Kolyat Krios and Park Siu sat side by side in the briefing room, with Van, Commander Sheffler's second, and Specialists Mercer, McVie and St. Claire. Sheffler stood at the end of the table, looking harassed. Capt. Courtney was also sitting in, though not as if part of the group.
It surprised Kolyat to discover that Sheffler had gone from leading large units back to handling specialized jobs for Alliance High Command, if only because it surprised Siu that the only multi-unit operation he'd ever seen Sheffler take part in was a mission on Benning, before Kolyat joined the team.
Supposedly, the large-scale deployment had been 'a lesson' from Hackett to Sheffler, though no one else seemed sure what that lesson was, exactly.
Sheffler had also had some kind of secret project going ever since retrieving Kolyat from the Citadel, but hadn't told anyone—with the possible exception of Van—what that project was. Rumors abounded, but tended to stay with roots in known facts: that if it was eating on the Commander like it was, it had to be Cerberus.
By now, Kolyat was familiar with what 'everyone knew' about Sheffler's history with Cerberus, and what a gruesome history it was. He shifted in his chair. People who would feed other people to thresher maws were not people he could ever see eye to eye with.
"Alright. Hackett just put another item on our honey-do list," Sheffler announced, holding a datapad with the details in one hand. "Today it's Reapers. We think."
Furtive looks flicked around the table. Mostly, this team dealt with Cerberus. So far, Kolyat hadn't been within smelling distance of a Reaper—though he'd heard all the gruesome, disgusting stories about them. He supposed that, this being time of war, the preference was to let Sheffler stick to the enemy he knew best…and call him in when he was the closest responder.
"We're orbiting a little backwater called Cyone. Not much down here but factories and refineries—and a major fuel depot, which provides for the entire sector. Apparently a turian/asari collaboration, so Siu—you're going."
Siu nodded. Anything technological was Siu's job. He immediately cued his omnitool and began fiddling with it—probably pulling up translational software so he could interface with non-Alliance languages. It would be embarrassing if he accidentally told the depot to explode. Kolyat could almost hear the joke in Siu's own voice.
"Krios, you'll be backing him up. Mercer, McVie, Van, you're my strike team. St. Claire, you're on the door gun to cover our exit."
Because everyone knew that Reapers tended to swarm like bugs. It was a sound strategy to give them one big, noisy target to swarm, while the other team did what was needed. Then everyone ran like hell, hoping not to get chomped on by space-zombies.
So he'd heard.
"What about the soldiers at this facility? Shouldn't there have been some, if it's a major asset?" McVie asked.
"Comms cut out about seventy-two hours ago; everything was running smoothly at that time," Sheffler responded. "That's why we think it's Reapers. So far, there have been no communications from the facility. Hackett has fresh troops en route to hold it, once we clean it out."
"And if they're there in force?" St. Claire asked, frowning. "I hate to say it sir, because we're good and all, but if whoever shut down the depot is still there in their original numbers…"
"There's a recon team already down there, and they haven't died horribly," Sheffler answered. "A Captain Riley. Her report says, and I quote 'it's like a horror movie: lots of body parts, lots of blood, not a lot of enemies.'
"Man," Mercer groaned. "I hate movies like that. Hey Claire—wanna trade jobs?"
"Psh. No," St. Claire answered, shaking his head. "You gotta get over that ambiance bullshit. How're you gonna do it if you're always manning the door gun? Mind you, I'm not too keen on sitting there with Reapers and shit lurking in the darkness—"
"Who says it's going to be dark?" Kolyat asked.
"Kid, it's always dark. Missions like this? They never happen during daylight. Trust me," St. Claire said, waving a hand expressively.
"It's true," Sheffler allowed. "I think it's something like twenty-two hundred local time."
St. Claire gestured at Sheffler as if to say 'see? What'd I tell you?'
"Well, if you don't want to be on the gun—" Mercer grinned.
"Let's put it to a vote. Everyone remember the last time Mercer was on the door gun? Anyone want a repeat?"
Several pairs of arms crossed over chests.
Mercer made a face.
"What happened the last time Mercer was on the door gun?" Kolyat whispered to Siu.
"No idea—before my time," Siu answered absently.
"We needed a distraction, and he tried to write his name with bullets into a bunker," Van declared, smiling reminiscently.
"…I'm afraid I can see most people here doing that."
"With incendiary ammo," Van deadpanned.
"It was cool as shit, man!" Mercer protested. "And they surrendered, too! I mean, wouldn't you if all of a sudden flaming rounds were peppering your secret pirate hideout?"
This was, apparently difficult to argue.
Kolyat shook his head, unsure what to think, except that if Mercer wanted effect, he should have written his name backwards—that way, it would be properly readable to said pirate infestation. Then he dismissed the notion as absolutely foolish, the silly result of listening to a silly conversation.
"Okay," Siu announced. "I've got turian and asari translational software, so I should be able to speak to any of the computers in the facility—assuming they're not using some really localized dialect, but that almost never happens with industrial stuff."
"Then let's go suit up," Sheffler said, banging his hands together.
"Talbot's already getting the shuttle warmed up," Capt. Courtney said, getting to her feet. "We'll loiter out of sight, and let you know if any orbital reinforcements seem imminent."
"Thank you, Captain," Sheffler said.
