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Shepard tried in vain to stem the growing headache by massaging her eyes. "I fail to see how someone so… slow, would be able to send out a distress signal. And how could he, he was almost naked when you found him."
"The phrase 'Keep It Stupidly Simple' is a necessity when devising hardware for Nak's kind."
Shepard reached for her cup of tea, then leaned back on her white leather couch, taking a sip. Nak had that vibe about him, yes. Especially since they had to coax him to get inside.
Magos Nokia turned and headed for the door. "Now if you will excuse me, I need to check if the Machine Spirits of your friend's new implant find agreement with his xeno flesh." He didn't need to, really. From what he knew, high-quality prosthetics never failed in their integration in Warhammer. He just wanted to leave quickly.
"Stay. I'm not done yet." Shepard didn't appreciate the derisive, xenophobic undertone of his voice. Sure, him having spare body parts from who knows where was a gift horse, but he didn't have to be so snippy about the whole ordeal.
Magos Nokia turned and headed back to her.
"I still have questions. For starters, what is Nak? Why is he so big?
"Nak is what is called an ogryn. They originate from planets with high gravity similar to that of the elcor homeworld."
"Ogryn? Is that one of the species in your Imperium?" Shepard asked. She was baffled at the man when he first showed up, even more with his immense musculature and height. There was bodybuilding, professional bodybuilding, krogan bodybuilding, and then there was Nak.
"No." The Magos replied without hesitation.
"So he's an old species?"
"Yes, to a degree."
Shepard took another sip. "Care to explain?"
"Ogryns are…" Francis paused for effect, "abhumans."
Shepard blinked twice. "That's it?"
"I am afraid so. They exist on a few worlds in the Imperium. Their societies are akin to primitive tribes, barely eking out an existence on their icy, barren homes. They are nonetheless a part of the Imperium and its military."
"... That's impossible. Humanity hasn't been around that long for evolution to make… him."
"I say to you, Nak is human in the barest sense of the word. His genetics roots can attest to this and you are welcome to examine him. Though I would highly suggest you gain his consent or get Alston to order him beforehand. You would not want to deal with an irritated ogryn."
"Noted," Shepard agreed. It was obvious what would happen if someone like Nak got out of hand. "One last thing before you leave. What can you tell me about this?" She activated her onmi-tool and pulled up a picture, showing it to the Magos.
It was the gun Garm used. Although there were changes to it, this was most likely Nak's gun. He didn't have to look for it after all.
The Magos stepped closer to get a better view. "… Where did you find this?" he asked, turning his gaze from the picture to Shepard.
"The Blood Pack leader had it, waved it around like a trophy. Said he got from a 'big human'. I think it's safe to say this belongs to Nak."
"You are. This is called a Ripper, a shotgun made purely for ogryns. He was inconsolable about it being gone, complained quite a bit when we found him."
"The krogan liked it a lot, but he had to slim it down to use it."
Though the ripper gun was a crude design, it was still imperial technology. The fact that it was defiled by unsanctified and xeno hands caused a pang of anger within Francis. "Such an… unorthodox modification is frowned upon in the Adeptus Mechanicus. What became of the krogan that wielded this?"
Shepard frowned, "I ripped him to shreds with this after he took Garrus' arm off."
"Good. Both the gun's Machine Spirit and your acquaintance have been requited."
"Machine Spirit?"
"A minuscule extension of the Motive-force, one of the trinities that comprises of the Omminisah. It is rather difficult to fully explain to one not versed in the mechanical chants and arts. In layman terms, it is a spirit—a soul, in a sense—that inhabits all manufactured technologies, both simple or advanced. And would help or hinder its function according to its current deposition, its emotions and feelings. Hence it is one of our jobs, as Tech-priests, to attend and placate them.
Shepherd pondered the explanation. "Doesn't that sound like Artificial Int—"
"I strongly recommend that you refrain from using that term in the presence of any Imperials, mainly Mechanicus, for your sake. I am fine with it, so is Alston, but that should be the limit. You infuriate the Cult Mechanicus to violence with that insinuation. Worlds have burned for much less by them."
"I remember, the Men of Iron. How similar are they to the Geth, if you don't mind me asking?"
"I do not know enough about the Geth to provide an adequate comparison." He looked toward the door. "Is there anything else you wish to ask?"
Shepard refilled her cup. "No, I think that'll be it for now—Wait. What were you planning to do with Nak?"
The Magos took a second to respond. "When Alston has recovered enough, he and I shall deliberate with you about it. Chances are that we will have to keep him with us unless you are willing to head back to drop him off where you discovered us. But you will be dismissing a valuable asset if you do."
"Valuable, you say?"
"Nak's kind are renowned to be incredibly strong and enviously resistant. Once properly outfitted, he will be unstoppable."
Shepard sipped her tea as she thought it over. "While I believe you, we are going to need extra supplies just to feed him. I can assume he eats a lot?" Being a biotic herself, she had to eat quite a bit to recover from using her powers, being more taxing on the body than normal physical exertion. From her time alongside Wrex, a krogan had a similar intake on a daily basis. Considering that Nak was bigger and possibly heavier than two krogan, it left little to imagine how much he ate.
"Yes he does. But, if I may inquire, are you thinking to pay out of pocket to feed Nak? I had thought this was a Cerberus operation."
Shepard was about to argue when she remembered her own half-joke about buying Garrus an expensive bionic arm. This will cost them a lot more. "You're right. Welcome aboard, Nak." She then added sternly, "But he's staying with you. And I expect a medical examination from Chakwas about him."
"I have no issue with that." She could hear a devious smile in his voice as he said, "Though I cannot speak for Alston and his retinue."
"Good, housing situation is settled. We should be reaching the mass relay to jump to the Citadel soon. I have business to attend to in addition to introducing you to the Council, so I expect you to be on your best behaviour." Shepard motioned to the door before opening her nearby laptop and setting it on her lap, signalling that the Magos was dismissed.
The man remained where he stood.
"I was not aware we deserved to meet with your council. I thought we agreed to assist you with the Collectors, not lead negotiations. Diplomacy is not within our duties," the Magos said.
Shepherd couldn't help but quirk an eyebrow at the question, looking up from her screen to him. "I thought that was what the Lord General was here for. You had mentioned he was the more diplomatic between the two of you. And it would also make sense for you to meet those in charge behind me."
"He is. But he is currently indisposed. So we will have to reschedule this meeting until he is well, or until our people are available to send a delegation, which would be quite some time."
"Could you not take his place?" Shepard sipped her tea, eyes on the Magos.
The Magos paused once more, and from the near-silent hum of electronics and the lack of speech or subtle movement. Shepard could tell that he was stuck in thought over something.
"It is not possible, we each represent a different aspect of a whole. I can only speak for my side, not his." His voice went more serious, threatening even. "It would be most prudent to wait for the both of us to be present so your leaders shall have a formal response."
Shepard's eyes narrowed at the sudden hostility. "... Very well. But would you consider attending a small, informal meeting? If only to make an acquaintance?" She hoped to at least form some in-roads to pave a path later on. Though given the xenophobia, it would be a slightly bumpy road.
"I will not repeat myself," The Magos resolved. Addendum: an incredibly bumpy road.
"What about with just the human councillor, Anderson? I know him well and he would be interested in what you have to say."
"My answer stands."
Shepard sighed internally. "Alright, fine. But I would at least like to notify them of your existence. That is not up for debate."
"What proceeds from there will be left to the Ommnisiah's Will." He accepted. "If there is nothing else to discuss…"
Shepard waved him off. "I'll let you know what they say. You and Alston, provided he's well enough, are free to leave the ship when we hit port. Just… don't try and shoot up a warehouse again. This place is not Omega."
The Magos exited the room, turning to face her one last time. "Do not worry. I will make sure to notify you before doing so."
The doors closed.
She hoped he was joking.
"How the hell does he eat that much?" a crewmember said, a small crowd beside him. The man was looking at the growing mound of MRE wrappers at Nak's feet, as well as the second large pot of stew the giant had.
"How hungry would you be if you were in a box for Emperor knows how long? I'm more amazed he hasn't eaten his arms yet." Private countered, his attention focused on opening the MRE's faster than Nak could shove them in his mouth. A race he was losing.
"I for one don't care. As long as someone likes my cooking." Gardner voiced. The man was head deep in a cabinet, searching for something to satisfy the giant's craving. Nak had already devoured the crew's dinner for the day, alongside the crate of MRE's he had laying around. He had to get creative.
"Yeah but, we need to eat, too."
"There's still some left—Wait, never mind, he ate the last box. Maybe there's some in storage," Gardner suggested, "I wouldn't want to get between him and his meal, if you get my drift."
Nak grabbed an unopened MRE in front of Private and shoved it into his gaping mouth.
"No, don't eat that! Spit it out! You're supposed to wait for me to give you the food!" Private panicked, dashing to the ogryn with the authority of a lion tamer as he opened the big lug's maw.
"But—" Nak tried to complain with a full mouth, spraying Private as he neared with partially eaten food chunks.
"No buts, spit!" Private insisted. He did not want the ogryn to die on his watch, especially considering that the Magos, and possibly Lord Alston, would want to speak with him.
"Pegh…" Nak did as told, looking like a kicked puppy. The partially-chewed pouch landed in front of him, leaking its contents on the metal floor. A mixture of beef stew, saliva and compacted mashed potatoes. And the heatpack that had just been activated.
A look of disgust formed on the viewers' faces, and bafflement at the man's ability to devour an entire MRE or his inability to know not to eat the bag as well.
"Nak still a bit hungry." Nak complained, slouching over in disappointment. Despite sitting cross-legged on the ground, Nak still towered over everyone in the room. He looked around for something else to chew on, but found nothing.
Private reached into one of the pockets on his harness and pulled out his ration bar; he opened it and handed the white, soft brick over to Nak, who gave a toothy smile in return. "Eat this."
"Yarp." He shoved the contents into his mouth, chewing it to a pulp and swallowed. "I taste nothing but mush."
"Be happy it's not a CS bar," Private deadpanned. One of the many perks of being an officer's aide, better food.
Given that the taste of Combat Sustenance bars—better known as 'Corpse Starch' to those in the Guard—was nauseating or almost unpalatable to anyone with a sense of taste, nothing tasted better than something in that regard.
"Okay."
"Ah, Nak. You are here," Francis commented after he turned the corner from exiting the elevator. He moved towards the two, "I see that he has been eating his fill?"
"I'm out of food. Which is a first for me," Gardner admitted, scratching his head as he pulled himself out of the cabinet. "Only time I never had leftovers or anything. I like this guy, even though I can't understand him. Could use another shower." his nose wrinkled a bit.
Francis nodded at Gardner's remark. Cleanliness was almost unheard of to ogryns and anathema to a few. Not to mention that finding an omni-tool for him will be an adventure by itself. Francis may have to learn how to make one, and have it as durable as can be as well as having the user interface so simple that even a toddler could use it. The tech-priest in him smiled at the challenge, except at the last part. It felt degrading.
He turned to the ogryn. "Nak, you will be staying with us for now. And, I have a gift for you."
"A gift?" Nak turned his head towards Francis, confusion morphing into one of surprise. He liked gifts, especially when they were good gifts. Like the one the Emperor gave him, he liked that gun. It was his bestie. It blew up 'hair-techs' and 'xe'nose' into pieces really good.
"Yes. Close your eyes."
He did.
Francis walked back to the elevator, grabbed the ripper gun, and trudged back to Nak, ignoring the stares. "Open."
Nak opened his eyes, seeing the Magos and then spotted the large battered, gore-soaked weapon. He gave a toothy smile and scrambled to the Magos. With large arms as thick as tree trunks, he engulfed the metal man in a bear hug and squeezed. "You found it?" Metal creaked and the huggee groaned from the pain. Warnings about structural integrity flashed across the Magos' HUD.
"I have. Now unhand me, you fool!" the Magos yelled out, his vocalized voice muffled by the mountain of flesh.
The ogryn released him, and Francis immediately took stock of his damages, finding one mechadendrite inoperable along with minor denting throughout his torso, mainly his back shell. How funny, this was probably the most damage his frame had taken since coming into Mass Effect.
The same can't be said for Alston, though.
" 'hey did sumting to you!" Nak wailed, cradling the gun in his arms as he scrutinized and spoke to it. He grimaced, "It's not the 'ight color, and it's smaller. Wot those xe'nose have dun to youse?" He looked over at the Magos. "You can fix him, 'ight? your the Ad Munch. Please? The Emperah won't like 'his." Nak spoke loudly and clasped his two over-sized hands together as he begged. The abhuman nearly reaching Nokias' head despite being on his knees.
Francis did not know what to say to prevent an ogryn tantrum.
Replacing it would be safer, though he didn't know how to do it. He didn't have the materials, or means, on hand to manufacture one. He also wasn't sure he was able to pull parts out from inside his robes, like what he did for those prosthetics. It did puzzle him how he achieved that in the first place.
'Wait.' Francis realized something. If he was able to do this blatant disregard for the laws of mass and physics, wouldn't that mean Alston should be able to do something similar?
Considering that he had the same power also, it was a plausible theory and worth a check. If it didn't work out, he could always cannibalize it and make do with the local stuff.
"I will try my best—No more hugs! If you will excuse me, I need to see how my patients are doing." With that, the tech-priest made way for the medbay. "Private, when Nak is finished eating, escort him to our room."
Private nodded in reply. Nak fell quiet, content to cuddle his returned weapon.
Alston didn't know who to be more livid at. Francis for his stupid plan or the Lord General currently hunting him through the foggy city streets. The sprained ankle didn't help, neither did the debris almost blockading the streets.
"I'm disappointed in you," the Lord General called out, a bit far but didn't sound like he was in a hurry. "Why must you obey the whim of your friend, when you both have equal power?"
Alston didn't respond to avoid giving himself away. But the man's words ebbed at him.
It may have been his decision to help Francis out, but it was also Francis who planned the whole thing.
"You had hundreds of points available to you, enough for a small company of Guardsmen, yet you summon four squads of ratlings, a squad of guardsman—probably the wisest thing you've done, and three enginseers. That's not a company, it's light patrol at best. And for what, to remain hidden from xenos? To crawl underneath them, whilst they lord and rule on false thrones?"
"We don't know where we are," Alston argued.
"But he does! Didn't he tell you? That this universe is a bastardized game? Think, if he knows all about this place… then what do we not know?"
"How the fuck should I know?" Alston said. "I know Francis, and I trust him, he wouldn't try and get me killed."
"You hear me, but you do not listen. He is your friend, yes, and is mine, but your Francis is leading you around like a carrot on a stick."
"Then why are you doubting him? He, clearly, knows more about this place, so I'll leave what to do to him. And when he needs me, I'll be there to help him like always."
"Like at the warehouse? What did it cost you? Two fingers? What about next time, would it cost you an arm? A Leg? Perhaps your life?"
"Good thing he's a tech-priest." Alston felt exasperated. He didn't want to keep talking, lest he give away his location, and he could feel the words wearing him away. So the chance to retort, to break the Lord General's rhythm, was too good to pass.
A crack rang out. A nearby stone pillar got a chunk blown out of it. Alston flinched and brought his las-pistol up, aiming wildly for the source.
"You are now a commissioned officer of the Astra Militarum, the hammer of the God Emperor! Cease your prattling, you are just like a admin-scribe. I am merely trying to teach you what little I can, with what few moments we have. One cannot cram decades, if not centuries, of knowledge in mere days, let alone hours a night."
"I don't think shooting me is train—"
"Shut up." The Lord General fired again. This time the bolt round hit Alston square in the face.
After a minute of silence, the Lord General walked up to then stood over the headless and splayed out Alston. The arteries in his neck pumped out sprays of blood with each heartbeat. The muscles twitched as the nerves went through the last of their signals.
The look of tired hatred on the double's face couldn't be more clear.
"Until we meet again, heed these words wisely: Trust. No one."
An: And that is it for Chap 15. It was quite a troublesome one for us, especially since work has been harassing the both of us. Which made us decide to just cut it short. Not to mention that life is cruel.
Co-An: Initially this was a few scenes longer, but the scenes in question dragged on too much so we scrapped them.
An: A lot of scrapping. This was supposed to be three times the girth.
Seabo76
An: Thanks for the review, and yes, a new player has been revealed somewhat.
Ilireanwri
An: thanks for the like. It's our first story, so we do expect a lot of rough edges. For now, it will only be Imperial based, though it may, or may not, change in the future. I also cannot answer much, considering that it may be spoilers. But what I can say is that some of your questions should be answered soon.
biolaj1998
An: We used a dice roll on a chart we have to decide on what kind of characters we would use- the higher the number, the lower the rank so to say. Which 100 would be equal to a civilian and a 1 be akin to a primarch. So… it would not be out of bounds for you to roll Canoness, Saint or an inquisitor. To answer your question bluntly, yes. You may have a chance at super angry space nun with big guns.
Monkeylikespie
An: Sadly, the Co-An hated "and that's how my helmet broke." We decided to compromise on having a headache instead.
Meeyaaargh3412
An: And the Emperor said, "Let him have more."
Janne Rolfe Jalandoni
An: Never fear, the chapter is here.
FORGEMaster
An: Ah, you misunderstood. We know about the Blood angels (I have about 600 dollars worth of them lying in a closet.) I just meant that we weren't confident about writing them well, though we have tried a few test chapters. The black dragons are an interesting chapter, I have read a few stories and novels based on them. But I don't think I can do them justice. We don't write that well.
Co-An: Being a fan-favorite does not guarantee they will be used. Even though I agree with An's hesitance, such a Space Marine Chapter does not suit the needs of this story. Ever heard of Chekov's Gun? Including would both add too much to our plate as well as make the story less cohesive. As of yet this story has two groups, (Shepard and the Players) and the upcoming antagonist. Simple, easy, focused.
AN: Focus... that's a big word for you Co-an.
Human Dragon
An and Co-An: Thanks.
Grudgematch
An: Prayers have been answered. Ogryn eating food scene given.