Interloper Rewrite: Chapter 8
Passing Muster
It was a struggle getting out of bed the next morning. The whole 'get up early, work until late' military schedule was really starting to wear on me. Especially when I wasn't even allowed to work. There was only so much extranet reading a man could fit into a day before he felt like a useless lump. But, with Pressley's more than firm response to adding me to the duty roster, there was nothing to be done but drag myself down to the mess hall.
"Morning, Rick." I slumped into the seat next to the marine and pulled the nearest tray of ship's eggs over to my plate. I piled them up and gave them a healthy crusting of salt. "The Commander back yet?"
"See for yourself," Jenkins responded, motioning towards the officers' table. Shepard sat there with Kaidan, Liara, and Dr. Chakwas. Kaidan had apparently just gotten to the end of a joke, since the table burst into a wave of light chuckles.
"I guess they were successful then," I noted. Jenkins nodded.
"Do you know what they were doing down there? It's all been very hush-hush up here." Jenkins leaned in conspiratorially.
"Not sure I'm allowed to tell anyone," I said, "it's classified or something."
"Oh, fine then." Jenkins went quiet for a while. I felt a pang of guilt at the look of betrayal on his face, but Tali's talk about trust weighed heavily on me. After a while, Jenkins spoke up again, much of his usual cheer returned. "So I managed to get a hold of a new vid and the whole gang's got some downtime tomorrow. You in?"
"Yeah, definitely," I said, "same place?"
"Actually, we're setting up down in the shuttle bay. Apparently Garrus enjoys the gunplay and wanted to join us."
I felt more awake after shoveling down a serving or two of eggs, so I decided to get some more "yellowjacket" messages sent out. I may have been sidelined, but that didn't mean I had no way to contribute to Commander Shepard's mission. A couple of things came immediately to mind. Single things that would only need a gentle nudge to change. That was, as long as my knowledge of the world I found myself whisked away to was accurate. That would need some checking. I retreated to one of the extranet terminals and ran a few searches. The news hadn't reported anything from Terra Nova, so I sent a brief message to the Terra Nova garrison warning them about a batarian plot. I also tracked down the address of Alliance marine, Jacob Taylor. I sent an innocuous looking scouting report about the planet Aeia, mentioning what looked like the wreckage of the Hugo Gernsback. According to the extranet reports, the ship had already been missing for eight years. Hopefully the situation on the ground hadn't already gotten to the point it had in the game. I closed my Omni-tool with a feeling of satisfaction. At some point I'd have to put together a list of the missions I'd played through, before I ended up forgetting the details.
That ended up burning about an hour. And with nothing else to do, I ended up gravitating towards Jenkins. He was on his duty rotation, tucked away in a side corridor checking behind panels in the wall. I leaned against the opposing wall, grousing in the way I'd seen many a marine do to pass the time.
"And here's the thing," I continued, "the guy won't even give me something to try. I bet if I just got the chance I'd figure out how to change the air filters or unclog the toilet or whatever."
"I don't know, Mike, he kind of has a point," Jenkins replied from halfway into an uncovered crawlspace. "Not that it doesn't suck," he added quickly. "But the Normandy is a brand-new ship, and a prototype at that. Even without the regs, which we both know Pressley reads every morning before getting out of bed, he probably shouldn't be letting civilians crawl around without training."
I puffed out my cheeks. Not exactly the answer I was looking for, but my friend had a point. But that didn't get me any closer to avoiding the rubbing from my new crewmates. "Maybe I can ask the Commander for something to do aboard," I posited.
"Oh, no, you don't want to do that," Jenkins replied. He wiggled back out from the crawlspace. "Go over the XO's head, that's a bad idea. His whole job is taking care of the little things to make sure the Skipper can focus on doing the big important stuff."
"Oh, yeah, I hadn't thought of that." I felt my cheeks heat again. Life on the Normandy was so much more complicated when you weren't observing it from a distance. "So where does that leave me? I can't help, because I don't have the training. I can't do the training, because I don't have the clearance, and I can't learn on the job, because there's no one free to teach me."
Jenkins was quiet for a long time. When he did break the silence, it wasn't to answer my question. "Hey, can you give me a hand with this one?" He asked. I knelt down beside him and he pressed a curved sheet of metal into my hands. "Here, hold this up against the pipe, right here, that's right." He pointed to a long conduit that ran the length of the crawlspace before disappearing through a bulkhead. "Right now, I'm checking for leaks in this O2 line. Here, you can see what it's carrying because it's marked right here. The shield isolates the system I'm currently working on, that way if my detector pings, I'll know the issue is forward of what I've already checked." He demonstrated by waving his omni-tool over the pipe ahead of us. "See, I want the readings to be between these two little dots, that's ship normal. If it's higher, we got a leak. If it's lower, we got a vacuum, and I'd call engineering immediately."
"That's real interesting, Rick," I started. Then, something dawned on me. The way the marine was explaining every step. The way it sounded like a lesson. "Hey, thank you."
"No, thank you," Jenkins laughed. "You're not the one with a second set of hands working on his chores. Just, uh, best not to tell the XO this, eh?"
"My lips are sealed," I assured him.
The next day was a blur of activity. The Normandy had changed course again, this time for the Citadel. Shepard had announced over the intercom that there would be some form of inspection, which had whipped the crew into a frenzy. Servicemen moved from place to place. There was a great deal of scrubbing and shifting of crates. XO Pressly and Chief Williams seemed to be everywhere, barking orders. The other non-Alliance members and I took shelter on the engineering deck, which Engineer Adams kept in inspection ready condition all the time as a matter of pride. With so much to do, there was no space for me to sneak in lessons with Jenkins. So, it was time to knock about on the Mako while Garrus fiddled with the big gun until even he tired of his beloved calibrations. After that, the day passed quickly over several rounds of Skylian Five Poker. I turned out to be terrible at it. The characteristic shudder of a relay transition interrupted a particularly ruinous hand.
"You better clear that away," Dubyansky noted, "top brass frowns on gambling in the engine room." We packed up our cards and stowed them in a locker. No sooner had we finished, when the intercom chimed in a sound reminiscent of boson's pipes.
"All hands, Admiral on deck." The various crew members still down in the hold formed a line and snapped to attention. The aliens and I huddled near the Mako.
"On a Turian vessel, the entire crew would have gathered in the central corridor for inspection by a general. You humans just seem to gather where they stand." Garrus looked at the straight-backed marines across the room.
"I think the Alliance prefers to inspect its crews at their stations, that way they can be questioned about the ship," I guessed.
"A Turian general would already know everything there is to know about the ship he was inspecting. Sometimes I wonder how you humans survived the Relay 314 Incident."
At that moment, the elevator began to descend. The doors opened on a short and angry looking man in an Admiral's uniform. His eyes scanned the bay in a way that suggested he was searching for any minute detail out of place. His face grew grim as his eyes alighted on us. He walked over.
"What's this?" he asked his aide. The aide tapped on a datapad.
"This is the non-human and civilian compliment, sir; Shepard has recruited them to aid her in her mission," the aide offered officiously.
"A turian? And a krogan? Who authorized this?" the admiral snapped. Wrex rose to his full height and leered down at the Alliance officer.
"No one authorized this, little human; we don't need your permission to join a council Spectre." He bared a mouth full of teeth.
"I am Rear Admiral Mickhailovich of the Alliance Navy, you will not address me in this way!" the admiral tried to match the krogan for height, but fell far short of the fierce mercenary.
"Admiral, Wrex is a powerful warlord among his people, he addresses everyone that way." I spoke up. That might salve his pride some.
"A warlord, eh?" The admiral seemed less livid. "I suppose that means that your clan supports the Alliance?"
"I support Shepard," Wrex said simply. The Admiral stared him down for a long moment.
"I suppose I will allow it," he said at long last. He turned on his heel and strode towards the engine room. After he had gone, Wrex let out a harsh laugh.
"A powerful warlord, hah! I left my people years ago, cast out for calling for peace. You've got spirit, kid, lying to an admiral like that."
I shrugged. "Odds were the admiral hasn't brushed up on his krogan politics. I figured the only way to get him to back down was to get him to think he'd gain politically." Wrex shook his head.
"You humans and your politicians."
The rest of the inspection went more smoothly. The admiral left with a slightly higher esteem for the Normandy and its mission. The Commander released the crew for its shore leave and I soon found myself on the Presidium Ring, sharing a round of drinks with Jenkins and a few of the other marines. The drinks had an odd, almost spicy taste. Jenkins nearly took a swig of turian brandy on a dare before the bartender deftly snatched the glass out of his hands.
"C'mon, really guys? I coulda died."
"Relax, Jenkins, we were never going to actually let you drink it," Another marine said. The boisterous man was already several cups deep.
"Yeah, I'm pretty sure the regs frown on the intentional poisoning of your battle buddies," chimed in another.
I didn't pay much attention to the rest of the conversation. My eyes were locked on an asari across the room. If my memory served me well, that was Nassana Dantius, and right now she was trying to trick Commander Shepard into killing her sister for her. The two women sat close. From my seat, I couldn't make out their conversation, but Nassana's face seemed to convey just right mix of worry and anger. She was a very good actor.
The marines finished their ribbing of Jenkins and got to their drinking. I got a little flak myself for not joining them. One of the marines started to brag about his visit to the asari Consort.
"Hah, there's no way you went to the Consort." I laughed.
"What do you mean, Crash?" the marine slurred slightly. The rest of the squad grew quiet, their eyes on me. At once, I felt like I'd overstepped. It was too late to duck out now though.
"On a grunt salary? Consort's not cheap."
"He's got you there, Hopkins." Steiner said, "It's what? A year's salary per visit?" The other marines joined in. Hopkins got a little red in the face. I relished not being the target of the marines' scorn for once. "You gotta do something really cool to get that session in gratis. Like kill a Thresher Maw with a Mako the hard way." she finished by raising her glass towards me. "Right, Crash?"
"Crash!" the chorus repeated, but it didn't sound quite so much like an insult. The glasses flipped up around the table. Steiner made a show of slapping me on the back.
"Yeah, well, shut up," the marine called Hopkins said finally, getting up to leave. Jenkins and the other marines dragged themselves to their feet.
"You coming, Liddle?" Jenkins offered. I looked past him to the other marines. It was hard to get a read on how welcome my company would be.
"Nah, I think I'll stay a bit, I like the view." I motioned towards the open balcony.
"All right then."
The group staggered away, singing off key.
"Having fun?" Shepard sat down across from me. She took a deep pull of something green.
"Hmm?" My own drink had gotten warm. "Oh, yeah. Turns out running over a giant worm does wonders for your popularity with the marines." At least, it did at the drinking table.
"They're a good bunch of guys." Shepard said pensively. She looked out across the lounge. There was an edge to the way she gazed at nothing in particular, the way she gripped her glass a little too hard.
"Commander?"
"I'm off duty, Liddle. Call me Shepard." The Commander turned to face me.
"Alright… Shepard, you okay? You seem a bit distant."
"Oh, just had to deal with some…." She went quiet. "You ever heard of Mindoir, Liddle?"
"That colony that got hit by slavers?"
"Yeah, well, I was born there, lost my parents in that raid when I was only 16. I joined the military as soon as I was old enough, just to get back at them." Shepard's eyes had none of the hard edge and surety I'd come to expect from seeing her in action.
"Shepard, I'm sorry." I reached out to touch her hand, but she jerked it away to drink from her glass again.
"I just met another survivor; she was taken by the batarians." Shepard almost spat the last word. "They tortured her until she didn't even remember her own name. She was so helpless. I don't know, I guess it brought it all back." Another deep pull. "You understand though, right? You're a colony kid like me; you know what it's like to just be out there, days away from the nearest fleet."
"Yes, I understand," I lied, "but we do what we can, us colony kids, we fight them."
"Damn Right," Shepard said more forcefully, "that's why people like you and me; we've got to put a stop to the Saren's and the batarians. For the colonies." She raised her glass. I clinked my own against hers and drained the spicy liquid in one gulp.
"For the colonies," I echoed, feeling slightly guilty. The Commander looked like she needed it, though. We sat there for a long while in silence.
"It was so green," Shepard said unexpectantly. "Mindoir. Every morning you'd look out and see the fields roll off into the hills. Corn, tomatoes, peppers, we'd grow it all. I don't think there was anywhere that pulsed with life quite so much as our fields. Eden Prime comes close but... that's been hit now too."
"I didn't know you grew up on a farm," I said. The Shepard I'd seen only through a screen could have been from a couple of backgrounds. The colonist was by far the saddest. It was strange seeing her talk about it, though, it wasn't something that came up outside of a few lines here and there. But this wasn't a character sitting across from me. This Shepard lived, and breathed, and had grown up on a farm planting corn.
"Born and raised," Shepard responded, the sadness in her voice lifted a little by pride. "Of course, I was just a kid, hated the farm work. Getting up early, going to bed late. Nothing like the military." She laughed at her own little joke. "Sometimes I wonder what that girl would have done if she'd been left alone."
"I don't know, but I'd imagine she would have been the best damn farmer in the whole colony." I raised my glass they clinked again.
"Damn straight. To farming!"
"To farming."
Shepard let her empty glass back down to the table as her omni-tool chirped. "That's me," she said reluctantly. "Apparently I've been given the honor of a meeting with the Asari Consort. Wish me luck." She pushed out her chair, and was gone.
I spent the rest of the shore leave tracking down Jenkins. With our vid plans ruined by the inspection, he taken it upon himself to find a cinema that catered to westerns. The Grand Desert theatre was a little run down, but well lit, and garishly decorated in a friendly style. The vids playing were a lot of fun. Garrus had found us, along with Dubyansky and Tali. Between us we managed to scrape together enough credits to watch a double feature. Hours later, we walked out into the Citadel's perpetual daytime.
"That was awesome!" Jenkins jabbered excitedly. I had to agree. Almost a century and a half of technological development had only improved Hollywood's offerings. "Hey Garrus, it looked like you were only turian in the audience."
"Yes, well, the Hierarchy isn't too keen on the concept of lone gunmen who play by their own rules." Garrus gave the best approximation of a shrug.
"Wouldn't that describe you pretty well, Garrus?" I asked.
"I never claimed to be popular among the Turian High Command." Garrus said with a laugh. At that moment a slightly dazed Commander Shepard rushed past us.
"What do you think that was about?" asked Tali.
"I don't know, but the Commander just met a survivor from Mindoir. She's probably still a little shaken."
"Makes sense, wasn't that colony raided when she was a child?" Jenkins added.
"That's rough." Garrus said.
Our weary party slowly stumbled its way back through the Presidium, twice having to stop to get our bearings. The exact route we took was a blur. The world moved slowly under our feet as we ascended up up up towards the Alliance tower and waited at the Normandy's airlock for access. The marine on duty made us wait, likely as punishment for his being stuck with the duty of wrangling drunken sailors. It was with leaden eyelids that I eventually slipped into my bunk. Soon, we would be back on the trail of Saren, and Sovereign, but tonight was time to rest. The galaxy would be there waiting for us in the morning. The snores of my neighbors lulled me to sleep.
