Lopez looked about the small shop with disdain. Looking like every fantasy setting idea of a general store, it was quite filthy and poorly made. The building was falling apart, the owner had a servant going about making sure the rats weren't getting into the goods(for what little that did), and much of the adventuring equipment had clearly been salvaged from dead adventurers.
She grimaced at a pair of leather boots, tied together and with a smattering of dried blood across them. They sat near an incomplete set of armor. The sergeant could just make out the damage made by the killing blow left on the remaining parts; likely the scavenger had removed the worst of the injured parts, intent on selling the outfit as "used" to the unwary customer.
As if the equipment wasn't bad enough, most of the food was spoiled; crops that had been taken from abandoned fields or from the dead, and sold at ridiculous prices to take advantage of refugees passing through the area. The stuff should have been left to the rats.
Lopez shook her head, salesman are the same all over.
She glanced over at the counter, really a bunch of barrels with a flat piece of wood on top, where Gil-Galad was bartering for medical supplies and hardtack. Just about the only food that wasn't spoiled.
Hopefully they'd be able to get out of here soon. The sooner she and Henry could slip away, the better.
Lopez heard the haggling growing louder and more angry. The little thin man running the shop was driving a hard bargain, and and Gil-Galad wasn't accepting.
She strode over casually, "Is there a problem here?"
"Yes," the shopkeeper growled, glancing at her and back at Gil-Galad, "This damn pointy-ears-"
He stopped, his mouth hanging open, as he did a double take of Lopez. "Wait, you're not a templar! Not again..."
"What gave it away? Literally everything about me?"
She glanced at the meager purchase, "Gil, this stuff is practically worthless. I could eat a stick and get more nutrition."
"It is hardtack," Gil-Galad admitted, "but it was the best I could find in this place. He's charging me 400 copper pieces for it."
"You're charging him 400 copper for a couple painkillers and hardtack?" Lopez demanded, looking at the shopkeep.
"My rates are going up, it's harder to get supplies in." he explained, not making eye contact.
"I'll say. You haven't gotten any new shipments in the past few weeks!" Lopez stepped over to a bushel of apples. Brushing a few aside, she gingerly withdrew a black shrunken husk, insects still clinging to it, "It looks like you turned over all the bad ones in here so no one would notice. Care to explain?"
"I have no idea those were like that!" he blustered, "It must be my servant-"
"The elf girl you don't let out of your sight, and probably beat on a regular basis? Yeah, she's obviously the culprit."
He shrugged, "They're an irrational species, you know that. They don't have-"
The shopkeep stopped talking for a moment, watching Gil-Galad bristling. Surprisingly, at least to Lopez, the elf did nothing.
The sergeant shook her head. She would do something.
She reached across the counter, and seized him by the collar, "You are going to accept 50 copper, you racist prick. That's how much it's supposed to cost. You will accept that, and we will be on our way, and you better hope we don't come back, or worse yet, tell everyone about your…"
Trailing off, she noticed a piece of jewelry dangling from the shopkeeper's neck, among the cloth she clutched.
"Your…"
It was a small brass cylinder about three inches long, attached to a string. The bottom end was flat, while the opposite end slowly tapered off into a point. A hole had been bore through its pencil-like tip for the string. She immediately recognized it for what it was.
It was an M118 7.62x51mm Full Metal Jacket Armor-Piercing rifle cartridge. Just like the few hundred left in her pack, just like every other marine in the Corps used.
"Where did you get this?" Lopez hissed.
"A man! A tall man!" the shopkeeper immediately answered, "He had stuff just like yours! Armor, weapons, everything! No helmet! He traded the bullet for some hardtack! Please don't hurt me!"
"Did he have a symbol like mine?" she gestured to the UNSC logo emblazoned on her chest plate, "What did he look like?"
"Yes! That symbol! He was young, with a shaved head except for one short strip down the center! That's all I know, I swear!"
Lopez released him, "Which way did he go?"
The shopkeeper pointed.
"Thanks. Gil, pay the man and lets go."
With a glare at the shopkeep, Gil-Galad slammed down a pack of copper pieces, and quickly caught up to Lopez as she went out the door.
She darted back inside and grabbed the 7.62 necklace, "I'm taking this."
"What did you find out?" Gil-Galad asked as she emerged, surprised to find Lopez was actually smiling a little.
"Someone else crashed on this planet. Not just me. There's another marine out there! And not just any marine, he's one of my kids-one of my squadmates, Private MacCraw! Oh, only he would be stupid enough to barter one of his bullets!"
When she looked at Gil-Galad, her eyes were alight with a fire he hadn't seen often. Whenever Henry had been threatened, he'd seen it. Whenever that fire burned, nothing would stand in her way.
She seized the elf's arm, "C'mon. We need to get moving."
They continued down the street, to a previously agreed upon meeting place with the others.
Lopez snorted, "That stuff didn't actually cost that little, do they?"
"Nope."
They met up with the rest of the group. All were laden with supplies for their journey to Val Royeaux.
"We need to get moving ASAP." Lopez said, and held up the necklace with the cartridge attached, "One of my marines is out here. One of my squadmates."
Henry's expression of surprise turned to a more neutral one, his eyes narrowing.
"Another soldier like yourself?" Cassandra asked, "We could certainly use them."
"Do you know where they went?" asked Solas.
Lopez pointed vaguely in the direction the shopkeeper told her, "That way, but first we've got to wrap up our current quest."
She hesitated, "There's something I haven't told you. Something I was planning on telling you when we got there. Along our route, there's a lake bay. Lying in it is a UNSC cargo pod, it can give us some transportation."
"Transportation...horses?" Gil-Galad asked.
"I'm not talking about horses. It contains something that will get us around a lot faster."
"Are you speaking of a ship? Why did you not tell us of this before?" Cassandra asked.
"It's not a ship, and I have my reasons." She checked the map on her TACPAD, "Let's go."
They walked quickly out of town. Lopez, as always, walked ahead of the others. The benefits of living in a society with a balanced diet. Only Henry ever walked ahead of her, with his longer strides.
Today, he slowed down to walk alongside her. It must've been like crawling for him.
"Zhao. You find Marines. You rescue. They kill me, yes?"
Lopez looked down at the road, "Well, maybe not. We don't have anything against taking prisoners…"
She froze mid-sentence, the obvious hitting her.
"I could put in a good word for you. Get the marines to take you in instead of ONI. You'll get better treatment from the corps than the spooks. Heck, if worst comes to worst, I could just 'forget' you existed when it comes time to leave…"
The sergeant trailed off, her thoughts drifting away. She opened up her TACPAD were a map of the country around them was displayed. It was an area of about two hundred square kilometers, documented by her drones, or scanned from local maps.
There were several icons that sprang up from various sections of the map, detailing cities, towns, villages, mineral deposits, armies, ports, etc.
A handful were larger than the rest, highlighted. Each one had a UNSC logo across it, and on each signature, there was a symbol of a small triangle with an exclamation point inside.
Lopez tapped one of the icons, making a text bubble flash into existence.
"UNSC EMERGENCY BEACON: AUXILIARY UNIT IN DISTRESS. REGISTRY-UNSC Pillar of Autumn."
This type of beacon was designed for when a ship had been destroyed, and it's assets scattered across the planet. Auxiliary units included dropships, fighters, cargo pods, or lifeboats.
A few beacons from the Mona Lisa had come down as well, one almost certainly belonging to MacCraw.
Khutan's grasp of written english had improved since the landing, out of necessity. Specials ops soldiers normally had combat harnesses to rely on for translation, committing only to memory that which would avoid stupid mistakes. There was one particularly embarrassing incident he recalled where a team of specialists had been lost because they couldn't read a human starship's self destruct countdown.
There was no hiding the information from him.
There was human military equipment and potentially human stasis units scattered across the planet, carrying soldiers with the rage garnered from the most devastating war the galactic arm had ever seen.
A UNSC detachment would have been bad enough, but Khutan knew the days of organized human resistance were numbered. They would not come for the crashed survivors and leave. They would hold onto any planet they still had, and the equipment and personnel already on the planet would likely make it easier to build a facility.
Refugees, military units, everyone would be fleeing to this world, virtually undetectable by Covenant forces. Not in the area of known human space, and absent from navigational databases, it would be the ultimate place for them to regroup and take revenge decades later.
He could never leave. He knew the stars around the planet, the geography. If he chose to not do his duty and report, his own people would interrogate him endlessly until they got every scrap of information.
They might turn him over to the Jiralhanae. Khutan shuddered.
The special operations officer realized Zhao was still looking at him. "What will we do?" he asked.
Zhao made one of the strange human facial expressions that meant they were thinking. She shrugged, "We'll cross that bridge when we come to it."
She began to walk a little faster, but looked back, "Hey, if it comes to it...I'll pull the trigger. Right between the eyes."
Khutan blinked. If he was found with no equipment and shot in the back, he would be branded a coward. In the front was a different story...
He could hear the tales now, the younglings wanting to hear about the brave Sangheili warrior who faced down the humans with nothing but cloth to protect him. The warrior who was captured through no fault of his own for participation in experiments on the Flood, and who bravely died charging his guards.
What did this human know about honor? How did she know?
XXXXX
The small ocean bay was lined with tall stone cliffs that stood up to either side, while along the center was a steep slope, that led down onto a beach.
In the center of the bay, a few dozen meters from the shore and lodged on a sandbar was the source of the distress beacon. A massive grey metal rectangular box, with the edges rounded off.
It's left side was made of titanium, the rest ceramics, and all were scorched by intense heat. Reentry had done some damage. Massive parachutes dangled from the upper corners into the water, two out to sea and a pair crushed under its weight.
"What is it?" Gil-Galad asked.
"It's a cargo module." Lopez stated, grinning, "It should make getting around a little easier."
It would also make finding any lost UNSC personnel a lot easier. She should have done this earlier. There were more and more cryotube beacons popping up on her maps, in addition to MacCraw.
Something else she hadn't told the locals.
There could be dozens of men and women stranded on this planet, scattered all over and unorganized. Soldiers who would be vital in containing the Flood.
Rescue and outbreak containment far outweighed the need to maintain security for a dime-a-dozen cargo pod. While she couldn't let the locals know much about the UNSC, or even about the Autumn, Lopez figured this little bending of the rules shouldn't compromise anything.
"How could that thing move at all? It's a giant brick." Varric scoffed.
Lopez was already headed down the cliff, toward the beach.
As the others followed, more details came into view. A hatch on one of the long flanks, and a massive door on either end of it.
"A cargo module. What is it designed to carry?" Cassandra asked.
"I don't know, exactly. I know it's valuable."
"You don't know what it holds, but you do know it's valuable? I have the greatest confidence in you." deadpanned Varric, and was "accidentally" tripped by Henry. In this case, "trip" meant being knocked over.
Lopez reached the water's edge, tapping a control on her helmet.
"Can't wade out from here, it's too deep. Let's try and go for the sandbar."
She made her way around to the shortest distance between the sandbar and the beach, and stepped into the water. Henry gingerly dipped a hoof into the water, and seemed to tolerate the temperature.
Lopez was up to her knees in water by the time she reached the cargo pod, and smirked as she raised a hand to touch it.
She noted Henry was keeping her distance from her, regarding the pod with an odd expression.
The sound of water sloshing signaled the arrival of the rest of the group behind her.
"You said this was a cargo module. Where did it come from?" asked Gil-Galad.
"It came from a ship."
"A ship?" Cassandra echoed, "This doesn't look like it's good for navigating the seas…"
"It's only a part of it, Seeker."
"What is the purpose of a ship that can be taken apart like this? Isn't that somewhat...dangerous?" Gil-Galad asked.
Lopez noted few had asked about her constant comments about space travel. The luddites probably thought she was crazy.
She replied, "Supplies are really important in space travel, and survivors of shipwrecks need all the help they can get. Just like your ships, ours can be stripped for parts and supplies. Sometimes entire cargo bays can be detached, like this one. It may not look like much, but when it's integrated into the ship, you can't tell the difference."
"What happened to the ship, then?" Solas asked, "It was clearly in distress, if what you say is true."
Lopez grimaced, "I don't actually know. It was reported missing a few months ago."
She was being fully truthful this time. Any information her equipment held on the Pillar of Autumn was covered in black ink. By the looks of things though, she was hit pretty bad and tried ditching cargo and cryo tubes. If that's true though, why weren't there any lifeboats?
"How are these doors opened?" Gil-Galad asked, pointing to the massive blast doors.
"Watch." Lopez flipped open her TACPAD, and put one hand against the side of the pod. Microscopic circuits in her uniform formed a hardline connection to the container's systems, a protective measure against remote hacking.
Her TACPAD displayed a loading screen briefly, before displaying the most beautiful sight she could have seen.
"CARGO BAY 32-A-MANIFEST: X6 M12 FAV(S)"
Dismissing the manifest, a schematic of the cargo bay appeared on the screen, indicating levels of damage and status of certain equipment. She highlighted the hatch closest to them, and tapped the "open" command.
Vibrations reverberated audibly through the pod, making the others step away in fright. Several meters away, a line appeared in the soot and ash coating the hull. An opening began to form, groaning with the exertion. The hatch spilled dust and ash, blackening the water underneath. It split into four segments, which disappeared into the wall around them, revealing a yawning black interior.
Without hesitation, Lopez waded over to it and clambered up into the threshold. "Let's see if this thing's still got electrical power…" She muttered, touching the hull again and tapping a control.
A smattering of light strips flickered on across the ceiling, along with strips along the floor, and some along the wall. Instead of the straight lines they were supposed to form, they appeared randomly. It was quickly apparent the pod had had a hard landing.
Some of the lights dangled from their mounts, lit, but flickering dangerously. Sparks arced from others, while still more were smashed beyond repair.
Plating was warped or scattered across the deck, the entire place was a mess.
But there was still enough power to see what the pod contained.
Still strapped down, and fully intact, six M12 Light Reconnaissance Vehicles, or "Warthogs" as they were more commonly known, were neatly arranged into cubicles, three to either side of the container.
Lopez gestured to the vehicles. "The Warthog, everyone."
Varric looked around skeptically, "And how are a bunch of carriages without horses supposed to help? These things must've cost a fortune…"
"Might I assume there's more to them than meets the eye?" Gil-Galad inquired.
"You may. Give me a second." She stepped over to the closest one, and leaned into the driver's seat. She tried turning the starter knob, but it seemed to be jammed.
"What does Warthog mean?" asked Gil-Galad, leaning against the hood of the vehicle, "I know of a type of boar with that name…"
"That's exactly what they're named after...C'mon you stupid-"
The starter knob turned, and the Warthog rumbled to life, coughing like it hadn't been started in a while.
Gil-Galad jumped two feet in the air and stumbled backward, falling on his rear. Cassandra yanked out her sword on pure instinct, staring at the vehicle with wide eyes. Varric had his crossbow trained on the 'hog, trying to find a weak point.
Solas merely furrowed his brow at the Warthog, "Interesting."
With a sputter, the speakers came to life. Extremely loud music started playing. It was an easygoing polka, that seemed inappropriate for a war vehicle, but somehow fit the Warthog specifically.
The locals clamped their hands over their ears, either from the intense volume or hatred.
"What is that blasted sound?!" Cassandra demanded.
"Tejano music!" Lopez stared in disbelief at the dashboard, quickly winding the volume down. "Damn pranksters, someone left the volume turned up all the way!"
Varric took his hands away from his hears, laughing, "Is the big bad Seeker afraid of some drums and a…" he paused, "What were those instruments, anyway? I've never heard anything like that."
"Accordion." Lopez grunted, and leaned down to hit a control on the floor of the driver's seat.
A pop sounded out, making the group jump as the hood twitched.
Lopez ignored them, and went around to peer at the engine.
Finding the source of the odd sound, Lopez cleared it it, then did a quick inspection of the vehicle.
The tank was full. Since it was non-corrosive and wouldn't degrade over time, the special non-flammable hydrogen fuel mixture that powered Warthogs could be left in a vehicle for years and it wouldn't do a thing. The additional fuel containers strapped to the wall of the cubicle were full as well. Lopez pulled off a handful and attached them to the vehicle, to mounts and with duct tape.
The tires were intact, the chassis intact...everything was functional. The M12's reputation still held up.
She noted Henry must have had some experience with Warthogs, judging by the look he was giving the M41 Light Anti-Aircraft Guns looming over the jeep.
Lopez clambered up onto the bed, tilting the M41 up and down and left to right. It seemed a little light in weight when she rotated it…
"Uh oh."
"Is there a problem?" asked Gil-Galad, standing beside the Warthog.
The sergeant looked down, the stand for the weapon was intact...but it was missing the ammunition canister normally attached.
"That depends. Do you see any boxes around here with '12.7x99mm Armor-Piercing' written on the side?"
He looked at her blankly.
"Right. Don't read english. Shit."
Solas spoke up, "I don't see anything like that. Is there a problem?"
Lopez grimaced, "That's what I was afraid of. All these M41s are completely useless."
She pushed it out of her way, and hopped down, "To be expected, I guess. SOP's to store ammo in the armories...I was hoping someone would be lazy enough...damn it."
Moving to a locker set into one section of the cubicle, she pulled out a maintenance kit.
The rest of the group was poking around the rest of the compartment, but Henry was still hovering nearby.
"Split-lip, get over here."
She took a wrench and began turning the bolts that held the LAAG to the floor, quickly pulling it loose. Grabbing one side, Lopez gestured for Henry to do the same, and lift.
"Pick it up-watch it, watch it! We only have six of these things!"
They lowered it to the ground, and Lopez went back to the place it had been. She pushed the exposed socket back down into the vehicle, and closed a panel over the socket. The Warthog had quickly been converted to a flatbed vehicle.
"Alright, everyone!" she called out, "In the glove box of each of these things-the box on the other side from the steering wheel, there's a box with some survival gear in it, and a pistol, looks like mine, I need all of them over here ASAP."
As the others followed her instructions, she went around to each of the Warthogs, removing a single piece from each of their engines and the firing pins of each of the LAAGs.
Warthogs didn't have keys to steal, but they did have starters anyone could use. Now, with the parts removed, there was no way anyone could drive off with them or use the guns. That is, if they could find any ammo, or proper containers, or figure out how to fit the ammo into ammo belts, or fit them into the containers, or...just about any part of their operation.
Gathering medical kits and a smattering of other gear, all was piled in the Warthog's bed. Lopez opened one of the pistol cases, and examined the sidearm. Standard issue in case the drivers lost their service weapons.
She grimaced, all M6Cs. Utter crap against Covenant compared to the M6Ds, but they were good enough against humans, and they could share their magazines.
Lopez gathered all the equipment into a bag, removed the firing pins of the sidearms, and strapped the bag down in the center of the Warthog's bed with bungee cables.
She climbed into the driver's seat. "Prepare to be amazed. Back away everyone!" the sergeant said dryly, and tapped the accelerator.
The Warthog scooted forward out of its alcove, purring satisfyingly as it came to a halt in the center of the bay.
The others, with the exception of Solas and Henry, stared wide-eyed and with their mouths hanging open at the motion of the vehicle.
Lopez rolled her eyes, "I don't have time for this." she just couldn't be bothered having to listen to the usual spiel about witchcraft and shock that it moved, "Let's just accept that this thing exists, okay? Okay."
Outside, the roar of an engine filled the sea bay, and the Warthog shot out like a rocket. It slammed into the sandbar, sinking somewhat, but quickly using its inertia to make it to a solid surface. Not that it would sink if it hadn't, the jeep was built to go over thousands of different types of terrain.
Lopez hopped out of the Warthog, patting it affectionately, "Okay, Henry takes the passenger seat, everyone else in back. Cassandra, you sit with Varric. Solas and Gil, figure it out."
"I must sit with him?" Cassandra demanded.
"Hey, Seeker, I don't bite." Varric said, leering at her.
"Henry's the only one I trust not to touch the throttle. And if you're not happy with the seating arrangements, I will personally move your seat off the 'hog, onto a pelican, and into the sun! Am I clear on this?!"
"Is that it, or are you just mad she didn't like the music?" Gil-Galad asked, trying to hide his amusement.
"If you're done being a smartass, I'd appreciate it if you'd get in the damn jeep."
Duct tape helped to attach all their packs and belongings to every available space, including the sides.
Once that was done, Henry immediately clambered into the vehicle, making it creak and lean in his direction.
"What do you eat, four-jaws?" Varric snorted, wisely making the comment out of the Elite's reach.
"I'd advise you not to tease the seven-foot-tall Sangheili special operations officer," Solas said, "He is much more intelligent than you give him credit for."
Lopez looked at him, "Wait, you know his rank? How?"
"How else?"
"So you can understand him?"
Solas tilted his head, "Somewhat. His tongue was made for a race with four jaws. I've spoken to him several times. Haven't you noticed?"
Lopez stared at him for a moment, but shook her head. She had no response. He got spookier all the time-she hardly knew anyone who could wrap a head around Sangheili words.
Cassandra reluctantly climbed into the bed of the Warthog, with her back to the back of the driver's seat. Gil-Galad took the corner with his back to the passenger seat, so Varric and Solas were forced to occupy the other two corners.
Lopez jogged back to the Autumn's cargo module, closed the hatch, turned off its systems, and made her way back. Leaping into the driver's seat, she yanked the throttle back into "drive", and stomped on the accelerator.
The tires spun for a moment before finally catching, speeding up the hill.
Engine roaring, the wind whipping by, Lopez turned the radio back on, releasing the tejano music into the air.
She ignored the cries of distress that could barely be heard over the wind.
This was Lopez's territory, the locals knew nothing of it, opposite the norm, and she was in total control for once. They reached the dirt and stone road that ran through the land, and Lopez turned onto it. With no speed limit, and the road stretching far into the horizon, the sergeant grinned and pushed the accelerator all the way to the floor.
For one brief moment, Sergeant Lopez didn't have a care in the world.
XXXXX
In a day they crossed a distance that would have normally taken them a week, at best.
For some reason, whenever they spotted a village, there was a crowd of people that gathered, that would quickly devolve into a riot by the time it left the horizon.
Unbeknownst to them, the locals were having a bit of a heated debate.
"It's a demon!"
"No, do you see? The Herald of Andraste?"
"Which one, the woman or the elf?"
"Whichever! It's taken control of them!"
"No, they've tamed the beast! They ride it like a horse!"
"But the Herald of Andraste would never even conceive of such a thing! They must not be the heralds!"
"That proves the elf doesn't have the power to close the breaches!"
"What does that have to do with anything!?"
"Shut up, I'll kill you!"
"Couldn't we just beat them up?"
"No, they must die!"
"Seems a little excessive…"
Their job wasn't to deal with religious disputes, however, no matter how ridiculous they quickly became.
XXXXX
They reached the Val Royeaux outskirts. They found themselves bribing a kindly old farmer who wouldn't ask questions about the snorting metal beast in his barn. They also found themselves in a bit of an argument.
"...And why do I have to do this?" Varric asked, raising his eyebrows.
"Because you're completely and utterly superfluous. I don't even know why you're here." Lopez growled, "You were useful when we didn't have any soldiers who could fight something more impressive than a sponge, but now? What use are you?"
"Good company?"
"Not really. Your voice is grating on my ears, and I think Henry's too. Just guard the damn jeep!"
"You're the bastard qunari offspring from beyond the sea with untold magical abilities, why don't you figure something out?" he snapped.
"Because the car alarm won't scare them off forever. And I don't want to have to come back and find my 'hog on fire!"
"Granted, no one wants that, but why can't four-jaws do it?"
"Because, he's not completely useless, you numbskull!" Lopez snarled, "He has more advantages than a single solitary piece of trash!"
The rest of the group took a step back, fearing what may come from insulting Varric's crossbow.
Gil-Galad attempted to intervene, "Uh...Sergeant, if I may suggest a compromise-"
Cassandra shook her head, "What compromise? She's right. He may have been useful once, but now his place is back in Haven, at best."
"Hey!"
"I don't know if your advantages are necessarily unique, I'm afraid to say." Solas said.
"You can kiss my-"
"Solas, don't help." Gil-Galad moaned.
"Thank you, your worship!"
"Varric, you're not helping either."
Henry rubbed his face, grunting something involving "blasted vermin" and how they make road trips even worse.
The sergeant was not willing to let the matter drop, "What's the point of your crossbow, anyway? Jesus tap-dancing Christ, that thing's a maintenance nightmare!"
She pulled out her M6D, "This thing is all-weather, all environments, works in space, works in zero gravity. Yours barely works in cold weather, let alone rain. A matchlock was pretty bad, but way less complicated. And probably more powerful."
Varric bristled at the second insult to his crossbow, "Well, we can't all be some bastard qunari offspring from beyond the sea. Or wherever place you come from!"
Gil-Galad stepped between the two, awkwardly holding them apart, "Both of you! Be quiet! You are acting like children!"
He took a deep breath, "I'm not taking anyone's side here, but Varric, you must stay behind to guard the carriage."
"But-"
"This is the Templar capital, is it not? They won't take too kindly to anyone who's not a human!"
Cassandra opened her mouth, but Gil-Galad shook his head at her, "Seeker, just look around when you get in the city. As I was saying, Varric. I can get by on my reputation, sort of, Lopez looks vaguely humanoid-"
"Up yours, Gil."
Gil-Galad stopped, rolling his eyes slightly "You're right, I'm sorry. That was rude. Anyway Varric, neither you nor Henry can pass as human."
"You do know that humans can grow to only be this short, right? I could pass as one of them!"
"RIght, like any Templar is going to believe that. Now, we need the both of you to stay here, partly for your own safety, and in case we need rescuing."
Varric thought for a moment, then shrugged, angrily. He seemed to be giving her the silent treatment.
Lopez furrowed her brow, but grew angry again, conclusions jumping in her mind. She grabbed him by the collar, "Shorty, if you damage or lose one piece of this piece of United Nations Defense Force property, I will personally rip your lungs out and sell them to pay off the damage."
He pushed her arms away, doing nothing but glaring at her.
Gil-Galad tapped Lopez on the shoulder, "I think it would be best if we departed, wouldn't you agree, Sergeant?"
Lopez glared down at Varric a moment more, then turned around.
"Shark boy, you get all that?"
The Elite glared at her, but nodded.
"Keep his filthy mitts off anything in that 'hog, got it?"
He nodded again, gesturing for her to move out the door.
"Alright…"
The two elves and two humans departed.
Varric scowled at the closing barn door, and turned to look at Henry.
He was across the building, leaning against a post, but still had to look down to deliver a disgusted expression.
Varric had always noted that. Every time the Elite looked at something that looked vaguely human, he looked disgusted.
Never knowing when to leave buttons unpushed, he strode over to the Elite, "So...you like stories? Music?"
The Sangheili warrior made a gesture Varric hadn't seen before. It wasn't the replicated middle finger gesture, it was a thumb extended on one side, and the finger on the opposite side raised.
It probably held the same meaning.
XXXXX
The city was still in mourning, or so Cassandra said. Aside from a handful of bells, there was nothing unusual that would indicate that. People were still going about their lives, still going to work.
Lopez didn't really care about them. Both she and Gil-Galad were looking around at the architecture, the parks and shorefronts.
The sergeant's home of New Constantinople had museums devoted to the city of Istanbul back on Earth, with images and holographic scale models of what the city looked like at various points in history. While the city of Val Royeaux was certainly a different type, it was no less impressive than Istanbul at its height in ancient times.
It was massive, jam packed with nearly 70,000 people, a center of commerce and culture and industry. Utterly mind-blowing that these people could manage such a feat, Lopez thought, then again, so did Istanbul.
Certainly it was awe-inspiring, but to Lopez, it was spectacular in a quaint-tourist-novelty kind of way.
Her scans dug up nothing, both from her uniform's sensors and the drone. There was no trace of UNSC IFF tags.
The novelty lasted until they reached a more central area, a trade square. According to Cassandra, it was where the nobles tended to hang out, and...whoever it was they were looking for was located.
They were walking along a stone footbridge to the square, which offered a great view of the ocean bay to one side, and the city on the other. Given that there were so many gates along the bridge, it was quite obvious most people weren't allowed access.
A pair of nobles coming the opposite direction spotted them, and froze, their eyes fixed on Lopez and Gil-Galad.
They looked at each other, back to the elf and human, then began screaming. They sprinted off back the way they had come.
"And...Golden-forehead's bullshit has reached here already." Lopez growled, setting her hand on her sidearm.
"We don't know how many may have heard his lies, or even believe it." Gil-Galad pointed out, "We have to talk to them anyway."
"Why? Aren't they the guys who hate magic?" Lopez inquired, "I don't think we need funding this badly."
"We are talking to the Chantry, not the Templars. We need all the advantages we can get." Cassandra said, "And to dispel what Roderick has said about us."
Lopez rubbed her face, but continued walking.
They passed through yet another gate, into a corridor lined with statues of people Lopez couldn't be bothered to read their plaques about.
A figure came down to meet them, dressed in green armor, and a hood of the same color. One of Leliana's agents.
She came to a halt before them, and spotted Gil-Galad and Lopez.
The agent was completely out of breath, but sank to a knee, "My lord and lady Herald!"
Lopez rolled her eyes, and stepped forward, pulling the agent's arm up, "C'mon, get up. This is demeaning. He's the inquisition's leader or something, and I'm a sergeant. We're not lords, or heralds."
The agent stared at her, but stood as requested.
Cassandra glanced at Lopez with an odd expression, then looked back at the agent, "What have you found?"
"The Chantry Mother awaits you, but...so do a great many Templars."
The holster at Lopez's side popped open, and she raised her M6D Magnum, pointing it straight up but at the ready.
"There are Templars here?" Cassandra demanded.
"People seem to think the Templars will protect them from...the Inquisition." the agent winced as she spoke, "They're gathering on the other side of the market. I think that's where the Templars intend to meet you."
Gil-Galad looked down at his boots, rubbing his forehead with both hands, "Fools."
Cassandra sighed, "Only one thing to do then."
Lopez checked to see there was a round in the chamber, and made sure her machete was sharp.
They entered the marketplace, the Summer Bazaar it was called. Stores and merchants were scattered through the area, looking for customers, but not audibly extolling their wares. The clerks were all keeping an eye on a crowd gathered on one side of the market, beyond some sort of gazebo.
They reached the back of the crowd, and pushed further into the center, finding them centered around several people in Chantry priest garb, and several soldiers in goofy plate armor, on a small wooden stage.
One of the priests, a woman dressed in the same manner as Justinia had been, must have spotted Lopez from her height. She stepped forward, raising her hands, "Good people of Val Royeaux, hear me!"
Her voice carried well, considering that it was without the aid of any sort of speaking trumpet. Lopez noted that somehow, through the translator, she had a French accent.
"Today we mourn our Divine, her naive and beautiful heart silenced by treachery."
Allowing the crowd to mutter somewhat, she continued, "You wonder what will become of her murderer. Well, wonder no more!"
The mutterings grew louder, and the priest gestured to Gil-Galad and his companions, her voice hardening, "Behold! The so-called Herald of Andraste! Claiming to rise where our beloved fell."
"How refreshing. She only thinks Gil is Jesus and not me." Lopez rubbed the bridge of her nose, looking down at the ground.
"We say this is a false prophet! The Maker would send no elf in our hour of need!"
Gil-Galad cried, "Enough! We came here only to talk!"
"It's true! The Inquisition only seeks to end this madness before it is too late!" Cassandra said.
Something got the priest's attention out of the corner of her eye, and she smiled, "Ah, but it is already too late!"
She pointed to a unit of Templars who appeared from another part of the market. They stomped angrily toward the stage.
The priest stepped back to allow them to climb the stage, "The Templars have returned to the Chantry! They will face this 'inquisition' and the people will be safe once more!"
"I thought they were already part of the Chantry." Lopez whispered to Solas, "What about her guards? Did I miss something?"
"There is a large schism," Solas explained softly. "The Templar faction broke away from the Divine when she made decisions they did not approve of regarding the mages."
The priest was slightly dismayed when the lead Templar, somebody significant apparently, walked right on past her.
As she watched him go by, another Templar stepped up behind her. He clocked her on the back of the head. She pitched forward, and lay on the ground moaning gently.
Her supporters and escorts all recoiled, and one of the guards in Templar armor reached down to help her.
The leader of the second group, with a face that was poorly shaved, held the guard back. "Still yourself, she is beneath us."
"Was just about to do that myself." Gil-Galad commented, a little too loudly.
The poorly-shaved Templar caught the words, "As if I would do anything for your pleasure."
He walked off the stage, his footfalls heavy from his armor.
Cassandra tried to follow him, "Lord Seeker Lucius, it is imperative that we speak with-"
The man did not look at her, "You will not address me."
Cassandra halted in dismay, "...Lord Seeker?"
He finally stopped, "Creating a heretical movement, raising up a puppet as Andraste's prophet…" the Lord Seeker finally locked angry eyes with her, "You should be ashamed."
Lucius raised his voice, "You should all be ashamed! The Templars failed no one when they left the Chantry to purge the mages!"
"Purge?" Lopez hissed at Solas, "What the hell does he mean? Some sort of ethnic cleansing crusade? No, I forgot, of course he does!"
Lucius pointed at Cassandra, "You are the ones who have failed! You who'd leash our righteous swords with doubt and fear! If you came to appeal to the Chantry, you are too late. The only destiny that demands respect here is mine!"
"Then why are you here?" Gil-Galad inquired.
He paused briefly, as if he didn't know himself, "That is of no concern of yours."
The Templar drafted from the priest's service stepped up, "Uh...Lord Seeker, if I may...what if he was really sent by the Maker?"
"You are called to a higher purpose. Do not question!" Another Templar barked.
Lucius smirked, "I will make the Templar Order a power that stands alone against the void." He turned to look at Gil-Galad, and pointed to himself, "We deserve recognition, independence! You have shown me nothing! And the inquisition...less than nothing!"
He raised his voice again, "Templars! Val Royeaux is unworthy of our protection! We march!"
He led his troops away, toward the gate out of the marketplace.
"Good riddance." Gil-Galad snarled. Templars were most hated among the elves, being the ones who took great pleasure in "saving" mage children from their families.
"Has Lord Seeker Lucius gone mad?" Cassandra wondered, gesturing at the Templars' backs.
"He's practically a Nazi. Crazy's in the job description." Lopez said, "Weren't we here to talk to some different Nazis?"
Lopez didn't really pay much attention from that point on. She caught something about the successors to the successors of Justinia were dead, and the remnants were busy squabbling amongst themselves as to who would be the next Divine.
Somehow that roughly translated to mean this whole journey had been made worthless.
Lopez rubbed the bridge of her nose, "You mean to tell me, that the hydrogen I burnt getting here, the ammo I used, and the time we wasted getting here, was all to affirm something golden-forehead explained weeks ago!?"
"That about sums it up." Gil-Galad grunted, as annoyed as she was, "This could have been accomplished with a messenger."
"We didn't know this would happen-" Cassandra protested.
Lopez shook her head, "Yeah, yeah we did. Even when a pope dies of natural causes, without the line of succession blown to atoms, the people next in line still fall into utter chaos. Now...why were we here again?"
"To get help to seal the Breach." Cassandra grunted.
"Right. Okay. I've got something better."
Lopez pulled out her tablet, and opened a map. She pointed at a grouping of the UNSC icons. They floated in the center of Lake Calenhad, near Redcliffe.
"First of all, There's a couple of cargo pods in this ocean-"
"Lake."
"...In this lake. Now, I hoped it wouldn't come to it, but we have no other option. One of them will contain a weapon that could seal the Breach pretty easily. Knowing the Navy, there's probably a lot of them. However, I'll need help..."
She grimaced, "Okay, does everyone remember that I came here in a small pod? There are others which are used aboard our ships. When in distress, they launch and carry sleeping crewmembers away to safety."
"Why are they sleeping?" Solas inquired.
"They're not actually not sleeping," Lopez explained hurriedly, "It's to save on provisions. It's called cryo stasis. They're sleeping...but not."
"What are they doing, then?"
"It's an enchanted sleep! They don't age, don't need to eat or anything! It's so they don't waste supplies on long voyages. They could sleep for a thousand years and come out as fine as they started."
A strange expression flickered across his face for a fraction of a second, and disappeared. He furrowed his brow, "What are they called?"
"Cryo chambers, cryo pods, freezers. Or the admiral's frosty bed." Lopez snickered at that last one.
"...These cryo chambers, what's the longest anyone's been inside one?"
Lopez shrugged, "I know about one guy who got a commercial stasis pod back in the late 24th century, came out in the 25th to make a company selling domestic robots. Then there was a couple who went into stasis around the same time until they could have their honeymoon on an interstellar cruise liner."
"How does this help us?" asked Gil-Galad.
"The Pillar of Autumn may not have ejected life boats, but they certainly dumped cryo tubes, as did the Mona Lisa."
She pointed at a handful of icons on land, "These landed in pretty rocky terrain a big ship couldn't land in. They must be small, and therefore cryo pods."
"Why couldn't they be life boats?" Gil-Galad asked. He still didn't quite understand or believe that the sergeant had come from the stars.
"Because life pods carry people who aren't on ice, and they would have contacted me by now." Lopez looked off to one side, "Surely, they would have."
"Why wouldn't the sleepers contact you?" Cassandra asked.
"Because they're asleep!"
"And why wouldn't they wake up?" Gil-Galad asked.
"Because there's a magic spell that prevents them from waking up unless an appropriate counterspell can be made, or, if the ship is in distress, needs someone to wake them up."
"...and they provide a counterspell?"
"Well, sort of, when the pods are ejected from ships, and someone comes along, and pushes a button that wakes them up. Doesn't have to be someone special-"
Lopez stopped speaking and halted in her tracks. "Oh hell."
XXXXX
Hundreds of miles away, in the middle of a Ferelden forest, in a place few could put on the map, several Templar soldiers were inching their way toward a potential rebel mage outpost.
The previous night, during a thunderstorm, there had been several streak of light like shooting stars over a nearby village. They came down in the forest. While shooting stars landing was not unusual, what was unusual was the lack of thunder and a rumble in the ground.
The Templars were passing through the region, and had stayed in the village for the night. The terrified peasants demanded that they investigate, concluding it was the work of heretical mages.
Reluctantly, the Templars agreed. They made their way through the woods, expecting an ambush at every turn. The trails were unkept, only vague outlines made in the dirt.
"Where are their sentries?" one Templar whispered, his sword raised and held tightly in both hands, "If this is supposed to be one of their camps…"
"They are mages, they know nothing of war." another said dismissively.
"Then why have we still not won?" a third murmured.
"Quiet." Their leader snapped, "I think I see something."
Light pierced the thick forest canopy up ahead, signaling the existence of a tiny clearing, and the Templar soldiers moved quickly and quietly behind cover.
The leader squinted, shading his eyes, but still couldn't see anything substantial. His eyes had never been particularly strong. The scent of something burning was carried on the wind, and a flickering orange light could be seen near the clearing.
He whistled to the first soldier, and waved for him to scout ahead.
The Templar grimaced fearfully, his face thankfully hidden behind his helmet, and walked forward.
As he approached, he realized there were several fires, not just on the ground but among the trees as well. He hurriedly put out those he could reach, thankful for the rain the previous night that had kept them from spreading.
The clearing looked like it had been expanded recently, and a large shape about half the size of a horse-drawn cart lay to one side of it. It must have fallen from up above, perhaps the branch of a larger tree.
But there were no trees that big around him, he realized, what was it?
The Templar crept closer, finding the object to be made of a strange form of metal. It was leaning toward him, against several trees. He realized that the side facing him was blackened by some sort of intense heat, but he could just make out that it was originally intended to be a shade of white.
His curiosity was further aroused by the cords that were connected to the corners, tangled up in the tree and stretching into the canopy above.
The Templar moved into the clearing, around to the object's other side, and found more of the cord, attached to the corners touching the ground, lying on the forest floor.
It wasn't rope, or vines, or any material he knew of. It was a black and stretchy material, that would not rip no matter how he tried. The cords wound their way up to a pair of tattered sheets, hung on the trees on the other side of the clearing. Again, they were made of foreign materials, an extremely durable cloth.
The Templar turned about to look at the object again, and jumped at what he saw.
The other side of the object wasn't pure metal. It was a window made of glass, or some other translucent material. The window swept seamlessly into the metal, orange and black stripes lining the border between the two.
But that wasn't what drew his attention.
Inside the object was a human woman! Fit, well-fed, with dark skin and dark hair, and looked as though she were asleep. He was also quite aware of the fact that she wore no clothing at all.
The inside of the window was covered with significant frost buildup, leaving only her upper body exposed. The air inside looked frigid, thick gases moving around, and even the woman herself was covered with minute traces of frost. It was a warm day, why was it so cold?
He'd seen frozen bodies before, and assumed at first that she was dead.
But her skin wasn't completely blue or purple, and it didn't look entirely frozen. There was something off about it he couldn't quite put his finger on.
As he watched, the air inside the object passed by her open mouth...and shifted ever so slightly.
His eyes widened in realization. She was alive!
The Templar called out, "Hey, I need help over here! There's a woman trapped inside this thing!"
He dropped his sword and grabbed one side of the window, along the yellow and black border, pulling with all his might.
The others arrived quickly, all talking at once as they pointed at the object.
"Is she a demon?"
"Is she a mage?"
"What is going on?"
"I don't know what it is, or who she is, but she's trapped in there!" The Templar cried, "Give me some help!"
Two of the others grabbed the same side he did, and when that would not budge, more grabbed the other side and the bottom of it. It still refused to move.
Desperately, they pounded on the window, yelling to try and get her to wake up, but she was in some sort of enchanted sleep.
Their fists and sword pommels, and even several shoulders refused to break the window. It felt more like steel than glass.
The first Templar released his hold on the object and punched the side in frustration.
"Maybe we could find a blacksmith," the leader proposed, "They might have the tools to-"
He was cut off by a small whirr sound. Under his hand, a small panel had slid aside, revealing a dark mirror-like surface.
Before he could touch it, it lit up with blue light.
The leader jumped back, startled, as the surface began blinking rapidly, shapes and images in a language he couldn't read(not that he could read that well to begin with) flashing by with each blink.
Eventually, it stopped, several shapes forming themselves on the surface. One large green circle, around which the other shapes were arranged, drew his attention, flashing over and over with a single word displayed in the center.
"It's some sort of magic charm! Don't touch it!" another Templar hissed, "She must be a mage!"
"Or they could have trapped her in there!" the first Templar snapped back.
The leader squinted at the surface, tilting his head slightly to see the incomprehensible letters and symbols.
He reached out his hand, despite the protests of his men, and tapped the green circle.
The screen disappeared, and a modification of that single word took its place. They all took several steps back, the object spouting a ding sound every other heartbeat. A monotone voice began speaking, in a tongue none had heard before. They all made the sign of the Chantry at the sound, the voice unnatural and disturbing.
The object suddenly hissed, jets of gas escaping from each of the corners of the window. The Templars sprang back in alarm and drew their swords. Inside, the woman's skin color returned to normal, the frost dissipating rapidly.
The mirror on the side displayed another word, and the window swung upwards on a hinge.
The air that met them was chilly, but more like a cold spring morning rather than the blistering winter freeze they expected.
The Templar leader and the first Templar rushed forward, catching the woman as her knees gave out and she slumped downwards.
The rest of the group stared at the impression she left on the inside of the object, a perfect match to her body shape that was quickly fading away.
The leader pulled off his cloak, wrapping it around the woman, "It's alright, you're safe now."
The woman seemed stunned for a moment, leaning against him for support.
The first Templar kneeled down to look her in the eye, "Miss, what's your name? Where are you from? Who did this to you?"
She didn't answer, shaking her head and holding it painfully.
Abruptly, she gagged, letting out several dry heaves. She hunched over, and vomited a clear liquid across the forest floor. It didn't look like digested food, water, or normal bodily fluids, it was something else.
Immediately, several of the others brandished swords at her, "She's a demon!"
"No, that's not what demons do!"
"How do you know?!"
"Don't be an idiot," the man who'd given her his cloak said. "She's just ill-are we going to start attacking sick people, now?"
The woman coughed and gagged, mumbling to herself, and by the tone, was cursing a lot.
"Miss, are you alright?" the Templar asked.
She looked up at him, squinting, and spoke in awe and surprise, with words no one could understand, similar to the object's language.
Then she passed out.
The leader picked the woman up in both arms, "We must get her back to the village."
"But sir, what if-"
"We don't know anything!" the first Templar barked, "She's a human being! We are obligated to help her!"
The leader nodded in agreement, "You two, follow us. The rest of you, fan out and look for more of these things. There may be more people trapped inside."