If there's anyone who DOESN'T get the shout outs below, I'll be very surprised.
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Chapter Twenty Six
The Normandy, Flight Deck
"And I thought my place was nice," Garrus whistled, looking around as he stepped off the shuttle.
"It's definitely a step up from the original," Shepard agreed. "Lieutenant, make sure our guests are quartered properly."
"Yes ma'am," the lieutenant and three enlisted marines moved forward to take the bags and equipment.
"Spartan accommodations," the salarian mused. "Sterile, utilitarian, understandable, military vessel. Curious as to duration of stay. Would enjoy opportunity to examine Alliance technology."
Shepard winced. In her eagerness to enlist a subject matter expert, she'd forgotten about information security. "EDI, make sure our sections are properly locked down."
"Right away, Shepard," the gynoid nodded, dropping her holographic disguise and moving off to equipment storage.
"Whoa, she was a robot?" Garrus asked.
"Yep," Shepard replied. "That was her combat body."
"Fascinating. Artificial intelligence, simulacrum indistinguishable from living being at a glance." The salarian scratched his chin. "Designated as 'combat body.' Remote use, not primary means of interaction. The shipboard intelligence, Captain?"
"She helps with running the ship, yes," Shepard answered, tentatively.
The salarian clapped his hands. "Wonderful. Look forward to working with her. Going to need workspace for lab equipment."
"Might I recommend setting up near the medical bay, Doctor Solus?" a speaker nearby chimed in.
"Perfect. Also look forward to consulting with Alliance medical personnel. Would welcome their insights."
"I'll show him over, ma'am," a nearby ensign volunteered.
"He has a way with words," Shepard noted as the salarian doctor moved off.
"Something about how being concise lets him work faster," Garrus explained. "That's what he told me when we met while working on the project."
"You said he retired from the STG."
"Yeah. He objected to their methods of experimentation. He was on the analysis team, but he resigned after the second generation of tests."
"I didn't think the STG would let someone like him just resign like that."
"Supposedly, he knows a lot of secrets other people would like to stay buried."
"Funny how that always seems to happen," Shepard mused. "Well, I'll have Pressly give you the tour. I'm going to see if my boss has any leads for me yet."
Omega, Unknown Location
The only thing that stopped Tarak from pulling a gun on the salarian across the room was the knowledge that his guards would quickly ensure it was the last thing he did on this miserable rock.
"What are you doing here, Jaroth?" he growled.
"I was invited here for a meeting," the Eclipse commander snapped. "Same as you."
"A likely story," the batarian snarled. "I'm more inclined to think you spied on me."
"As if I'm interested in stalking your worthless hide. I have bigger problems to worry about."
The door slammed open, and both men looked toward it to see a large krogan and several vorcha enter the establishment. "Well well, Jaroth and Tarak," the krogan grinned. "I could get rich today if I brought in your heads."
"Just try and take them," Tarak warned, reaching for his pistol.
"Gentlemen, as Jaroth said, you have bigger problems to worry about," a new voice cut in. "Though if you really want to go at each other, feel free."
"Human!" Tarak roared, lunging to his feet and snatching his pistol, only to discover it wasn't there.
"You're missing something…" the human noted in a sing-song voice as he emerged from the shadows.
Tarak stared at his empty hand, dumbfounded. Meanwhile, Jaroth eyed the human in contemplation. "Our contact, I presume?"
"You presume correctly," the dark-skinned human grinned. "Now before we get down to business, anyone up for a show? Because I got a nice magic trick here."
Tarak gestured to one of his bodyguards, ignoring the human holding up an object in his fingers. "Now, I'm going to make this bullet disappear. Watch,"
The bodyguard was leveling his pistol just as the human waved his free hand across the front of the bullet in his fingers. Only Jaroth noticed the faint flash of green before the bullet vanished. The bodyguard jerked as a muted wet sound indicated exactly where the bullet went, before slumping bonelessly to the ground.
"Ta-da!" The human exclaimed, spreading his hands. "It's…magical!"
Everyone stared at the deceased batarian before turning back to the human, who snapped his fingers.
"You might want to clean that off. Seltzer water and lemon will get rid of blood real nicely," he offered, pointing at Tarak's now blood-stained clothing. "That suit doesn't look cheap. You ought to know. You bought it."
The krogran let out a deep throaty chuckle while Tarak glared daggers at the human. But before he could do anything, Jaroth cut in. "I'd like to hear what he says, if you don't mind," he said, eying the batarian, who sullenly sat back down.
"So listen," the human said, grabbing a chair and resting his chin on the back. "I know you've all been having problems lately. You've been losing your drug trade, you just had a warehouse of expensive toys go kablooey, and you are losing vorcha left and right. I also know who's behind it all."
"Everyone knows," Tarak growled. "That damned Archangel."
"And I got a solution for you."
"Do tell," Jaroth said sardonically.
"Well it's very simple. It's that we kill the Archangel."
"If it's so simple, why don't you do it yourself?"
"Ah, if you're good at something, never do it for free," the human waggled a finger. "You're a businessman. You know there's no profit from free service, right?"
The krogan laughed again. "I like this human," he grinned. "What do you propose?"
"Well, I have it on good authority that the Archangel just left Omega." The three mercenary leaders straightened up at that. "So now's the time to take out his 'guardian angels' while the leader's away. Set up something juicy and let them come and take it."
"And draw him back here so we can make an example of him," Jaroth finished, "right?"
"Feh," Tarak snorted. "I don't need a human's help to do that."
"Oh you're going to," the human retorted. "See, his little angels are on their way over here right now. A little birdy told them about this meeting."
Everyone stiffened as the human peeled back his lips in a sinister smile. "Guess who?"
The Normandy, Fitness area
Garrus sat up and stretched, savoring the mild burning in his chest as he finished his warm-up. Behind him, he could hear the Marine captain leading his men in their routine.
"Helljumper helljumper, where you been?"
"FEET FIRST INTO HELL AND BACK AGAIN!"
"When I die please bury me deep!"
"PLANT MY RIFLE BY MY FEET!"
"Don't you cry, don't shed no tear!"
"JUST PACK MY BOX WITH PT GEAR!"
"'Cause one morning 'bout zero four!"
"EARTH WILL SHAKE AND THE SKIES WILL POUR!"
"Don't you worry, don't come undone!"
"IT'S JUST MY GHOST ON A PT RUN!"
"Helljumper?" Garrus asked another marine doing bench presses with an impressive amount of weight. The marine's spotter eased the bar back onto the rack, allowing him to sit up and wipe the sweat off his brow.
"Orbital drop troops," the corporal replied. "We go down into hell, meaning enemy territory. First in, last out."
Garrus whistled. "That sounds fun."
The Marine nodded. "It can get real exciting, but that's what we get paid for." The man lay back down on the bench. "Pop on another ten, will you?"
The turian eyed the crowd of humans pounding at the track like no tomorrow. They'd just started their run when he walked in, fifteen minutes ago, and still kept going. He knew that he was nowhere near in as good shape as they were, not the least because it had been almost a decade since his time in Blackwatch. Well, no time like the present. Can't let them think that Spectres are wimps.
His omnitool rang, drawing his attention. I still have no idea how I can get Extranet access on an Alliance ship. "Hey, Melenis."
"Leaving so soon, Garrus?" The salarian chided good-naturedly.
"I did have a mission. I'll be back though," Garrus promised.
"Too bad. You might just miss out on us clearing the place out. We just got a call. Apparently, Tarak, Jaroth and Nord are meeting together someplace. Perfect opportunity to decapitate the gangs."
"Aw damn," Garrus whined.
"Don't worry. We'll save some for you, boss."
"No you won't. I know you and Ripper were bitching about how I grab all the kills."
"Yeah, you're right. I just wanted to give you some false hope and then yank it away."
"Asshole."
"Have fun out there. We'll hold the fort."
"See you when I get back." Garrus looked back up to see the captain jogging towards him.
"Howdy, sir," the man said, offering a hand. "Captain Antonio Silva."
"Spectre Garrus Vakarian," the turian shook hands with the Marine. "You guys love running, don't you?"
"Helps us catch our prey. Think you can keep up with us?" the captain challenged.
"Time to find out," Garrus grinned.
Omega, Unknown location
Tarak rose to his feet in rage. "YOU-"
"Ah ah ahh, you don't want to do that," the human admonished. "I'm the one holding all the cards here. No really," he reached inside his vest and drew out a pack of cards, fanning them out. "I'm holding all the cards." He grinned nightmarishly, holding up an Ace of Diamonds, which glowed light green in the darkened room. "Want to see what I can do with them?"
The memory of his loyal bodyguard dropping like a stone flickered in his eyes for a moment, and then it felt like some outside compulsion pushed him back into his seat.
"You'll forgive me if I have some issues with this 'offer' of yours," Jaroth spoke up. "In the first place, I'd like to know who you are working for. Secondly, in my experience with law enforcement officers, if you kill one, his comrades will redouble their efforts to find the one responsible and retaliate. Rumor has it that Archangel is a Spectre. The Spectres are not as…restrained as their fellows in C-Sec. As you say, I am a businessman. I am not in the habit of taking unnecessary risks. And your suggestion is fraught with unnecessary risk."
"Coward," Nord rumbled. "You would run away from here with your tail between your legs?"
"I didn't come here to save Eclipse's operations on Omega," the salarian retorted. "I came here to salvage them, to take what was leftover and move them somewhere more profitable and less risky."
In an abandoned apartment building three blocks away, two humans lay side by side. One was staring through a rifle scope, centering the cross-hairs a scant two centimeters above a silhouette in the window. The other peered through a set of field binoculars. Meanwhile, two more figures approached the back left corner, assault rifles in hand.
"Archangel killed your brother," Tarak growled. "If it was my kin, I'd want his head."
"Arnoth was an idiot," Jaroth replied. "Only an idiot steps up to fight a losing battle. Killing Archangel may benefit us in the short term, but only until the other Spectres figure out who was responsible. At that point, they'll hunt us down individually. And while each of us represents a large and powerful group, I doubt any of us in this room has the resources to challenge a government."
"So I take it you're not going to accept my offer, then?" the human asked.
Jaroth stood. "You three can play war with a nation state if you want. I have better things to do. I'm getting out before the Guardians come for us."
The human eyed a conspicuous red dot on the glass behind the salarian. "Too late…" he noted in a sing-song voice.
The large chip of ferrous material flew across open space at relativistic speed, easily piercing the regular plate glass window and continuing straight for its target. Jaroth never saw or heard the shot that took half his skull with it.
Tarak dived to the ground as his second bodyguard threw himself on top. Nord and his vorcha, astonishingly for krogan and vorcha, spread out like trained soldiers. Of course, being a small building, there was only so much area available.
And the human caught a glowing green rifle that flew from behind the bar counter and literally slapped the trigger just as the muzzle passed over the apartment where the sniper-spotter team was, startling them as a return shot flew right between them.
"I spy with my little eye something red and something dead~!" he added as he shouldered the rifle properly and fired again. The sniper had been shifting his aim to the man when the second shot tore through the right side of helmet, splattering the spotter with blood and bits of his face.
"Shit!" the man yelped into his radio. "Weaver's down!"
The other two figures exchanged a cold glance. Their group had come close to losing a people before, but this was a first. The scum would pay.
The strange human gestured, and two tables glowed green before shifting themselves in the room. One mashed itself into the window, blocking the sightline. The other turned sideways and flew straight through the doorway. The sound of the doorframe shearing off the central stand was the only thing that saved the gunman preparing to enter the building. The turian barely threw himself out of the way in time as the slab of material sailed past him, clattering into the street as the green glow faded.
His comrade, a human, threw in a flash grenade that had been cooked for two seconds. It exploded on impact, and he dove into the building only to be surrounded by a glowing green aura.
"Sorry, no visitors allowed! Run along home now!" the man cackled as he directed the unfortunate gunman's body to leave at high velocity.
The turian peered through the doorway before hurriedly withdrawing as a number of angry vorcha unleashed a hail of suppression fire. He snarled to himself before pulling out a strange pistol gifted to him by a salarian friend and fired once through the doorway. He was rewarded with screams and the smell of burning flesh as the projectile exploded twice: first releasing a cloud of highly flammable gases, and then a small pyrotechnic charge that ignited the cloud and everything in it.
"Ow…" the human muttered as he picked himself off the street, having skidded a fair distance away from the building. "Vortash, this thing just went sideways. Let's pull out."
Vortash fired a second time before turning tail and running to the building they'd approached from. Both men vanished from sight before the remaining vorcha and one very scorched and angry krogan spilled onto the street, futilely searching for their prey.
Tarak tentatively looked up as the dust and ash settled, then rankled his nose in disgust at the scent of roasted flesh. His remaining bodyguard eased off of him and helped him to his feet. He dusted himself off, then looked over to see the human holding a severed and blackened vorcha leg, looking almost poised to bite into the tendons. The human grinned toothily at the nauseated expressions he received from both batarians. "Yeah, I'm just fucking with you," he said, throwing the limb away. "I'm crazy, but not that crazy."
Nord stomped in, seething with displeasure at being denied a fight. "They got away!" he growled.
"Not all of them," the human answered with that same infuriating smirk that made Tarak want to put a hole in his face. The only thing stopping him from doing so was the recent display of skill and that strange power of his. "One little piggy is dead. That's one more than any of you ever managed."
"Maybe we should work with him, sir," the bodyguard whispered. "It's probably safer if we're on his side."
Tarak gritted his teeth. It went against every fiber of his being to work with a human, but this particular one had proven himself to be exceptionally dangerous, even unarmed. Not to mention clearly unstable, considering how unconcerned the man had been while dealing with four vigilantes on his own. Better to stand out of his line of fire.
"I'll work with you to get rid of Archangel," he spat, "but I definitely don't trust you, human."
"Works for me," the krogan noted, now somewhat calmer than before as his regenerative ability soothed the pain from being burned. "Hopefully it'll be a good fight."
"Oh you won't have to worry about that," the human smiled. "And what about you, frog-boy?"
The Eclipse adjutant stiffened indignantly, then remembered how casually the human had dealt with the Guardian's attack. He considered his own position. With Jaroth out of the picture, it fell to him to consolidate Eclipse's efforts on Omega. He would need a suitable demonstration of his own capabilities before he could trust his men to follow him in pulling out like his boss had intended to. "You'll have the support of Eclipse," he answered, reluctantly.
"See boys? That wasn't so hard!" the dark-skinned human laughed. "The name's 'Jester,' and you'll be hearing from me real soon."
The Olympus, Secure Communications
"Since the attacks have mainly been concentrated in a certain area of the Terminus Systems, Director Harper and I agreed to send in a liaison group to a few of those colonies, along with specialized equipment to help those independent groups fend for themselves." He fought to keep the displeasure at agreeing with the man off his face. "You might be interested to know that among the staff we sent over is one of your former crew, Lieutenant Ashley Williams."
"Nice to hear she's back on her feet, sir," Shepard noted. "What kind of equipment do they have?"
"Each colony has an augmented company of marines as well as technicians setting up a networked defense system for the colonists. We've kept it quiet so the Citadel doesn't get antsy, and so the enemy won't have any warning beforehand."
"So if the Reaper forces attack any of them, they won't be able to scrub the evidence this time around."
"That's the plan," Hackett agreed. "But you know that plans go out the window when the first shot is fired."
"It works both ways," Shepard pointed out. "Once the enemy forces are exposed, we'll be able to identify them and start countering them. They'll have to change tactics, and we'll have the initiative."
"In theory, we would," Hackett reminded her. "Real life is not that simple. For now, just keep an eye out and be ready to move at a moment's notice. And make sure the Spectre is trained up on our equipment. Considering the scale of the potential threat against us, I'm willing to overlook a few security violations."
"I'm thinking of showing him the HADES armor and doing a bit of drop training for him, sir."
"Approved," Hackett answered without a second thought. "You're the field officer. Use your best judgement."
"Thanks for that vote of confidence sir,"
Omega, Guardian hideout
The mood was somber, though not quite dismal. Intellectually, they had known it was only a matter of time before the odds caught up to them. It still stung them all to lose a friend.
"See? That's him," Ripper said, pointing at the fuzzy silhouette. "He's the one who killed Weaver."
"Not a familiar face," Sensat noted. The batarian had an eidetic memory for individuals, which had served him well as a Free Batarian hunter-killer.
"He threw a fucking table at me," Vortash muttered.
"Can you enhance the image?" Monteague asked.
One moment later, the image from the helmet camera became more focused as Butler tweaked the program. "That's about as good as I can get it," he apologized.
"The STG has a multi-input enhancer designed for this," Melenis interjected. "Give me a day, and I can really clean this up."
"No need," Erash replied, walking into the room. "I got Sidonis and Mierin tailing them. And before you ask, yes, they're staying as far back as they can. Here's a good picture."
Vortash snatched up the datapad, grunted, then threw it on the table. "Next time, that scum is dead," he growled.
Codex: High Altitude Deployment System
The HADES system was developed using the old Archangel armor from the Ethereal war for the purpose of allowing spaceborne deployment of light infantry expeditionary forces for areas covered by defensive systems.
The armor incorporates a powerful mass effect generator and a two-part shell. The external shell is composed of tough ceramic that can withstand the heat of atmospheric reentry. Behind the plates is a layer of biodegradeable gel that absorbs any extra heat and serves as an impact cusion for the soldier inside. The outer layer is shed once terminal velocity is reached, allowing the soldier to control the rest of the descent with the use of the Mass Effect repulsors. Unusually for Alliance military equipment, it operates with no Elerium whatsoever.
The second part of HADES is the equipment drop pod, which lands in an area cleared out by the troops carrying the equipment necessary for the light infantry to breach emplacements and clear out a landing zone for more conventional forces to follow. Without the drop pod, HADES troopers must make do with Mass Effect or Laser weapons designed for anti infantry purposes.
HADES troopers, nicknamed "Helljumpers," have the most strenuous mission requirements of the regular military. Various specialized regiments exist for the sole purpose of training these formations for deployment. Every Predator Commando has attended Helljumper School at one point or another.
Considering the various kinds of atmospheres found on different planets (ie, much more dense or thin, corrosive gases, extreme heat, cold), performing sub-orbital deployment with HALO (High Altitude-Low Opening) or HAHO (High Altitude High Opening) equipment is impractical.
So far, no one's guessed who 'Jester' really is.
Now that I'm a good ways into this story, I'd like to hand out a few pointers to fellow or budding writers.
One of my biggest pet peeves on is repetitive language usage. I can't stand stories where, for example, the author only uses one word or phrase over and over again. "He said..." "She said..." "They said..." over and over, the author only uses that one word to indicate dialogue, for example. The simplest solution is VOCABULARY. Words are the building blocks, the tools you use, to tell a story. The fewer you have, the more limited you are.
Another thing is when people over-explain parts of their story WHILE IN-STORY. Usually, this takes the form of a character monologuing. While sometimes you need to clarify things for your audience, don't patronize them by assuming everyone is an idiot. Part of the thrill of being a reader is figuring out the little parts of the story yourself. If you take that away, you are depriving much of your audience of something they enjoy about a story: suspense.
Third, you can't please everyone. Most of the reviews I've received are positive. Some are negative, but they offer criticism and genuine feedback. And then there's a miniscule amount that boils down to "you suck, bai." Some authors deal with this by lashing out or chronically attempting to justify themselves and their story, and this can bleed into the writing. Don't fall into that trap. I did once, and it's part of the reason why my two earliest stories are currently discontinued.
Fourth, don't write for the ending. Write for the next scene. With anything you do, if you stay focused only on the end goal, It'll feel like you're never making progress. You'll lose your drive. That's why I haven't updated my other three stories. I made that mistake, and now I can't get back in the mood to finish those. I think this is the most common pitfall that authors on this site fall into.
My recommendation, which works for me at least, is go by chapter. Each chapter, formulate an image of what you want to say next. What awesome scene to write, what questions to answer, what are the next questions you want your audience to ask, etc. The key to a good story is keeping your audience engaged. Keep them wanting more. Keep leaving things open so they come back to find out what your devious mind will cook up next. Fun fact: I have no written outline. I've been writing this story by the seat of my pants since the very beginning. I take it in small segments and think very hard about the immediate scene, not the ending. And then I type it up. I'm not saying this approach is for everyone. Do what works for you.
Finally, Spelling and Grammar. This is something that I attribute to pure laziness. We have spellcheck. We have Websters Dictionary online. We have other authors from which to learn proper sentence structure. If English is not your native language, I apologize. But for everyone else, take time and pride in your writing. Don't fucking use textchat or leetspeak in your stories. I will hunt you down and clobber you over the face with a dictionary.
Anyways, until next time!
