"Ein bisschen Freundschaft ist mir mehr wert als die Bewunderung der ganzen Welt."
(A bit of friendship is more valuable to me than the admiration of of the whole world.) - Otto von Bismarck
Chapter 8 – Raven: An unexpected Encounter
The NORMANDY arrived at the Citadel fifteen days later, at 0655 ship's time - past the reveille, but before breakfast. Our generous commander granted shore leave to all of us - whole thirty-six hours for her squad, which got us some envious looks and comments from the regular hands. But, frankly, they got twenty-four hours as well... and in my humble and completely objective opinion, we had earned those additional twelve hours with our blood... more literally than I'd like.
It may seem strange to some people, but I actually was a bit worried about leaving the ship. I had spent more than six or seven weeks in the iron belly of the NORMANDY, she more or less had become my home and a safe shelter from all the fighting we had been part of. Here I felt safe, falsely invincible against anything the galaxy threw against us, despite the fact that only a relatively thin layer of steel structure and armor separated us from the cold dark space around us.
The memories of the NORMANDY's end at the start of ME2 distraught me more these days than I was willing to admit, even to myself.
On the other hand, after so much time trapped inside relatively small quarters I was anxious to finally being able to stretch my legs. The cabin fever was getting me, and the Citadel, the melting pot of the galaxy wasn't the worst place to enjoy a break. Almost two months worth of pay, plus risk and combat payment were waiting to be wasted.
Hey, there ain't much ways to spend money aboard a spaceship, y'know? Aside from losing it to Miller in Skyllian-V, maybe.
Speaking of the (dare-)devil, I must have made for an interesting sight when I entered the dressing room a few minutes after we reached the Widow Nebula, and saw him in his formal dress uniform for the first time.
It looked completely out of place.
And the fact that everyone else was dressing casually didn't help him either.
"Hey, mate, don't look at me like that." he said while trying desperately tried to fix said uniform. "Respectable soldiers wear respectable clothing when going on shore leave."
"Uh-huh." Was all I managed to bring out, and trying to avoid the conversation, I moved past him to my own locker. It was useless.
"Hey, I'm serious!" He gave me an incredulous look and pulled the sleeves straight.
I sighed and turned away. "I'm just going to skip everything else and ask ya a single question: Why?"
"Well. First, we still represent the Alliance Marine Corps even when off-duty, and I don't wanna ruin our professional reputation."
I opened my locker and saw jeans, light jacket and T-shirt. Meh. Too bad.
Gordon, who was still assembling his kitbag sort-of bundle snorted. A twisted grin was playing on his features. Even he had shaved his beard. That was in itself an unsettling sign, as I had learned.
"Secondly, you're only allowed inside the trés chic casinos when if you're dressing up well. Right, Mils?"
"Yeah, well, maybe that too." Miller answered, raising his hands in feigned innocence. "I wouldn't know about it, y'all know that."
Rolled eyes, chuckles and grins from the assembled six marines were his answer. The seventh one, Ashley, merely sighed and focused back on tying her boots.
"But, speaking of chic..." and at that Millers smiled somewhat smug, "Thirdly, a clean and kept uniform is proven to increase every man's RoC. Just sayin'."
While most of the men were chuckling or laughing, Danners and Ash merely exchanged tired looks.
"I'm just a little bit afraid to ask..." said Danners, her tone already suggesting resignation, "but, just for the record... what do you mean with RoC?"
"Rate of Chicks. Ow!"
I looked up just in time to see a protein bar ricocheting from Miller's head.
Ash appeared to be pleased with her aim with throwing weapons.
I saluted. "Private Second Class Jess Raven, reporting in, Sir. "
Kaidan looked up from his tray. It contained something that pretended to be a steak. "Get outta here. Have fun."
I grinned and went upstairs to the air lock. It was a bit of a shame that Kaidan wasn't coming with us. But all those flashing lights in the Citadel's 'party zone' would only trigger his migraine, and Kaidan wasn't that much of a party goer anyway.
A brief conversation with Joker and a still annoying decontamination cycle later, and I stepped on the Citadel.
I'll admit that the first thing I did was to lean against the dock's railing, pull a cig out of the package and light it up.
After more than five weeks, this first load of tobacco hit me like a brick. I leaned back and looked into the stars, dazzled by the sudden flood of nicotine in my system. I breathed and watched as the swaths flew off into the eternal night. It felt surprisingly good. And normal. As far as my situation could be described as 'normal'. Had it really been fifty days since I was here the last time?
I wiped my hair out of my face and grinned. Proof enough.
I thought back at what I - We - had achieved. Liara had joined our team, and impressed everyone (save for me, huh) with her pistol skills and extremely strong of the crew still thought of her as a potential traitor, but some, and I'd say the most important ones, considered her an asset to the team.
Only time would tell if she could fit in, but knowing the entire trilogy, I was understandably quite hopeful.
I coughed a bit, my body paying its tribute to the withdrawal.
After a few minutes, I stretched myself and walked away. I had one whole day to spent as I wanted. A great opportunity for every true fanboy. I considered all my options, and then, with a grin, I made my way to the lower wards.
I would need a haircut. And I remembered I still had a bet to redeem…
A bit later, in the Lower Wards, and in another man's mind…
A beeping sound interrupted my work. I put down the box I was carrying and looked at the small screen displayed on my omnitool.
FROM: EASUM
TITLE: Your Friend
MESSAGE:
Noah,
You asked me to tell you when the guy that made the bet comes back. Guess what: He is here right now. You can come here if you want. Just make sure to get the job done tomorrow.
Easum
I responded that I'd be on my way and thanked him. I felt surprisingly calm, considering that what I was up to.
After putting the box I was carrying where it belonged, I looked around for my coworker.
"Hey, I'll be going for today. See you tomorrow."
Using these words, it took only a second or so for a turian to stretch his head into the gangway I was in.
"What about this delivery? We still need to sort through it. You can't-"
"I got permission by the boss. Just do as much as you can today. Don't worry, I'll start earlier tomorrow and will do the rest."
I had worked with enough turians that I immediately recognize the resigning look he gave me.
"Well, if you say so. See you tomorrow, I guess."
"Yeah, see you tomorrow." Keeping your buddies happy is important, so I added: "I'll buy you a drink tomorrow afternoon, when we're done - but now I need to get going."
I started walking towards the locker room of the small warehouse I was working in but got interrupted by my turian coworker again. He was a quite nosy one, I'd say.
"Where are you going anyway?"
"Oh, just meeting an old friend. Nothing important." 'Might only change the fate of the galaxy', I thought with internal sarcasm, but contained any sign of it.
"All right. Until tomorrow." I nodded, and we parted ways.
I entered the locker room, switched from my working uniform to my normal outfit (jeans, shirt and a jacket) and left the building. Only five minutes had passed since I got the message, but I couldn't afford to arrive late. So, while I avoided to run and draw attention on me, I was walking in a very fast pace, fast enough to convince the usual lowlife merchants around to keep me alone.
Every step I took was filled with anticipation, anxiety, and … well… a bit of swag. The lower wards were a bit dangerous, but act confident enough, and the thugs will stay clear. One of the many lessons I learned.
A few minutes later I entered a small bar. Easum recognized me immediately. He nodded towards a human that was sitting at one end of the bar counter.
I took a single look at that guy, and immediately felt my heartbeat going sky-high.
I managed to return a thanking nod and walked towards my fellow human.
He swiveled his whiskey in his glass and seemed to be lost in thought.
Still the same fuckin' old drink. My hands got sweaty and involuntarily started to shake.
I couldn't be sure though. I could only see his back.
I kept my distance for a few, thinking about how to approach him.
Is it really him? How can I be sure? How is this possible? How can this be possible?
Then he turned his head, and with a smile he addressed Easum.
"Yeah, barman? I'd like another one, please"
His voice was the last confirmation I needed - and the last nail in my figurative coffin.
I swallowed hard and took a look at the back of his head. Same color. But looked like cut for the military.
The absurdity of this whole situation came to my mind, and I remembered all the times we'd been sitting around, talking about this and that and Mass Effect.
I grinned briefly, and a large load lifted itself from my mind.
Easum, who followed my every single fuckin' move with his large black salarian eyes, decided to intervene.
"Sure. But I think there's someone who'd like to meet you."
He turned around and looked over his shoulders, his mouth open - knowing him, with a snarky remark on his tongue.
That froze on his features as he saw me. His steely blue eyes focused on me. His eyes were suddenly so set.
The whole situation was so freakin' unreal.
I managed a meek smile, closed the distance and supported my arms on the table he was sitting at.
"Hey. Care to join me?"
Not something for the history books, I'll be the first one to admit it.
It was historical enough.
I don't remember how I felt that time.
It may be relevant for the historians, but I have to apologize - the influx of feelings was too overwhelming.
It couldn't happen.
There simply was no fucking chance of that.
My own transformation into a Mass Effect char was already something I considered impossible.
But something even more unlikely occurred just in front of my eyes.
All I remember is that I followed him in some sort of an emotional state of shock, out of the bar, one or two streets, into a hidden side alley.
There I finally managed to speak.
Or something resembling actual speech.
"You. You!"
I croaked those two words, and the name of my friend somewhere in-between.
And all that motherfucking bastard did was to grin.
"Yeah, It's me, alright."
"How? Why?"
"Look at yourself, and tell me."
We were speaking German, in our local accent.
I laughed loud and gave him a hug - and was incredibly relieved that he responded in the same manner.
This guy was my friend. Someone I knew for at least five years. Someone I considered a great guy. Someone I trusted in.
And on top,someone who was equally as fascinated with Mass Effect as me.
We spent quite some time laughing and talked to each other about no specific topic. It took us that time to calm down. It was good to finally be in really friendly company, not needing to keep things hidden like around the NORMANDY crew. Talking in our language. Being able to share things. Not needing to keep up the act.
Finally, I chuckled and shook my head. "Really, You of all people. Not enough that I am here, no, someone thought it a good idea to send you here as well!"
He grinned and used his thumb to rub over his beard. He wore a full beard, just as I remembered, only that it had grown out a bit. "Yeah. I'm
"Wait." A thought hit me, and I looked at him with wide eyes. "Wait, do you think… there may be others around?"
He looked questioning.
"Well, like us?"
"I don't know. I haven't met anybody yet - no one I would notice, no Mass Effect char, nothing."
He shrugged. "I thought I was the only one here - that is, until I saw you when Shepard became Spectre." He grinned. "Was sitting in this very same bar."
What the fuck. My mind was clouded with questions, and the tension level in my body didn't felt good either. I pulled another cigarette from the package and bit into the filter, searching my pockets with a shaking hand.
He watched me, a slight grin tugging at the corners of his lips. "You're not wearing glasses anymore... but I guess some things never change, huh?"
I shook my head and lit up. "No reason to change, not with a cure for lung cancer being well known."
"Heh." I took a drag and tilted my head to the side to not blow the smoke in his face. He followed my gaze. Despite the hour - in the midst of most working shifts on the Citadel - this area of the lower Zakera Ward was filled with life. None of the passer-bys seemed to really care about us, though.
" 'Sides, every successful man has at least one vice, y'know?"
"Successful? You?"
I had to grin, but tried to look as annoyed as possible. I blew away another cloud and responded in English.
"We're at war… Nobody want's to admit it, but Humanity is under attack."
He smiled, but it was a rather weak one. "I'd argue that Timmy is a insane coward, but okay."
I was in the midst of inhaling the nicotine as the shock hit me. I slowly exhaled, and looked up. Fuck. "Yeah. You're right." I bit on the cigarette butt, leaving a deep mark. "I hope that you've covered your tracks."
He snorted and rolled his eyes. "Oh,no, I forgot about that. What a shame. Got an interview tomorrow with that reporter bitch - Al-Jilani, right? About dimension hopping and shit."
"I'm serious, ya know."
"I know, okay." He rolled his eyes again and sighed. "I've stayed away form C-SEC and anyone who can put one and one together. Since you guys left the Citadel. I've been working here in the Lower Wards, made some friends with some of the smaller players around here. That salarian who's running the Mannovaian Star? Easum? He's been employing me as worker in his warehouse. Guess I got lucky."
I raised my brows. "No questions asked?"
He shrugged. "A few here and there. Think my cover-up so far has been working." He looked around, made sure that noone was listening, and continued more quietly: "How's it been on your end?"
I gave him a rundown - The week after my arrival. Joining the crew by 'saving' Tali. The training with Ash and on the Mako. The fight for the ONTARIO. The slaver base. Therum. And many of the small bits and pieces in-between, to round the picture.
He listened, with curiosity and interest, but quite some envy. When I was done, he sighed.
"Looks like you're in quite the adventure... shame I'm not with you. The sideline sucks."
My cigarette had almost extinguished itself while I was talking. I took one last drag and threw it away. You didn't have to kill someone, mate. When I spoke next, I couldn't keep a tiny chill out of my voice.
"Actually, I think it's good that one of us is not on the NORMANDY. I can't move wherever I want, and am under constant surveillance... you, however, have the entire Citadel as your playground."
"Yeah." He agreed, but didn't sound too happy. "I've spent the last couple of weeks setting some things up, but my options are quite limited without a passport or anything." He folded his arms before his chest, his mood matching my seriousness. "We both know that playtime will be over soon."
"You're talking about Virmire? Yeah, I've been thinking about that for quite some time now." Both Kaidan and Ashley had become my friends, sort of. It just wouldn't be fair to repay their kindness with indifference, especially knowing their eventual fates.
"That, but maybe even more importantly... you are aware that as soon as you all race for Illos, the Geth will try 'n tear this beautiful place to pieces?"
"That, and the NORMANDY will be destroyed sometime after we're done... wait." I suddenly realized what he was after. "You're going to be right in the thick of it when the flashlights hits this place." The grim expression he wore was all I needed. "Fuck."
"Precisely. Chances are I'm done, if nothing happens." He looked up to me, his face a mixture of somberness and a small grin. "I think both of us know what we're going to do, right?"
I responded with a broad smile. "Fuck shit up and havin' loads of fun while doing that?"
He chuckled. "I wanted to say 'Saving the Galaxy from the Reapers while making sure everyone makes it, and having fun',but you're close enough. Maybe I can join you all in ME2. I'm already working out, you know."
"Trust me, you'll need it." It didn't even take much effort to show a terrified face. "At least you won't be put to the grinder like certain other people here." His hearty laugh was Schadenfreude if I ever heard any.
"You keep laughing" I mumbled while typing in my omnitool. "Least I'm not the sidekick here."
"Last time I checked, Shepard was the main char."
I sighed, finished my writing and sent it to his tool.
He opened the file and looked at it.
"Drusus. A turian weapons merchant. His address." He looked up, eyebrows raised.
"That's the guy where I got my first gear." I confirmed. "And yeah, he doesn't give a damn about any paperwork, as long as you have the cash. Speaking of-" I pulled three chits from my pouch -
"here are roughly two thousand credits. Should be enough to get you some cheap basic weaponry."
He looked to me, more focused than I would have liked. "I don't need any cheap BS, man! You know what they're sending to the Citadel, right?"
"I know, but at least you can learn how to shot these damned things in the meantime!" I answered more aggressively than I meant to. I took a deep breath "And think about who's at the source for high-grade armors 'n weapons." I nodded. "Next time we're here, I smuggle some stuff off the NORMANDY – I mean, I can buy it from Postle and bring it to you. The requisition officer" I explained at his questioning gaze. He snorted.
"That turian fella has a shooting range and rents it for ten per hour. And there's an arena close by, and the guys there couldn't care less about who you are as long as you pay upfront. Should be all you need for a good start."
I tried to remember the name of that Salarian whose bunkhouse was my first base of operations. That reminded me of something else...
"You're not using your real name, are ya?"
"No." He shook his head. "Too dangerous, given that I had no idea what exactly got me here."
"Right." I gave him a blank stare. "You don't know anything about what the fuck happened there either, right?"
"That's right, sadly." To my amusement, he pulled a note from his sleeve – written on paper. "'If I've written it down correctly, I was at my desk back home, then there are some twelve hours missing – and then I was on the ground somewhere here. Actually, only half a click from here."
He looked up. "That, however, was more than eight days after you. I attempted to do the same thing as you, but I wasn't in the back alley in time. Guess how fucked up I felt."
I suppressed a grin. "Real case of Glück Im Unglück* here, eh?"
"Ye." He shifted. "Anyway, no. Fake name it is. I guess it's reasonable to assume that you call yourself Jess Raven, right?"
I smiled. "You know it. Annoyed ya more than enough."
He nodded solemnly, took a step forward and offered a handshake. "Noah Crobis, at your service."
I burst out into laughter, which transformed into a coughing fit that took a good minute to calm down. "Alright. Where the hell...?"
"Easy enough. Take real name, take callsign, use a mixer, have an annoying black bird flying around in the back of my mind, et voilá."
"Crow-bite**."
"Shaddap."
"Never."
"I hate you."
"Why?" I answered, feigning a hurt expression. "Crow ain't the worst nickname, now is it?"
"I suppose you're right." He shifted again, "Alright, I'm Crow, for the time being." He looked at his feed when he then asked: "Now what?"
I reached for another cig. Not exactly the smartest thing to do, starting to chain-smoke right after
five weeks without, but well. "I dunno – yet. Wanna look for a way home?"
Crow snorted, and not just because my response sounded more than half-hearted. "I've thought about it, for quite some time. Lemme make it brief: No damn way." He sounded quite determined. "Not anytime soon, anyway. Just take a look around. Look at these freaking aliens around here. Think back home. Think back at what we've done back there. This is a chance we shouldn't have gotten in the first place, and I'm going to use it."
Just what I thought – seven weeks ago. I nodded and reached for my lighter. "In that case, we need to plan ahead. This is part one, the part where the original crew forms. Not much room to change things, less you wanna fuck up royally. I propose, however, that we should keep half an eye open for anything that might have gotten us here. Maybe we're the only ones; but if there others like us, we need to get them to safety before any of the bad guys here gets a grip on him – and there are plenty bad guys around."
"Sounds good." He nodded. "Your shore leave won't last forever, so let's get started."
We spoke for almost an hour. Always watching the street, always nervous that someone would actually listen in.
There was no bloody way that we could get Crow off this station. Not past the vigilant C-SEC; nor without putting my position aboard the NORMANDY at risk. He had to stay behind and try to weather the coming storm; I promised to get him a gear of the best weaponry and armor I could find. Maybe, just maybe we could use the Geth attack to increase his standing or get him out in the open; a highly dangerous game, but one in which we used our hand the best way we could.
To stay in that picture, the stakes we were playing with were quite low for now. Crow had managed to get himself into a minor boss' good graces and had quite good chances of keeping himself there, from what he told me. At least for long enough that we could move him into a safer, less illegal one – but that would require preparation The threat of both Cerberus and the Shadow Broker was lingering on us, unspoken.
On my relatively safe position aboard the NORMANDY, I could 'feed' him with what he needed, at the same time we needed to keep the link inconspicuous. He agreed to use all the time had to train his own combat skills, trying to replace the quality of having a great instructor with more time. It was less than ideal, but it was all we could do.
It was not an easy task and we had to discuss many things, but once we we're done, we were quite certain that it actually could work.
Thinking back, I feel that that was the time were both Crow and I made our first draw in a game of chess, which results would have quite an impact at the galaxy at large…
"... I'd say, however, that we shouldn't make any plans for after ME one. Not yet."
I agreed, mostly. "We're not going to change any major things, maybe Virmire. Hopefully Virmire. And we need all our focus to make sure that that doesn't go to hell. But still, both of us need to make sure that we don't let two entire years go to waste."
Crow nodded, slowly. "I see a few opportunities there. I mean, if this works out, you're going to be a fuckin' hero. You'll be able to rise a few ranks in the Alliance. That could keep you alive for long enough. And Dr. Chakwas managed to 'disappear' to Cerberus and return back to the Alliance without anyone noticing as well."
Hm... I was quite doubtful about my future in the Alliance, but I left it unsaid. Instead, I gave half a smile. "Technically, Chakwas will manage to change sides unnoticed in a year or so."
He cursed and shook his head. "Arrgh. It's fucked up to just think about it."
As if anything here ain't fucked up. I opened my mouth, but a familiar beeping sound interrupted me. I raised my left arm and saw that I had received a message-
FROM: Staff Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko, SAMC
TITLE: Attention - Special Mission
MESSAGE:
PSC Raven,
Sorry for interrupting your shore leave, but you are needed for a special mission.
Please report to Citadel HQ as soon as you're able. We'll brief you there.
SLT Alenko
I stared at the message.
"Something's up?" Crow asked, eyeing me with his arms still crossed in front of him.
"Yeah, I'm afraid we'll need to cut this off - Kaidan's sent me a message about a 'special mission' they need me for…" I looked up, slightly disturbed. "Any idea what mission he could mean?"
He looked at my tool and bit his lip. "Technically, quite a few side missions, but I can't see why Shepard would need you for one of them – her squad should be more than enough."
"Well, one way or another, I have to go." I pushed myself off the wall, deactivating the tool in the process. "Whatever that is all about - " at that I gave him a lopsided grin "- it's important enough to take me off my hard-earned leave."
"Yeah, by the looks of it." He left his place at the wall as well. "If that mail is genuine, there's no way they'll fuck you over. You better go, I'll see what I can do until you're back."
I offered him my hand. He hesitated just a second, then took it in what is commonly known as the bro shake.
"Stay in contact, alright?"
He nodded solemnly. "How?"
I sent him my mail adress via the omni-tool. "I'll contact you whenever we're in the area." Then I looked him straight in the eye, one last time. "Stay low, man. Anyone getting an idea who we are, we're done, especially with the Shadow Broker and Cerberus catching wind. Don't. Forget. That. This is our only chance."
He grinned a bit tired. "You don't need to tell me twice. I don't wanna end up on an operating table."
We left the side alley. "Good luck... Raven."
I turned my head to the side and looked at him one last time, analyzing him. He was broad-shouldered like me, maybe even more so, and his newfound daily routine had left him in a decent state. If he could keep that up, he would rival my gene-mod-boosted fitness in no time.
"You as well, 'Crow'. Let's fucking do this."
We nodded one last time and parted ways.
Two pawns on a galactic board of chess...
I breathed deeply. In, out, in.
He raised his pistol, pointing it at my chest.
I nodded, de-activated my shields and folded my arms behind my back.
He pressed the button and removed the safety.
I promised myself one last time not to flinch, not even to blink.
He stared at me, somewhat thoughtful. Then -
The muzzle flash, the loud bang, the impact of the bullet -
I flinched, blinked, and breathed out.
"Welcome to the Arcturus Marines, Private First Class Raven!"
I looked to the ground, but felt my lips twitching as loud Ooorah's came from the marines assembled in the NORMANDY's cargo bay. I only looked up again when Kaidan stepped next to me, his pistol now holstered.
He took a palm-sized decal in his one hand, grabbed my right shoulder armor and adhered a single golden chevron, where previously a silver one had been.
I had to full-out smile now, and a warm feeling of pride and the knowledge to have accomplished something flow through me.
"Thank you, Sir!" I gave him a salute. He responded, then shook my hand and offered me a grin.
"Well done, Raven. You're one of us."
I grinned from ear to ear, as Millers, Danners and the others all came over and congratulated me.
My eyes wandered off to the squad, which was standing a few meter next to me. Wrex nodded, which I took as a sign of respect – and Garrus
"Looks like you're all grown up now, youngster." Gordon said with mischief in his eyes. His hand went into his uniform's pouch, and he pulled a small bottle from it to place it in my palm.
I first eyed the bottle, then Gordon somewhat suspicious.
The other marine laughed. "C'mon!"
I unscrewed the cap and brought it to my nose.
"Woah - Are you fucking serious?!"
"Yep." He smiled like a damned devil. "What? Too strong for our young one?"
That was a challenge I couldn't refuse - even if that schnaps smelled like cleaning petrol.
"Hey! A speech!" Shouted Miller from the second row and was accompanied by laughter.
Still grinning, I sighed in resignation, took a look around a brought the bottle to my lips. Luckily, it was only a shot.
"You're all goddamned motherfucking sons of bitches! Cheers!"
A loud 'Ooorah!' was their response.
The 'special mission' was a lie.
As soon as I arrived in Alliance HQ, a grinning Kaidan Alenko introduced me to a grim looking, elderly man with a bald skull and five chevrons on his shoulder - three upwards, two downwards. Operations Chief Viljoen. I had a feeling that I was in trouble.
And now, roughly 48 hours later, I knew exactly why.
It's said that when dogs bark, they don't bite. Well, apparently that was different for a Devil Dog. Viljioen was a veteran, one with a long record of service in the Alliance. A young private during the First Contact War. Discharged per request a few years after, settling down on Amaterasu. Reinstated during the Blitz, took part in the Torfan Raid, and since then reached the highest NCO rank in the Alliance. Only his lack of willingness to go through Officer Academy kept him from getting promoted even further.
He was a swashbuckled 'Old Dog' - that's how young marines affectionately called everyone with at least twenty years of service on them. I learned quickly that the 'Old Dog' still had quite the sharp tooth.
"Don't worry, I know him. He isn't that bad."
Fuck you, Alenko.
Ashley's training, as hard as it may have been for me the first time around proved to be invaluable once more. Never before had it been made that obvious that without her dedication, I would have been a dead man already – and for that, I owed her a lot.
I downed the swill, and coughed with tears in my eyes. I handed the glass back to Gordon who, still wore that Schadenfreude-grin plastered to his face. "Pure Elysium vodka, uncut, from my private stash..."
I thought about punching him, but I probably wouldn't have hit him with how everything was blurring in front of me. Instead, I shrugged in defeat and coughed some more. Holy mother, that shiat burned.
Back to that 'special mission': It was an elaborated ruse to corner me in Alliance HQ and force me to officially complete training. It was my final Marine Corps Recruitment Course. The last two days were basically a test on everything I had learned. I had to take my rifle apart, every single component, and put it back together. I had to do multiple fitness tests, leaving me breathless on my knees more than once. Shooting tests, both basic ones and the ones for a designated marksman. First aid exams, on humans and 'allied species'. Basic repair procedures for Mako, Navy vessels, and And finally, the Königsdisziplin: The Kill House.
I almost fucked it up in many of the courses, but managed to score decent scores in most of them as well. I upped my marksman rating to 2, earned myself the B1 for Marine, and got the basic zero-rating for medic, combat engineer and, surprisingly enough, sniper. I failed, however, to reach my personal goal - the N0. Then again, aiming too high wasn't new for me.
The Alliance Vocational Code ranges from 1 to 7; a 0 rating meant that the personnel in question showed some promise and could receive further training in that role. For example, Ashley was a B4 - at the same time however had multiple ratings in other roles as well, including a K3. Shepard's ratings were classified.
Whatever bureaucracy bullshit was behind those numbers and letters - combined with my actual deployments, they convinced the higher-ups to grant me a promotion. I had for all intents and purposes leveled up - and much faster than usual, in a bit more than one month instead of the usual six. I wouldn't say that I was better than average, however. The PSC was only meant to be a temporary rank anyway. I suspected a mixture of being deployed in an active war zone, and Shepard's and Kaidan's intervention.
Still, it felt good.
I shook some hands, traded a few jokes with my colleagues, and then Shepard was in front of me.
"Good work, Private."
Liara, Tali and Garrus followed in her wake, and only Garrus seemed to understand what was going on. It made me wonder what kind of initiation test the turians, where literally everyone serves starting with 15 years of age might have. Probably something even more badass.
As most of the marines and personnel left the cargo bay to resume their duties, Shep smiled, but looked quite worn out. I had learned earlier that she had talked to Rear Admiral Kahokou about the fate of his marines. Despite everything I had to endure (damn, do I sound whiny), I wouldn't have wanted to trade with her. Pressing a few buttons is one thing. Having to actually tell someone that all of his subordinates had become victim to a thresher maw, including that potential betrayal part, was another thing.
"Thank you, Ma'am."I gave her a lopsided grin. "I must ask, though: Was that really necessary?" I raised my hand to my chest and wiped a bit of ceramic dust from the armor.
"Tradition." Shepard said, amusement in her tone. "Did noone tell you why every recruit must run through this?"
I shook my head. "Something with building confidence and trust?" I offered.
"Amongst the soldiers? Yeah, that as well. But the main reason is this." She knocked lightly at my chestplate. "Wearing an armor makes people think they're invincible. As we – Humanity, I mean – developed better infantry armor, that led people to believe that these armors would make them invincible. During World War III, quite some people died because they forgot to take cover."
She looked to our resident aliens, who looked both intrigued and worried at the same time. Even Wrex was listening. "Well, our weapons got better as well... when we found the Prothean's ruins on Mars, the then-formed Alliance realized that the problem could get even worse, now that we even had barriers. Especially since we had no idea what guns we could be facing in the future. So they made this test mandatory for every single recruit."
"Trust your teammates to aim precisely, but know that they all are human – and trust your armor to protect you, but know it's limits." said Ashley, no doubt reciting some training manual.
Shepard nodded, suppressing a grin at the sight of Liara and Tali. At least one of them had positively the mouth gaping open. "Be glad. The first ones to do this were the French CTU GIGN, two hundred years ago. And they did that with high-calibre revolvers and ballistic vests."
"That's ridiculous!" Liara looked positively shocked. "What if someone gets hurt?"
"Raven got out easy." Suddenly, Kaidan was next to them. He pulled the ammo block from his pistol and showed it to us with twitching lips. I narrowed my eyes as I saw the green-white marking. Hollow projectiles. Useless against armor... Training ammo. "I couldn't have pierced his armor if I had wanted to. "
"Thanks, Eltee." I said dryly, eyes fixed on that offending piece of carbon. "I felt good for around five minutes."
He flashed me a smile, one of those typical "Kaidan"-smiles that you see from him quite often in-game. "I can still use regular ammo, if you want me to. Punches your armor just as well. Could even penetrate, if you're unlucky."
"... On a second thought, I'm okay with it."
Shepard grinned – I pointedly ignored everyone else around me – and pointed me towards a few supply crates that were stacked up next to Postle's workbench. "By the way, there's the replacement gear I ordered. Take a look later, I think you'll like it."
"Aye-Aye." Her resignated reactions on my salutes never ceased to amuse me.
"Dismissed. See you at dinner."
And with that, she turned on her heels and went back to the CIC. Kaidan and Ash behind her; both of them knocking on my shoulder armor and wishing me 'fun with my new toys.'
Soon, the cargo bay was empty – save for the usual suspects. I stowed my possessions back in my locker, had Postle help me with getting rid of my armor, and walked to Garrus who was already working at our factory-new M-35 'Mako' APC that had only been delivered a few hours ago.
Just as I grabbed for the spray can to write our ship's name at the tank's flank, I heard the docking clamps disengage.
The NORMANDY was leaving the Citadel. Destination: Feros.
"See ya in a month or so." I mumbled. Then I plugged in my earphones, let my omnitool play 'Trust me, I'm an engineer' and went to work.
The Citadel, Crow, three days earlier
When 'Raven' and I parted ways, I didn't forget to return to the Mannovian and thank Easum before going home. He was only a small-time boss, but still my boss, and being on his good side was quite important for my safety. If I understood it correctly, he didn't have that much influence, but rumors had it that he was one of only a few elements that could link the Citadel's criminal underworld rather safely to Mannovian – one of the colonies that formed the heart of the Salarian Union.
Then I returned home – or what I called home here. A small one-room-apartment, cooking niche, very small bathroom, a bed, a working station, dresser. That was all. Not exactly luxury, but good for me. And C-SEC rarely came even close to this corner.
I dropped my keycard on the bed and walked to my dresser, from which I grabbed my smartphone.
People might think that with old tech like that, it would be extremely easy to hack and therefore unsafe to use. Funny enough, the opposite was true. Trying to hack that thing with an omnitool would inevitably fry the receiver, at the very least destroying all data or just outright blowing it up. Whoever wanted to read my private notes needed direct access, and that was not very likely to happen. The major problem had been to try and power it for the same reasons, but I found a workaround that would have probably sent every reputable IT-specialist running for the hills.
I turned it on. No connection. Not a surprise, really – at least I was able to use some of the more basic apps. I pulled up a note and the stylus from the phone's bottom and started to take some notes on the strange meeting I had just taken part in.
Sadly, they weren't as detailed as I would have liked. But at least we had something to work with.
I'd spent the last weeks forging plans and thinking possibilities, and compared what I had now with my older notes.
And my eyes stuck to one of the entries.
"Are we even from the same universe?"
I pondered on that entry quite a bit. I'm a huge nerd when it comes to time travel and stuff like that. I'm also a believer of the 'Multiverse' theory. And Raven's research just confirmed that theory, sort of. Unless everything was a dream. But then I don't wanna wake up.
Ironically, it was Raven himself who confirmed my suspicion. And there things started to get screwed up. Because, was there any guarantee that he was even the one man I knew? He could have been from another universe, one that was close to mine... but, for example, with an altered code of ethics and morals. He could play along to screw me over later, selling me to save his hide, or, worst case, not even knowing me.
Luckily, at least the last bit wasn't true, and he didn't seem to have any distrust towards me. Or my alter ego from his dimension.
This is so fucked up.
I sighed and laid down on my back, staring at the grey ceiling.
Logically, I had no reason to trust him.
I had no other options, though.
He was in a better position. He had made it into Shepard's squad, could provide me with the stuff I needed.
And, yeah, he was the only one I could talk with. I could share inside jokes, fourth-wall-breaks, that sorta stuff. Otherwise, I'm sure that I'd go nuts inside a month or so. Raven's better at suppressing those thoughts than I am. He can seemingly just ignore these oddities, accept them as reality and work with them.
It took me an entire day to, for an example, stop running around with my mouth open when I first landed. Knowing him, he may have recovered in under an hour.
I never was quite the 'social butterfly' type of person. Usually, after school, or after university, I was so tired that I'd hole up in my room, not wanting to talk to people for days. I didn't have a huge circle of friends. Just a decent few. I needed friends like that here. I mean, Easum was, for a gangster, a nice so were my co-workers. But I can hardly talk to them about being from 200 years in the past and that they were all video game chars, now could I?
A sigh escaped me. I stood up, hid my phone back in the pile of clothes and walked to the fridge from which I got myself a cool can of beer. I returned to my bed, sat down on it, rested my back against the wall and took a gulp. While it was of lesser quality than what I was used to drink, it was drinkable and got the job done.
Beer in hand, I proceeded to stare blankly into the air. I felt strangely underwhelmed. I had looked forward to, and worked for this encounter to happen. And now lots of things had changed. It all felt so... brief, though. Incomplete, something was missing. Or maybe I had just been too single-minded.
Now the waiting game started, nothing really interesting would happen here until the NORMANDY came back. Then we would meet again, and might be able to proceed.
I closed my eyes and took another sip. Well, we will see what comes, and deal with it. I was out of action for some time now – and I would use that time to the best of my abilities. Because between one and two, there was a two-year-gap to deal with. I made me shudder to just think about living in the ME universe for years. It was a mixture of a lot of worries, but with a great deal of anticipation involved.
Time for a toast, huh?
A grin formed on my face.
Because one thing was certain: It wouldn't be the most boring two years of my life.
I rose the can above my head and said to some imaginated drinking buddy:
"To the NORMANDY! To Shepard! And to the coming fun times ahead!"
I downed the rest of the can in one go, threw it into the garbage can and recollected my thoughts. Then I went to bed.
After all, I still had to sort through Easum's 'delivery' early in the next day.
And, well, there's nothing like a bit of routine to keep yourself grounded.
That was sarcasm, okay.
A/N:
*German equivalent to 'blessing in disguise'. Literally, it would mean "Luck in bad luck".
**Small and stupid joke on my part: Crobis – Crow-Biss – Biss, German word for bite. A crow's bite.
I'm not dead. I hate writing dialogues. And I'm not alone anymore - Crow, also known as Armnorn, has officially joined the struggle. Now the fun part starts.
Hope this somewhat compensates for the lack of updates in recent times - and as I stated multiple times: This story will be done.
Until next time - hopefully faster than this time around ;)
And, as always, a big shoutout to 5 Coloured Walker to Beta'ing!
P.S. Last edit 9.8.16 - fixed a few minor mistakes in wording.