Author's Notes I: My thanks to those who shared their ME3 thoughts/ideas as requested. As for those who decided to also put in requests for ME2, my thanks as well, but the rest of this bit of the story is already planned out and is just awaiting the actual writing, so there's not much room for deviation there in order to stay on schedule. Regardless, I hope you all enjoy this chapter. I do have a notice about the next chapter at the very bottom of this one, so please note.
"A couple of black-clad assassins barred his way, in a polite manner which nevertheless indicated that impoliteness was a future option." – Terry Pratchett, Men at Arms
Chapter 34 - War Games
(Saving Grace, Noodles and Company, The Game, An Idea, Clear Messages, Starting Ceremony, Learning Curve, Jacked Up, Improvement, The Timer, Unusual Tactics, Curiosity, Revealing Circumstances)
Kasumi had been shackled to the cot.
This was not a metaphor, nor was it euphemism or innuendo. And, perhaps shackled brings to mind far too many questionable thoughts; best not to think on it too much.
This had gone beyond cruel and unusual punishment right into… into… usual punishment. And now, with Samara having finished her recovery, she was alone in the med-bay with Karin. Sure, she shouldn't have been eavesdropping on the Commander's conversations… again… and, yeah, she got that not everyone might exactly be appreciative of her chosen coping mechanisms but those were not reasons for this. This must have been what prison felt like. Pretty soon the guards would come by again, cracking down on anyone who dared to smile. It's not like she was talking that much, was it?
Meany Karin.
"That was out loud, Miss Goto," stated the doctor calmly from the other side of the room, the sole warden guarding the door. Somehow, though, she couldn't help but think that if several banks and museums had had a Chakwas protecting their wares, they might have been able to avoid calling for the insurance company after many an eventful night.
"Oh I…" attempted the thief, betrayed once more by her thoughts and then by her suit as it endeavored to flicker into nothing and then failed. "Sorry…"
She was apologizing. She was reduced to apologizing now? What the hell was happening? It had to be something with the lights. She knew being exposed to this much synthetic light was hazardous to her health. Or was it the water?
Did she have to start suspecting the water now?
"So, what's your favorite-" began the asian, entering into the land of small talk not for the first time. Maybe it would-
"No." -not work this time.
"Okay, how about your best-"
"No," repeated the doctor, her desk work somehow managing to keep her attention. Prison? No, this is what it must have felt like to be in a waking nightmare. Not the monstrous kind like certain planets filled with twisted mimicries of bodies, no, the caught stealthing without clothes kind.
"Alright, well-" Regardless, she was nothing if not persistent.
"Miss Goto, it was the same answer the last forty times you attempted to get gossip from me," sighed the medical practitioner, finally setting work aside to fix her with a glare. "That is, I think, the definition of insanity. Would you like me to start treating you for it?"
The thief slid back into her cot, giving up as she pouted into her cowl. This was so much harder than just being able to cloak around the ship and listen to people spill their secrets. Why couldn't people just realize that these types of things were meant to be overheard? This was-
"Hey Karin, how's the inmate doing?" came the voice of Garrus as the turian strode calmly into the room, immediately drawing the asian's attention as if he had turned into a highly specific kind of black hole.
"Rude, Spike." She needed exactly no reminding of her current situation thank you very much.
"Accurate, Kas." And, she couldn't really argue the point. Damn, why did he have to be clever like that?
"Two more days of rest-"
"One more?" attempted Kasumi hopefully, perking up in her bed and giving her best 'This is up for debate, right?' face.
"Two more days of rest and with some rehab, she should be back to normal," reiterated Karin, destroyer of hope, flatly.
"Spirits help us," replied the sniper in mock astonishment. Was he just trying to rub it in? Well, now he was just asking for it. At this rate, he'd better hope that she was never cleared from this place, otherwise he'd find out what someone who could turn invisible could really do.
She squeezed the malformed plushie that she had been allowed to keep, the mimicry far sturdier than the base model and more than a tad safer. She looked down at the green and yellow thing; distasteful?
Nah.
"So is there a reason that you're still hovering over me, Vakarian?"
"Why yes, matter of fact, there is," provided the turian, hope immediately starting to surge once more within the thief. "I was wondering if I could take Kasumi out for… a… while…?"
Although the doctor's back was to her, she could tell from the way the ex-CSec officer's mandibles were acting that the look leveled his way probably wasn't the good kind. Funny though. He always seemed to look cute like that, in a metallic carapace kind of way.
"Miranda could learn a thing or two from you," let out Garrus eventually as he withstood the brunt of the glower far longer than Kas thought possible.
"As could you…"
"Look, I get it you've got a job to do," continued the sniper, moving onto tactic number two as the thief silently rooted him on. "But-"
"You will keep her leg supported and make sure she does her exercises," interrupted Chakwas as she stood suddenly and let loose Kasumi's restraint. A pair of eyes looked at her, blinking as if to reset proper mental functions.
"Really?" asked the thief and the officer in unison.
"If I don't let her out for now, I have the strong belief that she might explode," provided the doctor as she beckoned for the turian to come over.
"You're probably not wrong," mumbled Garrus, Kas silently mouthing the same as her savior walked over to her. He moved to her side as if he were-
"What, you're not going to carry me? So ungentlemanly." The man sighed and then pulled her into his arms, exiting swiftly through the doors as if he were embarrassed for some odd reason.
"So… where are we going?" she asked, somehow enjoying the ride despite the cushioning being on the level of combat armor.
"Down to engineering," he replied as they stepped into the elevator, sending her thoughts whirring momentarily. "We do have a pool to run and sparring to work odds on."
The happy noise that escaped her lips would have set dogs on edge.
OOOO
"Would you stop fucking slurping those?" grumbled Jack as she upgraded her glare at the sapient lizard from daggers to claymores.
"I like them," managed Grunt elegantly around a mouthful of noodles, all but daring the small biotic to promote the status once more.
"The hell is that supposed to mean?" pressed the convict as her eyes tried to figure out what the next blade level might even be.
"You're supposed to slurp them if you like them," explained the young berserker as he leveled a look back at her that asked quite plainly 'Don't you know your own species?'
"I don't give a shit, stop it," came the immediate response, the responding slurp causing the tattooed woman to bang her head against her chosen wall.
"You're just jealous, human," came the mumble from the massive maw as he fished at the bottom of his latest cup with an audible scratching.
"Don't need your disgusting food," stated Jack on impulse mere seconds before her stomach gave a massive growl. The pair stared at the obvious betrayal, the convict already dreading the stupid grin he was giving her around another mouthful of those stupid noodles. "Shut it…"
It should, perhaps, be stated that the psychotic biotic was rather bored. After the reports of her latest antics aboard the Citadel had surfaced at the Commander's attention, he'd told them to limit their intake. They were apparently getting 'too rowdy', the great sunshine Shepard had decreed. And now, the headache that kept growing into position from the absence of liver mugging liquids was being pretty damn insistent.
Normally, she'd just sleep that kind of pain away, but she'd been avoiding it. Those things from Sanctum kept invading her private time, waking her in a sweaty delirium when she went for anything longer than a cat nap. Logic suggested that she should ask someone professional about the conundrum, but when the fuck had she cared about being logical? So, she'd started sleeping less and less, trying to find other things to occupy her time.
Her 'room's ceiling was covered with so many knife holes, it was hard to get it to stick any more. And Tali had thrown a fit when she had started to practice her biotics down there. Zaeed had more or less locked himself in his own room, declaring quite firmly that no one was keeping him from his flask, and, for the most part, no one seemed brave enough to try. Although, she had thought she'd heard him yelling for Shepard to stop messing with the goddamn lights on more than one occasion.
So, she'd thought to come in here and butt heads with the big guy, well, the scaly one that is. Unfortunately, he was too busy eating those damn things and looking up vids on his Omni-tool.
And, damnit, now she was hungry.
She eyed one of the stacks of cups that the krogan had haphazardly made when he'd unloaded from his trip. She looked up at him, making sure he was still engrossed in whatever the hell kind of drivel he was watching now and began to biotically pull a cup towards her as surreptitiously as she could.
"If you want it, you'll have to ask," stated the lizard smugly as a gauntleted hand caught the floating prize. And there was that big stupid dumb grin again!
"You keep inhaling those things, you'll get fat. I'm doing you a favor," she attempted, stomach pressuring her towards unexpectedly sound arguments.
"Krogan don't get fat," countered Grunt a tad reproachfully.
"You sure? Really want to risk looking weak in front of your battlemasters?" continued Jack, doing her best to keep evil grins that wanted nothing more than to creep into position from doing so.
"Fine," growled the krogan eventually, three big fingers releasing their grip on the cup and allowing it to sail the rest of the way towards her.
The convict popped the lid, the mixture inside began to heat as the cheap chemical reaction built up within the inner walls of the cup. She pulled a pair of chopsticks from the bottom, the utensils telescoping outward and ready to pick up food.
She'd watched Kasumi eat like this, it shouldn't be that hard-
After the fourth attempt at transference, she heard Grunt offer a very unkrogan-like snicker.
"Shut up," mumbled the biotic scowling menacingly as she stared at the apparently malfunctioning utensils. As he went back to his own cup, however, a thought occurred to the convict. He had three fingers; how the hell was he doing it? And as she peered back over, she found the answer laid with the pair of sticks being pressed together into a malformed shovel by pudgy fingers.
It was not pretty.
She stared back at her own attempts and decided the traditional way would decrease the chance of first degree burns and kept trying.
Finally on the sixth attempt, Jack succeeded, wincing as she burned her tongue on the overly hot food, but she'd shown this damn thing who was boss. As she continued to eat, she began slowing her intake, realizing how spicy these stupid things were and starting to walk back and forth as if to cool herself with wind itself.
"Stop pacing, it's annoying."
She sneered wordlessly at the behemoth, but did as she was bid, walking over towards the room's sole window to combat the dual tides of boredom and spiciness. She looked down into the cargo bay, seeing a certain pair sparring diligently.
And, suddenly, a well-worn light flickered on within her head.
"Hey, you gonna just sit around all day?"
"Got a better plan?" came the rumbled response that didn't even bother to look up from its vid.
"Yes," replied Jack calmly as a smile grew onto her small face-
"Yes I do."
OOOO
He could see that the Cerberus Operative wasn't exactly thrilled by the audience up in in the engineering level overlook. She had attempted to speak to Garrus about his betting pool getting rather out of hand more than a few times since the pair had restarted their sparring, but apparently the words had fallen on deaf ear-holes. Although, the Chief didn't know why they bothered, especially now.
"You know," started Miranda as she set down her water bottle and turned towards him, the signs of modest fatigue washed away for a moment. "I used to think I was proficient at this."
He wondered how long ago that had been before biotics had trumped her need for such practices. That particular thought he had kept to himself, however, feeling it was strangely right to do so. Any other thoughts that attempted to fly into position, however, were dashed as the biotic walked towards their impromptu ring once more.
He had stacked the remainder of his weapons and equipment and what few pieces of his armor that weren't already up in the tech lab with caution in a far corner of the bay. It had been his idea to start the sparring once more, a need to get back to his normal practices and with Samara still in the infirmary a few days ago, there had really been only one other person to turn to. He needed to take some control back from a life currently not hidden within the confines of a green exo-suit as normal preferences dictated.
He was wearing his bodysuit once more, not for lack of trying to use some of the new clothes that he had been gifted back on the Citadel. He'd thought to break them in with some simple hand to hand, but the operative had refused to participate until he changed. He didn't know why she was making a bother about it, they were his now, weren't they?
"How much do you have to slow yourself down?" asked Miranda, jogging the super soldier from his thoughts as she stretched for their next round.
They didn't just spar, it was a game he knew he could win after all, and so did she. He'd been the one to point out that she could use some work on her non-biotic hand fighting, and, after some back and forth, they'd come to an understanding on two conditions. The first had been a relatively simple request, he was faster than her and they both knew this.
Before he could stop it however, a shrug rose plainly into view, it gave off a half-hearted 'a bit' which inevitably brought one of the biotic's eyebrows into the locked position.
"Of course," she murmured with a sardonic laugh. Then, shrugging to herself, she added a simple, "Well, shall we continue?"
The second condition, however, had seemed to be a bit of strange request from the Cerberus Operative. It was simple enough, they each took turns providing a single word favorite until someone scored a hit or they tried to say anything longer. He had yet to lose, but it still didn't stop him from trying to see what benefit the trite information could be to her. She wasn't hunting for anything tech based and he'd given her nothing even approaching the realms of classified, and she had seemed to be completely okay with it. So, continuing to trust in their new found 'understanding' he had continued their bouts with mild interest.
"I believe it's your turn to start," continued the biotic as she assumed a ready stance, fists held up.
"Fields," stated John as he threw a carefully slowed punch forward, the operative side stepping it.
"Skylines," came the reply as she turned aside his follow-up, striking back out as he had coached her.
"Quiet," he whispered as he saw the inevitable opening, her feet far too close together. At least she was starting to last past the first couple of strikes now.
"Shocker," she replied as she cocked her head and then positioned her hands to block another strike. A moment later she was on the ground, her legs kicked out from underneath her with ease. "Damn…"
The Spartan offered her a hand, the biotic accepting without any of the previous qualms she used to show. A person that was privy to the inner mechanisms of the individual might have started to read into that, but this type of creature didn't exactly fit within the Master Chief. And, so, the pair reset without another word. She looked expectantly at him as they each lifted their respective hands, and, after a moment, she sighed as turn order dawned.
"Order." This time it was the Chief's turn to raise an eyebrow at statements that were more facts of the universe than mere obviousness. It rose further as she actually tried to go on the offensive for once.
"Routines." His hands moved along well-practiced motions and, even at slower speeds, knocked hers away effortlessly.
"Efficiency," she countered as she pressed her attack, annoyance building as his hands swatted hers down. She probably thought he was speeding up again, and yes, it was hard not to do so, but that was hardly the case now. If she had a habit of telegraphing her biotics, she definitely had one for this.
"Exercise." Her hands halted as she fixed him with a look that could only be translated as 'go figure.' He shrugged as he started forward.
"Violins." Miranda worked to his side around his first set of punches looking to strike an unprotected flank and missing as he spun away.
"Stars," he replied as the image of a night sky around a nearly empty field worked its way into his vision for the briefest of moments. He watched her open her mouth, her lips framed to ask a question but she stopped herself if only just.
"Ice-cream," she added as they began to circle once more.
"Used that," stated the Chief distractedly as he moved forward to strike.
"No," countered Miranda as her hands went down, a small smile growing on her face, "not for this anyway… Also, my point."
The Spartan frowned as his streak of wins finally came to an abrupt end. His mind whirred back over the course of the past few days, but she was right.
A small grin spread itself thinly across his all too white features as the pair lifted their hands once more. And conveniently, without bothering to do anything as mundane as actually telling the operative he was doing so, the super soldier decided to speed up just a tad.
"Games," he heard himself say wryly as he launched himself forward, watching Miranda's eyes widen.
"Research," managed the biotic as she ducked underneath the first kick and jumped over the second, stumbling backwards.
"Winning," countered the Spartan as he pressed forward with a flurry of blows, his opponent barely able to keep up.
"Reall-" started the question before it died on her lips, the words replaced by a biotic snap as a stasis washed over his body.
The two eyed each other silently, the quiet only punctuated by the operative's heavy breathing.
"Competitiveness is more like it…" continued Miranda eventually as she straightened and then finally seemed to notice the current look upon his face. "Sorry, habits…"
The stasis released as quickly as it was set, the Spartan stretching back into an easy stance. Their gazes met again before the biotic turned and walked steadily towards the water. It seemed she was avoiding the rather pleasant 'My point' expression that he had leveled her way.
"No need to be so bloody smug about it…"
Before either could say anything else, however, the Chief found himself turning as the hairs on the back of his neck began to stand on end. His body readied for an attack, but none came from the form of Samara as she leaned against a wall. He hadn't heard the lift go off, and, from what he could see of Miranda, she hadn't either.
"I had no intention to interrupt," stated the Justicar serenely as she continued to recline against the metal. "I am content to watch for now if that is what you wish."
"It's fine. I required a few minutes anyways," answered Miranda, drawing the Master Chief's questioning gaze. She wasn't breathing that hard any more.
The pair shared a look, and the Chief realized that she was getting far better at reading him even when he was trying to be discreet. The sparring with her was always helpful, even when it was more of a training session for her, but the Justicar just had the experience to make it much more of a consistent challenge.
Wordlessly, the asari strode over, the Chief working out the kinks as he prepared for a more intense session. Before they could start, however, the doors of the lift opened and out strode Grunt and Jack, the smile the latter happened to be wearing seeming to lay somewhere in the mischievous range.
"This looks fun. Mind if we join?"
OOOO
"Do you think they know?" Garrus and Kasumi asked simultaneously, staring at each other a moment after. They shared a thought, neither stealing the opportunity to speak as they regarded the pair of combatants below.
"Do you think she knows?" asked the turian absentmindedly, the pair of bookmakers managing to find each other's glance once more.
"Probably not," they said in unison, both, offering an exasperated laugh as they continued to duel out the credits from the most recent round. Kenneth was starting to actually win, somewhat at least; a scary thought under normal circumstances. The sniper made a mental note to check to make sure no one started borrowing from that particular pot.
"That lot is going to take forever," grumbled the ex-CSec officer as he stared down at the figures for the wager in question. They had had to rewrite the rules for it five times already as circumstances evolved.
"Stupid Jacob… saying it too early," mumbled the thief as Garrus dissuaded her from siphoning any further credits away.
"Standing right here guys."
"Well, it's not like we knew all the specifics at the time…" offered the turian as he watched Miranda fall to the Chief again. Why didn't they actually fight, you know, give the rest of the crew a show? As a completely unbiased third party, this was drawing in too little of the crew and it had felt like ages since they had actually gotten together in bulk again.
"You think he'd know her better," pushed the thief with a pout, never one to actually like losing a bet. With each successive rule change on lot sixty-three, her odds had only steadily gone down.
"Still right here..."
"Can't say I blame him. Anyone who walks around all day in that kind of get-up like she does…" started a sniper whose own odds at the attempted bet were nearly as low. As he trailed off, his mandibles began to itch, causing him to look back down at the reclined yet ultimately glaring thief. "What?"
"I walk around in basically that most days…" she said slowly as a particularly glowing glint gleamed from within her hood.
"Okay but…" His words stuck to his tongue, none wishing to venture out lest they be ambushed.
"You're doing it again, Spike," sighed Kas, but before a foot could be placed any further into a mandibled mouth, a pair of psychopaths ventured from their den.
"You want in on this?" asked the ex-CSec officer, desperate for anything to get off the current train of thought. He doubted that a 'needed to leave for calibrations' excuse would work for much longer with her.
"In a bit," replied Jack in an oddly knowing and ultimately suspicious manner. Garrus peered at them as they passed, trying to figure out the wrinkle. Zaeed had passed as well, but at least his reasons were a bit more of the drunken selfish kind. Hell, he was probably taking bets with the flask at this rate.
"Did they look strange to you or was that just me?" asked Garrus as Grunt and the tattooed woman disappeared within the lift. His worries disappeared further as Samara walked out from wherever she had been hiding down below. Well, at least things were going to get a tad more interesting.
"You worry too much, Spike," replied Kasumi, momentarily forgetting her irritation. Before they could commence the latest round of bets, however, they watched as Grunt and Jack emerged down below as well.
"…I think I need to change the figures around…" trailed off the turian as he began sending out an alert to the crew at large.
"I'll take the credits," inserted the thief, a phrase that should have normally sent a bit of worry down his spine. Unfortunately enough for him, a most interesting thought had gotten stuck as it flew through his head. Quickly, the ex-CSec officer walked over to the intercom and toggled it on.
"Wait a second, you guys look like you might be one short…" he announced to the would-be combatants below, turning the system back off before they could respond.
"What do you have in mind, Spike?" whispered Kas, excitement tinging her every syllable.
"Just watch," he replied as casually as he could as he brought his Omni-tool to bear.
There was the matter of payback after all…
OOOO
Tali knew Shepard had come down to talk, and they had managed to do so for perhaps a few moments before the memory flashes took over the terminal once more, drawing the pair towards it as if it had its own gravitational field. And, as if they had been strapped to a time machine, an hour had past.
The flashes had been coming faster now, almost like a heartbeat finding its tempo once more. And, gladly, those that had happened to find themselves in the room always seemed to be more than willing to watch. Tali had been there for almost all of them, and she wasn't stopping now.
She had watched as they fell to the ringed world, the massive feat of science. She'd wrung her hands as they fought their strange foes on the artificial lands and in the aliens' own ships. She'd paced absentmindedly as they worked their way to the heart of the massive construct and the AI had sent her protector hurriedly on his way.
She'd watched with the intelligence's own eyes as the Chief encountered the Flood for the first time, every bit of the monstrosity that they had been on Sanctum. There had been several members of the crew in the lab that day, they hadn't stayed very long after that particular bout of memories had spewed forth. She didn't want to ever know what it felt like to face those creatures in person.
And then, finally, they were here, watching as what could only be described as a sentient version of her drone with a bit more physical housing teleported the pair to safety. The engineer had had to push her inquisitive thoughts rather far down at the idea of that particular nugget of apparently viable technology. She'd almost finally worked up the courage to ask the Chief some questions on the memories, but had refrained from doing so thus far. A part of her couldn't help but see the memories as no small amount of a breech in privacy… one that she couldn't help but continue to commit-
"Hey, isn't that one of the pieces with the shield emitter?" asked Shepard suddenly drawing the quarian's gaze down to what she should have been working on at the moment.
(Is something wrong?) went a floating blue sphere.
"Almost all of them have that, Shepard," she replied offhandedly as she felt her gaze return to the terminal.
(No, nothing,) came the unmistakable gravel of the Chief.
"I mean, isn't that one of the controlling nodes?" continued the Spectre, the nomad almost cursing his ability to understand the technical updates they'd sent him as he persisted on trying to pry her away from the screen and towards him.
(Splendid! Shall we? Unfortunately, my usefulness in this particular endeavor has come to an end. To perform a task as important as the reunification of the index with the core. That final step is reserved for you, Reclaimer.)
"That's what Mordin and I were able to work out, yes," she replied slowly as her hands attempted to betray her and continue their work of their own free will despite her interests being somewhat elsewhere at the moment.
(-Protocol does not allow units with my classification-)
"And you're not going to work on it?" Her hands made another effort, almost succeeding this time with the weight of the guilt trip behind them.
"I do…" Tali attempted somewhat weakly, knowing that not too long ago, the entire Normandy team would have been needed to tear her away from the armor if she'd have had her way.
"Just not right now?" She wondered for a moment if the human had some unexplainable disease that made him feel the need to get punched.
(-to perform a task as important as the reunification-)
"I'm just having trouble focusing…" It was another weak excuse, but at least it was the honest kind.
"Doesn't seem to be bothering Mordin anymore."
(-of the index with the core.-)
"Keelah, Shepard, he's not even watch-" The quarian paused as she moved to gesture towards her fellow worker and saw him oscillating between a miniature version of the memory on his Omni-tool and the armor segment beneath his hands. How had she not seen him doing that sooner? "-ing… Damnit…"
(-That final step is reserved for you, Reclaimer.)
"Hmm? Don't mind me. Multitasking part of salarian culture. Can do it sometimes. When revelations not too interesting, of course."
"Fine," admitted the nomad just before the Commander's annoyingly charming mouth could open again, "I just want to watch, now shh."
She could almost feel as the AI readied herself to surge forth from the control room's heart, as her large friend placed the strange key into the display and it sputtered ineffectively.
(Odd. That wasn't supposed to happen.)
(Oh really?) came Cortana's now rather familiar voice, the quarian finding herself smiling beneath her faceplate even if she didn't know why.
(Cortana!)
"Do you think she always projects to that size if the display can- ow!" Tali's fist moved at the speed of momentarily distracted curiosity as it slammed into the human's shoulder. She could hear him rubbing the spot as she continued to focus. "Point taken…"
A moment later, she felt her Omni-tool buzz and stared down at it and the unread message. She gazed back up, and then, with a rather pained effort, finally managed to tear her attention from the feed, noticing the sender.
(I've spent the last twelve hours cooped up in here watching you toady about, helping that thing get set to slit our throats!) continued the artificial intelligence, the quarian unable to find it within herself at the present moment to analyze the prospect of intelligences that could grow angry as she read.
(Hold on… he's a friend)
(Oh! I didn't realize. He's your pal is he? Your chum? Do you have any idea what that bastard almost made you do?!)
"Who would have thought we'd live to see a day where sarcastic AIs were a thing?" asked the Commander, most likely already flinching for what was a punch worthy statement. The words however seemed as though they were coming from a great distance.
(Yes, Activavte Halo's defenses, and destroy the Flood. Which is why we brought the Index to the control center.)
"Indeed. On Omega, would never have suspected to serve on a ship with three AI. A fascinating opportunity," replied Mordin, as the two proceeded on despite the quarian's silence. "Look forward to future discussions… among other things."
(You mean this?)
"Among other things?" pressed the Commander as Tali read through the message again, a pit beginning to form within her stomach.
(A construct? In the Core? That is absolutely unacceptable!)
"Quite. Although, have some questions regarding sanity of unrecognized intelligence. Showing several signs of-"
(Sod off.)
"-Also, interesting vernacular. Human curses very unique-" The salarian's and the feed's sounds seemed to drift away as Tali's mind finally began to digest what it had hoped her eyes were lying about. There wasn't really a way that the Board could do this to her, right? This had to be some mistake, some vast oversight or misunderstanding that they could deal with if they just talked things over for a bit.
This had to be a joke-
(-The only way to stop the Flood is to starve them to death.)
"Or repeatedly detonate explosions over a city apparently…" trailed off the Spectre darkly.
"Perhaps," countered Mordin quickly, "on galactic scale, however, tricky. Scorched earth, stalling measure only."
The quarian's mind rebelled, kicking back into gear as it rejected the evidence of the words below her.
(And that's exactly what Halo is designed to do: wipe the galaxy clean of all sentient life. You don't believe me? Ask him-)
"Mordin, did I ever tell you it's creepy when you're able to guess things like that?"
There was no way that she'd committed treason.
"No. Interests are purely academical. Hypothetical scenarios always fascinating to ponder."
There was just no possible way she could even fathom it any more.
"Just checking."
(-Technically this installation's pulse has a maximum effective radius of 25,000 light - years. But once the others follow suit, this galaxy will be quite devoid of life- or at least any life with sufficient bio - mass to sustain the Flood-) And, with a quarian still in her own personal contemplative hell, the feed cut off abruptly.
"Ah was wondering. Intel too vast for previous outbreak not to occur. Curious though. Would like to know possible energy output of structure. Can calculate, but too many unknowns, would be only guess. Perhaps-"
It all had to be a joke.
"Mordin… you're not asking the AI how to build a genocidal super weapon…"
Yes, one that she just couldn't see yet and that was wildly inappropriate.
"Of course interest purely speculative, no need for such measures. Not yet anyway."
"I hope that was a joke…"
Keelah, she needed to say something, anything. She was starting to delude herself. The Board didn't send jokes, this was serious, as serious as it could get for a quarian. Maybe if she could just pull Shepard off to the side-
Before she could speak however, a familiar flanged voice burst over the Commander's Omni-tool.
"Shepard, get down to the cargo bay," called Garrus, his words filled with enough worry to even draw Tali from her sorrow.
"What's-" started Shepard, every inch of his body suddenly at the ready.
"There's no time to explain. It's an emergency!" And with the words not even out in the air for a moment, the Spectre was gone tearing off towards the elevator.
Thinking a tad more clearly and with a sudden need to put off rereading the very troublesome message, the quarian shared a look with Mordin and the two walked towards the room's corner window. They looked down, a pair of heads cocking in unison and then they stared back at each other.
"What was the disturbance?"
OOOO
Shepard flung himself towards the elevator, rational thought abandoned in his haste. Part of him attempted to puzzle out what was wrong through the self-imposed haze, but a mind that was normally so good at thinking at times like these was rather screwed up at the moment. He should have asked a few questions, he should have asked EDI to give him the cargo-bay feed, Hell, he should have just looked out of the damn tech-bay window. None of these thoughts were especially useful now, however, as he all but jumped into the lift and slammed in his override code.
The contrivance screeched down along rails that were hardly prepared for this kind of treatment, but he would have to deal with the engineering complaints later. He would do the repairs himself if he had to, as long as it got him down there in time to deal with-
"Alright, now what's the iss-" The word caught in his mouth as the sight within the bay finally managed to click within his head. Five sets of eyes stared at him, calmly, rationally, no one trying to kill each other. Nothing particularly immanent right now. It was almost like they had been waiting for him. "-You rat bastard, Garrus."
"Just thought they needed appropriate supervision, Shepard," came the aforementioned turian over the speaker system, his tone oozing with the added 'and just a little bit of payback for you.'
"For what, exactly?" ventured the combat engineer as he fixed the question to the others, brain still not entirely catching up to the facts at hand.
"They," started Miranda, the italicization attempting to pin itself against Grunt and Jack as she spoke, "want a sparring match, apparently…"
"And what, you all just thought teams would be a splendid idea?" pressed the Commander as he looked at each of his squad members in turn. Samara and the Chief seemed to be going either way on this, the two more bloodthirsty crew-mates a heavy for, leaving the Cerberus Operative as the only true naysayer.
"Actually, that was my idea," came Garrus once more, setting the Spectre's teeth grinding into a forced smile.
"Of course it was," he muttered, wondering if it was something a bit more than petty revenge that the turian was suffering from. This would draw the others to the pool again after all, so why not give them a show? "And, I'm assuming that I'm supposed to just go along with this fiasco?"
"Basically," provided Jack with the kind of happy, curse free tone that always made him worry for the safety of the Normandy.
"And you're all okay with this?"
"Your decisions are my decisions," answered Samara immediately. Well, he walked into that one. The Chief shrugged in a "kinda" type of way leaving only one more person to ask.
"I'm sure you can guess…" hinted the operative in a clearly 'please exert your authority, Commander' kind of way.
And, with that plea, the little devil inside of him said 'do it'. He gave one last look over at Grunt and Jack, observing the psychopathic equivalent of the puppy dog eyes. Though he found himself shuddering at the thought of finding out what kind of puppies could hold those expressions.
"Well, looks like it can't be helped," stated James with a sigh, watching with a near smile as Miranda's favorite 'Bloody hell, Shepard' expression immediately took over her face. He looked up at the bay windows, watching the happy crew bracing for a show. Well, wouldn't this just be fine and dandy for them. He wiped a hand over his face, trying to clear any linger apprehension before he continued. "Chief, want to help choose teams?"
The large man walked over beside him, not shrugging, but implying a shrug could be imminent at any point in the near future if any more words were used.
"Guess I'll start."
The Spectre looked over the pool of choices, part of him realizing that they were already one biotic too short. And, with two super soldiers in the midst, there was only one odd man out. "Samara."
"Miranda," said the Chief rather quickly, Shepard doing his best to keep the curiosity from his face.
"Grunt," stated the Commander, a wicked thought coming forth to settle into his mind as he prepared for the show.
"Damn it," said Jack and Miranda immediately, the combat engineer's grin only growing as he watched the two women stare daggers at each other.
"Problem?" asked the Chief innocently as the unlikely allies pulled up on either side of him.
"No," answered Miranda through gritted teeth, apparently not taking their bonding session on Sanctum to heart.
"Only if friendly fire is acceptable," added the convict, her two companions immediately staring at her. "It was a joke…" They continued to stare. "Fine…No problems…Green… whatever…"
"Still can't believe we're doing this," sighed the Commander as the teams settled into opposite sides of the bay. Then as another idea occurred to him, he forced a pleasant smile onto his face and added a "But since we are, we're going to follow a couple rules."
"Quit being a pansy, Shepard," called Jack, Grunt growling at the mention of one of his least favorite five lettered words.
"First rule," continued James, regardless of the heckling, placing his hands behind his back. "This is our ship. We like our ship, don't we? We wouldn't want anything bad to happen to it and for everyone to suddenly get spaced, correct?"
A chorus of nods worked their way up and down.
"My vote is for not dying," came Kasumi's voice from the comms above. "Just in case that helps."
"Exactly. And that leads us into rule two." A skillful pair of hands set to work surreptitiously on his Omni-tool, the man watching as the modifications he'd done to his drone over the past few days wavered silently into being behind the other team. "This is all just a friendly group sparring match." He fixed a look at Jack and Grunt in turn, watching as the two grew a shade more disheartened. "Right?"
Three normal nods and two reluctant ones came momentarily into being within the room.
"Great. Now, lastly," continued the Spectre as he pressed one final button on his Omni-tool. The other team turned as a digital likeness of the Commander hovered before them, striking a gallant pose.
"I'm Commander Shepard and THIS is my favorite spot on the Normandy!" uttered the repurposed Shepard VI projecting from his drone-
-and then his personal annoyance device detonated.
OOOO
"Nice, Shepard," growled Grunt as he stalked forward, with only one possible, one worthy target in mind. This was why the small human was one of his battlemasters, taking advantage of every possible moment to tip the tides of war.
The large krogan moved as quickly as he could, but the Spartan, as always, was faster. If the Master Chief was feeling any ill effects from the minimized blast he wasn't showing it, already turning at the ready to meet the young berserker's charge.
And, that was why this human was his other battlemaster.
As the element of surprise had not so much worn off as evaporated away like water in the desert, the hulking lizard slowed his charge as newly formed instincts fought back against primal rage and snapped into play. He slid to a halt just in front of a large fleshy leg that was starting to stretch out for a kick. The foot halted mid strike, the Spartan cocking his head, mildly impressed.
The two circled for a moment, ignoring the yells of combat emanating out around them. Even out of his armor, Grunt knew the Chief was the largest threat within the room. He would be fast, far faster than him, but the krogan had watched more than a few of the sessions with the female.
He just needed to get a hold of him, if he could just do that-
The Spartan lunged at him, derailing the thought as he speedily closed the gap between them. Fists impacted around him, landing on his armor and head in a flesh blur. Grunt threw forward his own hands, grasping for purchase but gathering naught but wind as blow after blow rained down on him. They hurt, but they felt nothing like the armored ones he knew the human was capable of.
The berserker began to laugh, slipping just a tad into his frenzy as he made a lunge of his own, the Master Chief throwing himself back towards a wall. Bruises faded back to nothingness, minor cuts began to coagulate and seal as the evidence of their first round vanished in its entirety.
"You're going to have to do better than that," he taunted with a toothy grin, eying the tall human as he stood there and shrugged his response. Anger attempted to flare at the casual dismissal, but this whole rational thought thing only strengthened its hands on the controls.
With his larger field of vision, the scaly super soldier eyed a pair of crates to either side. As fast as he dared, the tank bred threw them forward, following the sliding missiles immediately. Sure, Shepard might yell at him for wasting good stock, but, right now, everything needed to be a weapon.
He wanted to win.
The Spartan dodged one than the other, leaving him wide open as what could only be described as a scaly avalanche bore down rapidly upon him. A fleshy head cocked, perhaps accepting the inevitable, and, in an instant, control slipped away from the calm rationale that had held the lizard's brain for so long. He couldn't evade him this time, and, if he was lucky enough he could finally catch a hold of the-
Grunt felt a pair of hands on his shoulders as his secondary battlemaster flipped over him and then sent a kick sharply against his back. The large amount of muscly momentum carried him towards and then into the wall, denting the poor metal with a resounding thud. With no small amount of effort, the krogan pulled himself free, shaking away the stars that tried to blot out his vision as he turned enflamed eyes back towards his target.
But, before he could fully recover, punches began to fall on him once more. Blindly he tried to grab them, and then, failing that, he threw his head forward hoping to get lucky. Heh, he might as well have tried to gamble without a card in his hand. His fellow super soldier stepped back easily, and then returned to his assault, apparently determined to strike a definitive blow.
"Just come here, damnit," growled the young lizard as he powered through the blows and pressed his hands in a circle around the Spartan. Resistance met him immediately as the large human brought his own up to grab the heavy appendages, but despite the failed attempted Grunt couldn't help by smile.
With all the strength that he could muster, the krogan attempted to bring his arms down on the high functioning squishee. At first, the pair stalemated, but as the berserker began to churn his feet once more, he could feel his quarry begin to give. This was it. This was how he was finally going to beat him, to show this ship and his clan that no human could truly defeat a pure krogan-
And then suddenly, he was airborne.
Grunt blinked, going through the quick blaze of motions in his head as if through a stop motion camera. The human had twisted, somehow managing to turn the grip into an over the back throw, and, with his own momentum once more working against him, the toss had seemed easy enough. And, now, he was sailing rather close to the ground across the room, his armor screeching as it began to slide across the metal floor.
He looked up. He needed to grab onto something… and then those thoughts dissolved as a new target came rapidly close.
Well, she did deserve it in a way.
OOOO
"Clever, Shepard," growled Grunt as he clambered off leaving the Spectre to bask momentarily in his cleverness. He watched as the krogan surged forwards towards the Spartan, of course he would. He just hoped that the two of them didn't get too savage.
"A less than honorable start, Commander," stated Samara softly beside him as she sauntered over towards Miranda, waiting patiently for her opponent to struggle back onto shaky feet. Well, yes, that was true, but she would get over it, hopefully anyway.
So, Chief, down, Miranda, down. That just left-
"Hello, meat…"
Oh shit.
"Jack," replied the combat engineer, spreading his arms in a grand expansive manner as he instinctively started to back away. Unfortunately enough for him, she followed.
Fighting against biotics with only an Omni-tool and no shields was already grounds for get the hell out, having to do so against one with the temperament and strength of Jack, well, it could be labeled as suicidal even in 'friendly' bouts.
Damn, why had he gone for the petty mischief route again?
"You wouldn't hit a guy without biotics would you?" he asked forcing a beatific smile into position. Well, if he was going to go out like this, he was going to do so in style.
"You tell me to all the time," countered the biotic as an evil smile smeared its way across her small head like an oil slick. Well, technically she did have a point, and he really hated when she was able to do that.
"True," he stalled, nodding absentmindedly as his eyes took in possible cover around himself. A nice set of crates and supplies looked like a great place to start, "to which I say…"
Quickly, he tapped a control on his Omni-tool, calling the mod he had dubbed Shep-drone into existence directly in front of him. Immediately he dove to the side towards cover, hoping the mobile digital safety net would do its job long enough.
"I'm Commander Shep-" began the drone before a blaze of ebon energy surged forward and launched the hapless tech to the side, detonating it harmlessly against a wall.
"It's cute, Shepard, but that's only going to work once," heard the Commander behind him as he delved further into the column of crates. "Now just come out so we can settle this all… civilized."
If ever there had been a perfect usage of that word, this, was most certainly not it. It was times like this that he really wished that biotic amps hadn't come out with a countermeasure for dampening fields. That would have been extremely useful at the moment.
"I'll make it quick," offered Jack, the lie apparent in every syllable.
Carefully, he moved an eye above his current cover, watching as the small convict walked confidently along the row, enjoying every second of their game no doubt. He managed a look over at Grunt and Samara, but they were too far engrossed into their own battles to offer any assistance. Besides, this was his fight. He just needed to get close enough to her; if he could do that he calculated his blood to wall ratio would be quite a bit lower.
"Tempting… how quick you thinking?" called out James, his voice instantly pulling the evilly smiling girl in his direction. He overloaded an H-Vac unit as she passed it, the arc of energy startling her as it washed over her. He winced as he streamed out of his cover, hoping he hadn't done any permanent damage. Those things were a bastard to deal with.
He willed his feet to run as fast as they could, but just as he leaped off them to tackle Jack a biotic field enveloped him and thrust him up into the air.
"Just give up," laughed the convict cockily as his momentum carried him towards a wall. And, perhaps more importantly, towards the grating that hung on it.
A plan formulated itself rapidly within the corkscrew of his mind; this was his ship after all.
"I'll try to remember to go easy on you."
"That one at least sounded a bit more plausible," retorted the Spectre as he threw out his drone as surreptitiously as he could, down into the mess of crates on this side of the room. He waved at the crowd in the observation area as an incinerate from his Omni-tool blew open the vent. As he dove in, pulling himself through as fast as he could, he could feel the biotic field strike the edge of the opening where he had been only a moment before. And, without pausing to think on his good fortune, the man began to climb, following the route he needed to for this to work.
They had laughed at him when he'd said he'd needed to memorize the layout of this place. Well, someone had probably done so anyways, and wouldn't they be surprised?
"Quit being a pussy," yelled Jack as she called into the vent, the anger palpable within her voice. She sounded like she was right there, good. That meant all he had to do was kick out this grate here and-
The combat engineer threw himself unwisely down at her from his perch, the young biotic turning to investigate the loud clang of the fallen grate. Shock eclipsed her features for a moment, quickly replaced by a smile that promised all manner of unspeakable things as she glowed and then threw ebon energy up at him.
"So, that your big plan then?" she asked as he slowed almost instantly and then hung, twisting slightly in the air in front of her.
"Not exactly," he replied, his own smile growing onto his face as he watched a certain something creep up behind her.
"Remember kids, say no to drugs," declared Shepard Junior gallantly and then it dutifully exploded, knocking the biotic towards him as the field evaporated around him. He toggled another control on his Omni-tool, watching as it began to spark wildly. Then, without another thought he dove onto the tattooed woman, pinning her to the ground.
"Say it," he requested sweetly, hoping to any god that cared to listen that she would as he dangled the arcing tool near her.
"Fuck you," she growled as she began to glow brighter and brighter. The Spectre turned the energy output up a tad more just to be sure, and then another idea occurred.
"Look, can I level with you for a second?" he asked calmly, the convict halting her intake for a brief moment before she snorted in an extremely unlady-like manner and continued. "I can either try and shock the shit out of you and either you take an unexpected nap or you get pissed off-"
"Sounds good to me."
"-OR! Or I let you up, I'll put away my Omni-tool and you put away your biotics, and we'll try to settle this in an actually civilized fashion… By punching the hell out of each other until someone gives," he proposed carefully as he pressed himself up off of her. She eyed him suspiciously, back turned towards the other combatants as she made her way slowly to her feet. There was still murder in those eyes and far too much glowing going on about, so, before rash decisions could be made, he decided to sweeten the pot. "I'll let you back into the liquor supply…"
"Fine," she acquiesced, almost instantly losing her glow and putting up her fists. Ah, this was much more in his wheelhouse. Despite what crazy he could still see in her eyes, he believed he had a strong chance of beating a small-
The Commander only just kept his eyes from widening as he caught what appeared to be an air-to-surface krogan soaring their way. Almost absentmindedly, he moved a tad more to the side, a grin growing on his face as Jack matched him, her confusion obvious. And, her bafflement only continued to grow as the screech of armor on metal reverberated within the room, drawing her gaze behind her a few moments too late.
The Spectre took a few more steps to the side as he watched the large form of Grunt bowl over the ex-convict with little effort. And, as he made sure she was still breathing, he allowed himself to feel more than a little pleased.
"Grunt," stated the Spectre as evenly as he could, trying his best to keep the stupid grin off of his face.
"Shepard," came the gravelly retort as the krogan pushed himself off of the poor unconscious biotic. The pair stared at the remaining combatants, the odds suddenly seeming to be in a very favorable position.
"Shall we?"
OOOO
Miranda shook her head attempting to clear the ringing from her ears as she recovered from the Commander's starting ceremony. Of course he had to do something like that. The drone had been a bit too close to her; if she hadn't gotten her barrier off in time, well, the team's odds might have dwindled rather quickly.
Her feet were shaky when she managed to get them back under her and press herself upward, but when she had reached her apex she was faced with naught but the patiently waiting form of Samara in front of her.
"Are you recovered?" asked her fellow biotic as battle raged on around them. Instinctively, the operative searched for some measure of underhandedness from the asari, but as her senses caught up with her, she dashed such worries aside.
"Yes," began the operative as she indulged in a momentary stretch. "Thank-"
Before the rest of her gratitude could even hope to make it out into the air, however, a crate was flung her way. The box hurtled at a speed only biotics could provide, but just as it reached within arm's length, the human brought her own hands up, halted its trajectory, and threw it back the way it came.
The Justicar ducked underneath the ungainly projectile with the grace of water falling from a cliff, coming up in a kick aimed solely for her legs.
Miranda backpedaled out of the way, nearly tripping over the accumulation of debris within the room and only just managing to steady herself. But, as she stabilized herself once more, she found the asari quite capable of closing the distance earlier than what she had expected.
The raven haired woman threw her hands up, knocking away the first hail of punches. The Chief's attacks were faster, the universe would be hard pressed to find anything to match that template. But where his attacks were simple, calculated to deter any threat as efficiently as possible, Samara flowed.
She strove to keep up with the relentless attacks, but just as her defenses made it to their latest weak point the asari had already moved on to strike another. Yet, just as the Cerberus Operative was beginning to settle into a pattern, her legs disappeared out from underneath her.
She fell, landing on her back with a heavy thump and watching as the Justicar expertly lifted a leg to bring down on her. Her hands snapped up to form a barrier just in time as the graceful appendage descended and rebounded against the energy.
"Impressive," stated Samara, moving back a handful of steps to allow her to recover. "You have improved."
"Yes, well, you and the Chief have a habit of making things look easy," panted the human as she leaped to her feet once more.
"Perhaps," replied her opponent, hands clasped firmly behind her back. "Ready?"
Not really, no. If she was being honest with herself, she'd come down to spar with the Spartan simply to enjoy their game.
Miranda's eyes looked around the room, watching as the Chief worked circles around Grunt and Shepard seemed to have disappeared from Jack's clutches for the time being.
"Ready," she said finally with a sigh as she turned back towards the Justicar. And, as soon as the words had left her mouth, her fellow biotic was in front of her.
She seemed to be getting faster as they continued, pressing into her imperfect defenses as if they were made of dough. She had been going easy on her at first, she must have; gauging her strengths and knowing she could shore up the areas that were necessary. Tactically it made sense, but to the Cerberus Operative, it just started to frustrate her.
She attempted to let her training with the Spartan and her own previous claims to the martial arts take over, she needed to focus, needed to go on the attack. If she could just land something-
And then, a fist made it through, striking the Justicar. The asari rolled with it already recovered before the elation had finished with itself within the Operative's mind, but to her, that hardly mattered. She'd known that she was outmatched, but this, this was at least something.
Before the two could enter into another bout, however, a loud screech reverberated within the chamber, drawing the dueling pair's attention. The two stared as Grunt's massive form bowled over an unfortunate Jack, the convict turning just in time to watch her own demise and let out a squawk of surprise.
Miranda found herself smiling despite the loss of a teammate. It was essentially two versus three now, but she couldn't keep the damnable bloody grin from her-
"I yield," she heard Samara say beside her, Miranda's gaze flying back to her in an instant.
"What?"
"You fought well," provided the Justicar with a regal smile as she walked over to a side and simply leaned against a wall. "I yield."
And, after a moment, Miranda brought a hand up to close her mouth.
OOOO
Kasumi basked in her makeshift chair as the crew around them whooped and hollered for the fight to continue; wondering briefly if this was how Roman Emperors had felt when staging the next gladiatorial fight for their people. No, they probably would have been more humdrum and regal about it and where was the fun in that. Regardless of historical metaphysical conundrums, however, there was nowhere else she could even think to be at the moment, except maybe someone else's vault with a pair of healthy legs and a bag ready to be stuffed full of 'borrowables', but that was just semantics.
Sure, maybe the crew was a bit too willing to pay up after they lost their bets, a drama-less feat that would have surely annoyed a former version of the asian, but, at the moment, she would take anything she could get outside of the Med-bay.
"You think Shepard sees the mess they're making?" she asked Garrus suddenly, dismounting from her mental gymnastics as she leaned back in her chair to look up at the turian.
"Well, luckily it looks like they're keeping things even," he replied eventually, his eyes glued to the windows. It was strange to see turian mouths like this, and under view of the mandibles. Not weird mind you, just strange.
"Only because Samara has to be noble…" pouted Kasumi as she stared out into the cargo-bay once more, almost frowning at the sight of the biotic that had just walked off to the side.
"She just knows what's best for the crew."
"Hardly," mumbled the asian, wondering if all her time within the Med-bay had caused her to develop some kind of blood lust. She hoped not, it tended to be a tad detrimental for the whole master thief vibe.
They watched as the remaining pairs gathered themselves, and then the Commander fixed his gaze up at them. A moment later, the rest of those below had followed suit. Kas looked at the crew members around them, all of them staring at Garrus and herself and waiting expectantly.
Kasumi looked around at all the interested faces. Even Thane had come down from his den to watch, not gambling mind you, but baby steps. There was no way they could let this stop now.
With a cough, Garrus brought a digit back to the overlook's console and pressed down slowly.
"Do you really have to ask?" ventured the turian, his words echoing through the glass as they were relayed to the combatants below. Mentally, the thief gave the thumbs down; bidding her gladiators to press on as she all but heard a certain Spectre's sigh at the statement.
"Starting to make a mess down here," came the Commander's hollow response as it worked its way back up to them.
"Look, how about I start a timer? Three minutes sound good?"
"Fine…" The four stared back towards each other, the crew tensing up as they prepared for the last moments. And, with their attentions shifted again, the unauthorized borrower took the time to gather the funds she had placed in bets that now seemed a bit too farfetched and unborrowed them into a few more likely scenarios.
She was so glad to be back.
OOOO
"Timer starting… now. Good luck."
"I don't suppose we could keep this going without destroying the room," the Chief heard the Commander say calmly as he watched the Spectre stretch out his pains. The man held one eye closed while the other held a glint the large man didn't exactly like.
With a frown, the Spartan picked up an errant wrench and threw it behind him, feeling as the engineer's drone detonated a pleasant distance away. Well, at least his guess had been correct.
"Well," continued the Spectre, an inquisitive glower framing itself upon his face, "that's not exactly a no…"
"Shepard, you talk too much… like the tank-" he heard Grunt say as the lizard marched up to him.
"You guys do know we said start, right?"
"If I use my biotics, Shepard shouldn't be a problem," said Miranda quietly as she walked up beside him. The Master Chief looked at her and then stared pointedly at the incapacitated form of Jack that had been pulled off to the side. Eventually his gaze made its way back to the Operative, watching the wry smile work its way into position on her lips. "Then don't throw Grunt at me…"
"Point," he offered as the pair ignored the promptings from up above. And, if Shepard hadn't maneuvered the convict into position, this might not have been an issue.
The two separated as they prepared for the last round, the Commander and Grunt not moving from the spot. They were close, too close, and smiling a pair of smiles that had his instincts screaming at him in an instant.
"He will try something," he warned her eventually as the stare down continued much to the chagrin of those above.
"Like?" They stared at Jack again, the small convict just now starting to stir. Technically the engineer had managed to last long enough against a biotic without his normal armament, an undisciplined one to be sure, but still. "Point. I'll be-"
And then the lights flashed off.
"Gently. Gently-eee," he heard a voice call out as his eyes rapidly adjusted to the darkness, Miranda's soft biotic glow immediately throwing off his efforts.
His sensitive ears heard Grunts heavy footfalls an instant before the hulking humanoid's form came into focus in the gloom. Shepard, however, was-
-currently soaring through the air towards the lone biotic much in the same way that chickens don't.
"Move," he called to his partner, before turning to his renewed opponent. Grunt was closing far too fast for him to help the Operative, the control the krogan had shown in the earlier bout no doubt abandoned at the Spectre's express request.
Grunt grabbed up a crate in one meaty gauntleted hand and brandished it before him like a bulky cudgel, waving it in wide arcs. So, the lizard could see in the darkness as well, at least well enough.
A pair of powerful human hands latched onto the waving box, stopping it in its tracks and driving it into the krogan's stomach. If the young berserker felt it, however, it never showed as he pushed the crate down at the Spartan's legs in an effort to tangle them.
The Master Chief vaulted over the box, slamming his feet into his opponent's chest and driving him back before coming down in a crouch. The veteran watched as the krogan super soldier flung himself back at him, grabbing his hands as they attempted to strike downwards.
"You touch the plates again… I kill you," warned Grunt in a throaty mumble as the struggle began. The pale human hid a smile, as he slowly crossed a possible strategy off the list.
The krogan's weight was back, not an easy throw this time. If this were unfriendly combat, it would be quite easy for the behemoth to bite at him, and, by the way Grunt's mouth kept silently opening and shutting, he could tell the lizard was starting to consider it.
The berserker began to push and, with his list of options dwindling, the Spartan sidestepped the advance and lashed out at the armored legs. He pinned one of Grunt's hands back as they landed in a pile, the Chief's other hand pressing a scaly head down into the bulkhead.
"So, you're not just a suit," mumbled the krogan with a hearty laugh as his struggles slowly began to cease. John tensed, ready for the counterattack, but it never came. "I think… We could fight all day… but I can't catch you. Not really-"
The Spartan stared down at Grunt, surprised as the wise words continued to pour from that toothy mouth. He seemed upset, sure, but this was no longer the temperament of the alien that had torn apart the Normandy's kitchen in a valid effort to disembowel him.
"-you win… this time."
John released his grip on the armored alien, climbing back to his feet along with the beaten krogan. And, after a moment, the lights flickered back on, drawing the Chief's attention back towards Miranda's direction. He winced as he saw her get up off the ground, the Commander's sparking Omni-tool's threat an inch away from her face. With a disappointed huff, the Cerberus Operative marched out of what was left of the ring, leaving only two.
The Spectre turned towards him, grinning despite the situation and stretching once more. Instinctively the Chief looked around for his drone, but saw nothing there. If the man was trying to disarm him with his antics once more, however, then he had another thing coming.
"Well… this is a slight mismatch…" trailed off the Spectre, content to make a show of it now.
"Ready?"
"Hold on, I need a moment," replied the combat engineer as his routine continued. And, the Chief waited patiently, watching intently until an internal clock began to chime its final warnings.
The Spartan threw himself forward in a rush as a small smile crept onto the man's face. He dove through a digital Commander Shepard, using the drone's delayed blast to propel him towards James. He watched as the Commander held his ground, a wince building as he gambled.
The Chief pushed himself. He'd need only a few moments, he just needed to get there to employ them-
"And that's time. It's a tie," called out the disappointed but ultimately chipper voice of Kasumi from the room's intercom, John screeching to a halt less than a hand's span away from the Spectre. He looked down at the smaller man, watching as he patted his chest and let out a sigh of relief.
"Thought I misjudged the timing there for a second," admitted the combat engineer as he returned the stare. The Spartan let out a small laugh only in part to the comment. Despite the varying levels of competition, he'd enjoyed himself.
"That was underhanded, Commander," stated Miranda suddenly, probably not for the first time since the Spectre had flown at her in the dark.
"Which is what you do when the odds are stacked against you…" provided the aforementioned with an unrepentant shrug.
"Bu-"
"It's a compliment…" called the Spectre as he turned back to the Chief.
"Next time," rumbled the Spartan as he turned to survey what was left to the room, wincing almost immediately.
"We'll see… But right now, I think clean up's next on the docket, don't you think."
He wasn't wrong.
OOOO
They had each, in turn, helped to clean up the cargo-bay; even Jack after she eventually struggled to her feet and finished yelling at Grunt and Shepard. Miranda could hardly manage to hold back her pleasure as she surreptitiously watched the smaller woman rant.
The feeling stymied, however, as she watched the Chief dutifully stride over to make sure she was okay, the size difference giving the appearance of a father with a particularly truculent daughter.
As they finished, the group began to trickle out towards the lift, ignoring the credits still changing hands up above. The tie must have been playing hob with their numbers.
"Food?" she heard a soft question behind her, the Spartan the only other soul within the bay.
"I-" began the operative before her stomach rumbled. She countenanced herself as she caught his wry expression and nodded, not trusting her mouth to throw out anything she'd regret later.
And, with no more words to say, the pair walked into the lift and settled in for the trip. Surprisingly enough, however, when she had all but resigned herself to the silence beyond the numbing music, a gravelly voice spoke up again.
"You did well," stated the Chief plainly, the words unknowingly mirroring Samara's. The compliment even almost managed to make her forget about her loss to a certain Spectre.
"Perhaps," she responded distractedly, in some bizarre turn of fate choosing to speak less than the larger human. After she caught his gaze again, however, she couldn't have stopped herself even if she tried. "I am… displeased with how easily I was caught off guard…"
She watched as a shrug that seemed to say 'It happens' erupted onto the Spartan's shoulders.
"I should have expected something like that from him."
"Shepard is… chaotic…"
"That," she replied as the doors opened and they strode through into the noisier crew level and towards the kitchen, "would be an understatement."
After grabbing the latest of Rupert's concoctions, they sat down at a surprisingly empty table, their trays clinking softly. Then, after a few bites, a thought occurred.
"Flying," she said calmly, purposefully. She could have sworn she heard the ghost of a laugh as she continued the game. She fixed an expectant look his way.
"Ground," came a reply still pointing down at the table.
"Nebulas."
"Knives."
"Certainty," countered the operative as her inner mind stared a moment longer at his answer. If it had come from anyone else, she might have started to look for the veiled threat.
"Purpose," came the solemn answer. Miranda opened her mouth to respond and then closed it again almost as quickly.
"May I ask a longer question?" ventured the biotic after a few moments, accepting the forfeit without another thought. He leveled a questioning stare her way and then nodded slowly. "What was it like, with you and the other Spartans?"
She watched as the word classified attempted to frame itself upon his lips, but surprisingly that was where it stayed. And for once during one of their mealtime conversations, the Chief set down his utensils.
"What do you mean?" he asked eventually, eyes unblinking.
"I mean, what was it like around them?"
"Quiet," replied the veteran immediately, voice nearly as silent as the word.
"But-"
"We didn't need words," he continued, staring into the table "Not often…"
Miranda began to speak again, stopping only when the Spartan's face became more readable than a large print book. It was fascinating; she could almost watch as the words formed in his head and traveled down to his mouth.
"We… knew each other. We were a team." The large man's brow furrowed, as if pulling an old memory out of hibernation. "We were family."
"Thank you," answered the biotic genuinely, "for telling me. I know-"
"Why Cerberus?"
"Pardon?" stated the Operative, blinking at the sudden burst of curiosity.
"Why Cerberus?" repeated John patiently.
"I went to Cerberus when I ran away from my father, because I knew they could protect me. They never told me something couldn't be done, they just told me to do it. They gave me purpose." The words were familiar, so very similar to what she'd provided Shepard when he'd come around to chat for the first time. Although, it was probably with a little bit less anger. "We were supposed to be serving the greater good, humanity's best interest…"
"And now?"
"I don't know," answered Miranda eventually, after several attempts at standard rhetoric had attempted to frame themselves within her mouth.
And with thoughts flying around at least one head, the pair finished their meal in peace.
OOOO
"It's not a bad start," stated the formerly-ex Spectre as he walked into his large personal shower, basking in the luxuries only 'civilian' sector ships would normally provide.
"You disapprove?" Soap slipped from his hand as he turned a wry eye towards the nearest speaker.
Well, she's certainly starting to read into some things at least… With how she was starting to get, he wondered if he should feel uneasy about a burgeoning female identifying intelligence in charge of the ship's cameras. Then again, you probably needed to have glands for those kinds of thoughts. "No, it was a valid first attempt. Better than I had thought, to be honest."
"That is not especially cooperative, Shepard."
"Sorry, I'm still getting used to," the man circled his elbows expansively as he soaped what little hair he had, "all this."
"It is alright." Huh, it was strange getting used to apologize to his ship. "Jeff has used similar responses to my advanced queries."
"Glad I'm not the only one…" he mumbled. "Regardless, I did like the ones you had picked for Miss Lawson…"
"I believe my choices for her will prove a reaction."
"Technically speaking, anything anyone does evokes a response…"
"True. Do I still have permission to call members out on 'their bullshit'?"
"I'd be insulted if you didn't," he replied chipperly as he toggled off the stream and began to dry himself. "Also, you're getting a bit too good at that. Regardless, if it- when it becomes a problem just blame it on me… that always works."
"Acknowledged, logging you out," answered the AI as the combat engineer, bearing naught but a towel, sauntered over to the cabinets and began setting out a fresh set of clothes.
And as is the way of such things, as he hummed and removed his towel, the door to his quarters flew open. He turned, staring at Tali as she took a step in and froze.
"Keelah!"
"Gah!"
"I'm sorry, Shepard," managed the quarian, her back turned to him and hands over her faceplate. "I- I- I should have knocked."
"It's fine…" stated the Spectre as a towel wrapped itself defensively around his nether regions, "just surprised is all."
"Are you decent?"
"Ish?" he managed as he looked back for a moment at his stack of clothes.
"That's not much better, Shepard…" trailed off the nomad as she turned back around, gave one glance at him, and then directed her helmet towards the ceiling.
"Yes, well, you don't normally storm in unless you have something to say… so?"
"Right- Right- sorry." Even staring blindly upwards she still found it necessary to flail her hands around like that. "I received a message today from the migrant fleet…"
"And we're already on our way there, which should be a good thing," continued the human, eyes narrowing as the 'why isn't anything easy' flag began to fly once more, "right?"
"The admiralty board has accused me of treason," replied the quarian simply, the little standard within his mind waving harder.
"What do you need me to do?"
"First? Pants would be nice… so… I could look at you…"
"Point…"
OOOO
The ship plowed through the stretched light of FTL like a massive dirty spar of stone. Where it went, it sowed destruction and sorrow, gathering the harvest of the galaxy's potential.
As its bulky form slowed to the visible spectrum it passed by the top heavy structure of Omega. Veteran pilots of the area slowed their disembarking protocols or suddenly decided that they had additional business within the large space station. Even newcomers, the strange ship naught but a steadily floating juggernaut to their eyes, rerouted flight plans by miles and miles in large swooping arcs.
It always helped to be the big fish in the pond, not like the silent crew aboard would care of course.
They had been called to return and none of the receivers could have disobeyed even if they tried. And so, blessed with the most bizarre version of freedom imaginable for servants such as they were, they followed the call home, ignoring the insects that scattered from their path.
They did not have news to bring, such information had been passed on the moment of their viewing as only the eyes and ears of their masters could. They did not need to relay that the latest trap had been sprung before it could be properly set.
No, they accelerated towards the glowing red bulk of the Omega 4 Relay with all the surety of an expected delivery. It wasn't much more than small tributes to their creators, investments for the times to come, but every package began to smooth out the wrinkle of a cycle towards the lands of practiced efficiency.
An arc of ruby energy struck out from the relay, guiding the Collector ship for a moment and then rocketing them off into the blackness.
They knew what was coming; every cycle had its difficulties.
There was simply some work to do.
Author's Notes II: Hope you enjoyed. Due to travel and other real life aspects, there will be no new chapter in May. Next Chapter will be at the end of June.
Next Chapter: Chapter 35 – Goodbye