Because you don't have a grenade launcher, lady.
Dig Site Alpha, Therum, Knossus System, Artemus Tau Cluster, June 15, 2183
Commander Jane Catherine Shepard (SAN, N7, OST Agent), felt her gullet drop as the supporting catwalk under her feet broke off from the rockface wall it was bolted to, the connecting structural supports tying it to the rest of the catwalk having snapped off as the broken piece of equipment dropped from beneath her feet, gravity taking over. She only had the briefest moment to see Petty Officer (Third Class) Sara Elaine Ryder's face grow with alarm as Jannie looked downward to the massive pool of lava hundred of meters below at the bottom of a chasm; her next destination. She didn't even have time to yell, much less say goodbye as she fell, fell, fell.
But only about a meter or so.
The N7 felt herself jerk to a stop as her left shoulder flared in burning pain as her arm was held above her, the rest of her dangling over the chasm and burning death as Jannie looked down at her delayed demise, feet touching only air and paddling against nothing as the redhead turned to look up, to see what had stopped her fall.
"Gotcha."
"Sara!" Jannie cried out, elated and fearful at what she was seeing as she looked up at Sara Ryder, dangling over the ledge of the catwalk with her left hand gripping the supporting strut of the guardrail on the open-air side of the still-connected catwalk while her right hand gripped Jannie's left wrist. God, Sara was dangling too, having abandoned sense and reason and had recklessly thrown herself over the side to catch her, to arrest her fall. The Corpsman was holding on by one hand, her face tight and her eyes wincing as she bit her lower lip, straining hard. Jannie's left hand gripped Sara's right wrist, panting as ice water flooded the redheads' veins.
She had just cheated death, thanks to her friend. Again.
"C-climb!" Sara spat out through clenched teeth, wincing hard. "Shoulder's… dislocated!" Jannie's eyes went wide with the information as she saw Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams appear over the ledge of the remaining catwalk, lying upon its surface as her hands reached downward to grab the grip handle behind the gorget of Ryder's' Sirta Foundation Phoenix Light Medic Armor, giving the Corpsman relief from the strain as the Colonial Soldier nodded to Jannie, indicating that she was ready. "Do it!" Sara shouted, her face a mask of agony.
The N7 grunted as she pulled herself up in a one-handed pull-up, Sara screaming in pain as Jannie's right hand went up and grabbed above Sara's elbow, the armor just bulky enough to provide the least amount of support as Jannie began to climb her friends' arm like a rope. Right hand gripping hard, Jannie pulled herself up and reached out with her left, gripping around the back of Sara's neck as the young woman bit her lower lip, obviously biting off another scream as the N7 climbed higher, hoisting herself up using Sara's elbow and neck as purchase. Jannie was face-to-face with Sara, the younger woman's featured wrapped in pain as her blue eyes looked into Shepard's, and Jannie knew that no matter the pain, Sara would never let go. The N7 gave her friend a quick smile of gratitude as she held onto Sara's neck, reaching her left arm out to grab the catwalks' floor grate, her gauntleted fingers slipping into the holes as the Commander held onto the catwalk, letting go with her right hand to take the weight off of Sara, swinging up so that both hands were holding on.
"Ash! Pull her up!" Jannie called out, feeling sweat building up on her face from the heat in the cavern from the lava below. Don't look down, Jannie thought to herself as she watched the Colonial Soldier pull upward as Sara assisted the best she could, Williams' hands pulling up first on Ryder's' combat handle placed at the top of her backpiece, and then reaching down to grab underneath her good arm to haul her back over onto the catwalk as Jannie did a pull-up in her Armax Arsenals' Predator H-Series Battle Armor, getting her chin above the flooring before shifting her weight and grip to push herself up even higher, getting herself waist-high. All those Ultimate Pull-ups are paying off now, the N7 though as she leaned forward and reached forward to pull herself onto the catwalk, rolling onto it with a relieved sigh as she laid upon her back, looking around to see Sergeant Williams helping the Petty Officer onto her feet. Thank God Sara was okay.
"Let's get off this death trap." Jannie ordered as she got onto her own feet, helping Ash escort Sara, whose left arm was dangling, her face wincing as she walked forward. Everyone else was waiting upon bedrock where the catwalk led, having wisely stayed away to keep from adding too much weight onto the compromised constructed platform, The redhead could see everyone watching on, the five conscious Systems Alliance Marines all smiles as they watched their Doc come back.
"Fuckin' Semper Fi, Doc." Private Louis 'Brasserie' Broussard called out, thwacking his fist to his heart twice in respect.
"Toughest bitch in the galaxy." Lance Corporal Holland 'Lapdance' Hoss announced, shoulder-checking Private First Class Oblong Ubantu beside him, the dark-skinned Marine known as 'the Kenyan' nodding in complete agreement, as were Lance Corporal Kong 'K-Pop' Jeong and Private Nathaniel 'Ballsack' Balsach. Doc was usually the nickname given to a Fleet Marine Corpsman, but when one of those earned a nickname? Above and beyond even their own heroic contemporaries.
"Don't feel so tough right now." Sara piped up as everyone stood in the tunnel, wincing as she held her right hand to her left shoulder. "Pretty sure I tore something, too."
"We've got a Med Bay and a hella good Surgeon up on the Normandy." Shepard told her friend. "But first?
"Thank you."Jannie embraced the smaller woman, holding her fiercely out of complete gratitude as she held onto Ryder with both arms, touching her forehead to Sara's. "You saved my life, Sara. Again." The redhead stared into her friends' blue eyes, willing her to know just how much Shepard appreciated her. There wasn't words in Standard Alliance English invented yet to verbalize what Sara had done, how utterly thankful Jannie was. She could and very much would have been dead due to a broken fucking catwalk if it hadn't been for Sara's quick thinking, quicker reflexes, and utter lack of concern to her own life and safety in the name of saving another. Jannie had worked with N Corpsman in the Teams, but none of them, none of them, had ever done something like that. Not that she had ever seen, not that she had ever heard of.
"That's what family is for, Auntie." Sara replied weakly, her voice tinged in pain as her smile was mixed with a grimace. "I'm almost afraid to have it set, but having it dangle won't help, either." She looked over to Williams. "Can you reach into my Aid Bag and grab me two slings?"
"Absolutely." There was no mistaking the sound of Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams' voice, the Colonial Soldier who had been serving on Eden Prime sounding a touched awed. The Systems Alliance Colonial Army had their own battlefield health care providers, Combat Medics, who were seen in the same light as Fleet Marine Corpsmen. Ash had talked about her previous Medic, one Corporal Shane McAllister, who had pulled no less than five wounded Soldiers out of the line-of-fire when the 2nd Battalion, 12th Infantry Regiment were fighting the Geth. The Medic had died of his wounds rescuing the fifth Soldier, but only after getting the man to safety. Upon hearing the story, Commander Jane Shepard had filled out a Recommendation for Commendation, writing out an award for a Silver Star for Corporal McAllister. His actions had saved lives, if temporarily, and who was to say it wasn't because of his actions that Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams was still alive? Ash went for Sara's magnetically-locked Aid Bag on her back and popped opened the hardcase backpack, the device unfolding as the Soldier quickly found two nylon-crafted slings. Williams closed the Aid Bag before moving over to Ryder, looping the first sling under her left forearm and tying it behind her neck to take the weight off her shoulder, and then taking the second sling and wrapping it high around her left bicep before tying it under her right armpit to immobilize it. "Sure you don't want to pop it back into place?"
"Pretty damn certain I tore some ligaments. Popping it back will only make it worse." The Corpsman replied as she checked Ash's work, Jannie watching on, impressed with the Soldier's speed and knowledge. "You do good work, Staff Sergeant."
"Just Sergeant, I ain't a Marine." There was a bite of humor there as Sara snorted and Jannie chuckled. "Now we can get moving. Need an escort, Doc?"
"I shall provide." Professor Irissa T'vara spoke up, approaching the Humans. "I am a former Sister Hospitaller, and we may need the more offensive weapons able and capable, Sergeant Williams." That had the Soldier nod, while the redhead tried not to smirk at the situation, she being the only one that knew that Irissa and Sara were seeing each other.
"Good call, Professor." The N7 nodded, looking to Sara for a moment, thinking I was suppose to return the favor, kiddo. Still, she had brought Sara and her forces from the depths of this hellhole, and that sat well with her. "Let's get topside folks, so we can call our ride and get the fuck outta Dodge."
It took them another ten minutes to emerge from the cave system of the Prothean ruins and onto the surface of Therum as Commander Jane Shepard stood upon the craggy surface, feeling the heat hit her like a boxing glove despite being sealed in her Armax Arsenal Predator H-Series Battle Armor. With all of her software suites completely and maliciously infected and shutoff by the Geth, her temperature control was offline as well, and the fifty-two degree Celsius/one hundred and twenty-five degree Fahrenheit temperature was baking her alive, slowly but surely. Without her thermal regulators on, she'd probably sweat to death in half-an-hour or so. Still, she was petter off than Private Mikael 'Blowjob' Holodansk, who had a needle decompression in his chest for his tension pneumothorax, not to mention his collapsed lung and bullet in his chest. She remembered well how much her own had hurt from Elysium.
"Lieutenant Alenko? I need you to contact the Normandy and coordinate a pick-up of twenty sapients, with one urgent litter-carry team awaiting in the cargo bay for surgical prep." Jannie ordered the Engineer, who nodded in compliance as he queued up his Ariake Technologies' Logic Arrest OmniTool to open up the encrypted channel with the SSV Normandy since Shepard's was currently a paperweight attached to her left wrist. She was literally going to have to replace everything of hers, though thankfully she had back-ups of all her software and VI management suites, losing only the telemetry of this particular mission. She was going to have to purge, reset, and reformat everything. That was going to be a complete pain in the ass. "God, I could kill for a Tupari or a Paragade right about now."
"Auntie." Petty Officer Sara Ryder moved by her side, her left arm hitched up in a sling and immobilized, and used her right hand to disengage a secondary hose from her Sirta Foundations' Phoenix Light Medic Armor and inserted it into a port just above Jannie's left hip. "Here, we can share environmentals."
"Thanks, kiddo." Jannie could already feel a little bit of relief as Sara's environmental control from her armor adapted to her own suit, blowing cooler air into her sealed environment. "It would probably only drop the temperature a dozen degrees, but that was more than enough.
"Geez, Doc. 'Quarian Fucking' the Lion, now?" Private Nathaniel 'Ballsack' Balsach announced over his vox, making Private First Class Holland 'Lapdance' Hoss snicker.
"WHAT?" Niki'Raan nar Tombay and Tali'Zorah choired at the same time, both Quarians rounding upon the Marine in question as the purple-suited Quarian put her three-fingered fists in her hips and stood in a position that suggested she was about to give Ballsack a piece of her mind, while the blue-suited Quarian put her hand on the hilt of a Migrant Fleet Marine All-Purpose OmniBlade, ready to pull and activate.
"Nice, Ballsack." Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams deadpanned as the Private lifted his hands and waved them quickly in a 'no, no, no' fashion, taking a step back as he realized his faux paus. "It's not what you think, Pilgrims. It's when someone shares environmentals or an air supply due to emergency situations, and some genius decided to call it 'Quarian Fucking' and the name stuck. I assume that the Quarians do something similar to get that label."
"It's called 'Linking Suits', and it's a very personal, very respectful show of trust and commitment." Tali described, the scorn in her voice bleeding through her EnviroSuit's vox. Her faceplate turned to Jannie and Sara, the silvery sheen that Shepard always assumed were her eyes (or the digitally placed representations of her eyes) looking at the both of them. "What they are doing would be a good approximate; two people who are quite close, like family. It is in fact what one does for another to accept them as family." The N7 didn't miss how Tali's helmeted head looked over briefly towards Niki'Raan. Well, they did call each other 'cousins', though Jannie had never actually asked if they were blood-related or not. Neither she nor Sara were related at all, and yet they had been family for years. Perhaps Tali and Niki were the same, working together on their Pilgrimage.
"I'd apologize for the Private's lack of intelligence," Sara began, "but chances are he'll open his mouth and insert his foot in again." Private Louis 'Brasserie' Broussard snickered at that while Lance Corporal Oblong 'Kenyan' Ubantu merely snorted in agreement. "Feel free to smack him upside his head from time to time. Perhaps he'll learn manners. Right, Private?"
"Aye aye, Doc!" Ballsack's tone said it all; he was in trouble, and he was going to say whatever was needed to get him out of hot water. It was a good thing there was a tube tether between Sara and herself, otherwise Jannie might have sauntered over and throttled the little shit herself for such a disrespectful comment. She hadn't actually worked with a platoon of Marines in… five or so years, ever since she graduated from Rio. Sometimes the term 'Jarhead' wasn't just a nickname.
"Commander? I raised Lieutenant Commander Pressly," Alenko called out, lowering his OmniTool-encased left arm, "and they should be on-station in the next hour. There are Geth elements in orbit, so they will be approaching from the equator and coming in low to avoid detection."
"Alright. We can move to the MAKO and prep it for extraction." Shepard looked to Centurion Abadexus Linaseus. "Top priority is Blowjob. We get him to the MAKO to further stabilize him until we clear planet. We can rotate the escort team as needed. How far are we from the Dig Site entrance, Professor?"
"Approximately two kilometers, Commander, almost all of it downhill." They were standing on a small shelf that was upon the slope of an inactive volcano, the Protheans using geothermal generators to keep the facility powered for fifty thousand years. That… was mind-boggling. There wasn't anything in Mankind that was made by Human hands that was that old save for some arrowheads or perhaps some mummified remains. A fifty thousand year old facility that was still operation? Shepard was in awe, and the geek in her wanted to pull components and see what worked! Perhaps in another life, she would have been a Paleontechnologist. She loved tech.
"No worries, I'll get your man down there." Linaseus replied, nodding his fringed head, seemingly fine with Therum's heat. Actually, the Asarikin didn't look perturbed by it, either.
"Alright! Let's get this movable feast on the road! Williams and Vakarian, take point. Wrex and Raeka, I need you for rear guard."
They reached Dig Site Alpha in good time and with no issues, thankfully. Commander Jane Shepard was glad to see that the General Dynamics' M35 MAKO Armored Personnel Vehicle was still parked 'behind' the Marine Barracks on the outside of the defensive position, not having been damaged or absconded by the Geth. She would have to make sure that the systems and the sub-systems weren't altered or carrying malicious code by the synthetic race before letting it board the SSV Normandy. Lieutenant Kaidan Alenko would be a good choice for that along with the Quarian Pilgrims. While she wasn't exactly thrilled with the thought of two non-Humans going through the various software suites of the APV, it was a damn sight better than having an infected sub-system or finding a BotNet installed and creating a DDoS attack on the Normandy. The easiest thing to do would be to purge the systems' databanks and do a hard-reboot with a boot drive, or re-install with a previous missions' perimeters. Thankfully, the MAKO had enough hardware-operated systems that it could at least drive without any computer assistance.
"Team? Set up shop in the Barracks for the time being. Let's risk as little exposure time as possible." Jannie ordered as the many members of the ground team nodded and complied with the easy order as Private Louis 'Brasserie' Broussard went to the door first, ready to open it. "Marine? Sweep and clear, first. We haven't had eyes-on in over two hours."
"Understood, Commander." Broussard shouldered his Hahne-Keder M7 Lancer Assault Rifle as the four other Marines stacked up behind him immediately, patting each other in a 'ready' order going from first man to last, and then being returned from last man to fire in a 'go' order, silent but effective. As soon as Brasserie was tapped, the Private opened the door while Private Nathaniel 'Ballsack' Balsach breeched into the building, being followed by PFC Holland 'Lapdance' Hoss, Lance Corporal Oblong 'Kenyan' Ubantu, and then Lance Corporal Hong 'K-Pop' Jeong before Brasserie entered last; a text-book Urban Assault Battle Drill known as 'Six Alpha'. The five Marines disappeared in through the entryway, filing past the fatal funnel of the door way as they cleared the Barracks of any possible hostiles as Jannie watched on, satisfied that the Marines knew the basics without any apparent issues. Urban Ops and Vessel Ops were the Marine Corps bread-and-butter, and at the very least they were trained to expectation. A few seconds after their breach, she could hear their voices calling out all clear to indicate that the Barracks was safe to enter. If they were going to sit tight, then the N7 wanted to be out of physical exposure with something resembling cover and concealment.
"Williams? You and Vakarian provide overwatch." Jannie ordered, looking to the Colonial Soldier and Rapid Response Sniper, both of them nodding in compliance. "Alenko? I want you and the Pilgrims to purge and reformat the MAKO's data drives and anything else that can store a code. I don't need Geth stowaways on my Frigate." She got three nodding heads, everyone working together in tandem, the Commander reminding them who the real enemy was. The team she had assembled was looking pretty sharp, and she had been impressed so far with her eclectic crew. "Wrex? I want you and Raeka to do a quick search-and-sweep of the area, but keep it close and tight. I'm not asking for trouble, but I don't want anything coming in without us knowing about it. Everyone else, infill into the Barracks and prepare for quick extraction."
"Auntie?" Sara's voice was quiet and subdued, waiting for everyone else to get out of earshot as the Corpsman looked to her, her visored eyes looking into her own.
"What about the bodies of my Marines?"
Fuck. This was one conversation that Jannie didn't want to have. Ever.
"Sara…" She couldn't lie to her, this woman she had known since she was literally born, holding Sara in her hands for the first time when she was less than an hour old, little Jane Shepard in awe of how tiny babies could be. Sara had saved her life twice now, without any deniability; first on Elysium, and now on Therum. Memories of the young woman in front of her as a child flooded in, the perpetual effervescent little girl who was all smiles and questions, who looked up to Jannie since she was a child. Whenever Mom was shipping out for deployments for six months at a time for routine patrols out in the black, Jannie had often stayed with the Ryder's because kids weren't allowed on military patrols, living on the Citadel of stretches at a time while her mother, Rear Admiral (lower half) Hannah Mallory Shepard commanded whatever department or position she happened to be in at the time. All told, Jannie had probably lived with Alec and Ellen Ryder for almost five years of her life, not to include visits, short stays, and whatever came up. Sara had always seen Jane as a sort of surrogate older sister, someone she looked up to, someone she wanted to be when she grew up. She had been 'Auntie' since Sara was three and she twelve.
Telling her the truth about what happened to Red Platoon was going to break the young woman's heart.
"Sara," Jannie began, her heart heavy, "they… they weren't just killed in action." She could already see Sara's blue eyes blink at that, processing the information. "I didn't tell you earlier because we were still in the Dig Site, and getting everyone out was top priority. I'm sorry that I didn't want to burden you with it at the time, but…" Jannie slipped a hand on to the shorter woman's armored pauldron, holding her shoulder in comfort and sympathy. "We found out the hard way on Eden Prime. The Geth… did something to them. Something bad."
"M-mutilation?" There was a hitch in her throat, her mind going to the worst place she could think of; bodily desecration. There really wasn't much worse of a crime in a Human's mind than to defile the body of a loved one. Jannie wish that she didn't know better.
"Worse, Sara. Far far worse."
Ryder just looked at her, her blue eyes wide, threatening tears. Those Marines… they were hers. Sara had busted her ass at the honor of standing amongst them, to protect them and see to them as both Corpsman and as a kind, caring, considerate Human Being. She had spend years working herself towards this goal, from her days volunteering as a Citadel Emergency Medical Services Paramedic working on a Skybulance, the first Human to have ever done so, to applying the same stalwart dedication in the Field Medical Training Battalion to earn not only the illustrious Fleet Marine Force Hospital Corpsman Insignia, but to be one of those dedicate few. She wasn't some kid who joined the Systems Alliance Marine Corps and was merely assigned the platoon. She wasn't some Navy Corpsman who got the short straw for a Marine Deployment, some Dispensary scrub handing over anti-inflammatory and MoleSkin to bellyaching Privates. No, Sara Elaine Ryder fought for the position, for the honor, to stand beside those Marines and say these are my Marines; I will look out for them, I will live among them, I will protect them, I will die for them, as they would die for me. It wasn't a surprise that FMF Corpsmen who were selected for Villa Militar did well in the N-Courses, that dedication having already existed inside of them long before being recognized for the heroes that they were. It wouldn't surprise Jannie at all that one day, perhaps in a year or so, Sara would have a matching stripe running down her own right arm, the same that she herself had.
But now? Now Jannie was going to have to tell this young woman, her surrogate little sister, the girl who looked up to her her whole life, the very ugly truth.
Heartbreaking didn't even cover it.
"I…" Jannie felt her own voice hitch in her throat, remembering when she had discovered it herself on Eden Prime, when Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams saw her own Soldiers exchanged. The horror of it was… there wasn't any explanation, just utter evil, beyond anything anyone had ever thought of or considered. The only real comparison was… well, the Star Trek series, the Borg turning people into themselves though nanite injections. There was a word for it; assimilation. "Sara… they killed your men. And then… then they took their bodies and… impaled them on these devices we've come to call 'Dragon's Teeth'…" Jannie gripped Sara's shoulder hard, half out of sympathy, but half out of the fact she needed the strength herself. "They… assimilate them. Like the Borg."
"N-N-No…" Sara's tone was pure pain, pure disbelief. Jannie gripped both of her shoulders as the Corpsman looked at her, not wanting to believe her; wishing anything else. "NO!" Jannie brought her in, wrapping her arms around the shorter woman as Sara cried, holding her tight as the pain and grief came. "NoNoNo!" Sara had balled up her fists and was striking at her chestplate, rage and horror mixing together. Jannie… had seen this before with Ash, had held her then too as the Staff Sergeant had a temporary breakdown. She hadn't blamed or corrected Ash at all despite the danger of it on the battlefield, just like she wasn't going to blame Sara for it now, the danger less severe on Therum, unlike Eden Prime. "W-why! Why would they do that! Wasn't dropping a thousand platforms on us enough! Those were good men! WHY!"
"To hurt us."
That was the cold truth of it; the geometry of battle, the price of war. In the Villa, the Instructors hammered candidates that it would be N's that would make the kinds of ruthless decisions that most would never understand in the name of Humanity. It wasn't evil, it wasn't even despicable. One fought wars to win, and it was a no-holds-barred contest. The victor wasn't always the one who had the biggest army, the best tech, or willing to go the extra kilometer. No, the victor was the one with the mentality to do whatever it fucking took to win; the precise strike, the best tactics, the worst attrition. War was beyond terrible, but one had to do terrible things to avoid worse calamities in the future. The Blitz had taught her that all too well.
"I… I need to see." Sara said softly, her eyes opening up to look at Jannie, the pain still there, but with resolve. "Their dog tags, at the very least, Auntie. I owe them that much."
"You are sure? What you see… it's beyond anything you can ever imagine in your worst nightmare." Jannie was doing her best to prepare her friend, to make Sara understand what she was asking. Mere words would never convey it, but Shepard wanted Ryder to understand what she was asking. "They're… not really Human anymore, I'm afraid. And we had to gun them down when they attacked us. Just like we had to do with Sergeant Williams' platoon when they were assimilated."
"They… would have done it for me if the situation were reversed." Sara replied, her tone emotional; pain mixed with grief. "I respect you are trying to ease me or let me down gently, Auntie, but I need to see. Next time might… I might not be prepared."
"Okay. I'll take you and help you collect your men's dog tags." She wasn't about to let the Corpsman do this alone; Jannie would be there for her, just as she always had been. "If I can make a suggestion?
"Take Ash."
"We'll ask her first, but… okay." Sara queued up her SquadCom on her radio, and Jannie only heard her half of the conversation, being without comms herself. Ash evidently agreed to it, and Detective Garrus Vakarian was asked to overwatch them as they went into the Dig Site Proper. The Commander didn't want her to do this; the big sister in her didn't want her little Sara to do this, making worse a trauma that was likely already there. Yet if it had been Sara? Jannie would have grabbed her dog tags, no matter what personal cost or trauma she would suffer. The N7 had carried Corporal Richard Jenkins' dog tags through the entirety of the mission on Eden Prime on the principle of giving them to his parents as some form of honorable apology. Now they hung over her bunk on the Normandy, no one else to go to with Patrick and Melissa Jenkins dead. They were a mute reminder that becoming a Council Agent had its costs, a silent promise to that young Marine who had to watch his home burn that she wouldn't stop until that fucking Turian was gurgling in a pool of his own blood, struggling to breath his last.
There were thirty-three names she needed to carve into Saren Arterius' chest; thirty-two Marines… and the Turian murdered and betrayed by a man he had called brother.
Commander Jane Shepard let off a sigh as she watched the deployment ramp of the SSV Normandy closed, the hellish view of Therum disappearing from sight as she felt the ship tremble in the gravity of the planet as it began to accelerate, gaining altitude and distance as the Frigate-Class vessel began to achieve escape velocity, the decking vibrating under her feet as the ship pulled G's, counteracted for the personnel thanks to the sophisticated inertia dampeners installed on the state-of-the-art spacecraft.
"Commander, we will achieve exfill of Therum's atmosphere in three minutes with the tentative location of the systems' inner-asteroid belt in ETA eight minutes until we can ascertain the location of any Geth activity between Therum and the Relay. Current telemetry suggests that Third Fleet should be in-system within the next forty-five minutes." Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressly's voice came over the ships' intercom system in the cargo bay as the M35 MAKO APV ticked from dethermalization after being powered down. Commander Karin Chakwas (MD) and Able Seaman Linda Basheer had taken Private Mikael 'Blowjob' Holodansk to the Med Bay on the Main Deck on a contragravity hovergurney, placed there by Centurion Abadexus Linaseus and escorted with Petty Officer Sara Ryder in tow, her left arm still slung after her injury catching Jannie. With the MAKO turned off after a systems' hard reboot, everyone else involved on he mission was in the cargo bay, talking and grabbing ass for the most part; the thrill and the stress leaking away now that they were in the confines of a metal hull and flying away from the Dig Site. Jannie gave them a minute or two to get it out of their system before addressing them.
"Alright, folks! Listen up!" Shepard called out, her voice ringing loud and true inside the Cargo Bay, seeing eighteen pairs of eyes looking towards her as she got everyone's attention. "I know not everyone's military, and not everyone's Alliance, so I'll make it quick so you can clean up and grab some food. First order of business is disarming, taking off armor and securing weaponry. This is a military vessel, and only the ships' Security Force has authority to be armed. I'll have extra storage lockers brought in for personal equipment, but it must be properly secured. Once that is done, the next two hours will be devoted to personal maintenance. Showers, food, getting wounds checked, taking a power nap, all for you. The two hours after that is personal equipment maintenance, be it weapons, armor, 'Tools… whatever you need for the mission or your personal Chain-of-Command. Clean, fix, repair, I'm have the Quartermaster bring out the 'Gels and the cleaning supplies, but all equipment maintenance is done in the Cargo Bay. After that is what we call the After-Action Review. Everyone on mission, and I do mean everyone, will meet here in," Jannie went to pull up her chronometer on her OmniTool, and remembered that it was completely shutdown, sighing.
"It's 1521 Zulu, Skipper." Staff Sergeant Ashley Williams piped up, obviously knowing what Jannie wanted.
"1930 Normandy Time." Shepard nodded to the Army Non-Com in thanks. "AAR's are about highlighting the positives, rectifying the negatives, and adapting training, tactics, and procedures for the next confrontation. For those who were on Therum, you're input will be just as valuable as ours, since you had eyes-on for the longest, and saw more. Everything you've seen and everything you add is one more way we beat the Geth, one less casualty, one more level of preparation. Use the time beforehand to review all that you seen, all that you did, what worked and what didn't. If you miss it, you'd had best be in surgery, otherwise that's exactly where you'll end up when I'm done with you. Dismissed."
Jannie noted that Ash lit up a small cigar after the order, making her smile and shake her head at the sight, while everyone dispersed to get out of their armor and lock up their weapons, Petty Officer (Second Class) Paul Simmons having pulled out a couple of basic weapons racks and armor racks for the time being so everyone could get cleaned up and some food. Thankfully, they actually had some dextro-chiliary rations thanks to Detective Garrus Vakarian, the Rapid Response Unit Sniper knowing where some military-oriented and citizen-oriented rations could be located and picked up on the Cit in a quick fashion. Shepard had ordered a months' worth of supplies for five dextro beings to be on the safe side, and now she was glad to have the foresight to do so. Unfortunately, she didn't really have anything on hand in the means of extra civilian clothing for the Asari or the Turians, whose University of Serrice Expeditionary jumpsuits and workrobes were dirty and torn. The Asari could possibly get away with Ministry of Defense-oriented uniforms, Systems Alliance Battle Duty Uniforms without rank or unit affiliation, but the Turians were just shaped too differently.
Jannie took off her damaged and malfunctioning Armax Arsenals' Predator H-Series Battle Armor after stowing away her hoverturret Bastilia and her battle assistant drone Ghost, wincing at the fact that she would have to reload everything and reconfigure all the settings and combat profiles she had inputted into her combat assistants, a task that would likely take hours. She took off her armor and winced at the backpiece; a total loss. Her fauld, culet, and both tassets were likewise damaged significantly, her hip, lower back/glute, and thigh pieces either somewhat damaged to somewhat melted. While she had a Printing License through Armax Arsenal to create replacement pieces of her Predator Armor, to include the ceramic composition, Newtonian fluid impact-resistant gel, the hardware electronic lines and software chips and processors that came with the schematic, it would take hours to print with high-grade MetalGel, PlastiGel, and CeramiGel. Not to mention that all it would do would be to physically create the pieces, not recreate the modifications and enhancements she had installed in her armor, like her Speedware or Cortana's power efficiency-monitoring system. It would likely take a couple of days to bring her armor back to combat spec. Well, she did have two other pieces of armor tailored to her needs in combat; one suit a Kassa Fabrications' Colossus Heavy Engagement Armor, and the other being Elkoss Combines' Gladiator Heavy Siege Sustainment Armor. Both were in perfect working order with everything ready to go.
Now the choice was… would she dress up as Iron Man, complete with jetpack attached to the back, or as Deadpool?
Decisions, decisions, decisions.
Jannie disassembled her armor, placing each piece in its proper place as she frowned at the damage done to her MJOLNIR-replica Predator Armor, closing and locking the door with her equipment and weapons stashed away as she suited up in her Alliance Blues, wincing at the feeling in her back from where she had gotten injured earlier. Williams was standing beside her, having taken off her own Rosenkov Materials' Titan Heavy Combat Armor, the Colonial Soldier still puffing at her cigar as she too got dressed. Ash was undoing the bun at the back of her head and shaking out her long raven hair, pulling out a brush and going through it quickly and efficiently before putting it in a simple ponytail, hitting somewhere above the middle of her shoulder blades on her own Alliance Blues. Jannie was struggling a little bit getting her blouse on, and Ash noticed.
"Can you help me out, Army? I'm not walking to the Med Bay in an Underarmor shirt." The Commander asked the woman beside her, Williams moving her hands to slip the BDU blouse up Jannie's arms and over her shoulders gently without trying to aggravate her back. "Ugh. That's just demeaning, having trouble dressing yourself due to wounds."
"Sara's probably going to need help too, with her arm." The Soldier pointed out as she jammed the cigar in her mouth. "Realistically, we got lucky, Skipper. Everyone we met came back alive, and all but one were vertical. That's got to be one for the record books."
"Perhaps not the record books, but your point is made." The Commander replied, sighing. "I just hate the feeling that we arrived too late for the Marines. Like we did with the Twelfth Battalion." Ash didn't need any more explanation than that. It wasn't the fact that the Marines or the Colonial Soldiers had died, though that was bad enough. The Normandy had literally been the first responder in both cases, showing up before anyone else, and as fast as they could. Those losses would have been loses no matter what, every single one of them. No, it was what happened to them; assimilation. Jannie remembered Sara's reaction when she found the bodies of her platoon, the Corpsman sinking to her knees, sobbing bitterly at the sight. Jannie hadn't wanted her to do it, but she logically knew that Sara needed to see, to understand. It didn't ease a broken heart, though. Jannie still had about half-a-dozen dog tags from the members of Red Platoon, Betelgeuse Company, as did Ash, when Ryder's' pocket became too full with the tags of her Marines.
"But you didn't arrive too late, Skipper." Williams replied, conviction in her voice. "Yes, I would love to have any number of my platoon mates alive, or to know that someone from the other units had made it out. But that wasn't the Geth's objective. Their objective was to destroy Constant… and you denied them that. Their objective on Therum was the good Doctor… and you denied them that. Those losses hurt, but the Geth weren't victorious. There are worse things than a bloody victory."
"You're right, Ash." Jannie nodded, knowing that the Soldier was indeed correct. Those losses hurt, but despite them, the crew of the Normandy had been stacking up on victories, both great and small. Saren may or may not have interacted with the Beacon, but Shepard certainly had. The Anti-Matter Warheads set to destroy Constant had been deactivated. Despite Saren's smug asshole routine, she and her crew had gotten the evidence to get his SPECTRE status revoked… and her own approved. Now she had snatched away something he was desperate to acquire, absconded from his very clutches. Every point on her side was one less on his. Sooner or later, the scales would tip in her favor, and that's when Jannie would ram a fucking anti-personnel grenade into whatever served as the Turian's anus. "Seems like we've been running non-stop ever since the attack on Constant. No real Liberty, no real rest, just bouncing from one place to the next, trying to catch up without being able to catch our breath. I think the crew deserves a little celebration for their hard work and dedication."
"Nnnnnow we're talkin'." The colony-born woman smiled around her cigar, wiggling her eyebrows. "I can foresee an inter-service drinking competition between Army, Navy, and Marines. Wait… are any of them old enough to drink?"
"I'm not sure any of them are old enough to have their training wheels taken off." Jannie retorted, making Ash laugh out loud, almost dropping her cigar. "Besides, as long as no one ends up in the Brig or on the Blotter, I look the other way. It's so much funnier when they come staggering back from whatever stupidity ensued."
"From the whores of Montezuma…" Williams began in a tune that was over three hundred years old.
"To the sluts of Tripoli." The redhead continued, knowing of the other anthem of the Systems Alliance Marine Corps, sung in the tune of the Marine Corps Hymn.
"Went and got drunk as fuck last night…"
"And woke up with an STD." Ash was cackling out loud now while Jannie grinned from ear-to-ear as they walked towards the service elevator that would take them to the Main and Upper Deck of the Normandy.
Commander Jane Shepard walked into the Med Bay, and all good humor was erased.
Upon one of the medical beds was a sheet draped over a body. Sitting in front of it was a Hospital Corpsman with one arm in a sling and tears in her eyes. Holodansk…
"The round…" Petty Officer Sara Ryder was sitting there, her body sideways on the fabricated chair she sat in, her eyes on the body in front of her, "the round clipped his aorta." Those blue eyes blinked rapidly as Sara looked up to her, her eyes puffy and red, the sound of her sniffing as the twenty-year old woman grieved. "He was bleeding into his pulmonary cavity, filling his lungs with blood, I… he drowned while I went to recover the dog tags." There was no mistaking the tone; Sara blamed herself.
"Sweetie…" Jannie moved forward, taking a knee in front of Sara as the redhead took Sara's right hand into both of her own, glad that neither Doctor Karin Chakwas or Able Seaman Linda Basheer were here. Sara needed support; personal support, family support. What she needed was her Auntie, and Jannie was going to fulfill that. "Holodansk didn't die because anything that you did or didn't do. You know there isn't a whole lot we can do about internal bleeding, some injuries needing proper surgical attention." Sara just looked at her, but her face… it was blank. She was lost in her grief. This Marine, Private Mikael Holodansk, had been under her direct care. Sometimes, even the best lost sometimes, Surgeons and N7's alike. "You bought him time, Sara." The N7 took Sara's face into her hands gently, her blue eyes going to her own green ones, only focusing slightly. "You didn't give up on him, and you didn't shirk your duties, Corpsman. When he was shot? You were right there, putting your body in between him and the threat. You pulled him out of danger, you got him into cover, and you did your job." Sara sniffled again, frowning. "You treated him with all of your skills, you gave him a fighting chance. If we hadn't been under a kilometer of mountain and had to wait another hour due to the Geth in Therum's orbit? He would still be alive thanks to you.
"If you blame anyone? Blame the Geth."
Sara looked at her for a long, long moment, but slowly her head began to nod.
"At the least…" Jannie looked to the covered body, seeing how portions poked up where the feet were, silhouetting the frame of a too-young man lying underneath it, "at the least we kept him from the hands of the Geth. His body? It belongs to us. We can send him home properly." Not to mention there wouldn't be a Husk running about ready to rip someone into shreds or tearing limbs and breaking bones. God, how old had Holodansk been? Nineteen? No… likely not. Dead at eighteen, fighting alongside his brothers (and sister) in the Marines. Fucking Goddamn waste, no matter how honorable or heroic. Asking a young man to die for his government and species before he even had a chance to experience life. What could she say? She had applied to the Systems Alliance Military Academy before she turned eighteen, a young woman who had no idea what she would accomplish in the future. Had Blowjob had the same fantasies, to do something heroic and memorable, to impress a parent, to live up to a legacy? Or was he one of those countless many that minorly fucked up Secondary School and came out with a less-than-desirous GPA where it was menial jobs or the Alliance? Had he even kissed a woman before? Or hell, a girl?
"I… never lost anybody on the Cit, you know?" Sara said slowly, her face still a mask of grief, looking at Shepard. "I guess… having Shayla and Alixa there? Kaius flying like a madman to shave precious seconds off a flight time? I guess I felt a little undefeated. Even when Staff Sergeant Brennen had his hose gut during the VBSS breach, I was… on top, ready. I… just happened to be in the right locations. Near help, where help could be had. Not stuck in some fucking cave." Jannie knew Sara was hating herself right now. She knew distantly that Sara had never lost one patient call, but she had been a Skybulance Paramedic working with two Asari Emergency Care Technicians, a Turian Emergency Rescue Technician, a Turian Barber-Surgeon, and a Salarian Trauma Care Specialist. Six sapient beings, trained and dedicated to save lives in a peaceful situation with every piece of equipment on-hand or nearby, a fully-staffed hospital never further than a ten minute flight. But being a Combat Corpsman was different; the best one could hope for was to stabilize a patient, buy them time so they could be extracted by MEDEVAC or CASEVAC. No one would be performing emergency surgery in a firefight, not unless the situation was truly dire. Jannie needed to break Sara out of her funk, to let her know that she did her job well.
It was impossible to save everyone, after all.
"Why… why did you guys call him Blowjob?"
Sara looked at Jannie, snorted, and the faintest of smiles came to her lips.
"So… Boot Camp, right?" Sara sniffled a little bit, wiping at her eyes. "Holodansk was assigned to his Boot Camp Platoon, and during his first Liberty, right after Boot Camp, he and a bunch of his boys decide to got terrorize Charlotte, South Carolina. What's the biggest things a bunch of Marines got on their minds?"
"Booze and pussy." The redhead replied with a smirk.
"Booze and pussy." Sara confirmed, nodding. "According to Broussard, who went to Boot with him, Holodansk is talking mad shit about his superior pick-up skills to his buddies, right? Says he can get a girl faster than everyone else." Men, Jannie thought to herself with a snort. They all thought they were a blend of Don Juan and a male porn star. "So they end up in this sleazy little dive bar where his buddies are calling him out, to go hook up. Holodansk, more talk than brains, saunters up to the bartender, thinking the guy's there, he knows the field, right? He knows which girls are the easiest instead of just testing the waters."
"Not bad." It wasn't the dumbest idea in the world. Bartenders probably could tell an easy ride a kilometer off due to experience.
"So," Ryder continued, "he goes up to the bartender and asks him 'where can I get a blowjob?'"
Jannie was already chuckling.
"Bartender replies, 'well, right here.'" The redhead was trying to hold back on the mirth. She was pretty sure she knew how this story was going to end as Sara continued. "Now Holodansk isn't exactly the fastest ship in the fleet, so he thinks, 'wow, the bartender is a pimp, and he's got girls for rent'. So Holodansk asks the bartender 'how much?'
"Eight credits." Sara's even pitching her voice in a faux-manly manner.
"Oh, jeez."
"Now Holodansk is thinking, 'well, eight credits isn't bad, and I technically didn't say I could pick-up a girl faster for free, so I win,' right?" Sara's smiling as her right hand comes up to wipe away a single tear, looking to the body under the sheet. "He's going to roll with it, maybe take some razing, but he thinks he's got this shit in a bag. So he pulls out his BitCred and scans out eight credits." Sara's just shaking her heard, a few more tears joining in. "What does he pay for?
"A shotglass of Bailey's, Kahlua, Amaretto, with whip cream on top."
"Got himself a Blowjob." Jannie rested her hand on Sara's left knee, giving it a comforting squeeze.
The dam of grief finally broke as Sara began to weep, folding in on herself as Jannie took her into her arms, holding her tight as Sara pressed her face against the redhead's breasts and cried hard. She held Sara close, ignoring how much her back hurt when Sara embraced her, her hands accidentally hitting where she had been hurt, Jannie never saying a word. She took the pain; it was only physical. What Sara was going through was much worse, so much more personal. Her Marines were dead, their bodies desecrated. She slowly rocked her friend as Jannie heard Ryder sob, apologizing to the men she had sworn to protect, her words barely intelligible as she wept, the grief taking over. Dislocated shoulder and burnt back forgotten, Commander Jane Shepard held Petty Officer Sara Ryder, the Lion comforting the Angel.
I'm here for you, kiddo, Jannie thought as she stroked Sara's brunette hair, holding her as she grieved.
I'll always be here for you.
FINE: ARC II: Fall Of The House Of Therum
ARC III: End Of Watch
SSV Normandy, Knossus System, Artemus Tau Cluster, June 15, 2183
Five minutes later…
Outside the Med Bay, Doctor Karin Chakwas, who had given Petty Officer Ryder privacy when she had called time of death, finally executed her final duty; a call to the Normandy's Executive Officer, Lieutenant Charles Pressly. The bald-headed man received the news with a somber voice as he thanked the Surgeon, ending the call. With a heavy heart, he went to the Captain's Terminal at the CIC and punched in his authorization code, unlocking the terminal as he moved through the INTERCOM folder and found the necessary. Charles took a deep breath, hating the fact that it would need to be pushed, knowing that likely it would not be the last time as his finger touched the holographic icon simply titled 'Eight Bells'.
Throughout the SSV Normandy, the brass peel of a double-struck bell rang over the intercom.
Ding-ding. Ding-ding. Ding-ding. Ding-ding.
The crew of the state-of-the-art Normandy-Class Frigate paused in what they were doing as the sound of the brass bell resounded through the vessel, from bow to stern, from port to 'larboard, from crow's nest to bilge. From the lowest-ranking Seaman aboard the vessel to the ships' Commanding Officer, every Human heart knew what Eight Bells meant. Sailors heard those brass peels as their eyes went to those closest to them, knowing what had occurred. No words were spoken amongst the crew; none were needed. Since the days of the Elizabethan Navy in the Fifteenth Century, Eight Bells always signified the same thing, even five hundred years later in space.
End of Watch.
Ding-ding. Ding-ding. Ding-ding. Ding-ding.
The bells struck once more as silence ran its course throughout the Stealth Reconnaissance ship, heads bowed in a moment of silence never issued, yet freely given. Doctor Liara T'soni, standing near the Galley, watched as every Human lowered their head at a forty-five degree angle, not one word spoken or situation explained as she heard those eight bells. She looked to Professor Irissa T'vara standing next to her, who merely indicated silently to keep her peace, knowing that something had happened. Detective Garrus Kaaldor Vakarian was in the Cargo Bay, having disassembled his Kassa Fabrication M-98 Widow Sniper Rifle, cleaning the shaver for any loose particulates when he heard the bells over head. It took him only a breath looking at the Humans who occupied the Cargo Bay to know what it indicated, and he paused what he was doing as he, too, bowed his head. Tali'Zorah nar Reyya and Niki'Raan nar Tombay were both near Engineering, silently watching, having an idea what was going on.
It was the end of a watch, the eight bells to call its own home.
Ding-ding. Ding-ding. Ding-ding. Ding-ding.
Staff Sergeant Ashley Madeline Williams, in the Normandy's Galley, seeing the grieving faces of five young Marines, lifted her head first as stepped onto the nearest bench before standing on the Galley table where people placed their meals. She stood tall and proud in the position of attention, where everyone in and around the Galley could see the Colonial Soldier as she lifted her voice in maximum volume as only an Army Non-Commissioned Officer could, and she began to sing as loud as possible
"From the Halls of Montezuma,
To the shores of Tripoli!"
Four more Sailors in the Galley went to attention and added their own voices to the next lines.
"We fight our race's battles,
In space, air, land, and sea!"
Dozens of voices added themselves as the words were sung, going from section to section, deck by deck, as Human voices added itself to the song.
"First to fight for right and freedom,
And to keep our honor clean!"
On the bridge, where men and women of the Systems Alliance Navy pulled duty, to the Engineering department where Coremen monitored the engine, every voice sang the last stanza.
"We are proud to claim the title,
Of Systems Alliance Marines!"
In the Galley, where five Marines stood, holding each other, tears in their eyes, they too began to sing. There wasn't a Human on the ship that wasn't.
"Our banner's unfurled to eve'y breeze
From dawn to setting sun!
We have fought in every clime and place,
Where we could take a gun!
From the airless lands of Luna,
To sunny Elysium scenes!
You will find us always on the job,
The Systems Alliance Marines!
Here's health to you and to our Corps
Which we are proud to serve!
In many a strife, we fought for life
And ne'er lost our nerve!
If the Army and Navy,
E'er look on Heaven's scenes!
They will find the paths are guarded,
By Systems Alliance Marines!"
Author's Note: Bet you didn't see that coming?
I'm not the first person to have someone save Shepard on Therum from a collapsing catwalk in fanfic'dom. I read one years ago that was an SI, but for the life of me, I don't remember the story, author, or even how it was done save that it might have been a grab. I used the idea to show the kind of person Sara is; selfless and devoted. In the Army and Marines (both US and UK, likely in many other countries as well), Combat Medics host a great many awards for valor and heroism, and in the US Navy the HM 8404 is the highest awarded rate (likely in the Royal Navy, too) considering they are one of a few Naval professions that actually get into some form of land or ship combat serving alongside American and Royal Marines.
The Marines - For those who haven't served in the military, there are always those guys. Y'know, the idiots who shove their feet into their mouths, make dumbass decisions, and are more trouble than they're worth? Like the black sheep little brother or loafer cousin you can't get rid of. Ballsack, Blowjob, and Lapdance represent those people (based off of real-life Privates that gave me command-level headaches). Brasserie, the Kenyan, and K-Pop have a little more brain cells at work, also based off of Privates and Specialists I had.
I noticed that I never mention that a Combat Medic/Fleet Corpsman carry an aid bag upon their back wherever they go, just assuming that people would know this. Sara has a hardcase Aid Bag that opens fully with a wide degree of combat aid equipment and devices that I'll get into later.
Heat Index - I have physically survived a Kuwaiti Summer in Camp Behring (sp?), Kuwait, in which the daytime temperatures can hit in the high forties/one-tens, and it feels lie a hundred and thirty. To prove your toughness, go into a portajon in said heat; they're as hot as an oven. Seriously, you will sweat to death just trying to go number two. I'm sure many an American (and likely British) veteran will nod their heads, remembering holding it until the cooler high thirties/ninety degree nights (seriously, one-hundred degrees at midnight. WTF). Behring looks about as appealing as a smokers' ash tray, and about as inviting.
Tupari! Nine out of ten recommend it to their friends! Disaster will strike to the one who doesn't! (ME2)
Tupari - An Energy/Sports drink coming in assorted flavors, it is a vending machine found at the bottom of the Zakera Wards near the Warehouse, crying Volus, and Sirta Foundations. Clicking it will log in its aggressive advertisement campaign. Evidently, it is Commander Shepard's favorite non-alcoholic drink on the Citadel :-p
Paragade - the semi-canon competition to Tupari thanks to the Cerberus Daily Network Wikia.
Battle Drill 6A - Army Vets will recognize the term for the Room Breach Technique… which is not how the USMC does it. Typical US Army uses a four man team, while Marines generally will dogpile anywhere from six-to-eight men, and lead with grenades if required. In my story Where The Law Stands Tall, I have several textbook room clearing procedures in different fashions, from the side entrance scroll, to the assault wall , to the classic sweep-and-clear, and then finally the multi-team/large complex clearance. Chapter Revan VI and IX, Therum III and VI with various room-clearing descriptions, rather detailed for the movements and positions, the sweeping procedures and coordination. Clearing a potentially hostile room? Stressful. Clearing an active hostile room? Ball-sucking pandemonium. Especially in the dark. It's like a mix of Ghost Hunters with rifles.
Without trying to gross anyone out (and I imagine I got close in the Revan ARC in Where The Law Stands Tall with a fertility clinic baby farm slaver camp), I wanted to highlight the evilness of Huskifying (I'm going with the word 'assimilation') a person's body into Reaper cannon fodder. The game doesn't really touch it except for that one cut scene in the Eden Prime mission where that one guy gets impaled, but the video 'Take Earth Back' has a conversion; a two-second clippit of a guy getting Husked. Later on, I will detail someone getting Husked, taking a page out of Star Trek: First Contact, where that one Red Shirt gets injected by the Borg, and you see him change; his skin gets pale and gaunt, and his veins get more exposed as shit runs through them as he looks like he's being drained. It was actually a really good (albeit very creepy) scene that highlighted the logical coldness of one of the best alien species in Sci-Fi'dom; the Borg. Resistance, as they say, is futile.
This was really the first mention I've had of Nihlus at all. It's interesting to note that the little you see of Saren and even littler you see of Nihlus Kryik, how well they endeared themselves. There are dozens and dozens of fanfic's exploring more on Saren and Nihlus, and I always love reading those. Saren was a great villain, and what happened to Nihlus was certainly a slap to the face. Not everything goes according to plan.
I altered the US Marine Corps Hymn (Sousa? Original lyrics creator unknown, but several sources) to match what it might be like in the future if we colonize, changing words like nation to race, adding space as a location, and of course changing United States to Systems Alliance.