Mass Effect: ODST Lost
Chapter Three:
The Truth Will Out
I sighed heavily as I sat in what I was told was the conference room of the ship, the Normandy. Williams' word on my behalf had kept me from being cuffed, but my weapons had been confiscated. A reasonable precaution, given the situation. The ships captain, David Anderson, ordered me escorted here under guard while he got the ship moving out of the system and reported to his superiors. Said guard was standing on either side of the only door to the room to make sure I didn't cause trouble. Like that wouldn't be a suicide attempt on its own. I snorted at the thought. One soldier, ODST or not, taking on an entire ship full of armed soldiers was a laughable notion. I know I'm a good soldier, a good fighter, but it would take a Spartan to face those kinds of odds and come out alive and unmaimed. Why the hell did I turn down the invitation for the new program again? Oh yeah, they wouldn't tell me what needed to be done for the program until I joined up. That bullshit. I sighed again and rubbed my eyes, that headache was coming back with a vengeance.
"You ok there, soldier?"
I jumped at the sudden, familiar voice, not having heard anyone come in the room. I stood quickly and offered the captain a proper salute. "Just a headache, Captain. Nothing major."
"At ease, son. As far as I'm aware, I'm not your CO nor are you part of the Alliance. Even if you were, this situation is strange enough that I think we can drop the formalities. For now, at least." He said. "Now, after your help on Eden Prime, I'd like to get you down to the med bay and get checked out, but I'm afraid I need to ask you a few questions first."
I just nodded. "I understand, Sir. I expected as much."
"Very well, then. Let's start with your name. Chief Williams said you introduced yourself as 'Captain Nathanial Renkov of the UNSC Marines. Squad leader of ODST unit 147-Alpha'. Is that correct?" At my confirmation, he continued. "I ran a search for your name, the UNSC and ODST. I came out of it with a big load of nothing. Care to explain that?"
I hesitated then sighed. "I'm unsure, Sir. I have my theories, but nothing concrete."
The captain looked confused, yet intrigued, so I figured I wasn't going to be thrown out the airlock just yet. "Theories about what?"
More hesitation. "About my presence here, Sir. And I've been debating on just how much information I can share."
Anderson's frown deepened. "And why are you unable to divulge certain pieces of information?"
Damn if this guy doesn't know just the right questions to ask. Why not? It's not like I have any other options anyway. And, if my theory's right, there's no one from the UNSC here to court martial me either. Win – win, I guess. "Cole Protocol, Sir. It was put in place to ensure that no UNSC information or technology ends up in Covenant hands. And I'm starting to think it doesn't matter anymore, in my situation. I'm not sure if there's a way for me, or anyone else here, to reach the UNSC in any capacity."
The man kept frowning, but stayed silent this time. It was damn near a full minute before he spoke again. "This is going to be a long conversation, isn't it, son?"
I couldn't help the small smirk that crossed my face. "Most likely, Sir."
He sighed before gesturing me to have a seat, doing so himself opposite me. "Then how about we have a seat, and you can start from the beginning?"
ooOoOoo
Flashback – 2553, Oct. 24
UNSC November Rain, Orbiting Earth
I sat in my drop pod, laptop open, working on a study course for ship technologies. ONI's R & D department had always been my fall back option if I was either too badly injured to keep fighting, fat chance, or somehow managed to reach retirement age, fatter chance. Still, it never hurt to have a backup option in place, hence my intensive studying. I'd already been over several other tech courses since I enlisted, my CO finding the passion admirable enough to have me a reinforced laptop requisitioned for me to keep. My agreement to learn enough to become a proper battlefield tech probably stacked the odds in my favor there as well.
That was six years ago. Today, my squad would be field testing brand new drop pods from R & D, the pods having been improved to increase the ODST's survivability during a drop. With the odds of dying in orbit or upon landing being about 10% I'd say we need all the help they can give us.
"If this is just a test drop, why do we got to be here?"
"For the third time today, they've already done a blind drop test. Now they need to test how the new modifications work in a combat environment." I explained, not looking up from my work. "That means we'll be doing standard evasion maneuvers during the drop as well as being prepped for a full combat drop. That means full armor, weapons and ammo loaded, the whole shebang. Now, stop being a whiney little bitch and get your gear loaded, Benitez. Your sister's already loaded in. You really gonna let her show you up?"
Kurt Benitez, my hardline sniper, just laughed. "Ah, no. That doesn't count. Burnett's crazy as hell. She learned far too well from you on that front. Guys, tell 'im I'm right. Back me up here."
"Kindly don't drag me into this. I want no part of it." That would be Miller Sharpe, standard issue rifleman and explosives expert. The guy carried far too many grenades than was healthy, especially considering how we normally enter a battle. On the bright side, the guy never seems to run out of 'em.
Predictably, there was no response from the shotgun toting vanguard of the squad, Elliott Bravo. He was a good guy, but had always been the strong, silent type. Usually only talked when needed, but could be coaxed into conversation occasionally. Still, I can practically see the guy shaking his head, silently asking not to be involved.
"Aw, what's the matter, Kurt? Afraid of losing to your little sis' in the crazy department?" Laughter met the team's little sister, Skylar Burnett's, taunt. Our comm officer was the biggest firecracker I'd ever met. And to be fair to Kurt, she was a few marbles shy of a set. Not that the rest of us were any better, given what we do.
Kurt just groaned. "Ok, fine, we're all a bit off the rocker, but you are full on loco. Almost as bad Cap. You are an adrenalin junkie for thinking the drop is fun and exciting. He's bat-shit crazy for finding the drop a calming experience."
"When did I get dragged into this?" I asked.
"When you started it. Fenix, help me out here."
The gruff sigh of my, unofficial, second in command, Marcus Fenix was followed by an equally gruff voice. "I'd say quit your bitchin' and finish loading your gear, but I'm pretty sure only one of them is gonna happen. Get it done, Benitez. We drop in ten minutes."
The smile Kurt's groaning response gave me was as natural as breathing. This is why I love my team. Even through all the bitching, the fights, the problems, I'd still fight and die for any of them. Beyond what duty demands. And I know they'd do the same for me and each other in a heartbeat. We are family, and nothing less. I quickly finished with my current assignment, saved my progress, and packed my laptop away in my rucksack. Getting it squared away in my pod, I double checked the rest of my gear, ordering the rest of the squad to do the same. Five minutes before drop we got a comm contact.
"Alpha-147, this is Captain Alvers. What's your status?"
"This is Captain Renkov. We are prepped and ready for drop, Ma'am."
"Very good. Remember, this is just a test drop. No fancy maneuvering out there, all we need for the test is some basic evasion. Got it?"
"Crystal, Ma'am."
"Alright then. Brace for drop. We go in – " The comm cut out suddenly as a shudder went through the ship.
"Uh, that's not normal." Was Kurt's more than obvious observation.
"No shit, Shylock. Now, brace for immediate drop. We don't know – " My turn to be interrupted by a deafening groan as the ship shuddered hard enough to shake the pods. I did my best to raise the captain on my comm. "Captain Alvers, do you copy?" No response. "Captain, I'd love some news right about now." Static, then a very unclear voice. "Bad copy, Captain. Say again."
The static was still very present, but the voice was now coming through. " – Alvers. There's – hacking attem – rebooting all sys – cancel drops one by – " The comm cut to pure static once again.
Yeah, that's bad. "Alpha, stay braced! If you're launched, don't panic. Just head – " My pod launched with no warning. Trying to do as I instructed my squad, I began attempting a normal decent, fuck the test. The problem with that? I saw nothing out of my pod but the blue and black of a Slipstream rupture and I felt the pressure of it hitting me hard. It didn't take long for me to lose consciousness.
ooOoOoo
2183 Sept. 16
SSV Normandy SR1 – In Transit from Exodus Cluster
I watched as Captain Anderson reviewed the footage of my helmet cam from my last drop, and what happened after I woke up. With my Omni-Tool connected to my Neural Interface, I was able to use it to extract the data from my helmets internal storage and send it to the captain easily enough. It was the only real proof I had to corroborate my story, not that it showed a whole lot from before my jump. Hopefully, it showed enough for the captain to believe me. Who knew what would happen if he didn't? I doubt I'd be arrested. Aside from my lack of records, personal or military, the only thing I've done was defend myself from a mercenary patrol and answer a distress call that saved at least two of their soldiers. The other side of the coin is that I either get branded as insane and get committed, or a liar with an aptitude for creating 'proof' of my 'exploits' and kicked off the ship at the next dock. The latter being the better of the two negative outcomes. Then I'd be free to make my own way, at least.
I tuned out my negative ramblings as Anderson shut down the video and pinched the bridge of his nose. Welcome to the club, Sir. Been wanting to do that all damn day. "Alright, son, I'm not gonna pretend I believe your story. Not completely, anyway. The footage from your helmet is interesting, but until I can get the first half of it verified as untampered with it's useless as evidence."
Not a great start, but fair enough. "Then where do we go from here, Sir?"
"Honestly, my first instinct is to have you put in an asylum. Your camera footage is the only thing stopping me. Even unverified, it does imply that you are from a military organization and that you are attempting to ally yourself to the Alliance. That you took it upon yourself to answer an unknown distress call is a positive point to your character, as well. So, for the time being, you are hereby confined to the Normandy, even after we dock with the Citadel. I've already notified my superior, Admiral Hackett, about your involvement on Eden Prime. I'll send him the data you provided to be verified and we'll go from there. In the short term, you are to report to the med bay for a full medical exam. Do you have any objections, soldier?"
Considering I'm not being committed or chucked out the airlock right off the bat? "None, Sir."
Anderson nodded and stood. "Then hop to it, soldier. "
I immediately stood to attention and snapped off a salute. "Aye aye, Sir." Thankfully, I've already been to the med bay to drop Shepard off to be treated, so I didn't need to be shown the way. It was surprising that I wasn't assigned an escort, though. Though the unknown soldier in strange armor wandering into places he shouldn't be would be a red flag for anyone, I guess. The short walk was uneventful, aside from the curious glances, anyway. In the med bay, Shepard lay in a bed in the back left corner, still unconscious. Gunnery Chief Williams was standing at the bed next to him, talking quietly with Serviceman Bhatia. An older woman, the physician who told me where to place the Commander, was sitting at a desk across from them and typing away at her computer. The doctor looked up at my entrance. "Ah, there you are. I just received Captain Anderson's message. We didn't have time for an introduction earlier. I'm the Normandy's chief medical officer, Dr. Karin Chakwas."
She stood from her desk and began prepping the third bed in the room. "Please, head into the back room and remove your armor. There should be some spare uniforms there for you to change into."
"Yes, Ma'am. Thank you."
While it would be nice not walking around in full armor for a short time, I was hesitant to leave it in an unsecure location, but had little choice in the matter. Whatever, I'll be jumping right back in it afterward. The uniform itself was odd, sacrificing function for comfort. Even a standard UNSC uniform was more battle ready than this. Leaving my armor on the rooms lone desk, I returned to the med bay proper, not exactly looking forward to what was most likely going to be a lengthy exam. And I was not disappointed. Or maybe I am, considering I was hoping to be wrong. I lost track of how long the good doctor was poking and prodding me, running scan after scan. A glance at Williams and Bhatia showed them to be more than a little amused at my discomfort.
"I'm seeing some interesting anomalies in my scans here, Captain Renkov. For one, there's evidence of old tissue damage around your left kneecap, but the bone underneath it appears to be in pristine condition by comparison. Do you have an explanation for that?"
I nodded. "I was injured during my second deployment, Ma'am, my knee was completely crushed. The remains of the old bone structure were removed and replaced with cloned material. I was given medical stimulants to speed up the recovery time." The conscious occupants of the room seemed to stop short, the doctor herself looking at me shocked horror. "Is that not standard procedure, Ma'am?"
"It certainly is not, captain." She said sharply. "And why were you allowed back into active service afterward?"
"The damage was repaired with full functionality, Ma'am. Why wouldn't I be cleared?" I said, frowning in confusion. Then I remembered that this was not the UNSC, nor were these people aware of our war. They wouldn't understand the necessity of what had to be done. "The UNSC didn't have the luxury of discharging combatants for minor injuries, Ma'am. If we were able, then we fought."
"Minor injuries." She muttered, shaking her head. "Very well, captain. How about the implant at the base of your skull? It appears to be linked to your neural system."
"A Neural Interface, Ma'am." I confirmed. "All UNSC personnel are outfitted with one. It provides an active IFF for UNSC scanners to recognize us as friendly units. It also connects me to my BDU's helmet systems, showing me advanced readouts. My HUD provides me with a basic health readout, weapon information and ammo count." I will have to figure out how to make the latter two work with this place's weapons. I've never seen a confused HUD before, poor thing couldn't figure out what kind of weapon I was using or my available ammo.
The shocked silence returned, though in a kind of awe this time, I think. Dr. Chakwas opened her mouth to speak, but paused and closed it again soon after. Two more times later she seemed to find her voice again. "That is highly advanced technology, even by most other species' standards. Are there any other functions?"
"Not on mine, Ma'am. There are other variations of the interface, like a command interface for ship captains, but they don't contain any major differences to the standard one I have." There is the Spartan variant, but I'm going anywhere near that conversation for a while, if ever.
"Would you consent to its removal for study? Temporarily, of course."
"Negative." I said sharply. "Not only am I unwilling to have the interface scanned in depth at this time, but the interface cannot be removed without a very advanced and very specific surgery. Any other attempts at removal would result in my death."
The woman flinched at my sudden, sharply formal tone, then paled considerably at the following explanation. "I see. I apologize if my inquiry touched upon a sore topic, captain. Also, I believe that I have everything I need for my report to Captain Anderson. However, I did log a minor calorie deficiency, so I do recommend that you head to the mess hall for a decent meal."
Apparently, my stomach agreed with the suggestion as a low growl emanated from it. Come to think of it, when was the last time I ate? We were supposed to get lunch after the test drop, so breakfast. Wait, no, I had to skip breakfast, so dinner was the last thing I had. That makes about twenty or so hours without food. Fuck. "It's alright, Ma'am. No harm done. I think I will take that meal, though. It's been too long since my last."
The mess hall being right outside the med bay meant I didn't have to go far for it. Williams, being ordered by the doctor to let Bhatia rest and recover, joined me. While not having ever been aboard the Normandy before, or many starships period, she at least had a good idea on where to go. I was more than thankful for it. Everything about this ship was so foreign that it probably would have taken me forever trying to figure out where everything was. I checked the time on my Omni-Tool and sighed. It would still be several hours till we reached the Citadel and, presumably, the decision on my future. Please, time, move as fast as you can.
