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Geneburn - Vibrating

SSV Normandy

Docking Bays,

Citadel 2183

Back onboard the Normandy, O'Connor could more deeply appreciate the internal aesthetics of the ship. Outside, he found that the curved hull, and the pair of 'wings' on either side gave the ship an elegant flare. The same could be said on the inside, with the hull's curved interior also giving the inside an elegant appearance.

While he appreciated the internal elegance, he found that he was bothered by parts of the ship. The hull doesn't look that thick from inside, he thought to himself. What if something punches through the hull? How would they maintain air pressure in the event of an emergency? If there's a chief engineer onboard, then I can ask him those questions.

As he walked inside, he could hear Joker up in the cockpit. Turning around, the pilot said, "So, how did it go with the Council? I heard that Shepard became a Spectre."

"That's correct," O'Connor nodded. "Saren got his ass stripped of his privileges, and Shepard was made a Spectre. In other words, Saren's a madman that's on the run."

"About time that happened. I heard about Anderson's resignation. I feel bad for him; goes twenty years like a pro, then gets taken down by backroom politics."

"I know what you mean."

"Sounds like you've had experience there as well."

"You could say that. I don't like to talk about it, though."

"Alright. Anything else?"

After a moment, O'Connor realized that he was curious about Joker's life. "Actually, I'm curious as to how you got this job. I also noticed what looked like braces underneath those pants."

"You noticed that?" Joker asked, surprised.

"I did," O'Connor nodded. "Is there something wrong? Were you injured at some point?"

Joker sighed, a long, drawn out sound, as he leaned his head back. After a moment he said, "Well, you found out about that, so I'll tell ya." Clearing this throat, he said, "I have Vrolik's Syndrome. My bones never formed properly; basically they're brittle and hollow. If I put too much stress onto them, they'll fracture."

"Ouch," O'Connor winced. "That's got to hurt."

"It does. When I was born, I already had dozens of fractures; I was already breaking bones in the womb. A century ago, I wouldn't have survived past my first year. Fortunately, modern medicine has turned me into a productive member of society."

"So you've managed your condition?"

"Yep. I still have to be careful, even with leg braces and crutches. One wrong step and CRACK! It's very dramatic. Put me in command of the Normandy and I can make her dance. Just don't ask me to get up and dance, unless you like the sound of breaking bones."

"I don't."

"Good to see that we have a little common ground," Joker beamed. "What about you? What were you before you got your ass pulled along for the ride?"

"Before I got my ass pulled here," O'Connor remarked. "I used to be a USEC Operator."

"USEC?"

"United Security," O'Connor explained. "They're a PMC that was formed where I come from. Highly professional mercenaries that have a reputation for being professional, thorough, while keeping their operations a secret. Quite a few of their members came from other PMC's, but there's a growing core of former military personnel. I was one of the latter."

"Really?" Joker remarked. "I see."

"What about you?" O'Connor asked. "How'd you get your nickname of 'Joker?' I'm guessing it's because you never smiled at school."

Joker had to admit, O'Connor's guesses were pretty close to the mark. "Good guess," he nodded. "The universe, or rather universes, isn't going to hand you anything if you go around smiling like an idiot. I worked my ass off in flight school; that resulted in one of my instructors calling me 'Joker'. Eventually, though, I was better than everyone at the school, even the instructors, and they knew it. They all got their asses kicked by the sickly kid with the creaky legs. One guess who was smiling at graduation."

O'Connor laughed, a deep, rumbling sound that was audible in the CIC. "The quintessential American Dream. You've done well for yourself, Joker. I'll think about telling you how I became a Marine a little later. You have fun."

"You too," Joker remarked. As O'Connor left, he muttered, "Who would've thought that a transdimensional time traveler would have a sense of humor." He shrugged, happy with himself for a moment.

O'Connor had to admit, Joker might've had a sarcastic attitude at times, but so far, he was proving to be a good person to talk with. If you need someone to have a little laugh with you, he's the guy to talk to. Now that I think about it, I need to get to the cargo hold. Maybe my new armor's there. Walking over to a crewman, he said, "Excuse me. Do you know how I can get to the cargo hold?"

"Go through either one of the doors on the port and starboard side of the CIC, then head down the stairs," the crew member replied. "The cargo elevator doors should be right in front of you."

"Thank you." With that, O'Connor began moving towards the doors. Once it opened up, he began walking down the stairs. As he did, he looked down to see the time.

He was focused enough that he didn't spot Kaidan coming up the stairs. As such, there was a two way collision, with both men tumbling down the stairs, before coming to a rest at the bottom in a heat. Disentangling himself, O'Connor said, "Shit. Sorry about that. I was focused on something else."

"It's alright," Kaidan remarked. "To be honest, I wasn't paying much attention either. I was focused on my omni-tool. Need help getting up?"

"I'm not that old," O'Connor grumbled good-naturedly as he got up, brushing himself off. "Still, thanks for the offer." Once he and Kaidan were up, he said, "By the way, thanks for helping us out at Chora's Den."

"No problem," Kaidan remarked. "It was the least I can do." Deciding to change the topic, he asked, "So, how do you like the Normandy so far?"

"It's interesting," O'Connor remarked. "I'm a little concerned about how the ship will maintain atmosphere if the hull's breached. I was going to talk to the Chief Engineer about that."

"I see what you mean," Kaidan remarked. "If you've got questions like that, you should talk to Chief Engineer Adams. He's in the Engine Bay, which can be accessed from the cargo hold."

"Oh, thanks for that." After a moment, O'Connor realized he didn't know Kaidan that well. "So, got anything interesting to share?"

"Not really," Kaidan remarked. "Word is that a lot of people are curious about you, though. Penny for your thoughts?"

O'Connor was about to reply when the PA crackled to life. Moments later, Shepard's voice came in loud and clear. "This is Commander Shepard speaking. We have our orders: find Saren before he finds the Conduit. I won't lie to you, crew. This mission isn't gonna be easy.

"For too long our species has stood apart from the others. Now, it's time for us to step up and do our part! Time to show the galaxy what Humans are made of! Our enemy knows we're coming. When we go into the Traverse, Saren's followers will be waiting for us, but we'll be ready for them, too.

"Humanity needs to do this. Not just for our own sake, but for the sake of every other species in Citadel Space. Saren must be stopped, and I promise all of you… we will stop him!" Moments later, the PA cracked as it was disengaged.

O'Connor had to admit, Shepard had a way with words, enough that even he felt a little spark of patriotism wake up inside of him. Damn, that man could sweet talk a Scav Boss if he tried. Certainly could persuade a trader to give him good quality stuff off the bat. Looking at Kaidan, he said, "Shepard's got a way with words."

"That he does," Kaidan remarked. "So, where were we?"

"Asking for my thoughts."

"Ah, yes. So, you see any heavy action where you came from?"

"Yes," O'Connor nodded. "I saw a lot of action in Tarkov. Mostly fights between myself and Scavs, but I've also fought against other, more loyal, members of USEC, as well as some shifty individuals from BEAR."

"Who's BEAR?" Kaidan asked.

"Battle Encounter Assault Recon. Former Soviet special force operatives. We're talking Black Ops people here."

"Sounds hardcore."

"They are. I nearly got killed by just one BEAR operative. If one guy can nearly kill me, imagine what a squad of six to eight of them could do. I wouldn't stand a chance. Speaking of which, what is your tactical assessment of Eden Prime?"

"Well, your arrival did complicate some things, but you did some good too. You saved Nihlus, for one, and you exposed Saren as a traitor to the Council. The evidence gathering, in my opinion, was mostly procedure and extra icing on the cake. I'm kinda surprised by how effective your old weapons were. They bypassed kinetic barriers and tore into the Geth. What kind of ammo did you use?"

"5.56mm, M995 AP ammunition. Tungsten tipped ammo."

"That explains a lot."

"How so?"

"Tungsten is used in our mass accelerator weapons to aid in penetration. They even have dedicated ammo blocks made purely of tungsten. Now that I know, it makes sense for older guns to use that kind of ammo."

"If it isn't broken, don't fix it. Improve it."

"You got that right," Kaidan remarked. After a moment, he said, "Listen, I'd like to chat with you some more, but I've got some things to sort out. I won't be keeping you any longer."

"Alright," O'Connor nodded. "It's been good talking with you, Kaidan."

"Likewise." With that, both men went their separate ways, with O'Connor entering the elevator lift. Spotting the controls, he hit the down arrow and began to wait. Fortunately, the elevator moved fairly fast, as he was able to exit it in around twenty seconds.

That allowed him to enter the cargo hold of the Normandy. The cargo hold was large, but the flat roof overhead indicated there was another deck above his head. Probably a shooting range and gym, he thought as he walked inside. To the left, he could see what looked like cargo crates, as well as what appeared to be lockers. The right had some more crates, as well as what looked like an IFV.

Curious, O'Connor walked over to have a closer look at the thing. Unlike most IFV's that he'd been in as a Marine, this one wasn't tracked. Rather, it was wheeled, making it more like an APC than anything else. He was forced, again, to recategorize the vehicle when he saw the massive cannon it had on the top. The fuck is this thing, he wondered, confused. It's like someone made a smorgasbord of an APC, IFV and MBT. If I meet whoever designed this thing, he, or she, or they are going to have a little talk from me about proper vehicle design.

He was so curious that he almost didn't see Garrus standing at a console, the Turian's fingers flying over it fairly rapidly. Instead of talking to him, he began looking for a means of getting inside. Spotting a hatch on one side, he pressed a button, with the door's lock disengaging. Not satisfied, he gripped the lower portion of the door and heaved.

That had the desired effect, with the door quickly opening, allowing him inside. Looking inside, he was surprised to see that it was rather bare bones, similar to the interior of an M2 Bradley IFV. There were just a few chairs, crash harnesses, and two impact chairs in the front, presumably for the gunner and driver. Fairly spartan, he thought to himself. Then again, most military vehicles tend to be spartan, with a few noteworthy exceptions. Satisfied, he decided to back out.

Extending a leg out, he began to move backwards, with one of his feet moving outwards. Unfortunately, Garrus had chosen that moment to examine the wheels. As such, he got a face full of military issue footwear, as O'Connor's boot collided with his face. "GAK!" he shouted, falling over onto his back.

"Sorry," O'Connor apologized. "I didn't see you there."

"S'kak, O'Connor," Garrus grumbled, rubbing his face as he got up. "Don't scare me like that."

"You OK?"

"Yes. Thank the Spirits for the carapace that Turian's have. How do you Humans manage to work without one?"

"We just do," O'Connor remarked. "Don't ask me why, because I'm not an expert there." After a moment, he asked, "What were you doing, by the way?"

"Calibrations," Garrus replied. "The Mako wasn't properly calibrated, so I was getting some things ironed out. Plus, it gives me something to do."

"Is that what this portmanteau of vehicles is called?"

"Yes. Don't ask me the specs, because I don't know them, not yet at least. I'd love to, though. It would make calibrating this thing much easier."

"True." After a moment, O'Connor asked, "So, how's your resignation coming?"

"Pallin and my dad are taking it hard," Garrus replied. "Still, working with a Spectre will be much better than working at C-SEC."

"How so? You work with one before, because I haven't."

"Well, not, but I know what they're like. Spectre's make their own rules. They're free to handle things their way. At C-SEC, you're buried by rules. The damn bureaucrats are always on your back."

"Rules are present for a reason. They were for most of my life, still are as a matter of fact."

"Maybe, but sometimes it feels like the rules are only there to stop me from doing my work. If I'm trying to take down a suspect, it shouldn't matter how it do it, only that I get it done. But C-SEC wants things done their way. Protocol and procedure come first. That's why I left."

"You quit because you didn't like how they did things," O'Connor observed.

"There's more to it than that," Garrus added. "It didn't start out bad, but as I rose through the ranks, I got saddled with more and more red tape. While their handling of C-SEC was good, I didn't like how they did my other cases at all. I just couldn't take it anymore. I hate leaving…"

"I know what you mean. I felt the same way when I left the Marines. I initially regretted it, but eventually, I came to realize that I needed to leave. Not just for my sake, but for the Marines sake as well."

"Looks like we've got common ground there. Still, that's sorta why I decided to go with Shepard on this one. It's a chance for me to get off the Citadel, see how things are done outside of C-SEC. Either way, I plan to make the most of this. And without C-SEC Headquarters looking over my shoulder, maybe I can get things done my way for a change."

That was where O'Connor spotted a red flag. Garrus was disgruntled by C-SEC's rules, enough that he wanted to get things done his way, even if it caused damage. At that moment, he decided to correct Garrus' thinking. "Just because there aren't any 'rules' Garrus, doesn't mean we short cut things," he growled, stepping closer to Garrus in the process. "When we do things, we do them right, otherwise you're a loose cannon that'll get innocent people hurt, or worse, killed. You understand?"

Garrus looked as though he was about to protest, when he closed his mouth. A moment later, he said, "I-I understand, William."

"Good," William nodded. "You are not Saren, Garrus. Do not become him. Remember that." With that, he walked off, leaving Garrus to ponder his words. He's a good kid, O'Connor thought. He just needs to have his views corrected from time to time. Aside from that, he's a consummate soldier.

He was about to continue to the engine bay when a voice said, "Hey, O'Connor!" Looking to his left, O'Connor spotted an Alliance Marine that was wearing a cap and a jumpsuit that said, 'Requisition Officer.'

Walking over, he asked, "What is it, BB Counter?"

"BB Counter?"

"You're the guy that's responsible for storing, handling and issuing ordinance. We called them 'BB Counters.'"

"Oh, I see. Anyways, I got your new armor here," the Requisitions Officer replied. "One set of T5-V Battlesuit armor ready to go." With that, he nudged a crate over to O'Connor.

Opening it up, O'Connor found that it looked exactly as the image he'd seen earlier had suggested. There was just one problem that he had with it, though: the armor was black and red, not the standard camouflage he was used to. "Can this thing use camouflaged plating?"

"Yes," the officer replied. "We've got armor camouflage applicators on the deck just above our heads. Most of the time, though, people don't bother because scanning and RADAR technology is good enough that you can usually pick out where an enemy is most of the time. Why do you ask?"

"I used camouflaged gear all the time back where I'm from," O'Connor explained. "I'd much rather make it difficult for the enemy to spot me. Besides, I don't like making myself an obvious target." Looking at the armor, he said, "Also, what plating does this use?"

"Titanium alloy. Most prototype versions of this armor, though, use ablative ceramics. I'm guessing you got the latest revision, which means you're one lucky guy. Mind if I ask why?"

"Just curious is all." Standing back, he said, "Thanks for the armor. I'll have to talk with the Commander on -" He stopped abruptly when he spotted Shepard coming down the lift. "Never mind. I can talk to him now." Clearing his throat, he walked over and said, "Shepard, you got a minute?"

"Sure," Shepard replied. "What do you need?"

"I've worn armor before, but not the type that you and the other wear. Mind if you give me a crash course on how to put your 'hard suits' on?"

"Sure," Shepard nodded. "In fact, I was looking for you so that I could do that." Walking over, he grabbed the crate in question and dragged it over to O'Connor, before pulling the armor out. "Here," he told O'Connor. "The first thing that goes on is the body suit. Not only does the armor mount onto that, it's got fabric armor, and it's skintight, so it'll keep you safe in vacuum."

"Got it," O'Connor remarked. As he put it on, he immediately noticed how tight it was. "Fuck. You did say it was skin tight, but damn. This makes tight pants feel baggy and airy."

"A lot of people say that on the first time," Shepard remarked. As O'Connor put the body suit on, he said, "I also wanted to know a little more about you. You mind if I do?"

"I don't see why not," O'Connor remarked. "Just remember, Shepard. If something happens with me, I'll tell you things, but my life is not a book to be opened and closed on your leisure. You understand, right?"

"Yes. So, what did you do before you came here, and before you were a PMC?"

"I was a soldier," O'Connor replied as he struggled into the bodysuit. "United States Marine Corps."

"The Few. The Bold. The Proud."

"Exactly. I take it they're still around."

"They are. In fact, some of the Alliance's ground forces get their top commanders from them."

"Do any work in the N7's?"

"I don't know, to be honest."

"I hope some do. So far, your soldiers aren't that impressive, not like me at least. Anyways, like I said, I was a Marine. Joined up in '03 when I was around 18 years of age. My dad approved of the decision to go military, though my dad's old man disliked my decision greatly."

"Why?"

"He was part of the 'anti-war' group of people. He had some dementia, though, so I didn't pay him heed at all."

"I see," Shepard remarked. After a moment, he said, "Good, your body suit's on. It should tighten to your body automatically. Now comes the fun part: mounting the armor plating itself. Normally, we wouldn't have to do that, but since your armor came in disassembled, we'll have to assemble it onto you."

"I see," O'Connor remarked. "Can anyone help with that?"

"I can," Ashley, who overheard the conversation replied. "I got certified for armor installation at boot camp. Let's see what I can do." As she helped Shepard out, she asked, "So, former Marine?"

"Yep."

"Damn, those guys are hardasses. They're still called the 'Devil Dogs' for a reason. Most of them don't join the N7's if I recall correctly. Some of the brass are worried that their gung-ho attitude would clash with the image they're trying to make."

"Assholes," O'Connor growled. "They shouldn't exclude Marines because they're worried about a few alien idiots having a meltdown. I'll show them how things get done."

"I hope so," Ashley nodded. "From what I hear, your record indicates you're a badass."

"I did what had to be done," O'Connor remarked. "Nothing more, nothing less."

"Maybe, but you're a good soldier. What did you specialize in?"

"I was a rifleman, but I also got technical training too. Mostly electronics and things like that, but I was primarily part of the infantry."

"I see. We'll have to get you retrained on that. Shouldn't be too hard, though."

"I see."

With that, they finished getting O'Connor's armor on. As he turned around, Shepard had to admit, O'Connor looked good in the T5-V Battlesuit; in fact, he made it look good too. It was a rare combination, but it worked out. "You look good in that armor," he commented.

"Let's see if I can kill just as good in this armor," O'Connor remarked. "I have to admit, I have greater freedom of movement, but I'm a little worried by the coverage this armor provides in the torso area. It'd be nice to have just a little more armor there."

"Maybe we can arrange for that," Shepard agreed.

"So, beyond the usual speech, where are we going?" O'Connor asked as Ashley left, satisfied with her job.

"I haven't decided yet," Shepard admitted, "but I'm leaning heavily towards finding Liara. The colonists, now that I think about it, can hold out as long as necessary, but Liara might be in trouble. If Saren's as ruthless as I think he is, he'll go for the easiest target first, and that means Liara might be in danger."

"That make sense," O'Connor agreed. "The colonists have defenses and a means of delaying an enemy. Liara might not have any of those, if she's an archaeologist. They usually don't hire protection, but I only know that cause a friend told me at one point."

"Good point," Shepard nodded. "I'll let you get back to it. You talk to Garrus yet?"

"Yes, I have. He's a good kid, Shepard, but I'd be careful with him. He strikes me as a bit of a hot-shit. You'll probably have to rein him in at times."

"Noted."

As O'Connor turned to head to the lockers, he felt someone strong grab his arm. Looking to his left, he was surprised to see Wrex holding him by the arm. "What?" he asked.

"I've never seen a Human like you before, or smelled one like you," Wrex remarked. "Where you from?"

"You don't know?" O'Connor asked. When Wrex nodded, he said, "Alright, I suppose it's fair that I tell you, since most everyone else knows. I was born in the US on Earth, but as for where I was when I got yanked along, I was in the city of Tarkov."

"When?"

"2021, if I recall correctly."

When he said this, Wrex's eyes narrowed, almost as though he'd seen an enemy, or something unusual. After a moment, he said, "That explains the strange weapons, and the smell on you. You've been through a war."

"Yes. I fought in the War on Terror, or the Long War as we Marines called it. I've also worked as a merc in USEC for a few years." Looking at Wrex, he said, "I'll bet you're filled to the brim with stories, given how long Krogan live."

"Well," Wrex joked sarcastically, "there was this one time the Turians tried to wipe us out. That was fun."

"Uh huh," O'Connor remarked, having picked up on the sarcasm. "I know sarcasm when I hear it, Wrex."

"Good for you. I'll bet you can claim the Turians tried the same with you."

"I would, but like I said earlier, I was born well before that happened. In fact, I was born in another universe entirely, according to Anderson and the others. Tarkov doesn't even exist here."

"Ah," Wrex remarked. "So you can't claim that at all."

"Right. I have heard about the Genophage, the so called 'sterility plague' that your people suffer from. If I found out the same had been done to us Humans, I'd be pissed off."

"You really think that would be the case?"

"Yes. The Genophage is a violation, in my opinion, of the Hague Conventions, which forbids the use of biological and chemical warfare. I also think it's a violation of the Citadel Accords, though apparently, the Council has enough corruption to 'conveniently ignore' such a violation. In addition, it's a crime against your species, one that needs to be stopped immediately."

Wrex looked at O'Connor with both blood red eyes. It was clear, just from looking at O'Connor, that he was a jaded, but kindhearted human being. After a moment, he said, "At least not everyone is cowardly enough to leave the Salarians unchallenged. They made the Genophage, after all."

"They'll get their just desserts in the end," O'Connor remarked. "Just when is the question." Looking around, he said, "I'll leave you to it, Wrex. I've got some other people to talk to."

"See you around, Human."

With that said, O'Connor headed towards Engineering, where he found Chief Engineer Adams. The man was busy working, so he talked with O'Connor while he worked. "What can I do for you?" he asked.

"I have some concerns with the hull of the ship," O'Connor remarked.

"Such as?"

"I'm worried about what'll happen if the hull is breached. How do we seal off the rest of the ship from decompression?"

"That worried, eh? Well, you won't have to worry. For minor hull breaches, we use mass effect fields to contain atmosphere, while for major ones, we evacuate that part of the ship while delaying total depressurization. The cockpit, for instance, has mass effect field generators that allow some atmosphere to remain inside."

"That's a relief," O'Connor remarked, though he still wasn't fully satisfied with this explanation. He was about to turn to leave when he spotted Tali at one of the consoles. Walking over, he tapped her on the shoulder.

She was so engrossed in what she was doing that, when he tapped her, she jumped, a quiet, "Eeek!" coming from her. Turning around, she found O'Connor standing behind her. "Keelah," she frowned. "Can you not do that please?"

"Sorry," O'Connor replied. "Old habits."

"I guess," Tali remarked. "Still, this ship is amazing! I never had any idea that you Humans were so advanced!"

"Well, they did tell me the Normandy is cutting edge tech," O'Connor remarked. "Still, I don't know anything about how spaceships actually work. I'm just an ordinary man from the 21st century."

"Is that really true?"

"Yep."

"Oh… I see. If you need any help acclimating to this new environment, just let me know."

"I will. Speaking of which, I was wondering if you could teach me how to use the electronics of your time, both in a civilian and military manner. You think you could do that?"

"When I'm not busy, I'll be more than glad to teach you. I might even tell you a little about my people while doing so."

"Really? That would be nice. I've got to go now, though. I'm still touring the ship."

"See you later."