"Ummm… what in the actual fuck?" - CMDR Clark, CO SSV Ypres, Battle of LaGrange Point Two, 2183
SSV Ypres (IV FLT), 0.25 AU from LaGrange Point Two, Feros Space, Theseus System, Attican Beta Cluster, July 7, 2183
Author's Note: Meet the IVY League, the Alliance Fourth (IV FLT).
The SSV Ypres sat at a low-emissions state on Red Alert Status, the vessel in DEFCON TWO status while the crew was in REDCON FOUR, fully armored and sealed. Most everything that was considered an active system had been turned off for two reasons; to reduce their thermal signature, and to save what little power they had left. The battle not even twenty-two minutes prior had taken its toll on the Fourth Fleet when a hundred and twenty vessels of Geth make and design had come roaring into the battlespace at full flank, firing their main cannons at the thirty-seven vessel of the IVY Fleet (known as that due to its Roman Numerical designation, IV). There had been little warning of their coming, only seven minutes prior the IntraSystem Alert Broadcast freezing up without any further updates. Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Kyle Singer had called the Fleet into DEFCON THREE, the vessel that were 'parked' in LaGrange Point Two beginning to spread out in an action formation as smaller vessels such as Hastings-Class Frigates and Ranger-Class Corvettes began maneuvering further away to expand upon the Fleets' sphere of influence, to present a large threat while putting more space in between the vessels.
The maneuver hadn't even been complete when three Corvettes began reporting dozens of boogies on their LADARs.
The battle had been an absolute disaster; a hundred and twenty Geth vessels had practically blitzkrieg'ed the IVY Fleet while firing rounds into the Alliance vessels, outnumbered near four-to-one. Everyone had been bombarded as desperate defenses and maneuvers had been conducted, every ship rocked and bracketed by Naval fire by the Geth. Within three minutes, Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Hannah Singer had been calling for a full retreat, the SSV Kilimanjaro taking an absolute beating from the Geth Dreadnought and at least a dozen Cruisers while spitting out missiles and main cannon fire in return as best it could against the onslaught… and losing. Over a dozen Alliance vessels went supercritical as rounds and damages destabilized or pieced cores, vessels and souls disappearing in a nova-like flash of fire and radiation in mere breaths, while another half-dozen were shattered from the heavy bombardment, a few Destroyers and Frigates opting to go on the offensive to by the Fleet time to retreat, reorganize, and repair. Brave souls lost to war, giving their lives for their fellow Man.
The Ypres had survived out of sheer stupid luck.
"Master Chief? How are we looking?" Commander Blaine Clark (SAN, CO Ypres) asked through his Captain's Podium, engaging the system to talk to the Master of the Boat, the Chief Bosun's Mate.
"No questions asked, Skipper; our spine is broken and we're dead in the water." Master Chief Petty Officer Hershel Zane replied over his armors' transmitter, the conversation between Captain and the Master Chief. Blaine frowned at the update. If the main spar had been broken, that meant the Ypres was permanently; the Alliance would literally have to tear the vessel apart in order to replace it, and it was seriously cheaper just to build a Hastings-Class vessel from the frame up. It would never go FTL again, never make a translation through a Mass Relay, and never serve in a patrol. It wasn't even fit for a Colonial Air Force CAP. Those motherfuckers had crippled his ship, a Cruiser round having gone through top deck to beam right amidships. The Main Deck Galley was gone, as well as the Magazine Locker and a part of the main cannon fuselage. Another round had shattered two of its main thrusters as well. No teeth, broken spine, and with one leg, the Ypres hadn't been able to retreat with the rest of the Fleet. So the Commander had everyone power down the vessel to make it look like the Frigate had suffered a 'power kill'; where everyone was dead by the vessel still intact. They were playing dead and monitoring the Geth Fleet for the rest of the recuperating Fourth Fleet, being the sole eyes and ears for the Fourth while they recovered somewhere around Feros' sole satellite, Vegna, using the celestial object as a shield. Whatever the Geth were up to, the Fourth wasn't their actual objective.
They had been shuttling ships to the planet instead of finishing off a Fleet. That confused Blaine.
"Make what repairs we can, and get our wounded up to snuff as soon as possible, Master Chief." The Commander killed the communication as he looked to the Ypres' CIC, seeing the Geth formation in a protective posture, pretty standard one, too. Everything was being recorded and sent via tight-beam back to the IVY Fleet for both warning and analysis; the Frigate was likely the only vessel ever to have a chance to actually study the Geth without having to fight them off. LaGrange Point Two was an absolute mess with core-detonated vessels and shattered hulks of Alliance ships, and the sight of those locations appearing on the holographic image had his heart twist at the sight; his ship and his ninety-man crew could have easily been one of them. He knew each vessels' name, their Captains, and even most of their Command Deck Officers. His sight went to where the Marco Polo-Class Carrier Francis Drake laid; the twelve-hundred man vessel had gone in a cataclysmic explosion when its core went supercritical, almost assuredly taking all hands along with it.
Including his wife, the Drake's Weapon Officer, Lieutenant Commander Sophia Clark.
Fight now, cry later, he told himself.
A ping on the CIC had Blaine looking up to the holographic image only to see the Geth Dreadnought… disappear?
"Holy shit!" His XO announced, Lieutenant Commander Leigh Ann Mayer's tone pure shock as her helmeted eyes went wide, looking at him. "What the fuck just happened! Where's that Capital Ship, Ops!"
"Ma'am! I'm reading… I'm reading a core detonation!" Lieutenant (junior grade) Danielle Bender, the Ops Alley Chief, announced, her voice a mixture of confusion and awe. "I don't believe it… but that Dreadnought just went supercritical!"
One could hear atoms collide on the Bridge of the Ypres with that announcement… and then two seconds later a loud whoop from Ensign Novalee 'Nova' Reid, the Frigates' Weapons Chief. That had Blaine looking at her.
"Look at that power surge go!" The Ypres Gunnery Chief hollered, obviously staring at the shockwave that was expanding at half the speed of light from where the Dreadnought once was. "I don't know how or why it happened, but I could care less! A Dreadnought going supercritical is going to encompass half that Fleet in radiation and static! They're going to be blind and mute!" The wave of Eezo radiation was spreading outward omnidirectionally, and there were several vessels about to be consumed. Some of them were close enough that they would be damaged as well… possibly destroyed.
"Shit, she's right!" First Lieutenant Caden Stein, the Ypres' Navigator, replied. "Kinetic defenses will be down, too. Sir?
"They're vulnerable!"
"Ops? I want to know what the fuck happened to that Dreadnought, and I wanted to know five minutes ago." Clark informed his subordinate, Lieutenant Bender going to work by looking up and reviewing scans and sensors leading up to the supercritical event. "VI? Connect me to the Kili."
"This is Kili Acting." A woman's voice came over the comm, not a man's. Rear Admiral Hannah Singer was Acting Commanding Officer with Admiral Kyle Singer injured due to shrapnel and suit malfunction. His status was still critical/unknown.
"Ma'am? Ypres Actual. The Geth Dreadnought just went supercritical. Recommend retaliation." His Frigate wasn't going to be moving, not with two thrusters on the port side and her spine snapped in half. At best, he could fire missiles at extreme ranges and hope for the best. But what he could do was his job; conduct information and tactics to the rest of the Fleet and find ways to turn a situation into their advantage. If a core went supercritical, they would have approximately three to five minutes before the high-gain strong radiation force dissipated enough for the Geth to return to effectiveness. Until then, it was as his Navigator said; they were vulnerable.
"We're moving a Cruiser, two Destroyers, and three Frigates to the location now." Singer's voice came over the CIC, her tone merciless. "Find out what happened, Commander."
"Sir? I… I think it's one of ours. Look!" Leigh Ann pointed out at something in the CIC, showing the current situation. In the ever-expanding bubble of radiation and fire from the Dreadnought's demise was… a fading in-and-out Alliance IFF tag. "Are they fucking surfing a core explosion wake? Who in their right mind would do that?" The tag was popping on and off too quickly to identify, but Mayer was right; someone had the audacity and the balls to ride upon a miniature nova.
"We've got missile launches, too! GUNGNIRs!" Nova whooped as three streaking signals appeared on the CIC, the blinking signals jetting forth towards three targets; two Geth Destroyers and a Cruiser. "That fucking ship is insane! And their pilot even crazier!" The missile acquisitions disappears into the ship signals, and one of the Destroyers disappeared from view, turning into a debris field. A catastrophic kill. The other Destroyer and the Cruiser went up as well.
"I don't believe it! I know who that is!"
"Talk to me, Helmsman." Clark replied, hearing the voice of Flight Lieutenant Lylia McLeod, the Ypres' main pilot.
"I know those moves, sir!" The pilot's voice went up an octave in excitement. "I went to Flight Academy with the guy that practically broke every simulation record. I'd bet the next year's paycheck that's Jeff Moreau!
"That's the goddamn Normandy!"
Commander Blaine Clark looked to the tag, or where it once was. Had… had hope come in the form of the Lion?
"Sir, Lylia might be right!" Danielle's helmeted head looked up, the Ops Chief looking to her Commanding Officer. "I'm looking at the weirdest missile launch ever. It came out of nowhere, and get this! It used the Steele Maneuver! They shot it out with air instead of a launch! Vanessa Steele is the Normandy's Gunnery Chief. She did that back on Eden Prime, and there's about a three second cross-sectional match of a missile right before it hits the Dreadnought! They literally got right up to the stern and shot a missile up that Dreadnoughts' ass!"
"Please tell me you got a recording to that. I'm going to touch myself to it later on." Nova quipped, studying the scenario as it occurred. "Looks like we're getting secondary detonations from the shockwave! Two of the Destroyers and one of the Cruisers near the Dreadnought just went! That's… seven total!" There was no mistaking the jubilant joy in the Gunnery Chief's voice, the Ensign practically dancing at her station. "SO gonna touch myself to this later on!"
"ETA to intercept is forty-five seconds, Commander." Admiral Singer's voice came over the CIC, and Ensign Novalee Reid immediately stopped bouncing at her station, realizing her words probably got transmitted to a Rear Admiral. Oops. "Blaine. Do something stupid for me.
"Tell my daughter to pick up the phone."
"Captain? I'm… getting a hail."
Captain Jane Catherine Shepard (SAN, N7, OST) looked to Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressley, hearing his confused tone as his helmeted head looked at her. The SSV Normandy was currently surfing on a gigantic shockwave, a radioactive tsunami that the vessel was using to push them forward while keeping them from being targeted due to the hard radiation force being emitted. Flight Lieutenant Jeff Moreau was keeping speed with the wake, flying literally a kilometer in front of it at a speed where they would stay immediately in front of the blast coming from the ruptured Geth Dreadnought they had destroyed with a MFOAB, adjusting for maneuvers to strike out at any Geth vessel in range. Only a minute or so out from the blast, and they had already destroyed seven smaller vessels with missiles while Joker kept them from being obliterated. With that much strong radiation force expanding right behind them at half the speed of light, Jannie was honestly surprised that anyone could detect them. Unless…
"Nav? Put them on." The Council Agent replied, thinking of the only other way someone could detect a vessel currently cloaked in a radiation bubble; Alliance Secured Communications BattleNet. That meant there was an Alliance vessel within an AU on the dark side of Feros they weren't seeing.
"SSV Normandy? This is Ypres Actual." It was a man's voice, and a familiar one. The Frigate's VI immediately accessed the LCARS for the potential duty roster of the Hastings-Class Frigate, and came up with a name that Jannie did know; Commander Blaine Clark. They had gone to the Academy together.
"Blaine, it's Jannie." The Captain replied, feeling herself smile. When they hadn't detected any of the Fourth Fleet vessels in vicinity of LaGrange Point Two, she had feared the worst. "Where the hell are you guys hiding at?"
"We're dead in the water, Red. Spine's snapped, cannon's gone, and missing half my thrusters. Crew's half-gone, too. We're playing dead." Shepard felt her heart sink at that, knowing what that meant for a ship and its Commander. Commander Mark Vanderloo was merely shaking his head at the news. "We're practically venting heat into the loo to keep our emissions down, and keeping eyes on the Geth. How the fuck did you kill a Dreadnought?"
"A MFOAB." The SPECTRE replied simply.
"Umm… what in the actual fuck? You have one?"
"Not anymore." That had Lieutenant (junior grade) Vanessa Steele snort in response.
"We're getting a handshake permission for IVY Fleets' BattleNet, ma'am." Mark informed her, toggling the KERBEROS Communications Protocol and verifying it. "It's clean."
"Connect us." Jannie replied, watching as the ships' CIC began to update with the tactical data from the Alliance Fourth Fleet's BattleNet; a Fleet connectivity suite to keep abreast of all the sensor data that all the vessels were collating, distributing it for omnidirectional security and defense, as well as positions and statuses. Nineteen vessel appeared on the far side of Feros, hiding on the day side in what appeared to be in the shadow of Feros' moon, Vegna. A simple percentage appeared next to every vessel, indicating its worthiness status.
"Oh shit." Steele cursed as she looked at the same readings. "They got their asses handed to them. Gunners, coming up on target eight, give them some steel rain and scorch marks in eight seconds." Jannie agreed with Vanessa's assessment; the Fourth was practically demolished. The highest rated vessel was barely sitting over forty percent effectiveness; half-dead, in other words. A York-Class Cruiser, two Nathan James-Class Destroyers, and three Hastings-Class Frigates were moving to intercept, obviously to join in on the fun. All six were in the thirty plus percentage rating of effectiveness. Those ships were practically hanging on with WonderGel and prayer.
The Kili herself sat at twenty-five percent. The flagship of the Kilimanjaro-Class was three-quarters ineffective. God only knew how bad things were on the actual vessel.
"Ma'am, the Quebec, the Hogan, the Chaucey, and the Vimy, Avon, and the Langemarck are moving to intercept two separate Geth Cruisers ahead of us." Vanderloo called out, the tagged Alliance vessels displayed on the CIC moving to a pair of Geth Cruisers that were beginning to turn to face the threat. "They're going to get pulverized if they don't wait for the wake." Another Geth signal disappeared as the Normandy engaged at knife-range on a Geth Destroyer, tearing it to pieces as it lost its shields with the wake of the radiation bloom. It would last perhaps another minute, and its effect another two to three before the Geth began to retaliate.
"Quebec Actual, this is Normandy Actual, pull back!" Shepard shouted over her Podium, engaging the BattleNet's intercom in the hopes of getting the Cruiser's attention. The Geth Cruisers were moving to expose their flank, and several small thermal blooms came from the side of the vessels, not the front. "Shit. They've got broadsides." Alliance Cruisers and Dreadnoughts had that capability, but no others had as of yet. It seemed the Geth decided to have the Human tactic to engage at three compass points at once as well. The Vimy disappeared from the holographic display several seconds later, replaced with a noted debris field. Ninety Sailors, Jannie thought to herself as the Chaucey's percentage dropped from thirty-two to twelve, while the Hogan began to break apart. "Mark, we need in there. Now."
"Intercept time is thirty-seven seconds at Mark Nine." Vanderloo replied immediately. "But we can fire a WARLOCK and have it there in nine."
"Steele? Punch them."
"Fish launched at target designation Cruiser Andromeda and Betelgeuse." The Lieutenant replied, her voice tense. "C'mon, babies, make momma proud." Another bloom of thermal energy reported that the Geth were firing again as the Chaucey disappeared from the battlespace, breaking apart, while the Hogan simply ceased to exist. "Three… two… one…"
The three altered probes struck in the area of the Cruisers. There was no indication if they worked or not.
"Time-to-intercept, twenty-five seconds." Pressley called out. "Shockwave will hit in twenty-eight, and God help our boys over there if they don't move their asses."
There was another thermal bloom from the Geth ships as the Quebec launched missiles… but there was no responding damage to the Alliance vessels as the Avon and the Langemarck continued to close distance. Not one percentage point was decreased from any of the three ships.
"…the fuck?"
"They MISSED!" Vanessa shouted and laughed at the same time, slapping her Weapons Crew Chief in the shoulder, nearly knocking Chief Petty Officer Robert Felawa into his console in her celebrations. "WARLOCKs are scrambling their light-capture devices! They're probably getting haze and distortions and can't aim!" Jannie watched as the Quebec's missiles struck the Andromeda Cruiser, flaring up the vessel with its explosions. A few seconds later, the Cruiser was gone, replaced with a debris field on the holographic display. "Yes!" Steele hissed out as she tapped something into her console. The Avon and the Langemarck went into knife-range of the Betelgeuse Cruiser, and micro-flashes of heat were detected. "They're using GARDIANS. Must be out of missiles." That was the nice scenario. Shepard guessed that the Frigates were likely so damaged that their GARDIANS were likely their only offensive weapon left.
"Quebec, Avon, Langemarck, turn to and head away from the blast radius. You've got about ten seconds." The Captain called out on the BattleNet, seeing the Quebec and the Langemarck beginning to turn and accelerate from the ever-growing wave of destructive force the Normandy was barely in front of. But the Avon wasn't turning… merely drifting.
"Normandy Actual, this is Avon Actual," the sound of a woman's voice came over the intercom, steeped in pain and defeat, "we only had seven of us alive anyhow on a dying vessel ready to go supercritical in about three minutes. We're dead in the water now, engines are gone, and we just wanted the chance to make those sons of bitches hurt. This is Ensign Mary Ellison, Quartermaster, signing off. Good night and good luck."
"Godspeed, Avon." Jannie had to close her eyes to stop the sting of tears, but she didn't close her eyes to the sight of the CIC's holographic display as the Normandy passed by the crippled Frigate traveling at Mark Five while the Avon merely drifted before being consumed by the blast that was slowly dissipating, but still strong enough to annihilate the Hastings-Class Frigate in less than a second. Thankfully, it was quick. "Log, note the time of call and loss of vessel and send it to my Ready Room for later review." There would be a great deal of letters to be written concerning the losses of the Fourth, but the crew of the Avon would be noted as truly giving up their lives in a last-ditch effort to even the score. On a dying vessel, they had decided to hurt the enemy instead of abandoning ship, knowing it would be their last act. An award was a paltry thing to honor such courage and sacrifice, but that would be exactly what Shepard would make sure would be pressed into those Sailor's coffins and into the hands of their loved ones just so they knew the kind of men and women they were. "Quebec, Langemarck, your vessels aren't about to blow up, are they?"
"Normandy Actual, this… yeah, Quebec Actual." Jannie and Mark shared a look at the sound of a young man. "We're all in dire straits, ma'am. That's why we went, so the healthier ships had a chance at repairs."
"Boshi moi…"First Lieutenant Nicolai Yevseyenkov breathed out through his vox, his tone in awe. "Praise God for the courage of Men…" Several heads nodded in agreement, Jannie's included.
"Quebec and Langemarck Actual, this is Captain Jane Shepard, report to whatever is the nearest accessible airlock for cast-off while I send my shuttle to pick up your crews." Shepard was not going to let those men die. "If you can fly out on your own, we'll pick you up."
"There's only fifteen of us, ma'am, and we've got about thirty-seven minutes until our vessel breaks apart, so take care of the Quebec first. They're the one with a containment leak." There was a pause. "Oh, this is Langemarck Actual."
"I think those ships are being commanded by Enlisted Sailors." Mark noted quietly, looking to the CIC display. "Bridge crews must have been hit hard and then taken over by whatever was left."
"Air Force?" The Captain immediately toggled the 1MC to alert Chief Warrant Officer-2 Patricia Holloway. "Prep for immediate cast-off and retrieval of the crew of the Quebec followed by the crew of the Langemarck. I want every soul on the Quebec on your shuttle in five minutes. They've got a containment leak and the possibility of no one knowing how to stop it. Medical, stand by for MASCAL for the Quebec and then the Langemarck.Do whatever you need to save those boys. They piloted wrecks to defend their brothers and sisters…"
"…and we will not fail them."
Seaman Monica Negulesco stood in stand-by at the Cargo Bay alongside the rest of the Normandy's Medical Team, the Frigate still under DEFCON TWO Alert while in the vicinity of the Geth, whom had relocated further away from Feros after the destruction of their Dreadnought as well as another nineteen vessels due to the destruction of the vessel, its core rupture, and the ten targets taken down between the Normandy and the additions of the IVY Fleet. The Geth fleet now hovered half-an-AU away from Feros, and with the Normandy running under stealth, the synthetic race likely didn't know what had attacked it, and especially didn't know where its attacker was located. It bought them time for a quick Rescue and Recovery Op.
Chief Warrant Officer-2 Patricia Holloway, the Frigates' lone Colonial Air Force personnel and Personal Vehicle Pilot was currently piloting the Bell Aerospaces' UT-47 Kodiak Utility Transport Vessel "Rey Kenobi" back from the SSV Quebec, having collected the thirty-two surviving members from the York-Class Cruiser. Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Ryder had informed her a minute ago that a York-Class like the Quebec had something like four hundred Sailors on it… and only thirty-two had survived the Geth. The other vessel, the SSV Langemarck, was actually going to host a part of the Engineer team to keep the vessel from failing them due to several energy drains and systems malfunctions when the Hastings-Class Frigate had a Geth round clip its hull from bow to stern on the port side, practically peeling the ship apart. Out of ninety people, only fifteen were still left alive on the vessel. Shockingly enough, the Langemarck was actually heading to two debris fields where lifepod transponders were signaling, indicating surviving crew. Now that the immediate threat was over, merely just on the horizon, the Frigate was actually going to try and collect some of the pods for retrieval. The so-called Captain of the vessel was, as Monica understood it, a rated Master-at-Arms Petty Officer along with the few Bosun's Mates and Electricians' Mates that had survived the near-death of their vessel when everyone else got vented out. First Lieutenant Greg Adams, Petty Officer (Third Class) Caroline Grenado, and Specialists Tali'Zorah nar Reyya and Niki'Raan nar Tombay were all waiting to one side to enter the shuttle as soon as the crew of the Quebec disembarked so Chief Holloway could shuttle the Engineers to the Langemarck to keep it together while the Frigate pulled lifepods out of the black.
Today had been a rather emotional day, and it was yet to be over.
The deployment ramp th the Cargo Bay opened to the sound of klaxons as rotating yellow warning lights on both the ceiling and the deck indicated where the Kiggs fields was when it activated to keep the atmosphere of the Normandy in as the UT-47 Kodiak came soaring in, passing through the blue nimbus as steam waifed from its hull from the rapid thermalization from being in outer space to being inside a vessel as the Utility Transport Vessel hovered over to its proper landing spot before dropping to the deck.
"Huh. Never actually been on the receiving end." Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Ryder mused out loud next to Monica, the Seaman told to stick by Chief Ryder's' side. The Navy Corpsman had been an EMT on the Cit, of all places, answering calls on a Skybulance with alien EMT members. The gull-wing door of the shuttle popped open to reveal an absolutely stuffed shuttle filled with Sailors, loaded beyond safe capacity as several immediately disembarked to aid their fellow Sailors off the Kodiak. "Help and assist anyone coming off so Valkyrie can go help the Langemarck." Chief Ryder announced as Sailors were coming off the small vessel, some of them looking worse for wear. A couple were being carried by their fellow crew members, obviously injured. Negulesco stepped in to help one Sailor who was barely able to walk, throwing one of his arms over her shoulder and assisting him to the Casualty Collection Point just ahead of the Kodiak Landing Pad as Able Seaman Helen Lowe assisted another Sailor. The crew of the Quebec were being gathered in the CCP where Commander Karin Chakwas was already conducting triage, separating those who only needed minor assistance from those who needed intervention. Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams and Marshal Samantha Collins were helping out the 'minors' by doing basic questions and assessments, both having Basic Trauma Care through the Systems Alliance Colonial Army or the Systems Alliance Marshal Services while Petty Officer Ryder physically carried the last man on the shuttle on her shoulders, obviously unable to walk or unconscious. "Last man out!" Chief Ryder called out as she carried her patient to the nearest safe location, not even in the CCP as she laid the patient on the floor and immediately began taking off the Sailors' helmet and chest piece.
Monica knew what that meant as she grabbed Ryder's' MedBag and hustled over to her.
The Navy Corpsman had already tilted the male Sailors' head back as he laid upon the deck, and the Hospital Corpsman couldn't help but notice how young he was; her age, at a guess. Sara was giving him two breaths via mouth-to-mouth before she went over his chest and began to do chest decompressions, her hands joined together expertly and using her whole body in the act of Cardiopulmonary Resuscitation. Ryder pumped fifteen times, the heel of her hand right on the Sailors' heart as she stimulated it before moving over to check him for breathing, her cheek over his mouth as she looked down his chest to see movement.
Monica just watched, awed at the mechanical precision and speed that Chief Ryder worked at, giving the Sailor mouth-to-mouth once again before going back to delivering chest decompressions. There was no wasted movement or time, everything done with precision and accuracy as Monica knelt by the Sailor with Ryder's MedBag, knowing she'd more than likely get in the way and slow the Chief down with well-meaning offers of help. Sara was an expert, and Seaman Negulesco watched in awe.
This was the Angel of Illyeria.
Chief Ryder was on her fourth iteration of chest decompressions when the Sailor coughed, sucking in a mouthful of air as Monica pulled out a Breather Cup and attached it to the Continuous Positive/Negative Airway Pressure Machine, sliding the cup over the Sailors' face as she turned on the breathing apparatus to help the Sailor get oxygen into his lungs and assist him in being revived. Chief Ryder had placed a monitoring sensor onto his chest to holographically project his vital signs over him, the Sailor unconscious but breathing.
They still had another thirty brother and sister Sailors to take care of.
"Monica? Assist Army and the Marshal; they're good at the basics, but that's it." Ryder told her as Negulesco complied, kind of hoping that she would be able to work at Chiefs' side, but knew better than to argue. This was her first MASCAL, and it would be smarter to put her with the simpler stuff that she knew in a more competent manner, but still having someone knowledgeable to assist her if she ran into issues. The Seaman moved over to where Sergeant Williams and Marshal Collins were taking vitals of the Sailors who didn't seem too injured as Negulesco went to her side, taking the next one in line as she looked over to where Doctor Chakwas, Chief Ryder, Seaman's Lowe and Basheer were working on the others; nine Sailors who may or may not make it. The shuttle was taking off with the Engineering team to go save the Langemarck as Monica returned her attention to the female Sailor in front of her.
"Okay, Able Seaman Jessica Cave, Machinists' Mate-4," the Hospital Corpsman went over the vitals, starting with identity as she picked up a datapad and looked over the Sailor. "Were you injured or thrown about in anyway? I'll start with those first before working on the commons."
"I… I'm pregnant. Four months along."
That had Monica pause as she looked up to the Machinists' Mate. Both Sergeant Williams and Marshal Collins stopped as well to look at the woman in question.
"The hell were you doing on a ship?" The Soldier asked, her tone slightly scornful. "Pretty sure the Navy rules are the same as the Army ones; getting knocked up gets you sent to the rear." Sergeant Williams was correct. All female Sailors (and likely the others in the other services) were given sub-dermal contraceptive implants to prevent pregnancies while on tour of duties. It might have sound cruel, but four-to-six month voyages in less-than-pleasant spaces with pregnant Sailors was even less sought out. Absolutely nobody wanted incriminations of putting an unborn child in danger. Before a ship out date for a tour of duty, female Sailors and Marines all visited their vessels' MedBay for both activation of their sub-dermal contraceptive implant (or reconfirmation if the female question wanted it activated during a tour of garrison, too) as well as a pregnancy test. Theoretically, nobody should be pregnant on a vessel out in the black. Heck, Chief Ryder had supposedly double-checked the implant for every female on TEAM LION after missions in case of Geth tampering! Not that anyone should be having sex on a ship (supposedly, but it definitely happened), but no one should be getting pregnant, either. Had the Seaman hidden her pregnancy?
"'Kay… well, let's check up on the baby first." Negulesco took a Medical Monitoring Device and watched as Cave sheepishly lifted up her blouse and shirt to expose what looked to be somewhere in between a fourteen-to-sixteen week pregnant belly, bulging out enough to be noticed, but not grossly exaggerated. Her navel hadn't popped out yet, Monica noticed as she placed the electronic puck-like device onto the Sailors' expanded waistline and pressed it against the taught skin, looking at the readings it was displaying holographically. True to form, Negulesco was getting interference with the cardiac readings, indicating there was something else. The Hospital Corpsman toggled the monitor to use ultrasound and the screen showed a fuzzy picture in the multitudes of shades of gray she began to manipulate it on the woman's abdomen until she found the uterus.
And there it was.
Monica looked at the holographic screen display as she observed what was undoubtedly a human fetus, curled in upon itself and resting in its mothers' womb, seemingly unknowing of the everything outside its dark slumbering space. The fetus was very Human-looking, with limbs and head forming correctly, the head the largest singular part of the unborn child, with spindly limbs curled around a frail-looking body. That was normal. Negulesco focused on the vitals detector on her MMD and found a feathery light heartbeat going very fast, at two-hundred twenty beats per minute. That was normal, too.
"She's okay." Monica looked up with a smile, seeing Seaman Cave look back at her in awe. "Heart rate is on target, and she's moving around a little bit."
"She?"
"Um… common pronoun. Did you not want to know the gende… never mind." Cave had been hiding the pregnancy. She hadn't gone to the MedBay to see what gender her child was. That meant neither mother or infant had any check-ups whatsoever! "She's… almost eight centimeters long, so that means you're at sixteen weeks, just starting the second trimester, Cave. Would you like to know the gender? This is when we can tell."
"I… I…" The young woman (and Monica noted that they were probably about the same age) looked back towards where the deployment ramp was, having closed several minutes ago with the departure of the Rey Kenobi and the Engineering Team, and then back to the Corpsman. "Yes."
"Not a problem." Williams was peeking over, having already assessed two Sailors with little to fuss about as Negulesco shifted the medical puck along the abdomen, trying to find a good angle to see in between the child's legs. She had a decent view of the child's face, so she got a three-dimensional ultrasound still of that, and got another picture of the entirety of the child before finding the gap in the legs. Monica gently moved the puck around until she was looking dorsally, and found her target.
"I see… a little bulge." The Soldier coined up from beside her, peering over to look at the display. Evidently Sergeant Williams had done this before.
"It's a penis." Seaman Monica Negulesco confirmed as she looked up at Able Seaman Jessica Cave. "Congratulations, you have a son." The Machinist Mates' hands went to her own slightly swollen abdomen as she began to break down and cry, one of the other Sailors from the Quebec catching her before she fell, murmuring the name Michael. Negulesco looked to Williams as the both of them looked to the closed Cargo Bay deployment ramp.
The father had been on the Quebec.
But he wasn't on the Normandy now.
Ensign Novalee 'Nova' Reid manned the Weapons Department Station as she filled in Lieutenant (junior grade) Vanessa Steele of the SSV Normandy some of the less-than-grizzly details about the battle that the IVY Fleet had suffered when the Geth had bum-rushed them and practically raped them in less than ten minutes. One minute, one of the screenwatcher pukes in some Ops Alley doing CAP patrols was calling out the usual ghost signals and outside-acquisition anomalies that happened within the AU-to-AU-and-a-half range. The next minute, something like a hundred and twenty vessels had targeted their thirty-seven and proceeded to massacre them. The Fourth hadn't eve had proper telemetry on the Geth ships until after the bombardment started, meaning they were firing well outside the standard envelope of a hundred and fifty million kilometers. The necessary accuracy and gunnery skills to make a hit at that range without a proper target acquisition? It should have been impossible, and nobody fired blind; it was just stupid and a waste of ammunition.
"Gotta say, Nova, sounds like they had a probe or drone in your ranks." Vanessa was telling her over their SkypeLink line, the SSV Normandy and the SSV Ypres flying in wing together. Well, more like the Normandy flew while the Ypres floundered in the black like an Asari giving a Drell a blowjob. The maintenance team and just about anyone else that could give a hand were making emergency repairs to the Hastings-Class Frigate, but it would be a band-aid on a broken limb. "Did you guys by chance spot the Xterra?"
"Hmm. Let me look at the log." That was a bit of an unusual request. The Fourth had sixteen Ranger-Class Corvettes in its ranks, but none of them were the Xterra. Corvettes were good for lane and trade patrols, escort duties, and hiding in debris fields and monitoring anything that wanted to hide, too. Nova doubted that the Ypres had seen a non-IVY Fleet Corvette, as she would have remembered that, but it might be possible one of the other vessels spotted it while in a defensive posture over the colony of Feros. She pulled up the Fleet LCARS and looked at the log for any ship identifications within the past solar day. "Yep, here it is, the SSV Xterra. Showed up approximately four days ago for a refuel at ye ole local gas station at Sharring." The Heavy Helium Scoop and Processing Station that orbited Theseus, a hydrogen-helium gas giant with something like sixty-plus moons, was the go-to spot for the helium derivative. No doubt it was in Geth hands, now. "It made landing on Feros about seven hours ago, citing the need for outer hull repair."
"Nova? The Xterra is suspected of being a converted Geth ship." What Vanessa told her had the Ensign do a double-take. How the hell was that even possible. "News has been in blackout since the discovery, but the Xterra went to the ACV Horizon and dumped dozens of Husks and Geth onto the cruise. All hands were lost in a way I can only say as horrific." Reid felt her throat go dry with that comment. Steele couldn't tell her everything, but was telling her enough. The Horizon was the premiere cruise ship in all of the Alliance! Every person lost? It held something like four thousand people!
And now it was on Feros.
"The Old Man put the Fourths' Marines onto the colony when we arrived, Nessie." Nova told her counterpart, keeping an eye on the Ypres energy management levels as the Frigate was undergoing repairs. If they were lucky, they could make sub-luminal speeds with a few hours worth of work. "There's five-hundred Jarheads down on the colony, protecting both the town and the corporation conglomerate mess that funds a good chunk of the mining and research, being a former Prothean colony and all." Feros wasn't actually a pleasant planet to live in; it didn't have a friendly atmosphere, needing an atmospheric processing plant to blanket a several kilometer area just to get the oxygen levels to a more acceptable percentage. The colony in question was about a thousand persons that mostly helped out with the digging and shipping, a half mining town, half transportation hub. It didn't exactly peg high on the 'places to live' bucket list, but it was certainly better than No'burg on Therum or Loughin on Benning. At least the croppies weren't knifing each other or some such shit. Nova did Liberty on Nova Yekaterinburg exactly once, flanked by two Marine Non-Commissioned Officers so she could 'get a drink'. Afterwards, she had been completely and utterly grateful for those two burly Sergeants.
"Couldn't wait to kick off the knuckle-draggers, huh?" Steele teased over the SkypeLink, her tiny image on Nova's terminal showing the Normandy's Gunnery Chief just shaking her head. "Five hundred Marines should be more than enough for a Corvettes' worth of goons. Hell, we had a dozen people clear out a four-thousand sapient ship." The Ypres' Gunnery Chief couldn't stop the double-take she did. "Yeah, we've probably got the best space crew and the best ground crew in the business. Eden Prime, Therum, the Horizon? All single-handed, no back-up."
"Fuck, Nessie." Nova looked around to see if anyone was watching, and then gently touched the receiver port where her image was being captured. "You be careful out there, Nessie. I really mean that." Once upon a Systems Alliance Military Academy ago, Cadets Vanessa Steele and Novalee Reid had dated one another in between academic years, sharing a crummy apartment in Alexandria, Virginia. Vanessa had been going into her Fourth Year as a Senior, while Nova was going to her Third, making liberal use of her now-legal drinking status to go out and party as much as possible during that summer break. Days had been filled with urban exploration, evenings with clubs and dancing, and nights with long gratifying bouts of lust-fueled sex. Those months were the best Nova had ever had, and there would always be a spot for Vanessa Bethany Steele in her heart, even if distance and politics pretty much prevented anything deeper or more meaningful from happening. Having to return to the Academy and pretend that nothing happened for her Junior Year had been hard as hell, and every break or Liberty they had gotten during that year had been rushed, gratifying but not nearly so magical. The two weeks that Nessie had gotten before shipping off after she graduated? Nova had been really, really hoping that her Nessie would propose to her.
Everyone thought the promise ring that Novalee Reid wore on her dog tag chain had come from a guy. She didn't abuse the assumption.
"I know, Nova." The smile that came from the Lieutenant was a real one, slightly distorted from the electronic capture and distance, but for the Ensign it was real enough. "I'm luckier than you are. We've practically got an invisible ship, pretty much a Klingon Bird of Prey! You guys… God," Reid noticed that Vanessa tried to be discrete about it, but when she turned her head just enough not to be noticed wiping away a tear, Nova's heart stumbled, "you practically got peeled like a sardine can, babe. I… I could have lost you."
"Ness…" These kinds of conversations shouldn't be happening over a ship-to-ship communication. They were recorded for good reasons, and the Systems Alliance didn't exactly smile upon same-gender relationships. Especially amongst Commissioned Officers.
"When I gave you that ring," Steele continued, ignoring the warning, "I made you a promise. I said when the situation was better, I get down on a knee and I would propose to you proper. But the situation is never going to get better, especially not with us smack in the middle of a war with the Geth and our colonies getting railed like a porn star. I don't give a shit about the rules or regulations of it. Those wouldn't comfort me if the Ypres ended up a cloud of debris. I would live the rest of my life with a hole in my heart. I'd rather mourn what I had than what I didn't do. I don't care how, when, where, or who to make it happen, and I'll do it proper the next time I physically see you, but I want to know this now.
"Novalee Yasmine Reid, will you marry me?"
The Ensign could barely choke out the answer as she clutched at where the ring dangled with her dog tags under her Systems Alliance Battle Duty Uniform and her Aldrin Labs' Onyx Light Armor.
"Y-yes." Nova had to shut her eyes hard to stem the tears, trying not to sob out loud in the middle of the CIC. This wasn't the place or time, but she didn't care. Vanessa was right; she didn't want to lose her Nessie with that promise cut short, forever wishing for things to have gone differently. "All my heart." The Gunnery Chief whispered as she still clutched at that ring. To prove it, she pulled her dog tags out from under her armor, undoing the connector piece and threading the chain from out of the ring. It was a simple one, a plain silver band, five millimeters wide, and sized for her ring finger. In front of the viewer, Nova slipped the ring onto the appropriate finger of her left hand, making sure her Nessie could see it. "Next time we see each other, I want a proper proposal."
"Better bring a white dress, too." That had the Ensign choke out a sobbing chuckle, but Vanessa's smile was worth it. "The Lion is glaring at me, Nova. Probably wants more tactics and less talking. Stay safe, love… and next time."
"You, too." The connection was terminated as the Gunnery Chief wiped away an escaped tear on her cheek. I'm a fiancee now, the Ensign realized, a little surreal. But it felt good. Something else going right on this horrible, horrible day.
"You made the right choice, Nova."
"S-Sir?" Reid looked to her Commanding Officer, Commander Blaine Clark looking at her from the Captain's Podium. They had downgraded to DEFCON TWO status with the ships' status at REDCON THREE. Helmets were off, as were gauntlets. The Normandy had launched passive recon probes in a perimeter around their position to conduct rescue and repair operations, as well as a few towards the Geth position to monitor any movement. For now, they had a fifteen-minute window of warning; as safe as one could hope for in the middle of battle.
"Geez, you think we're dumb?" Lieutenant Commander Leigh Ann Mayer, the Ypres' XO, offered, a twisted smile on the plain-faced woman's lips. "It was pretty apparent about five seconds after you boarded this ship that you were putting on an act. You talked too much bluster about jockeying, but had absolutely no eyes on anyone. I've yet to see you check out one guys' ass despite what you claim. Pretty telling."
"Oh." Nova had never been with a man before. Ever. She just talked that way so no one would know and she wouldn't get in trouble. She thought her career would get ditched if she were thought a lesbian. Vanessa had given her some pointers in that regard.
"Highly doubt you're the first proposal over Skype, Nova." First Lieutenant Caden Stein commented, a lop-sided smile on the Navigator's face from across the CIC. "First time I've seen you blush before, though." That had Lieutenant (junior grade) Danielle Bender chuckling from her station, the Ops Chief nodding in agreement. "You're going to make a good woman happy."
"And sometimes even we need the reminder of why we do all this, what we're for." The Commander replied, standing tall and strong on the Podium. Nova had no idea how he did it; he just lost his wife on the SSV Francis Drake when the core went catastrophic. If it had been her, Nova would be a bag of tears on the deck. "We kick the Geth out of this system, and I'll see about making good that promise. I know Jane won't have an issue making a few hours Liberty and some Cargo Bay chapel."
"Y-yes, sir." She practically hiccuped her answer, her thumb tracing the ring newly-minted on her finger.
"Besides… honeymoon on Feros. They're all about the digging into crevices and holes down there with various tools and drilling implements." Leigh Ann teased, making the Gunnery Chief scowl at her XO.
"Captain? We're receiving an incoming hail. It's… it's from the Kili." Lieutenant Commander Charles Pressley called out, his helmeted head turning to her position at the Captain's Podium from where he stood at the Navigation terminal. "Marker indicates both Private and Urgent, ma'am." Captain Jane Shepard nodded in reply as she went to her Command Console and punched in the access code to initiate a private conversation between the Kilimanjaro and herself. Likely, it was Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Kyle Singer with an addendum to orders gauge upon the status of his fleet and what she had done to the Geth. She had given the Fourth time and space to make whatever necessary repairs they needed. Jannie linked the communication to the SquadComm of her HMWA MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. IV Armor and turned it to private chat; no one would hear her talking through her vox.
"Kili Actual, this is Normandy Actual." Shepard replied, expecting her stepfather.
[Jane, it's Hannah], the voice of her mother came to Jannie's helmet speaker, sounding… strained, hurt even. [Kyle passed away from his wounds ten minutes ago]
The redhead felt her mouth go dry at the news. Kyle Singer and herself had never really… warmed up to one another, and whatever old anger she felt from incidences a decade and a half in the past were forced away for the moment. Much more was at stake than ancient grievances. Her mother had just lost her husband and the IVY Fleet had just lost its Commanding Officer. Say what she wanted about Kyle, but he had been an excellent Sailor and Officer.
"And you?" Jannie asked, her voice neutral.
There was a healthy pause.
[I don't have much longer, either]
A gulf opened up just underneath her heart, and Jannie could feel it trying to slip in. No, not now, the redhead thought to herself, despite it all. Years of estrangement and old wounds had soured the relationship between mother and daughter long before, and this was the first real conversation that Shepard had with her mother since… since after Elysium, when thirteen-year old Sara Ryder had practically been acting as Jannie's personal nurse after saving the lives of nearly eight dozen colonists by doing what she could. Her mother had been at her Star of Terra award ceremony, and there had been pics of mother and daughter standing side-by-side, but conversations had been too far, too in-between, and too strained. Bridges had been burned, not mended.
Now her mother was possibly dying, and Jannie realized all that time had been wasted… over stupidity.
"When are you ever going to pick me?" The voice of a distraught fourteen-year old echoed in her ears, and Jannie shook away the memory. No, not now.
[Jane, as soon as you are done with rescue operations,]her mother's voice continued, sounding oh so tired, [I need you to lead the Ypres, the Langemarck, and the Normandy to the far side of the moon Vegna. The Fourth is down and in tatters, but we're not out yet] Despite the strain in her voice, Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Hannah Singer hadn't given up yet. She would push until her heart gave out, and likely that might not stop her, either. [The Geth are in our territory, and that simply will not stand. As long as one member of the Alliance Navy draws breath, we will oppose them in any way and fashion we can. And that's where I need you]
"When are you ever going to pick me? Over your career? Over your boytoy?"
No, not now.
"Your orders, Admiral?" Jannie asked, her tone neutral, pushing memories and emotions away.
[Jane, the Geth are here for a reason], the Kili's XO and acting Commanding Officer replied. [Their objective is obviously on Feros, whatever it is. They've been ferrying landing craft to the colony ever since they mopped us up out of LaGrange Point Two. The Marines of the Fourths' Expeditionary Unit are on-site, and have been ever since Eden Prime, so they're ready for a fight. But as long as the Geth hold the battlespace above Feros, they have the means to complete their objective, and abscond with it]
[That will simply not fucking happen]
"Fucking A right they won't." Shepard agreed with her mother. Possibly for the first time in nearly fifteen years. Those weren't orders, merely intent.
"You're… you're kidding me!" A fourteen-year old girl's voice cried out in shock and anger, the past coming back to her once more. "You pass me off for months and months… and I come back to find out you're now married and pregnant? When are you ever going to pick me?"
[Your orders, Captain],her mother continued, [are to deploy your ground team to the colony as soon as we have a safe window to do so. As I understand it, the best Geth-killers in the entire galaxy are all aboard your vessel, and I want to make use of that. Their objective is simple; to deny whatever prize the Geth seek. The Marine Expeditionary Unit will continue to man and protect the colony, hopefully serving as a distraction and a buffer from the true threat; your team. Discover the objective of the Geth and deny it to them by taking it, destroying it, or destroying them. The Lieutenant Colonel in charge of the MEU, Lieutenant Colonel Sam Hulick, will assist in any way she can, but likely the Marines will be tied up fighting Geth forces. Use that advantage to secure or deny what the Geth want]
[As for yourself, I have something else in mind]
Jannie felt her hear slow to a crawl and a sort of sick feeling crawling in her guts. She had a feeling what this might be about.
[Jane… Kyle is dead, and I've got a spar in at least my kidney, if not worse], her mother informed her. Rear Admiral Hannah Singer was a FCW Vet, and a part of the Night Stalkers; the most lethal team in Human history, the shuttle pilot of the Enola Gay. She had survived much in the skies and on the ground of Shanxi, including two shuttle crashes. [The Kili's MedBay got struck full on, and we lost our entire Medical Staff and the Department as well. Kyle died because there was no one there to stop or slow down his internal bleeding, no one here trained to do so. I've already lost three-quarters of my crew, and my Fleet is in shambles. Sitting behind Vegna isn't doing anyone any favors. We need a solution for our Geth problem, and we're got one ship that's fully capable]
"You need the Normandy." Jannie surmised. Of course.
"When are you ever going to pick me?"
"XO," Shepard switched her vox on to public, "how long until Rescue and Repair Ops are done?"
"Lieutenant Adams says they pulled on the four lifepods they detected." Commander Mark Vanderloo reported. "Those who are able are assisting in repairs of the Langemarck, and the Frigate can make Mark Five now. But a round went right through their Core Room and out through the Cargo Bay. All of their Engineering staff and damn near all of their Maintenance crew got flushed or shattered. Another round clipped the Bridge and took out everyone there, too. The ships' running off of everyone who survived on the Gun Deck, ma'am. The Ypres can make Mark Three, but likely they'll strain the Frigates' superstructure if not make it worse."
"Tell Lieutenant Adams to assume command of the Langemarck, and have Specialist Zorah stand in as Chief of Engineering." Shepard ordered. "We're escorting the Ypres and the Langemarck to IVY Fleet's position at Mark Two, and I want them to be underway in the next five minutes. Drop a passive Comm Relay buoy at this position so we can keep eyes on the Geth." Vanderloo was already relaying the orders as Jannie switched her vox back to private. "We can be there in fifteen minutes escorting our wounded. Will that suffice?"
[Yes. And thank you for rescuing whom you could], Hannah replied, grunting in pain. [Jane, I don't have much time left in me, so I'm going to say this once] There was a pained intake of breath, and a slow exhale that even the redhead could hear. [I've got three Captains left, but their crews and ships are in shambles. When I'm gone, I've got a First Lieutenant who looks like he's going to puke his guts out at the thought of taking command. I can't command transfer to the other Captains I've got because they're trying to hold their ships together and no one to replace them. Half my Fleet's being flown by Sailors with no training at the positions they've stepped up to take over, and at least four vessels are being led by various Enlisted Members in their time of need. It's my duty to appoint the next-in-succession when I pass away in the next hour or so, Jane. I need someone to beat the Geth's asses in and bring my crew home, make this worth something. There's only one vessel here that is fully-staffed, and it happens to have some of the top-rated experts in fighting Geth] Jannie could hear her mother bite back a grunt of pain. [I need you, Jane]
[I need you to lead the Fourth]
Author's Note: Oh yeah. Shit just got real.
Actually, it was kind of fun writing about another ship, the Ypres. All the Frigates I used are named after WWI battles, in following ME tradition. Destroyers are named after military folk, and the Quebec after a city. Showing the Normandy from the outside (and it would be invisible to Alliance LADAR) was fun, and I enjoyed the exercise. Especially with Ensign Novalee 'Nova' Reid and her antics.
The death of the Avon actually teared me up a little. But that's actually happened in the past, be it vessels, vehicle, or aircraft.
Pregnancies and the Military - This is… a sensitive subject as best with me. But it is true that pregnant service members are put on light duty and generally sent to whatever is considered the rear (or its garrison equivalent).
Carriers in the Mass Effect Universe are named after famous people. Sir Francis Drake, not only a famous English Privateer (the first!), but also the man who successfully founded Drake's Passage that is now 'the Horn' around the Cape of Good Hope, cutting off weeks of sailing time around the most treacherous waters on the planet. Also circumvented the world (while being the second 'man' to do so after Magellan, he was actually the first to do so in one tour). Surprisingly, he left with eight ships and came back with only one, but bulging with Spanish gold. The Spanish HATED Francis Drake.
Ensign Nova Reid mentions how rough it is in No'burg (Nova Yekaterinburg, Therum). I'm using my concept of the mining town from "Where The Law Stands Tall" and keeping it true here; a 99% male-dominated mining town where the only women you see in the mining town are generally strippers and whores.
I've only touched upon the relationship between Jane and Hannah in previous chapters, but I've always intended it to be a strained one. Now you see a little more. It will be explained better onward, but you're getting a current view.
Jannie… kinda got her wish though, didn't she?