deeper into the club. He didn't need to search for long; he spotted a VIP lounge at the far end of the club, and he could hear high-pitched, feminine laughter coming from inside.
Of the maniacal sort.
That was where he needed to go.
Problem was, he had alien bastards in his way. An absolutely huge Turian stood in front of the entrance, glaring daggers at anyone who came too close.
Johnson paused at that, wondering why a single Turian bouncer would be covering an obvious VIP lounge like that.
He scanned the room with his Sergeant Major eyes, boosted by his new Spectre status. He spotted three Asari dancers who had hidden guns in their…limited clothing. Two more Turians stood guard at other strategic places.
This was going to get messy.
"Sylph," Johnson said, contacting the AI through his in-ear communicator. To anyone else, he would appear like a badass with an itchy ear. "I need to get past a bouncer. Big guy. Don't wanna kick too much ass in one day. Any ideas?"
"A bouncer? Tough-looking?"
"Yeah."
"Mean-looking?"
"For an alien, yeah."
"Armed, ready to kill anyone bothering him?"
"Probably."
"Hmm…ask him politely if you can pass!"
Johnson nodded. "Right. I'll call you if everything works out."
Keeping the incredibly-advanced AI's advice in mind, the Sergeant Major stepped up towards the bouncer and said, "Excuse me sir, I need to get into the VIP lounge. Could you kindly step aside?"
"Piss off."
Johnson scowled and contacted Sylph again. "Your plan didn't work, smartass."
"He didn't let you pass? And you were polite? Did you say please?"
"I need a better plan! And scan the club's interior with the long-range scanners while you're at it."
The AI sighed. "Just move past him. If he tries to stop you, kick his butt while telling him you're a Spectre."
It seemed like a good idea, so Johnson moved to do just that. He tried to march by the bouncer, was stopped by said bouncer and proceeded to smack him across the face.
"I'm a Spectre!" Johnson told the bouncer, before kicking him in the chest and turning him into a makeshift projectile to smash through the door to the VIP lounge. "Damnit Sylph, my grandma could have come up with a better plan. Next time, ask Nihlus for assistance!"
Inside the VIP lounge, shit hit the Slipspace engine. A pair of Asari jumped to their as soon as the bouncer came crashing through the door, a Turian reached for his rifle and a Volus scrambled for cover.
And in the middle of that bunch of weirdos sat the Hel, a wicked grin on her face. She still had her pale complexion, unhealthily so, with a thin body that was covered only by a collection of belts and straps. Her blue hair was longer than Johnson had thought physically possible, tied in two braids that reached down to her boots.
"Hey Avery," she chirped, even as one of the Asari wrapped herself in a Biotic field and tackled him. "Long time no see!"
"Halifa," Johnson called, trying to punch through a Biotic Barrier strong enough to stop mass accelerator rounds. The second Asari's attempt to put him in a Stasis field were foiled by his hat. "You and I need to talk."
"Nah…don't feel like talking."
Johnson dodged a Biotically-charged punch that gauged a hole into the floor beneath him. Just his luck; Biotic martial artists.
He attempted a powerful heel kick to the first Asari's diaphragm, but the alien caught his attack with both hands and tried to twist it.
Johnson proceeded to defy gravity and landed a flash kick against the Asari's chin, knocking her away from him. "Don't care you don't feel like talking! You're coming with me!"
"Boooring."
The second Asari Biotically tore the collection of bottles and glasses from the wall and started flinging them at the Sergeant Major, while the Turian opened fire.
Johnson cursed under his breath as he pulled out his pistol and unleashed a bip-bap-bam combination. The perfectly-aimed shots blasted three of the bottles to smithereens right as they sailed past the Turian, bombarding him with pieces of glass and several liters of liquor and other beverages
The impromptu shelling threw off the alien's aim, and Johnson took that moment to advance on Halifa, pointing an accusing finger at her. "Now you listen here-"
The Asari Biotically ripped the door out of its already-ruined frame and flung it at Johnson, as if battering him with a fly swatter meant for Killer Hornets.
It smashed against Johnson's torso, breaking to pieces against his manliness. He immediately utilized the remains of the door as a weapon and swung them at the Turian and the Asari, knocking them to the ground with the large pieces of door. "You owe me a favour, Halifa. I've come to cash in!"
The Hel jumped to her feet. "Come get me!"
Oh, he was planning on that alright. As the Liminal woman opened a hidden compartment inside the VIP lounge and dove through it, Johnson turned back to where he came from and contacted the Balmung again. "Sylph, which way to go?"
"Ehm…judging by the scans, you can cut her off at the main exit if you hurry."
"Got it."
Explosions sounded throughout the club as Halifa attempted to make her escape. She didn't bother hiding her route though, as her nigh-maniacal laughter accompanied every detonation.
The crowd had already been riled up by music and drugs, so when the explosions went off, they turned into a flock of panicked Grunts with all the stampeding capabilities of a group of Hunters. Completely unable to keep themselves composed, the guests devolved into a mass of screaming, panicked animals.
Avery had no choice but to fight his way through. He tilted his head from the left to the right, his neck stretching and popping each time. "Class is starting!"
The Asari dancers were keen on stopping him with their gunfire and Biotics. Normally, spotting a target in a mob like this would be difficult. Then again, there was only one place in the panicked crowd where people were sent flying left and right, which Johnson guessed made it easy to spot him.
It was no sweat off his back. He returned fire, targeting their pistols, then grabbed the nearest man and threw him at one of the dancers as they tried to rush him instead.
Civilian and dancer alike crashed to the ground and Johnson jumped, leaping for the raised platform near the exit. His resolve was steadfast, his heart was pure, and his timing was perfect. He landed right in front of the Hel, a smoking cigar in his left hand and his gun in his right.
She stared at him, her red eyes filled with confusion and frustration. "How did you-"
"Now you listen here and you listen well," he cut her off. "Once again, alien bastards kicked down the door to our house. And now it is our job to finish what they started! This Sergeant Major made Spectre, and is going to meet the enemy on solid ground! And when I find them, I'm going to rip their heads off their spines, and toss 'em away, laughin'! Now grab a gun and a drink, 'cause you're going with me!"
She blinked. "Explosives?"
"You bet."
She grinned. "Why didn't you say so? I was getting bored over here."
Johnson scowled. "I sent you a message!"
"And I deleted it," she replied. She then grabbed him by his arm, tugging him towards the exit. "Now come on! You got a ship? I bet you got a ship!"
Johnson didn't budge an inch. "Go get your stuff, meet me at the docks."
She was already wandering off, so Johnson didn't see any need to give her more directions. She'd find her way to his ship eventually. She always found her way towards the most batshit situations.
The crowd inside was still trying to get out, but it didn't seem like the explosives that Halifa had set, harmed anyone. He'd better leave this place before Illim's officials came crashing the party.
However, as the Sergeant Major left the Assurance via its main entrance again, he found himself face to face with the bouncer, who didn't look at all amused.
"Spectre!"
The Sergeant Major turned to face her, fully expecting having to go toe-to-toe with her as well. "Ma'am?"
"The things thou said, about the war, and the terrorism, I cannot let that slide!"
"Hmm?"
She pulled out her stun baton, pointing it at the sky as if she were a military commander back in the eighteenth century. "Too long have I sat idle, neglecting my duties to the people! No longer! The meek shall defeat the wicked! Truly, it must be fate that dictated our meeting!"
Johnson looked over his shoulder, making sure that they were alone. Turning someone to the good cause, just like that? Damn he was good. "That's the spirit. I'm sure-"
"I will come with you at once!" She then said, looking at him with her head held high, a gaze of steel determination bearing down at him.
Johnson snorted, not really keen on hiring a bouncer of all people.
But then he reconsidered. Centaurs were famous for their combat prowess and martial honour. They were tough, agile and durable, and this woman had been a Marine once. He could smell the green on her.
"What's your name?" He asked.
"My name is Cerea Shianus, of the highly-esteemed Shianus family!" She proudly proclaimed.
Johnson shrugged. "Lady, as long as you can follow orders and kick ass, you're welcome aboard my ship. Gather your gear and meet me at the dock."
All in all, the Sergeant Major couldn't complain. He'd be leaving with two soldiers for the price of one.
Now, he just hoped that the Balmung's much vaunted durability wouldn't come short. He had a feeling that this was going to be one rough ride.
~0~
13:00 Hours, January 25th , 2549 (Military Calendar) / UNSC Normandy
En-route to Therum
There were days when Garrus Vakarian considered himself one of luckiest Turian individual in all of Council Space. This was one of them.
He sat in the Engineering and Storage bay of the very first spacecraft designed by the Turian Hierarchy and the United Nations Space Command in history, as part of a badass crew to support an enigmatic Spectre on her mission to save the galaxy from evil. That was basically the ultimate Turian ideal.
And to top it all off, he could finally get a first-hand look on that infamous UNSC ordnance that his father used to tell him about.
Garrus had been brought up with the stories of the Human-Covenant war, just like most Turians his age. Heroic stories about atonement, camaraderie and last stands against the Covenant menace. His father had been a Detective Sergeant back on the Citadel when C-Sec first started hiring humans into their ranks. At first, his father hadn't liked it one bit. That attitude had done a complete one-eighty when he saw what some of their species were capable of.
He couldn't wait to see all those stories with his own eyes.
Maybe that was why the Mako APC bothered him so much. It was an excellent piece of military hardware of course, but it seemed somewhat…generic. A joint Turian-Human effort could produce something more flashy than a normal APC, couldn't it?
Still, there were plenty of human weapons lying around. The requisitions officer seemed to make a point of buying weapons from both theatres of war.
Garrus couldn't wait to try one of those human snipers for himself. That was probably on his priority list, right underneath meeting the UNSC's equivalent of Spirits.
Real, breathing, living Spirits. If only his mother had lived to see the day…
Garrus was shaken from his thoughts when he saw the Krogan, Urdnot Wrex, shuffle by with a large duffle bag.
Something sharp and shiny protruded from the back.
Feeling somewhat nervous all of a sudden, Garrus returned his attention to the APC. Trust a Turian and a human to pick up arms together and trust a Turian and a Krogan to fight to the death together, as his old Captain had once told him. He wasn't sure this Wrex guy wasn't going to cause trouble on the ship.
Following the Krogan was the Quarian, oddly enough. Tali'Zorah…something something. He'd always been bad with those long names. He once pissed off a Hanar witness by messing up his name. That particular mistake had earned him toilet duty for a week.
"Ehm…you're Garrus, right?" The Quarian addressed him. She seemed distracted; she wrung her hands together and didn't look him in his eyes. Well, as far as a Quarian could make eye-contact, anyway.
"Eh, yeah, that's me," he replied. What did she want from him?
"I….don't think we met. Properly, I mean. My name is Tali'Zorah nar Rayya. P-people call me Tali."
Garrus felt a twang of discomfort. There was something off-putting about Quarian masks. Still, he wasn't going to lose his manners because of some feeling. "Garrus Vakarian. Can I help you?"
"Yes. Actually…I was wondering…" Her visor quickly turned towards the Krogan, then back again. "You Turians know a lot about humanity, right? About…about their people?"
That was an odd question. If she wanted to know about humans, why not ask a human? He had yet to see that Jenkins kid stay silent about something "The Hierarchy tried to help them against the Covenant after our First Contact at Shanxi, yes. It brought our species together."
The Quarian nodded eagerly. "Back on the Flotilla, we sometimes got our hands on data logs or info stamps about the war with the Covenant. It's almost impossible to imagine anyone surviving against them, let alone fighting back."
"The Commander did," Garrus pointed out.
"Yes," Tali said. "She did. They're a very diverse people, humanity."
Garrus thought he could see where this was going. Still, it wouldn't hurt to humour her. "They are."
"But I was wondering…are all humans women like her?"
Garrus frowned. "A Commander?"
"No! A…" She looked over her shoulder, glancing at the Krogan again. When she next spoke, she had adopted a very hushed tone. "You know. With the…the wings and the horns and the…" She made a gesture with her head. "The Ambassador was the same…but the Emissary wasn't! And that dark-skinned soldier…he wasn't either. But those other two soldiers-"
She was starting to ramble, so Garrus decided to help her out a bit. "They're called Lininal species. Humanity exists out of whole bunch of different races, all of them with different appearances and cultures."
"Wow, really? So all these people, they're all humans?"
"Part of the collective, yes. Liminals and humans together form "humanity", or "mankind"."
"But all of them are different races?"
"Basically."
The Quarian was silent for a few moments, likely struggling to take that info in. "I still can't believe that General Desolas would attack a community like that."
"Well, the UNSC is still weak from the Great War," Garrus pointed out. "After Reach, and Earth, their fleet was reduced to…what, twenty ships? Thirty?"
"I heard about Reach," Tali then said, her tone growing softer. "The UNSC hired more than two-thousand of my people to work at the shipyards there. One of my uncles was among them. Do you know what happened to them? They haven't returned."
Garrus just stared at her, shocked that someone wouldn't know about the Fall of Reach. Then again, Quarians were very secluded. He guessed it made sense that she didn't know.
How in Spirits-name would he tell her about that? "I ehm…hmmm…they didn't return? Your people didn't hear from them?"
"No. You said the UNSC lost a part of their fleet there. Do you think they're still there?"
Her tone had something hopeful now. Heavens, what would he tell her? Should he lie? Would that be the best?
"Reach is gone, girl," the Krogan suddenly said from across the room. "Covenant swept in months ago and burnt it to a cinder."
Garrus glared at him. Damn you.
Normally, a Quarian's faceplate hid all of their emotions from view. This time though, Garrus didn't need to imagine what the girl looked like underneath that mask. He could see the words hitting home like mass accelerator rounds. "But…that's not…"
The Krogan didn't seem to care. He leant against one of the lockers and said, "Word is, nobody made it out."
"That's not true," Garrus shot back. "There were survivors, some ships managed to make it out!"
"You believe what you want to believe. Fact is, everybody down there's dead."
"I…I should probably…go check on the core again…" Muttered the Quarian. Her voice nearly broke at the end. She hurried back to her post, and when the door closed behind her, Garrus whirled on the Krogan.
"What the hell is wrong with you!" He snapped. "Why'd you spring that on her like that!"
The Krogan shrugged. "It's the truth. Why bother make it better than it is."
Garrus shook his head, bristling at the merc's lack of empathy. "She's still a kid!"
"So? She signed up with the Spectre, she knew that things would get ugly."
Garrus didn't have an answer to that. Yes, the Quarian had signed up with Shepard for a military operation and yes, she'd been informed about the risks. But then again, she was an engineer damnit! She was here to fix and build things, not brave the gruelling realities of war!
With that in mind, Garrus simply sighed and turned his attention back to the Mako. What on Palaven had possessed the Commander to hire a Krogan mercenary? They didn't need Krogans for muscle, they could easily hire a Liminal soldier to take that role!
He wondered if the Commander knew about the bad blood between the Turians and the Krogan. She seemed liked a smart soldier, and her race was known for carefully thinking things through before making decisions.
Mere minutes after Garrus started tinkering with the Mako again, something else came up. Commander Shepard called for all members of the squad to report in at the crew quarters, as something had come up.
That was the message. Something had come up.
Garrus wasn't exactly an expert on humans and Liminals, so he didn't know if she sounded worried or excited, but normally when something came up that needed the entire crew to come together, it was bad.
~0~
The Master Chief arrived on the bridge, closely followed by Miia and Draco. The bridge was a beehive of activity; crewmembers were communicating with each other at a rapid pace, on-screen images were rapidly alternating between camera images and scanning images and Captain Keyes sat in his chair, directing them.
His relief at having finally arrived at their goal lasted mere seconds when he saw the state of the crew. He knew immediately that something was up.
"Spectre on deck!" One of the Lieutenants snapped upon seeing the Master Chief.
"At ease," the Chief quickly told the helmsman, before turning his attention to Keyes. "Did we find Liara T'Soni?"
"I'm afraid not, Master Chief. We just arrived in the system, but we found something on the long-range scanners near Therum."
The Chief marched over towards the Captain's seat and took a look at the screen. He saw a strange, elongated figure with several protruding "limbs" at its sides. He had no idea what it was, though. "What am I looking at?"
~0~
"A Geth ship," Commander Shepard answered Garrus's question. "The scanners picked it up in orbit, in a geosynchronous orbit around the planet."
Garrus was still trying to process what he had been told. A few minutes ago, they had arrived in the system and immediately powered down to preserve stealth. According to the Codex, Therum was a dry and arid planet with a lot of volcanic activity. The crust was deemed valuable because of its richness in minerals and heavy metals. There wasn't much in terms of actual colony-ness on-world; a few mining platforms and only one city, which wasn't all that large to begin with.
"I'm sorry, did you say Geth?" He asked.
The Commander tapped a few buttons at the table and a holographic image sprang to life. "I did. Tali, do you recognize this outline?"
"That's a Geth Frigate," Tali coldly said. Any semblance of nervousness at her current position was gone. "You can see that by the arthropod-like design and the large abdomen. This one looks like it's rated for troop transport."
"Any more Geth ships in orbit?" Asked Alenko.
Shepard shook her head. "That's the only Geth ship."
Crossing her arms, Williams asked, "Why not just go in guns blazing? If it's a troop transport, blowing it to kingdom come will really screw these Geth over."
"I'm afraid it's not that simple," the Commander replied. A dark look crossed her features as she said, "You see…"
~0~
"We've spotted a secondary ship as well," said Keyes, and Ensign Free changed the image of the Geth Frigate to that of a ship with a curving, bulbous shape that the Master Chief recognized all too well.
"That's a Covenant Frigate," he said. How could a Covenant Frigate and a Geth Frigate be in the same system as the other without immediately going all "burn the heretic" on the other? "Elites?"
"Maybe. The strange thing is, that ship is also in geosynchronous orbit around Therum."
The Chief frowned. He knew that Covenant scanning technology had been lightyears ahead of humanity's during the start of the war, and that humanity had slowly been catching up during the last months. Still, if the Reach could detect that Geth ship, so could the Covenant. "They didn't spot each other?"
"I have no idea why it didn't spot the Geth. They're not hidden, there is no jamming tech involved."
The Master Chief thought that very strange. The Covenant -or what was now left of them- didn't just ignore other ships. They always fought until the last non-Covenant ship in the system was destroyed. It was simply not possible that they would allow the Geth's presence.
So something else was going on. Were they boarding the Geth Frigate? The other way around? Or maybe the colonists, were they trying to board the alien crafts? Not likely. "Cortana?"
Cortana's digital avatar emerged from the holotank next to the Captain's seat, streaming with logic code. "Scanning. Covenant ship doesn't match any of the Arbiter's vessels. If it's ignoring the Geth ship, it might be damaged, or powered down."
"Should we try to hail it?" Asked Lieutenant Jones.
"Negative," the Chief immediately said. "This is a rescue mission now. T'Soni is the VIP, and getting her out is our top priority." He briefly toyed with the idea of attempting to board the Covenant Frigate, then discarded it. Had he been with his fellow Spartans, he would have tried such an operation. As it was now, a potential boarding was too dangerous. "Bring us closer to the planet."
~0~
Shepard continued. "We have been unable to contact anyone on the colony. We have to assume that there is an invasion underway."
"Covenant?" Garrus asked, torn between a whole mess of very different emotions. He felt eager, because he could to finally engage this Covenant himself, but he also felt fear. Fear, for what he might encounter once he did.
"Geth?" Tali asked, perhaps experiencing the same emotional conflict.
Shepard shook her head. "Could be either. Assume both."
Wrex uttered a low, rumbling chuckle. "I like the way you think."
"What about survivors?" Asked Alenko.
Shepard considered his question for a few moments, then replied, "Aid survivors as you can, but remember; the Matriarch's daughter is our goal."
"Commander?" Williams then said. "That other Spectre forwarded the message to both you as Master Chief one-one-seven, right?"
"Oh, yeah, that's right," added Alenko. "Should we be expecting friendlies on this mission?"
Garrus could have sworn that he saw a hint of annoyance on the Commander's face. "We haven't located his ship yet. Rest assured, if the Master Chief and his…crew…show up, we will treat them like friendlies. If there are no further questions?"
Weirdly enough, there really were no further questions. Shepard ordered them to get geared up and prep for planetfall, after which they all stood and took their leave.
Garrus was pretty sure that nobody of Shepard's current team had ever faced the Covenant before either. Where were the questions about the terms of engagement? The enemy's weapon systems and species?
He supposed that they would come soon enough. That, or they would read the Codex entries about the Covenant species.
…the Codex entries! Garrus hadn't even read up on them! The Normandy's Codex had been updated with secure UNSC information now that they had the access level of a Spectre!
He could feel this was going to be the start of a very strange adventure.
~0~
Therum
Nova Yekaterinbur
It was hard to sleep in the airducts. They too loud, too cramped. Still, there was no other choice. No other safe choice, at least.
She could still hear them. The monsters. They were everywhere. They had infested the entire city.
At least their noise was gone now. The occasional scream in the distance as the monsters made another victim had often roused her from her sleep during the first few days.
No more screams now. Everybody was dead. Everybody but her. The robots were gone, the aliens were gone, everything with a scrap of sanity had been butchered.
She was alone in a city of monsters.
Goddess, she was hungry…would she dare venture outside again? Risk going out and find something resembling food again? She was exhausted, in every way possible, and she could not muster the strength to call upon her Biotics again. Should they come for her…she dreaded the thought.
They come out at night, she thought. They come out at night…they come out at night…
Except "night" now had many meanings. Night began the moment the sun went down and did not cease until it emerged again. But the various buildings, now devoid of power, were eternally shrouded in shadows, and the raging storms on Therum's surface made for scarce handful of safe hours.
If she were to go out, and encounter one of the monsters, there would be no saving her.
But she couldn't keep going like this. If she lost her consciousness when one of those things inevitably found her..
Her eyelids grew heavy, and she had to suppress a yawn. How long had it been without sleep? How many days had she spent cooped up inside the ventilation shafts, listening to the sounds of the slaughter?
She closed her eyes and wrapped her arms around her knees, hugging them tightly to her chest.
They come out at night…they come out at night…
Liara T'Soni slowly felt herself drifting away…
~0~
UNSC CODEX ENTRY: SPECIES: SUCCUBUS
A rare subspecies of the Devil race, Succubi can be considered the "odd ones out" of the Devil races. Their physiology resembles that of the Devils, possessing horns, wings and a tail. Because of the wide variety of habitats, they appearance ranges from that of Elder Devils to that of Lesser Devils. Succubi are also known to be physically stronger than Devils and possess incredible reflexes and intuition.
The physiology, however, is where the resemblance to Devils ends. Succubi are one of the several known Liminal species to be able to truly use magic, defying the current understanding of science. It has been documented that Succubi can take limited control over the wind, used both offensively as defensively. They also possess the power to control, or at least influence, the minds and thought process of most sentient creatures, like humans, Liminals and presumably aliens. According to a high-ranking Succubus, interviewed during the Human-Covenant War, there are several "factors" and "qualities" within the minds of sentient beings that prevent a Succubus from taking control. She refused to further elaborate on this statement.
ADDENDUM: SECURITY LEVEL 2 REQUIRED TO PROCEED
Unfortunately, the one ability that the Office of Naval Intelligence discovered to be innate to all Succubi is also the most dangerous one, and should be considered a hazard to public safety. All Succubus individuals possess the ability to manipulate "life force" *, a poorly-understood energy concept that is generated by all forms of organic life. By manipulating the life force of other beings, Succubi are able to cause grievous wounds, brings themselves or others back from the brink or dead and even resuscitate recently-deceased individuals. It is speculated that Succubi grow stronger with age, and that high-ranking Succubi can even gain control over the dead.**
* (See attachment 1: "QI: THE SCIENCE OF SPIRITUAL ENERGY")
** ( See attachment 2: "The Succubus Queens: flying obscenities or demi-gods?")
AN: so, we're finally getting the adventure underway. An alien mystery, a lovely Asari maiden in peril and a crew that won't last a day without falling apart.
Two crews, actually.
Regardless, this is also where I take the AU elements to new levels, starting with Liara's recruitment. Because those ain't husks down there.