The ship, Haven, had been painted silvery pewter with an emerald sheen. Unfortunately, over time the vessel's past had shown in its scarred and worn appearance.
The inside of the hull walls was a smoky grey. An economy ion engine with an older model of drive core, protected by a kinetic field, occupied engineering.
Two decks gave the Haven its bulk, and a small cargo bay roomy enough to hold the fighter. It served as both kinds of bays. Sometimes for people, and sometimes for shuttles. In the corners, leather nets held crates and metal boxes of necessities. Both ship needs, as well as her crew.
Dingy yellow lights illuminated the decks, holds, and quarters. One larger, re-purposed bathroom for the crew. With a mess room suitable for dining, and little else.
Old and barely holding together, Haven had a crappy FTL speed despite Jormun's exhaustive maintenance skills. Do'ova's offerings were mostly tech and electrical. Satima owned the ship and was the only pilot. On purpose.
The merc set a course for a nearby sub-station. He's being dropped off instead of air-locked, on the agreement that the fighter will pay for his transport.
At the station, Satima, Jormun, and Do'ova, decided to go to the bar for a celebratory drink... or two. The merc disappeared after they hit the club.
As they sat, Satima ordered an Azure sunrise for Jormun, dextro liquor. Its neon blue liquid colored his suited hand when he grabbed the glass.
Do'ova noticed the annoying amount of flirtatious movements these two were doing. She wasn't prone to amorous feelings. But she didn't want to be alone, either. Her family was somewhere on Omega. Surviving. Somehow.
Maybe Satima will let her go back? Maybe those Blood pack mercs aren't looking for them anymore?
The loud techno music blared in the background. People dancing, waving their arms, and grinding on each other like there isn't a care in the universe to bother them. Satima tried to relax, unwind from their near-death experience. One of many.
This wasn't half bad. A little cleaner than places like Afterlife. She ordered her drink and turned her chair to face the crowd.
"Did you enjoy our little adventure?", she asked smirking.
Jormun slurped his drink through a straw into an opening of his suited helmet, gulping the liquid down fast.
"I didn't like almost being killed by a sentry, but yeah... it was a little exciting.", he reached out to touch her hand.
"Not now, Jormun.", she pushed his hand away.
"Oh, that's right. I'm just an employee.", he said hurt.
Satima glanced his way with a sarcastic glare. Jormun continued sucking the liquid through his straw. She leaned in close, trying to pinpoint correct eye contact through his helmet. His own lavender glowing eyes staring right at her, as he nervously readjusted his seat.
Satima gently brushed his arm with a sultry smile. Jormun nearly dropped his glass from the sudden touch. He always got so nervous when she did that, wanting to make it more, but feeling awkward about his own obstacles.
The damn suit.
Satima realized how nervous he became and stopped teasing him.
"I'm sorry, Jormun. I like you, and I'm glad you're the voice of caution on our little adventures together.", she touched his shoulder with a smile.
Jormun stared at her. Ancestors, she is beautiful.
Do'ova leaned out behind him, raising her slender arm with a drink in hand. "Uh… I didn't particularly enjoy being left behind on Lorek. But I did manage to escape and hideout. Waiting… for you, Captain." Her nervous laugh and twitch made Satima feel a little awful for all of it.
The captain reached around Jormun, grasping Do'ova's free hand. "D. Thank you for not abandoning us. We wouldn't have made it out alive from that system, without you.", she smiled.
Do'ova blushed what a salarian can blush and sipped sheepishly. "Oh.. I didn't… I mean, it was nothing…had to…well?" Her embarrassed blathering continued as Satima shook her head with a grin.
"I'm going to sleep for a few days. After I finish my drink of course.", she laughed loudly with Jormun. Not realizing they were being watched.
HIVE
Reaper stood in front of a mirror, alone in the dimmed quarters she held. Trailing the cybernetics that slowly covered her face, feeling the difference of pulse and flow. Thoughts crept in from a memory so long ago. She was beautiful, once. Smooth skin that felt cool and soft. No more.
What is she now? Their tool, or one of them, herself?
"I order.", she said aloud. "I must restore order.", she repeated. But there was something nagging at the back of her mind. One lonely voice among thousands. The face that looked back was in pain. Reaper scowled, anger welling in her features.
She lifted her right hand quickly, barely noticing the moment she hit the glass. Shattering it into pieces on the floor. That's what she is. Pieces of that woman.
The turian will pay in his blood for keeping her from the objective. He beat her down too easily. Still, there was something in his voice that shamed her.
Her bio-tool pinged. The Directive requested her presence, likely considering her failure to apprehend the subject Satima, again.
Was her nanotech getting to be obsolete, making her slow and... old? After all these years, the girl had grown strong and self-reliant. All Satima's skills and abilities, an exact copy of herself. But then, who was she?
Tool or reaper? Order or chaos?
Again, with the same thoughts, the same questions. Reaper must know, she must find the truth before the whispers erase her memories.
And escape.
Titan Nebula: Outer Zone
He woke with a cold sweat. The stations' air systems never worked well. It had been two days and that shitty ship Haven was still docked. There was something familiar with the structure of the ship. And that strange girl with her odd features, good with tech and keeping that ship afloat.
Doesn't matter. He felt more like shit since earlier from the beating he received and managed to survive from. Getting old had its disadvantages. It wasn't going to stop him from killing Reaper, though.
He looked at a datapad from a week ago, it contained the last conversation between himself and a representative of the Directive. Some anonymous lackey, tired of being pushed around.
"We've given you her location. Kill Reaper, free us from the servitude of HIVE."
Simple. Yet he couldn't shake that feeling. He's betraying everything he once stood for, but she was a brighter galaxy long ago. He put his armor on and went to the bar. The quarian named Jormun sat at a table eating his nutrient paste.
Spirits, why would she slaughter thousands of people? Burning colonies and slaughtering refugees for The Directive? He knew that experiments were being held on some of those worlds. What happened to her? She's a monster and he's going to put her down.
What really got him anxious was the fact that Satima had never left. Why is she staying? She's a smart girl, isn't she?
She appeared at the corner of the bar going to Jormun. A smile on her face as she sat next to him like a naïve kid. The quarian boy tried to hand her a nutrient pack, but she seemed preoccupied with something that made her shout at him.
Just then the station had shut down, red emergency lighting illuminated the floors.
Moments before...
"I'm going to kill him! That Batarian bastard and his "noble bullshit"!", Satima had eyed the bar, looking for a hard drink.
In truth, she mourned him. Borlask had been the only family she had. And now he's just like Reaper. Handing her over to them, doing nothing. Her thoughts wandered over to the merc they picked up.
She knew the smug turian was watching them when she hacked the cameras on the station last night. Guy sleeps with a gun.
Jormun nearly choked on his food. "Satima, don't shoot up another bar! I just set a tab. Besides, Borlask is probably dead. Reaper never leaves anyone alive."
"And if he isn't? Old has been.", she shouted, still shocked and angry at his actions. "Never trust anyone," Satima mumbled to herself, upset.
Red lights came on and most of the doors closed automatically.
"What's going on?", Jormun sounded panicked, pulling out Ish.
Satima had a bad feeling and looked out a porthole as two fighters drifted into the dock.
"Shit! We need to go!", she pulled him up. Code knocking to Do'ova with her omni-tool. A red crossed-out circle played instead. Frequency jammers.
Jormun and Satima tried two doors, but her hacking codes couldn't breakthrough. They tried to find emergency hatches. All of them were welded shut.
At that moment of panic, the main door hissed to life and five hive soldiers came in, followed by Archer. An elite droid scientist and second in command to Reaper under the Directive.
He resembled a human male with visible cybernetic parts covering his once organic flesh. His eyes were a cybernetic blue, pewter-toned muscles flexed under the nano armor he wore. Archer moved forward to Satima and Jormun.
She swallowed hard; this wasn't good. Satima would rather deal with Reaper.
"Captain of Haven", he gave a cruel grin towards them.
She backed away slowly into Jormun as he protectively put her behind him. His sudden change to brave crewmate made her blush. The turian merc hid in the shadows.
Archer paced around them, sending a cold shudder down Satima's plated spine. He tilted his head in curious observation of her, then a quick glance to Jormun.
"You are a hard person to find but found I have. Please, have a seat.", he gestured with a hand over some chairs.
Archer sat, as two of the men grabbed her, forcing her to sit opposite him. It felt like an interrogation. He leaned forward.
"Turn off the shutdown!", he yelled annoyed in his droid voice. It held a subtle accent.
The emergency shut down was turned off and all doors were unlocked. Satima as well as Jormun knew, there was no escape.
Jormun stood at a distance surrounded by soldiers. He held a deadly glare at Archer, though no one could tell because of his helmet.
"What do you want?", Satima asked, gulping hard.
Archer gave her an unpleasant gaze. She leaned back in the chair from fear of his unknown intentions.
"I need a sample."
He snapped a finger and the same two men held her down as a salarian came running over with a needle instrument. She panicked. Satima struggled against their hold as they took blood from her. The salarian scurried back out the door with the sample.
"What the hell was that for?", she yelled angrily.
"We need to check how your mutation is going. The Directive is interested in your progress.", he cocked his head strangely. "Your survival has been a fascinating subject, Satima."
"My survival?", she questioned with wide teal eyes. Many thoughts raced through her mind, but that took minutes. Satima doesn't have time to process this.
Archer stood up with a smile, pacing around her. He motioned the guards to let her go. Satima sat up quickly, keeping the chair between herself and him. Jormun's heart raced.
"Why did they send you here? Are you going to kill me?", she asked checking the room for a weapon.
He stood in place, putting a hand to his chin with a smirk. "Kill you?" Archer seemed shocked by that concept. "I'm here to take you back and to make sure you never escape again. The Directive has great plans for you, Satima."
She continued backing slowly to the bar.
"Then where is Reaper? Why isn't she in charge of this?", Satima put her arms on the counter and felt behind for weapons. Most bartenders had them concealed away for emergencies. Satima found a pistol, carefully gripping it in preparation to fire.
Archer watched her feel around the back of the bar counter, choosing to ignore it. He looked away to reply. "Reaper has…", he gave a smirk in thought. "Tendered her resignation." Archer paused, taking in Satima's surprised stare. He continued. "Her services are no longer needed."
Satima let out a small gasp. Was he lying? Reaper… left? Why? There wasn't any time.
She brought out the pistol quickly firing on the crowd, pushing her way back for cover. Archer was too fast for her. He dodged every shot, sprinting towards Jormun. He knocked the quarrian over to use him as a shield. Satima shouted in anger.
Archer laughed cruelly, watching her pace, gun in hand. He forced her to make a choice. With a grin, he held his own weapon against the quarian's head. "You'll have to do better than that!", Archer yelled.
Satima realized Jormun is all she has in this horrible galaxy. If she loses him, she'll have nothing left. "Don't hurt him!", she pleaded. But she still held the gun firm.
Archer knew she wouldn't let go of her defense so easily. Too many battles in the station's interior and too many times Reaper had to bring the child back.
He observed her hesitance. "Interesting how a child stands before me, yet a monster waits deep within you. The Directive's little toy. My perfect weapon." He held Jormun tightly, leaning close to the young quarian to speak. "You can't protect what she is, boy. And if you continue to try, you will die."
Jormun stopped squirming, Archer then waved the soldiers to take her. At that moment, the turian in the shadows decided this was enough.
Undetected, he slid past two guards. The few steps he took brought him behind the reaper monster. He pointed a widow rifle right at Archer's head, cocking the clip and ready to fire.
At the sound of a primed weapon, the droid smirked and looked around in surprise.
"Sneaky bastard, aren't you? How long have you been here?", he asked irritated, his humanoid eye twitching.
"Long enough." The turian with blue markings held a controlled finger on the trigger.
Archer sneered before kicking the rifle out of the turians hands. Using quick reflexes, the turian quickly brought out a pistol and shot him in the chest twice.
He staggered back, the bullet holes closing after impact. "Nice try."
The turian looked on in surprise as the android's chest wound began self-regenerating.
Archer was about to use his weapon before a sudden feeling of time became distorted. Distracted by this, Satima wrested herself from the men and pulled out a hidden blade.
She stabbed the neck of the closest one and flipped backward away from the other. Suddenly, dark armored figures appeared through a ripped singularity in the room. Each stepping out in different places, surrounding the soldiers.
They were named Stalkers, for their ability to appear in many places without being seen or heard. The stalkers started fighting with the soldiers. Archer was in a current battle with two of them when he noticed the turian running to Satima.
"Come on.", he said pulling her from a stalker, who seemed to be shielding her instead of attacking.
Jormun shot a soldier running behind them. "Satima are you okay?", he panted sprinting hard to keep up.
Satima nodded thinking about Reaper's sudden disappearance. Is what Archer said true? What if she's coming after her?
They made it to her ship. Do'ova greeted them with a rifle in hand. "The Directive! They're here!" The group ran past her, as she quickly closed the small bay door.
Satima sprinted to the pilot chair and keyed controls for Haven to unlock from the docking system. Together, the crew piloted it away from the war-torn station, as fighters fired cannon lasers, destroying the once peaceful rest stop.
The ship accelerated through space for a time. A maddeningly silent journey that prompted small talk.
Jormun finished with the current maintenance on the stress of the engine. The old girl was starting to show signs of a shutdown. Not good. Do'ova approached him. Her own demeanor was jumpy. "They are following us, now. Aren't they? We don't stand a chance." She leaned on the wall, feeling more hopeless.
Never to see them again. Never to live in peace.
Jormun sighed aloud to himself, closing a panel. They should've taken her home months ago. But Satima didn't want to risk another run-in with the pack. "We'll stand a chance if we work together.", facing her. "Don't give up on our captain." Trying to smile, remembering the helmet prevented himself from reassuring the salarian.
The turian merc made his way on the first deck. He sat next to Satima in the co-pilot's seat, while she gathered herself from another close call.
She glanced at him quickly, returning her gaze to the stars. Satima let out a deep sigh, heavy with fear. "I've never seen a stalker up close before", she spoke quietly.
The turian merc turned facing her with a shaky voice and unsure smirk.
"All that menacing armor and manipulating space-time? It's just too surreal." He pressed a few buttons and clicked his mandibles in reflection.
Satima cleared her throat to speak. "Jormun, check the left thruster again. I think it's trying to break off." Fearful that a stalker would suddenly appear in the bridge behind her, she made a quick glance then returned to her navigational controls.
Back at the station...
Archer threw his blade at the hanging body of a deceased stalker. It dangled from the black-armored alien, as silver blood oozed from the wound. He took sport in this exercise often.
"Sir, we lost the Haven.", a lackey reported.
Archer turned around and walked to him with a smile. His blue eyes narrowing on the unsuspecting subordinate.
"Is that all?", he asked calmly. The lackey nodded yes. Archer reached out, grabbing the neck of the man with incredible strength. He could see the fear in the human's grey eyes, sweat beading the man's brow as he squeezed tighter.
But it would be useless to throw away willing subjects. The Directive will notice and not like him breaking their toys.
Calmed, he resolved to let the human male free, giving a devious smile and straightening the servant's uniform. "Fortunately, your usefulness outweighs your exceedingly lacking ability to find a young girl."
The lackey nodded, gulping hard.
Archer continued with his smile, gesturing for him to leave. "You may go."
He turned swiftly, facing the other Directive soldiers with a glare, as the lackey hurriedly disappeared into the remaining docks of the damaged station.
Archer resumed pacing the stations' bar, overlooking a porthole into space. Turning with a nasty glare, he began to shout orders. "I want all scouts searching the Rim and Terminus systems. FIND ME SATIMA!", he roared
FTL preflight
Satima thought about the merc. His intentions to kill Reaper seemed a bit personal. Then again, her intentions would be too. The long years kept as a tormented protégé to Reaper, trained in the deadliest ways.
It took some time for her to break free from the habits, the constant thoughts that molded her dreams into horrible nightmares.
Satima remembered when she was little that she used to have the most beautiful blue eyes. They were human eyes. Mass amounts of injections later her sclera turned black. She went from a normal human girl to a freak.
The only other thing she was born with is the cranial ridges on her forehead, with deep lines that formed a very distinct feature down to the slightly raised ridges on her nose.
Looking down, she observed the four fingers, instead of five. Remembering a human smile, she made to the mirror in the lavatory, seeing back rows of sharp predator teeth. Small but effective.
Overall, she seemed mostly human... mostly. Satima hates what she is and not only because of the obvious alien deformation but that she was the only one of her kind.
Being alone in the universe is a terrible thing.
Jormun watched the merc settle in the mess. He brought out dextro paste to eat. His armor shone a deep blue, some gold bird on his right arm. It was old, with scorch marks and heavy scarring. He must have changed from his merc armor. Could have been for disguise.
Jormun was told as a child that you can always tell a person by their suit. What they wear, how long they've worn it, and what shape it was in. Giving a small fact that the merc wasn't wearing a suit but armor made no difference. Culturally maybe.
Judging by the merc's, Jormun surmised he was broken and weary. At this speculation, Jormun felt a little sorry for the guy.
Do'ova peeked from the doorway to the corridor. Watching wearily. Jormun felt the same. Who is this guy?
The merc brought out his nutrient paste, that's when Satima walked in.
She paced as he kept eating. His right face and mandible had deep scars, most of it seemed healed. He had deep avian azure eyes with a glaring intensity. It was unnerving.
Navy-colored colonial markings covered the bridge of his raised flat nose to his eye, while an outdated visor covered his left. Satima folded her arms in frustration.
"You going to give us a name now?", she glared his way.
The merc sat on the bench to eat, ignoring her comment. Do'ova walked over to Jormun. As tall she is, the young salarian took a step behind him. He did, after all, save her life.
Satima almost yelled her question again before the merc answered.
"Why is it so important? I'm not hanging around here long.", he nearly shouted at her. The turian then bit off the end of the plastic tube and spit it out. Paste oozed and an unpleasant odor of dead meat filled the room.
Jormun shut off his filters. Do'ova swatted the whiff of putrid meat away from her nasal slats. "How awful!", she exclaimed.
Satima sat across, watching him suck out some paste ignoring her presence completely. He finished his meal, tossing the trash on the floor. She's eaten the same stuff all the time. Whereas Jormun preferred his more vegetarian nutrient bars.
The merc ignored their stares. "No name. It's better that way.", he got up to leave, irritated by Satima's glare.
She held it longer, trying to intimidate him into an answer. "You saved us back there. Why?"
His gaze narrowed on her. "Because you're weak. An amateur in combat, not experienced enough to wander this galaxy alone. With a boy for an engineer, a twitchy salarian as a chauffeur, and a pile of junk for transport." He started to laugh mockingly, "Seems like I walked into a bad joke, then a serious team of smugglers who can dodge trouble when it's staring at them in the face. " The turian sat up, beginning to leave.
Satima had enough with this guy's attitude and stood up to block him. She pushed him back despite his height, unafraid of him.
"How about I shove you out the nearest airlock? Don't think you can get past me because of my size!", she grinned showing her sharp teeth.
The merc stepped back and cocked his head. He looked at Jormun who reached around for Ish. Do'ova gasped, trying to back away from the scrap.
Turning back to the young captain, the merc leaned in close, face to face, "Where I come from, we don't hit little girls.", he said insultingly.
Satima punched him across the mandible, attempting a jab to his side, but missed. He sidestepped, landing a fist at her ribs, holding back from dealing heavy damage.
She coughed but regained her battle stance. It seemed familiar. Satima rushed at him, he sidestepped again, then she caught it.
Hitting his throat, making him gasp for air, she backed up from her intended victory. Any harder and Satima could've killed him. He was impressed at her knowledge of hand to hand.
Satima grabbed his fringe knowing where to twist, while he yelled in pained rage. The merc elbowed her in the chest right above the heart. She fell back rolling on all fours gasping in pain.
"ENOUGH!", Jormun screamed waving Ish around threateningly.
They both looked at him, reeling from their blows. Satima used her weight on her knee to stand up. It had been a good while since she was in a scrap like that.
The merc leaned against the wall, he clutched his side, breathing heavily. She got him good, especially since it was the same spot Reaper kicked in days before. Smart little brat.
Jormun walked to Satima who vehemently pushed his efforts to help away. She stared at the turian, wincing from the fight.
" now... tell me your damn name, and apologize for mocking my crew!", she tried shouting it, wheezing from his elbowed blow.
The merc gave a mandibled smile with a laugh," No, but I'm sorry your ship is a piece of shit, and your crew is better off in daycare.", he slid down the wall resting, with a smirk. Satima started before Jormun held her back firmly.
"You boshtet's!", he said while going after the first aid kits.
The merc used his last medi-gel kit to heal up the recent assault on his ribs. Satima's childish complaints at her boyfriend gave him a headache.
Jormun tried to apply the small tube of medi-gel to Satima's chest, above her shirt. It had a big round bruise on the skin. She was lucky that turian didn't hit harder.
"OW!", she stared at Jormun in displeasure. He fumbled with the tube as she yelled insults in his attempts to soothe the pain.
Do'ova shook her head in upset. "We should be worried about the Directive, not him!" Pointing to the turian. "Captain, what if he killed you?" Her large dark eyes rimmed glossy. The low yellow light of the mess colored her skin tan.
Satima calmed down, nodding. She lifted a glare to the merc as he headed out of the mess area.
Alone he wandered into the engine room. An old soul of the machinery lingering past its due. Maybe it needs some work.
Parts of the hull resembled a ship he used to serve on. He got down on the floor and found data pads with plenty of calculations on the various systems the ship held. Completing all the tasks would take a few hours, but he needed the distraction.
As time passed, he fell asleep leaning on the wall. His grey dream turned from the serene mountains of Palaven to a nightmare, filled with reapers, husks, and Shepard.
This horrific dream gave no indication of letting him wake. Even though he wanted to, an eerie feeling drew him deeper into the subconsciousness of his dreamscape.
There she was. Standing in front of him in full N7 armor, wielding her rifle with that sure gaze. He slowly walked to her and tried speaking as words formed in his mind.
Nothing but a cold silence fell between them. She looked down with the saddest stare. Suddenly a red light covered them, as he shielded his face to block out the harsh beam. When his eyesight recovered, the woman stood closer. He could almost touch her.
The armor was burnt, flesh shown in patches covered in the crimson blood humans were known to have. She wavered in her stance, her eyes watery and bloodshot, seemingly surprised. He began tossing and turning on the floor.
"Help me.", she asked. "It burns, and I can't feel my arms." Her shaky voice and feeble stance nearly brought him to tears.
He grips his rifle tight, as someone enters the engine room cautiously. While he put a finger on the trigger, baring his teeth in anger, and growled at nothing in his sleep, "I can't help you.", he repeats loudly in the room, "...Shepard...". Putting his taloned hand into a fist so tight, it pierces flesh and bleeds.
He lets go, unclenching his fist and suddenly he can't remember her face anymore. She turns away, walking into a red beam that swallows her whole. A new form emerges. Reaper.
He opened his eyes to a feeling of being watched. She stood there still as stone. Then she blinked her teal eyes at him.
Satima hovered with her head cocked to one side.
"Who is this Shepard?", she asked.
He sat up quickly and stood facing Satima. His avian gaze searching angrily at her question. She didn't back up or blink.
A brave and defiant stance that gave him a second or two of pause. He shook it off, walking hurriedly while knocking her out of the way.
Satima scoffed loudly, staring at him in a personal rage.
"Asshole!", she shouted angrily down the corridor.