"When the Lion said jump… the ship jumped." -PO(2) Ryder, HM-3 SSV Normandy, Battle of LaGrange Point Two +8, 2183
The Last Flight of the SSV Kilimanjaro, July 7, 2183
Author's Note: Hold on to your butts, kiddies. The finale is here. I promise that by the end of this chapter, you'll want to hug and throttle me at the same time.
And with the publication of Chapter 30, I have broken a record of my own; this fic now has more reviews than my most popular work, Mass Effect vs. Aliens: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope. Which is ironic, considering what's coming next.
Keep Calm and N7 On!
Throughout Feros Space, the Alliance Secured Communications BattleNet, the Special Tasks Group monitoring probe, the Intrinsic Data Services monitoring device, and the ShadowNet connectivity relay all bore witness to what was later described as the Last Flight of the Kili. The videos, light captures, sensor packets, data readings, and the physical recording captured by the Helmsman of the SSV Normandy all captured the event that was deemed impossible by modern military analysts, but proved otherwise. Millions watched the event in the days that followed, bring awe to some, celebration to others, and a little dose of righteous fear to those that worried about ever meeting the Lion of Elysium in battle, either on the ground or in space.
The SPECTRE Intelligence Bureau reported that the Primarch of Palaven himself, Gallinus Fedorsian, watched the video of the Last Flight of the Kili in rapt awe. A report from a Level One Council Agent in the SPECTRE Command Bureau, one Kanus Hesperian, proved a telling fact. He watched the video the first time around with amusement, and then watched it a second time with a professional eye. Every video, light capture, sensor packet, data reading, and the physical camera recording. He made notes, he double-checked his work, and then he got permission from his supervisor to enter the vaults of the Council Archives to look up something. He came back three hours later with his mandibles slack and his slightly-ovaloid eyes wide as he proceeded to write a detailed report of his personal analysis of the Battle of LaGrange Point Two (Feros), landing on the desk of the Commandant of the Office of Special Tactics, one Matriarch Lysanda T'mora, which then found its way into the hands of one Rear Admiral (Lower Half) David Edward Anderson, Commanding Officer of the Special Tactics and Reconnaissance Section (STARS) Office of the Human Embassy. What he read had his jaw drop and exclaim loud enough for every member in the STARS Office to hear him say 'THAT'S MY GIRL!' with a boastful laugh.
The SSV Kilimanjaro was officially the most lethal singular Naval vessel in Citadel history with an accredited ninety-five kills to its name.
Hundreds of commands and thousands of pilots tried to enact the very same measures seen with the Kili in the months and years to come; sniping a Fleet from around a planet, the singular vessel drive with electronically-simulated broadsides, and the finale that had everyone in awe at the absolute insanity of a Human SPECTRE commanding a Dreadnought. Only four were able to successfully pull it off; a hotshot pilot in the Citadel Defense Fleet by the name of Lisana T'lesso, Aviatix Centurion Pilux Rapherion Javerinus (considered the best pilot in the Hierarchy), STG Agent Daepron Shupa (widely considered the best pilot in the entire galaxy), and Lieutenant Jeff 'Joker' Moreau of the SSV Normandy, the acknowledged best Human pilot. The Armax Arsenal Arena actually crafted a simulator and goaded others to test their piloting skills with the simulation of the Last Flight of the Kili, offering a megaCredit to the sapient who could pull off the feat. It was a purse that remained unclaimed even in the depths of the Reaper War five years later.
Most failed the sniping portion, though a few dozen were able to accomplish it after several attempts. The Nelson Drive was completed by hundreds, but that wasn't the challenge that was sought.
It was the fact that, somehow, Humanity's First SPECTRE managed to somersault kick and perform a gymnasts' aerial a Dreadnought over a passing Geth vessel with meters to spare, the bow of the Kili practically scraping the paint off the passing Dreadnought before landing a shot right into its engine core, causing the Geth Dreadnought to go core critical several seconds later and explode as the rest of the trailing Fleet, going too fast and paralyzed by the loss of their main processing core, flew right into the oncoming wake of the exploding nova, taking the rest of the nineteen ships with it. It was an act of sheer luck and audacity that had nearly all who tried fail for a variety of reasons; timing, clearance, missing the shot, or getting obliterated long before getting close enough. Tens of thousands tried to replicate the feat but couldn't, from boastful Turians to even near-millennial Asari. It even became a mission in the newest installment of the franchise Galaxy Of War, though dumbed down considerably and the finale a mere cutscene.
But what really got showcasted over the various media sources was the overwhelming support and approval of Humanity's First SPECTRE from her very own species.
If the act of flipping a Dreadnought like a gymnast over a passing vessel accelerating at ninety percent the speed of light held sapients in awe, then the demise of the SSV Kilimanjaro was held in equal amount of sorrow as the Human Dreadnought tore itself asunder.
The Kilimanjaro-Class vessel had been built with many concepts shared throughout the galaxy in order to build a 'modern' Dreadnought to lead the Systems Alliance Navy and protect its peoples. Yet no one had ever designed such a large vessel with acrobatics in mind. When Commodore Jane Catherine Shepard ordered the vessel to jump, it catapulted itself nearly two hundred meters upward from the galactic plane, its aft section propelled even faster as the Aft Hold was blasted open as ballast to increase the projected arc trajectory in which the vessel would travel around a pivoting point below the bow, flipping over the passing Geth Dreadnought like the weighted head of a pendulum. Unfortunately, the Dreadnought was never designed to take that much sheer force, pulling many times the force of gravity, causing undue strain amidships of the Kili. Already significantly damaged from the initial strike from the original Geth Fleet, the hull and the superstructure of the Kilimanjaro had suffered near-crippling damage to its frame, joints and beams bent and twisted from the onslaught as multiple ruptures further damaged the internal structure. The Kili would need a least a year or more in a spaceyard to retrofit it into patrol condition from the attack, no amount of emergency repair or jury-rigging able to compensate that the Kili was a very broken ship on its last legs.
And then its Commodore went on the assault to finish off the enemy that had damn near murdered the entirety of the IVY Fleet.
The Dreadnought took extra damage in the drive, cavatations and vibrations further weakening the structure as the vessel went at full flank to assault the Geth Fleet as soon as possible after the SSV Normandy delivered two Multi-stage Fusion Objective Acquisition Battery missiles into the Geth ranks, taking advantage of their destruction. Flying deep into the remnant of two supercritical core detonations, firing eight full broadsides, launching missiles, and surrounded by exploding Geth warships as it decimated the Fleet took its toll on the Kili, the stress of battle further damaging the Kilimanjaro as it roared victorious over its enemies.
And then there had been its final drive into the very teeth of another Geth Fleet.
To protect Fleet and crew, in service to her species, Commodore Jane Shepard had flown in intercept course against the new threat, buying her Fleet time to evacuate the area and get to safety, the remaining vessels of the Fourth Fleet in no condition to fight a twenty-vessel task force being led by a Dreadnought. Most of the Fourth were running wrecks with temperatures nearly in the red and ammunition heading into the black. Some wouldn't even survive an engagement against a smaller-Class vessel. Yet when two Frigates were stranded, unable to make good an escape, the Commodore had gone on the offensive with a plan that was beyond rash, and utterly devastating.
The Kilimanjaro served its crew with audacity as it flew towards the approaching Geth Fleet, the bedraggled Dreadnought holding together long enough to deliver its final strike. The emergency evasive maneuvers performed with overclocked docking thrusters had twisted nearby infrastructures and damaged power conduits. Near-misses had vibrated the frame bad enough that some of the decks suffered buckling. The last dodge shot had rippled the Kili's spine, the main beam slightly twisted and bent from the shock of the round that had missed the vessel by mere meters.
The final maneuver, the 'jump', was the Kili's death knell, the final act that would destroy a vessel that would be admitted into Citadel history as the galaxy's most lethal ship.
The two hundred meter 'jump' snapped the Kilimanjaro's spine, but the surrounding structure in the amidships held it together as the Kili performed a controlled end-over-end maneuver known as the somersault; where aft would travel faster than bow, traveling in a pendulum arc until it ended up on its back, so to speak. The emergency venting from the Aft Hold had damaged it even further, causing decks to crumple and collapse as the rear of the vessel went too fast, the inertia and gravity exacting its fundamental toll as it did with all things, already ripping the ship asunder as it flipped over the passing Geth Dreadnought that zoomed right under it in less than a second as the Kili returned to the galactic plane, upside down and flying backwards, and fired its overcharged shot straight into the core of the enemy vessel.
The Geth Dreadnought went supercritical five seconds later. But by that time, the Kili had already begun to break apart.
The Dreadnought continued to tumble into an end-over-end spin as the spine finally gave way, snapping the ship in half like a toothpick, too much velocity, torque, and sheer force applied to an already weakened structure as the ship folded upon itself. As the Geth Dreadnought detonated into a growing sphere of brilliant blue fire, going nova, the Kili was still traveling in the opposing direction, the belly of the fore Orlop Deck meeting the belly of the aft Orlop Deck with a staggering amount of force as the ship continued to tumble through Feros Space folded in two. The already near-critical temperatures of its core was thankfully doused mere seconds before it reached runaway status by the Chief Engineer, sparing every soul on the vessel from instant death from a core-critical explosion, tens of thousands of liters dumped right into the core when Lieutenant Commander Michael Samuels hit the SCRAM button and saved the vessel from a catastrophic death.
The aft of the ship finally loosened itself from the fore as it continued to tumble faster than the front portion of the Dreadnought, and the Kilimanjaro tore itself in half ten seconds after delivering the fatal strike to its Geth counterpart.
Commodore Shepard gave the order for all hands to abandon ship and make way for the lifepods as Sailors moved towards the nearest escape vehicle to their position, men and women helping one another in the tumbling Dreadnought as the infrastructure gave out from under them. The evacuation was completed in less than a minute as most had already be on standby with the final drive, knowing that either way, it would likely be the last. The last person to leave the Bridge was Humanity's First SPECTRE, authorizing transfer of all data from the Dreadnought over the BattleNet, to be collected by the remaining vessels of the Fourth Fleet. She touched the Pulpit of the Dreadnought, quoting the Welsh poet Dylan Thomas as she did before boarding the last remaining lifepod with the Bridge crew and evacuating the Kilimanjaro.
"You did not go gentle into that good night."
SSV Normandy (IV FLT Flagship), LaGrange Point Four, Feros Space, Theseus System, Attican Beta Cluster, July 9, 2183
The Battle of LaGrange Point Two (Feros) +2
Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Brian Kahoku stepped aboard the SSV Normandy by disembarking the Bell Aerospaces' UT-47 Kodiak Utility Transport Vessel known as the Rey Kenobi, piloted by (of all things) a Colonial Air Force maniac by the name of Chief Warrant Officer-2 Patricia Holloway. The flight from his vessel, the York-Class Havana Heavy Cruiser and flagship to the Tenth Reconnaissance Flotilla, had been a bit of a choppy one thanks to the amount of ship debris now creating a piddling planetary ring with the aid of Feros' rotation and gravity. One hundred and sixty-five ships had been destroyed in the neighborhood of Feros, ranging from three Dreadnoughts to dozens of Frigates and Corvettes. While it wouldn't make a visible ring, it would be a concern for smaller craft if a piece decided to rocket in and smash itself against a hull. Pretty shitty way to die, in the Admiral's opinion; death by debris. Still, the Air Force pilot was doing her job, shuttling the Kodiak and its passengers safely. He had no idea what colony she had come from, but Brian knew that these days she was under orders for a Human Council Agent. Not a bad gig.
"Admiral." Brian's attention went to the man that was standing at attention in front of him and saluting him, the Admiral returning the gesture as the man's hand returned smartly.
"Ah, Captain Vanderloo." He knew of Commander Mark Vanderloo, identifying him by his rank and nametag on his Alliance Blues, though he had a pair of silver oak leaves on his shoulderboards instead of two silver parallel lines for that of a Captain. Technically, this man was the Captain of the SSV Normandy while its nominal Captain was the Commodore for the remains of the Fourth Fleet, the fifteen remaining vessels having linked together in an impromptu conglomeration space platform that absolutely bristled with guns and missiles. Power, parts, munitions, water, and rations were being passed down and distributed from ships with plenty to ships without, the battered Fleet in dire need of extensive rest and refit. Yet until they were relieved, the Fourth stood sentinel over the planet of Feros, utterly ready to annihilate anything that dared to peg their asshole radar. Too tough to acknowledge their status, they still held the line. Brave men and women, one and all. "Take me to them."
"Aye aye, sir. Right this way." The Normandy's Captain replied as he gestured for the Admiral to follow him as Brian walked through the Cargo Bay of the Alliance's only Stealth Frigate, his eyes on the many difference that he could see from its' sister rate, the Hastings-Class Patrol Frigate. Normandiers and Sailors from the Fourth were hard at work in the Cargo Bay, some manufacturing or repairing parts for vessels in the Fourth, the Stealth Frigate having been converted into a mobile repair shop since it was the only vessel that was fully-staffed, undamaged, and had the most working parts. Its Captain and the Commodore had been ferrying Sailors from the Fourth to manufacture what they need, distributing stores, getting checked out medically, or to enjoy an hour away from the battered wrecks and painful memories of the vessels that had stood against the Geth and won… at such a terrible, terrible price. Thousands were dead and lost, twenty-two ships gone, and the surviving members and vessels would bear the scars forever. Yet they stood triumphant in what had to be one of the most lopsided battles in which the numerically-inferior force won a decisive victory, likening itself to that of the Battle of Agincourt. Victories against the Geth had usually come in the form of a small team led by an N7, but now a Fleet had stood against a foe over three times its size and had come out on top.
Both Admiral Kahoku and Commander Vanderloo entered the elevator that would take them to the Gun Deck where the people he needed to see were located, the contraption taking forever.
"Captain. I have… oh!" Brian's attention turned to, of all things, a Quarian in a purple-and-charcoal gray EnviroSuit when the elevator doors opened, noting the Alliance patch that had been affixed to her suit, just in front of her right shoulder. Right next to it was the single silver bar denoting the rank of Lieutenant (junior grade). Ah, this was the Quarian Pilgrim who had captained an Alliance vessel during a time of war, performing rescue operations to save the crew of the SSV Kilimanjaro as well as that of the SSV Ypres. The Bridge crew had been sucked out when a piece of debris from battle had ripped open the top of the Bridge deck and vented the six-man Command Crew. A Quarian teenager had taken over and pulled two-hundred and thirty-two souls from the black by collecting lifepods from the Kili, and then had somehow magnetized the dead-in-the-water Ypres to the Langemarck's keel and towed the ailing Frigate and crew to the rest of the Fourth at Mark One. "Admiral!" The Quarian saluted him, though in a fashion more befit her people; she placed a three-fingered hand over her heart and tipped her head. Brian returned the gesture. "I have the reports you requested, Captain Vanderloo." Lieutenant Zorah handed over a datapad to Commander Vanderloo, her hands beginning to dry-wash themselves as her silvery eyes darted over to him nervously from behind her lavender-tinted faceplate. As he understood it, Quarian Captains were held in near-deity status, and Admirals practically worshiped. Due to the loss of the Normandy's Chief Engineer, Lieutenant Tali'Zorah nar… something-or-another was standing in as the Frigates' Officer-in-Charge of Engineering.
"Very good, Lieutenant." Mark replied gently, taking the datapad and slipping it under his armpit. "Sir, right this way." The Quarian touched her heart and tipped her scarf-covered head towards them once more as she stepped away while the Commander led the Admiral to port, where the MedBay was connected to the main Galley. It was currently populated with what looked to be close to a hundred members of the Alliance, and he noted that the cooks were serving a rather large lunch… fresh provisions at that. Damn, the Commodore was feeding the Fleet fresh-cooked food to the Sailors, transporting them to the Normandy so they could enjoy a good home-cooked meal after such a bloody battle. There must have been a rotation of some kind so everyone could enjoy the gesture, and Brian briefly wondered how much food was left in store for the Fourth in its entirety.
The two men entered into the MedBay to find it fully occupied and in full operations, four Hospital Corpsmen (correction, three Hospital Corpsmen and a Navy Corpsman) performing medical check-ups to more crew members of the various vessels of the Fourth Fleet, many of the MedBays and medical personnel having been lost or killed during battle. There were about a dozen Sailors getting check-ups and receiving menstruations when a young Corpsman turned to see who had arrived, and Admiral Kahoku immediately recognized the Angel of Illyeria, Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Elaine Ryder. She was doing a follow-up on an Ensign, replacing a medical package on the man's thigh from whatever had bit into his flesh, nodding once in his direction as she returned to her job. Everyone in the MedBay was busy with the wounded, and Brian wasn't about to interrupt their tasks. Mark led him deeper into the MedBay as he approached the rear door of the Medical Department, tapped in an access code as the door slid open to reveal the medical store room that had been converted into an Intensive Care Unit.
Laying there on a medical bed was Rear Admiral (Lower Half) Hannah Mallory Singer. By her side (working on a portable terminal) was Commodore Jane Catherine Shepard.
"Brian." Hannah spoke as Jane looked up from the terminal on her lap, sitting by the bed of her mother, whose status was 'critical but stable' thanks to the surgery that saved her life. She had lost a kidney and part of her liver, as Brian understood it, not to mention all the damage that having a spar of metal impaled inside of ones' stomach could inflict. She would need a proper hospital and weeks, if not months, of recovery. But she would live. Both Singer and Shepard had been running Fourth Fleet from the Normandy's ICU, mother teaching daughter while said daughter spent time with her estranged mother. Yes, he knew of the story that had torn that family apart, but had never asked. Service had driven them apart, and strangely enough, it was war that was bringing them back together, at least temporarily. "Here to overthrow me?" The older woman's weak voice sounded amused as she chuckled slightly, looking weak in that bed. That wasn't the Hannah he remembered, having once served with her on the Dublin. In all honesty, she was a bit of a prickly bitch.
"We have a medical vessel that will transport you and the more seriously wounded back to the Arc for proper treatment and care." Admiral Kahoku replied, seeing Jane's mouth sour at the news. The Fourth was going to be reduced even worse, though thankfully for the right reasons. Still, even with only fifteen ships in its name, it was still horribly understaffed. "As for replacements and reinforcements, the Tenth Reconnaissance Flotilla will be integrating itself with the Fourth, and I will be assuming command. I stuffed my ships full of Sailors, supplies, and provisions. I know we're going to need them."
"To think I was about to call up a tramp freighter to see if they would schedule a delivery." The younger woman said to her mother, making Hannah snort a little, grimacing slightly as a hand went to her medical robed-abdomen. "We certainly could use all the help we can get, Admiral. I think we're going to have to literally drag some of the wounded on that medical transport. I've got a Lieutenant Commander with an amputated arm that declared that the only way we'll pry him from his ship is in a body bag. He's got Enlisted practically as Department heads on his Destroyer, and I think he's too stubborn to beg off or die." The Admiral snorted a little, knowing the type. There were a few too ornery to give in. God bless them. "Will there be a relief-in-place, or just transfers?"
"The second one first, but the relief in place will happen." The loss of the Fourth as a fighting force was total; not one of those magnificent ships or its brave crew were in any shape to patrol or fight in battle. Some of the vessels were practically being repaired on an hourly basis to keep them from coming apart naturally. "The Tenth will fly CAP and Patrol while we plus up the crews, getting the more extensively wounded back to the Arc. The Board is putting two Battle Groups together to replace the Fourth for the time being, and they're bringing the Enterprise in to lead."
"Holy shit." Jane said, looking shocked. Back during the Second Space Race of the mid-21st century, when Armstrong City had become Earth's first space colony on Luna, the agencies National Aerospace Administration, the European Space Agency, and the People's Space Authority worked together to build five vessels that were to represent Man's hopes and dreams for an age of exploration. Four of the vessels were to be named after Earth-famous war vessels; the HMS Victory, the USS Constitution, the INJ Yamato, and the FDF L'Orient. Yet the style of the ships, and the name of its leader, had been voted upon by the people of Earth, and they had named it after the most famous fictional ship in Human history.
The NCC-1701 Enterprise.
Five hulls were laid in space in faithful construction to the Galaxy-Class vessels made famous in a television show, with saucer-like bridge and upper decks stemming from a cylindrical body and swooping thrusters that extended diagonally from the hull. It took three years for the vessels to be complete, and like the show that the Enterprise hailed from, their mission was to explore as well as defend.
They were the oldest, and proudest, space vessels in Human history.
When the Systems Alliance was created in the wake of the discovery of the Mars Archives in 2148, thousands had already graced those five vessel in service and exploration, legions of astronauts, Naval personnel, and scientists having walked their decks and manned their positions. The newly-created Systems Alliance Military announced that all Sailors, be it Enlisted or Officer, would serve those vessels as both a point of pride as well as a training course, the Galaxy-Classes having hosted every Sailor that had gone to Boot Camp, serving for two weeks, while A-School training was conducted according to the length of time needed; Navy personnel getting their first taste of space duty on the most famous ships in Human history, both ancient and modern. For a period of two months during their Second Year and Fourth Year, Cadets of the Systems Alliance Military Academy served as Officers upon those ships, getting a taste of command and duty, leading personnel and responsible for their sections and departments. It wasn't uncommon to find a Sailor with a tattoo on their left bicep with one of those five illustrious names, declaring the Squadron they served upon. Though rated as Heavy Destroyers, the Galaxy-Classes had been maintained and modernized to take on even Heavy Cruisers, employing Human innovation on vessels without aligning itself to non-Human concepts, creating science and defense craft that could go toe-to-toe with vessels much heavier than they.
The last time any of them had left Sol System was… well, during the Theshaca Raids of 2178, the USS Constitution putting missile-to-ass on pirate scum.
And now the NCC-1701 Enterprise was here. Jane absently rubbed her left bicep under her Alliance Blues, where Enterprise had been tattooed in a scroll, the very ship she had served as a Cadet back in '73 and '75, Kahoku knew. He himself bore the L'Orient's name in the same fashion.
"I see Ines' hand in this." Hannah voiced from her bed, referring to the Commanding Officer of the SSV Everest and First Fleet, Fleet Admiral (Upper Half) Ines Lindholm. "The Enterprise has the most sophisticated laser technology to it, able to fire something like twelve GARDIAN-like lances of low-frequency ultraviolet beams at once. That thing was built to destroy." Well, that wasn't exactly true, but Brian knew that Admiral Singer wasn't wrong. Each of the five Galaxy's were in direct violation of the Treaty of Farixen for a variety of reasons, but Humanity hadn't been willing to cave in to Council demands to decommission and put into compliance the very vessels that had been the leaders of hopes and dreams of space exploration. The First Emissary to the Citadel on behalf of the Systems Alliance and Earth, Anita Goyle, replied in no uncertain terms 'molk'n labe' at the thought, echoing the words of King Leonidas of Lakedaemon, Sparta three thousand years later when asked to laid down his arms to Xerxes. She then cited the same reason why the Batarian Hegemony was allowed to conduct illegal slavery in Council Space, claiming cultural heritage and used access to the Mars Archives as a bartering chip for the existence and survival of the Galaxy's. When Humanity had gained an Embassy in 2165, it had been Anita Goyle that had been selected as the Human Ambassador, the first of her kind, mostly because she didn't take shit from anybody; Human or otherwise.
The news that the Enterprise herself would be at Feros would undoubtedly get attention amongst Mankind, something to soften the blow of the loss of a Kilimanjaro-Class Dreadnought and so many lives defending a Human colony, to show people (Humans and others) that the Systems Alliance was not going to take recent events lying down. This marked the third colony attacked in just over a month, and fear was being replaced with rage in the hearts and minds of Mankind. Prime Minister Dominic Osaba had put in no uncertain terms that certain Treaty conventions would be ignored since the Council of Law and Chamber of Governance of the Citadel had practically told Mankind to kiss their collective asses and offered no official help or support, having brought up a referendum of emergency spending for no less than three Dreadnought hulls to be constructed at the same time.
Not one person in all of Earth Alliance Space was bitching about the tax hike or the cost. That was saying something.
"Your orders," Brian continued, looking to Hannah, "are to get healthy enough to resume command. We're laying Dreadnought hulls as we speak, and you are officially going to be in charge of the management of construction." Singers' eyes went wide on that. While not a combat command, it was just an illustrious a position. It meant that whenever the Dreadnoughts had been finished and ready to ship, she would be elected as the Commanding Officer of one of them. "As for you, Jane? You're to resume your original mission per the Fleet Admiral, the Prime Minister, and practically everyone else that wants to see the Geth annihilated. I'll assume command up here while you and your command take the fight to the Geth on the ground on Feros and deny them whatever objective they had planned. Seek, search, and destroy the enemy, and take possession or destroy the objective to deny it from enemy use."
"No issues there, Admiral. But I have one request." The redhead said.
"There's two things I need to do before I'm relieved of command."
One of Commodore Jane Catherine Shepard's last acts as the Commanding Officer of the IVY Fleet was a memorial service to the men and women whom had served under her.
In the Cargo Bay of the NCC-1701 Enterprise, two members of every vessel of the Fourth Fleet were to attend in their Systems Alliance Battle Duty Uniforms, while the Commodore herself presided in her Class Whites, complete with saber given to every N who passed the '7' course, and sash with the symbol of the Office of Special Tactics created for the event. It was videographed for every member who couldn't attend, recorded live and projected over the intercoms of every vessel in Feros Space, both of the IVY Fleet and the Tenth Reconnaissance Flotilla. The service was recorded and sent over the ExtraNet, played by the Alliance News Network, and viewed at astounding numbers as the Lion of Elysium and Humanity's First SPECTRE paid tribute to the lives and vessels lost saving a Human colony.
The End of Watch had begun.
A brass bell, fabricated from MetalGel, was struck eight times by a Master Chief Petty Officer, the highest-ranking Non-Commissioned Officer of the Fourth Fleet, signifying the beginning of the ceremony as one hundred members of the Systems Alliance stood in formation, being called to attention. With a clear voice that needed no amplification or microphone, the Commodore called out the names of the vessels lost, called out the number of crew who had served their commands. The tally was staggering as she reported the loss of twenty-two vessels and over ten thousand souls, brave men and women who lost their lives against the Geth. The losses were hard, and there was hardly a face that wasn't set in stone to keep a Sailor from breaking down from the news of so many lost, but they stood tall and bore the burden to commemorate their brothers and sisters, to remember them for whom they were and what they stood for as Commodore Shepard read off the last vessel, the SSV Kilimanjaro, and the number of crew that had perished protecting the Fleet against the initial Geth onslaught.
From the first ship destroyed, the Hastings-Class Frigate SSV Saint Julian all the way to the Mighty Kili, the Commodore spoke their names and their crews. For every ship that was called, she held a roll-call; she called out five names if there were survivors, and three if their weren't, and always it would be an Enlisted Member, a Non-Commissioned Officer, and a Commissioned Officer for those never to be present again. For those that were present amongst those lost vessels, they accounted themselves present. For those that were lost, silence hung in the air; those missing from the ranks a mute witness to their lives. The effect was a powerful one, a tradition hundreds of years old, each name heralded in silence a heavy weight on the hearts of the survivors. Intermixed with the loss vessels were the ones that survived, yet no ship had escaped the butchers' bill. As strong as she was, even the Commodores' voice faltered slightly when she read the roll call of the SSV Kilimanjaro, the name Rear Admiral Kyle Singer hitching her throat slightly, that of her stepfather. It happened again with the SSV Normandy, after calling out for Petty Officer Sara Ryder (and the Corpsman calling out her presence), her voice wavered slightly when she spoke out First Lieutenant Gregory Adams… and silence was the only reply, the Normandy's Chief of Engineering having lost his life on the Langemarck when a piece of debris struck a crude patch on the Bridge that had vented the original Command Crew, and claimed the second set as well.
When the roll call had finished, the brass bell was struck eight more times, and a moment of silence ensued in memoriam of those no longer there.
"Today," The Lion spoke after the first service was complete, "I am reminded of why I do what I do. There have been hard days, and there will be more hard days to come. There will be times where we will falter, where we will break, where we question ourselves. It is these moments that we look deep into ourselves and to our fellow Man to remind us once more why our duty in the military is called a service; it is we that provide the most precious of commodities in the galaxy;
"The future itself.
"We fight for tomorrow." The Commodore continued as she looked upon those that stood at attention in front of her. "We fight on the hopes that we can make a better one for us all, even at the cost of ourselves. We fight so that we may be free, to give that gift to what matters to us most; the ones we love.
"Aboard the Normandy," Shepard continued on, looking to the military audience in front of her, "I heard a promise given. When we were staring at nearly one hundred enemy vessels, that reminder of a future that I fight for was spoken by my Gunnery Chief who had said to the woman she loved that she would rather mourn what she had than what she didn't do.
"Today, I make good on that promise.
"Lieutenant Vanessa Steele and Ensign Novalee Reid? Post."
From the back of the formation came two women dressed in their Class Whites, moving around the formation starboard to stand in front of the Commodore side-by-side in the position of attention. It was easy to tell that the women were barely contained in their rigid positions, either through excitement or nervousness. Commander Mark Vanderloo stepped beside the Commodore to hand over a datapad, in which the redhead took, looking upon its words.
She commenced with her last act before handing over the Fourth Fleet to Rear Admiral Brian Kahoku.
"Dearly beloved," she began,
"We gather here today in celebration of union between Vanessa Bethany Steele and Novalee Yasmine Reid. Today, they join their lives together in front of Man and God, to avow themselves to one another in matrimony. Let us witness this union, and if any person be in question against this union, let them speak now or forever hold their peace." Not a word was spoken, mostly because there was a SPECTRE glaring at the audience, almost daring them to.
"Do you, Vanessa Bethany Steele, take this woman, Novalee Yasmine Reid, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"
"I do." Lieutenant Steele said, her voice a little on the weak side, but not at all unsure.
"Do you, Novalee Yasmine Reid, take this woman, Vanessa Bethany Steele, to be your lawfully wedded wife? To have and to hold from this day forward, in sickness and in health, for richer or for poorer, for better or for worse, to love and to cherish, until death do you part?"
"I do!" The Ensign was trying to bat away tears while blushing.
"Then by the authority invested in me by the Council of Law, I pronounce you legally married under the vows of matrimony." The Commodore smiled, a smirk growing on her face. "The brides can start kissing." There was a great deal of applause (and more than a few manly whoops in the audience) as the two women sealed the pact with a somewhat-chaste kiss (a few groaned when it ended). Vanessa was laughing as she took her blushing bride in her arms, Novalee both laughing and crying, and everyone in the Cargo Bay of the NCC-1701 Enterprise applauded the union.
Seaman Monica Valerie Negulesco was wiping down one of the Autoclaves in the SSV Normandy's MedBay when Chief Petty Officer Sara Ryder entered into the department, a smile a parsec wide on her face as her blue eyes zeroed in on the young Hospital Corpsman. Monica was somewhat reminded of the incident the day before that had been finalized yesterday. The Normandy had been an acting medical ship for the many injured members of the IVY Fleet, having the most medical stock and the best equipment for the injured. Commander Karin Chakwas had done several emergency surgeries to bring injured Sailors to critical but stable condition while Doc Ryder, a Surgeons' Aide, had done some of the lesser surgeries, a field hospital fabricated right in the Cargo Bay with the help of the Marines and several of the Sailors on the Normandy. Several others had pitched in to help those in need; Sergeant First Class Ashley Williams and Federal Marshal Samantha Collins were doing prelim check-ups and basic vitals for incoming, basic triage for wounded Sailors, while Negulesco, Able Seamans Helen Lowe and Linda Basheer used their more advanced medical knowledge and training to care for those who were wounded but able to return to duty with the aid of splints, sutures, and medications. Even the big scary Turian Sniper, Detective Garrus Vakarian, was helping out, as was the super smart Salarian female, Agent Zevin Raeka, though both professed to knowing little of Human anatomy. Yet they had pitched in, bringing supplies, grabbing equipment, monitoring vitals, and easing the burden of the swamped Normandy medical staff.
But then the incident occurred.
Somewhere in between Commander Chakwas' seventh and eighth surgery, sadly an amputation, Chief Ryder had popped in after pulling a piece of metal from a Sailors' arm and suturing it closed to check up on the field hospital and its staff, doing her rounds. Chief was in her element, keeping calm, a smile always on her face, encouraging words to the Sailors and to her subordinates (and helpers), the Angel of Illyeria proving herself once more her well-known nickname. More than a few Sailors had been awed at the fact that none other than the Angel herself was caring for them. Chief had walked into the pre-fab tent to see Monica giving pills and instructions to a Sailor with cracked ribs, Helen popping a shoulder back into place… and Able Seaman Linda Basheer sitting on a stool in front of a terminal, not at one of the pre-fab beds with a Sailor on it. There had literally been dozens of patients waiting to be seen, and the Hospital Corpsman was not doing her job.
Chief didn't say a word. The unspoken bomb that was about to plummet had everyone go silent as the Petty Officer strode to the unsuspecting woman, grabbed her by the ear, and hauled her out. For five minutes, everyone pretended that they were struck deaf at Chief Ryder literally screaming at Seaman Basheer from inside the elevator, despite the doors being closed. Sergeant Williams had popped over from the Routine side (as the Hospital Corpsmen had the Priority side while the Commander and Chief had the Urgent and Urgent-Surgical side) to check in to see if anyone needed anything, and casually commented Doc could give an Army Drill Sergeant a run for his money. Everyone could hear what Chief Ryder was saying; muted, but word-for-word. Phrases like dereliction of duty and failure to adapt had been said, along with the not-so-magical terms Captain's Mast and recommendation for Court-Marshal.
Atoms colliding were louder than the inside of the field hospital.
Both women had returned to the tent, and Basheer looked as meek as anyone Monica had ever seen in her life. Chief just walked back to the Urgent side and saw the next patient, and absolutely no one said a word as Able Seaman Linda Basheer walked in a daze to a corner of the field hospital and burst into tears. Mostly, no one looked at her, but a few who glanced in her direction looked at her with absolute disgust. Negulesco had seen four times as many Sailors as Basheer had. And not because they were the simple ones, either.
Captain's Mast had indeed happened yesterday. And it had been approved. Dereliction of Duty during a time of war was a Dishonorable Discharge, and the Lion of Elysium had signed off on it. Seaman Brad Switzer, the Ships' Steward, had overheard the dressing down after cleaning up after the Captain's meal with her Officers in the Ward Room. Ship scuttlebutt claimed the Lion had Depth Charge'd the Hospital Corpsman right in her Ready Room in a grand total time of two minutes; an Article 92 of the UCMJ.
Able Seaman Linda Basheer had been shipped out with the injured back to the Arc. She was already gone.
Not that Monica had any real tears for her fellow Corpsman; not at all! Basheer had been a prig and the b-word, full-blown and full-time. She had always been slacking in her duties, doing a half-ass job when she did, and seemed to frump whenever she was told (really, reminded) to do something. Negulesco knew what the Marines called her; PEZ Dispenser, good enough to hand out pills. That was all Linda was aiming to be; mediocre. The Seaman knew what had prompted Chief Ryder to recommend the Court-Marshal; it had been building for weeks. Able Seaman Helen Lowe wanted to be a Nuclear Medicine Technician for her C-rate, and Chief had pulled up the courses and classes through the ENavyU System for her to learn and test herself, the Petty Officer reviewing her work and pointing out where she needed to re-read the material. When Chief had asked 'Nugee' what she thought about for her own personal rate-identifier when first coming aboard the Normandy despite only being an E-2, Monica had blushed and told the Angel why she had joined the Navy.
She wanted to be a Navy Corpsman.
"Nugee? Come take a walk with me." Chief Ryder said as Negulesco looked over to Lowe, who jerked her head towards Chief Ryder with a what are you waiting for? look. It seemed that her fellow HM-8401 was beaming about something as the Seaman followed the rated HM-8404 out of the MedBay, Commander Karin Chakwas giving her a smile as well. What the heck was going on? Monica followed the Chief as they went to the cargo elevator, Sara pressing the access button to activate the doors before gesturing Negulesco in. Monica was nervous; had she done something wrong? The elevator went up from the Gun Deck to the Quarterdeck where the Chief continued on to the CeePo Room, where Non-Coms usually dressed down their subordinates when they did something wrong, or did their bi-annual fitness reports. It was nowhere near the time of the Corpsman to have her bi-annual, and the nervousness went up a good factor as Chief Ryder pressed her hand on the access panel to the Chief Petty Officers' Ward Room, the Seaman noting that a timeblock had been scheduled for Chief Ryder. This is it! I'm fragged! Monica tried not to cry, remembering what happened to Linda. She thought she was doing so well!
"Take a seat, Monica." Chief gestured towards the chair available in front of the CeePo desk with a smile, and her tone was friendly, even casual. That helped a little as Negulesco did as she was asked, still feeling as if there was a kinetic strike about to hit her head. "Seaman? Your Lateral Transfer Orders." The Petty Officer plucked the datapad that was on the desk and handed it to her as Chief Ryder smiled. Lateral Transfer meant Monica was being moved from the MedBay… but where else could she go on the Normandy being a Hospital Corpsman? She looked to the datapad, saw the official letter head as her eyes trailed down the datawork to midway down the electronic page where the meat of the information was.
TO: PO(2) Ryder, S.
FROM: CPT Shepard, J.
RE: SMN Negulesco, M.
As of 09 JUL 2183, per APPROVAL of CPT Shepard, J (CO, NORMANDY), SMN Negulesco, M. (HM-8401) is approved for LATERAL TRANSFER to NORMANDY GROUND OPERATIONS ('TEAM LION') as secondary Naval Corpsman. Pending review and approval by SUPERVISOR (PO(2) Ryder, S.) and OFFICER-IN-CHARGE (CMDR Chakwas, K., MD) conducted no later than 180-day of TRANSFER, approval of proper school training (FLEET MEDICAL TRAINING BATTALION) will commence.
Signed,
Jane Catherine Shepard (NORMANDY, Commanding)
Monica stared at the datapad. Hard.
"I'm… I'm going to be a Navy Corpsman?" Negulesco practically squeaked, her heart beating so fast that she thought it was going to burst. This… this was what she wanted! But to do it for TEAM LION? That was beyond anything she could ever imagine! "C-Chief? I want this, but… I've never served groundside." She wasn't being attached to a Marine unit doing training maneuvers, some range on a chunk of rock in space, or some VBSS mission. This was TEAM LION! Quite possibly the most lethal team in Human history! Many were practically pinnacles of their professions before joining Humanity's First SPECTRE and becoming something even greater! "I've never worked on a non-Human before." That was admitted with a good deal of guilt, Monica knowing where Chief Ryder had gotten her experience; being a Paramedic for the CitEMS.
"Which is why you're going to be the Human Corpsman for the time being." Chief replied with a smile. "I'm glad you're brave enough to admit that you aren't perfect, that you have the mentality to say that you have flaws. That's a good thing, Monica. It's my job to teach you, to train you, to help you grow and one day perhaps take over my job. If I wasn't doing that, I would be the failure, not you. I'll stick to the non-Humans as that would require a few years of extra training, but I'll go over the basics with you; check-ups, combat life-saving techniques, classes on differences and recognition. But for now, I'm going to train you on how to be a better Corpsman; a Navy Corpsman. I got to where I am by joining a team of Marines, pushing myself forward. I'm going to to do a little better by you by giving you the opportunity.
"Want in?"
Monica didn't even bother picking up her jaw that just hit the deck.
I could be working RIGHT next to the LION! The eighteen year old woman thought, her heart skipping a few beats. Captain Jane Shepard was a living legend, though Negulesco never really had an opportunity to see much of her; she was only an E-2, after all. The Butcher, the Angel, and the Lone Wolf, too! The Normandy was filled with heroes, and none so more than its ground forces, known as TEAM LION. Four times they had stood against the Geth, and four times they had stood victorious, in varying numbers. But Monica knew that it hadn't been bloodless; the had lost a Marine and a SPECTRE on Eden Prime, a Marine platoon massacred on Therum, and every soul on the ACV Horizon, as well as another Marine. And then there had been the Battle of LaGrange Point Two (Feros), (as they were calling it), where more than half of Fourth Fleet had been lost, dang near two-thirds of the personnel dead and half of the survivors wounded in some way. She was literally in the middle of a very deadly fray. Now Chief was asking her to take another step forward, to throw her into battle personally, where rounds and explosions would be happening.
Those Sailors on those ships on the Fourth hadn't been any safer in space, Negulesco realized, remembering what Chief Ryder has said to here when they were battened down, waiting to approach Feros while in REDCON TWO. She had complained about being shot in a tin can in space, unable to do anything. Was being out in the open being shot at any better? But she remembered the wounded Sailors, those men and women who had suffered such horrific loses. Ships had gone catastrophic, others crumpling from a fuselage of fire, hulls torn asunder to vent crew as they served the decks and their fellow Man. They had served to the best of their abilities, their contributions known. Their efforts had saved their vessels or others, and all of them had protected a colony from the Geth. The losses were devastating, but their efforts recognized. She thought of Able Seaman Linda Basheer, now being taken to the Arc for a Court-Marshal hearing, the woman having aimed to be mediocre and not even achieving that. Linda had no ambition, no drive. Now, she had no job.
Can I be a hero?
Monica remembered those Sailors in the field hospital in the Cargo Bay, patching them up, healing their injuries and addressing their concerns. They were heroes, but it wasn't as if someone had come by and asked them. They had done their job, and then done more than that when others would have faltered. When the battle was done, Monica had been there for them, and heroes had thanked her, thanked her for taking care of them; showing the same devotion they had. Negulesco had cared for nine dozen patients in a day, never stopping. Despite how sore she was, how tired she was, how much she ached, she knew the Sailors had it worse. So she kept going.
Chief had seen it, had recognized it. Given the opportunity to achieve, Monica had succeeded, and now she was being rewarded with what she wanted.
And with that, Seaman Monica Negulesco gave her answer, making Chief smile as she extended her hand to shake, congratulating her. In a time of war, Humanity needed its heroes.
And heroes needed their Corpsmen.
Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Elaine Ryder escorted Seaman Monica Negulesco from the elevator as they reached the Orlop Deck, walking into the Cargo Bay where most of TEAM LION performed their daily duties and routines. Nugee was following right behind her as Sara walked down the length of the Cargo Bay, waving to Urdnot Wrex as he squat-pressed what appeared to be a two hundred kilogram weight on his shoulders, the big game hunters staying at peak performance as she observed Niki'Raan nar Tombay doing vertical sit-ups from the pull-up bar; her two-toed feet wrapped around the bar as the Pilgrim went reilk-to-toes, completing an one-hundred and eighty degree sit-up. Private Nathaniel 'Ballsack' Balsach and Private First Class Holland 'Lapdance' Hoss were stripped to the waist, practicing MCMAP as Private First Class Louis 'Brassiere' Broussard referee'ed the match. Detective Garrus Vakarian was going over the General Dynamics' M-35 MAKO Armored Personnel Vehicle, running a diagnostic and systems check on the weapon systems with Private First Class Oblong 'the Kenyan' Ubantu, while Chief Warrant Officer-2 Patricia Holloway was going over maintenance over her bird, the Bell Aerospaces' UT-47 Kodiak Utility Transport Vessel, with brevet-Ensign Tali'Zorah nar Reyya, the Quarian now officially holding an Alliance rank due to her actions and heroism aboard the SSV Langemarck, captaining a vessel in a time of war and rescuing stranded crew. Many nodded to Sara as she passed or called out 'Doc' as Monica followed obediently as Sara led her to the aft port side of the Cargo Bay, where the Armory and its Officer-in-Charge was located.
"Doc, see you got yourself a shadow." Sergeant First Class Ashley Madeline Williams said as she smiled, in the middle disassembling an Elkoss Combine M-8 Avenger Assault Rifle. "Is Robin going to need a new look?" Williams' brown eyes darted over to the younger Corpsman before looking back to Sara. Ugh, a Batman reference.
"Did the Army teach you all your bad jokes, or did you come up with that one on your own, Ash?" Ryder quipped, making Army snort as Negulesco looked a little embarrassed at the sight of an E-5 teasing an E-7 and not getting called out on it. Not to mention being on a first name basis; super taboo in the Navy. Nugee would learn.
"Har har har, Navy." Williams rolled her eyes, but smiled all the same. "So, someone's going to need some combat equipment? Let's see what ole Sarge has got for you, Doc." Ash went under a weapons diagnostic table and pulled out a TuffBox that was labeled with its contents, claiming to be from the Arc. "Brought up a few ideas to the Skipper for spare armor for various ideas and locations; couldn't hurt to be prepared. Ordered several sets for everyone for replacement parts and a few scenarios to be on the safe side, and I got this one by accident." The Sergeant undid the PlastiGel toggles and opened up the lid to show the pieces of the armor packed into styrocell foam for protection.
Sara knew what it was; Kassa Fabrications' HyperGuardian Medium Expeditionary Armor.
Based of the Colossus line of armor, HyperGuardian was crafted with survivability in mind. With reforged tempered ceramic plating for better damage protection, duel-battery kinetic shielding, and a personnel monitoring suite to deliver extra power to movement and actions when needed, the HyperGuardian Expeditionary Armor was one of the best top-of-the-line armors in the galaxy, with a price tag to compensate for that claim. Amongst the elite armors in the galaxy made by a major manufacture, it was best noted for its ability to aid its wearers' survivability in most hostile conditions as well as dangerous situations. While not specifically geared for war, a few tweaks and modifications by the SCI/TECH team could easily rectify any issues.
"Is… that to be mine?" Monica gulped a little, looking at armor that was well over seventy kiloCredits in price for a baseline model. Sara doubted the armor had just been 'accidentally' dropped on Ash's lap.
"This will get you through just about the worst anyone can reasonably conceive, and I threw in a few goodies for you too when Doc here told me you got approve for ground missions." Williams seemed a little amused to see Nugee blush. "Hey, kid. Feels good to have a team looking out for you, doesn't it?"
"Y-yes, Sergeant." The Corpsman stammered a little, obviously embarrassed. "But I want to do good!"
"No worries, I'm sure you'll find a thousand ways to pay us back!" Army laughed it off as she went back under the table and pulled out a couple of more boxes, setting them on top of the tables' surfaces. "I had this Medic…" Ash spoke, not looking to either of the Corpsman, just staring ahead. "Shane. He was a Corporal and an Army Medic back in the EPCA. Use to hand us moleskin if it hurt below the waist, ibuprofen if it hurt above the waist, and then tell us to carve the grass out of our vaginas and get back to it." Williams looked over to Sara and Monica, smiling a smile that didn't touch her brown eyes. "Hardest thing he'd ever done before June Sixth was to hand out pills. The day the Geth came? Doc McAllister pulled five wounded from the line of fire, putting himself in danger to rescue Soldiers. Died pulling out the last man, shot too many times… but he only died after Bhatia was pulled behind cover. While… while they all died… Shane went above-and-beyond for his fellow Soldiers, for his brothers and sisters. Never gave in despite the numbers and amount of fire. I'd have been hard-pressed to think of a braver being up until two days ago, when we fought in LaGrange Two. To think that we in the Army use to tease the shit out of the Navy for skulking in black, playing peeping tom on colonies." Ash just slowly shook her head. "Had it all wrong. It's not where you serve or when you serve, but how you serve."
"Amen." Sara replied, in complete agreement. Monica was nodding right next to her. That was something that Linda Basheer just didn't get.
"So I'm going to give you guns. Really good guns." Williams continued, the Lone Wolf looking at 'Doc' Negulesco. "Because the day will come when you need to make a stand over the body of a friend, to pull them back into cover while killing the enemy. I'll give you the means and the tools, but how it's done, Doc? That's on you."
"Aye aye, Sergeant." There was no nervousness in Monica's voice as her hazel eyes looked to the boxes in question. "I haven't shot anything since Boot."
"Thankfully, we have ranges." Sara replied with a smile. "Which Army here will help set up and we'll go over the basic drills with you for our deployment tomorrow."
"T-tomorrow?"
"Geth are in Feros, numbers unknown." The Sergeant informed Negulesco. "A thousand colonists and five hundred Marines are all that stand between the Geth and their objective. Skippers' giving them an eviction notice the size of a tank, and we're going to either kill them all, deny them their prize, or destroy it." Williams opened up the first small TuffBox, and Sara saw that, laying inside the styrocell foam was a Kassa Fabrications' M-6 Carnifax Magnum Pistol.
"Welcome to the Slag, Doc."
FINE: ARC VI: The Battle Of LaGrange Point Two (Feros)
ARC VII: The Siege Of Hadley's Hope
North Storm Wall Defensive Position, Hadley's Hope, Feros, Theseus System, Attican Beta Cluster, July 7, 2183
Lance Corporal Alicia Siegel manned her position alongside her squad leader, Corporal Wanjohi Owusu, both of their Hahne-Keder's M7 Lancer Assault Rifles trained to the north, where the crags and dikes made approaching the colony of Hadley's Hope not only possible, but able to reach within a hundred meters of the location without being spotted. The colony itself, a collection of pre-fabricated buildings and colony starter packages assembled in a cleared area that only needed minor leveling efforts, had been slapped together with the colonists told to make do. Alicia looked behind her over said colony, seeing the twenty-two buildings of various shapes and sizes connected together by skywalks and covered hallways, dominated by the 'main' boulevard that ran in between the buildings that stood either westward or eastward of the road. To her left was the landing pad where shuttles and small ships came and went, either to ferry off goods, bring in equipment and supplies, or bring more luckless bastards to this shithole colony.
The Earth-born Marine Infantryman wasn't impressed in the least.
Hadley's Hope was one of the original colonies first developed when Humanity discovered Feros in 2176, dropping a quick colonial effort into a decent spot that was situated near a series of Rare Earth mines, a gargantuan Prothean complex, and a natural geothermal vent. The environment was barely suitable for Human habitation, so one of the bigger corporation conglomerates, ExoGeni, 'donated' an atmospheric processing plant to cap off the geothermal vent, providing not only power, but the ability to actually breath without the need of a suit or a respirator unit. The effect was only good for about a few or so kilometers before one found themselves gasping for oxygen, but Hadley's Hope was located in the shadow of the processor.
For some reason, the Geth were really interested in either the colony or the processing plant.
"Anything on the motion sensors, Blondie?"
Alicia merely rolled her eyes at her nickname, identifying her most obvious feature; hair the color of wheat. Rear Admiral (Upper Half) Kyle Singer (IV FLEET) had deployed Fourth Fleets entire contingency of Marines to the planet for a couple of obvious reasons. One, to get the Marines off the boats. Two, to protect the colony in case there was a Geth attack. And three, to get the Marines off the boats. Sitting crammed in a Navy ship for weeks or months wasn't fun, and sitting in a defensive posture without the hopes of a little training exercise to break the monotony was boring. There was only so many times one could stand post with a Hahne-Keder M500 Storm Shotgun in ones' hand, looking at EID's and watching Sailors pretend to work before that shotgun began to look a little too friendly. The IVY Fleet had been near completion of their tour of duty when Eden Prime happened the previous month, having almost finished a seven-month voyage that encompassed most of Earth Alliance Space. No one was exactly thrilled with the deployment extension, though the news coming from both Eden Prime and Therum had everyone taking the threat seriously.
Which is why the five hundred man battalion of Systems Alliance Marine Corps decided to boobytrap the shit out of the colony.
"Nada, Corporal." Siegel replied, looking at the dum-dum version of a motion detector. It was basically a light-shift diode sensor that relied on physical detection and not electronic. It also sent any alerts through an actual physical hardwire instead of being sent back through Li-Fi. That meant it couldn't be interfered with or hacked by the Geth. It had been Captain Mark Meer's idea to make as many 'Pre-Tech' concepts where something couldn't be interfered with electronically when Marines turned every piece of real estate outside the storm walls of Hadley's Hope into a fucking candyland of boobytraps, explosives, and other fun-filled devices. Alicia wasn't even sure if anti-personnel mines would work on the Geth, but there were about a thousand or so of them out there ready to blow up based on seismic tremors. The motion sensor detection unit was placed two hundred meters ahead, in a gully where the crags would hide an enemy force on approach. There was no good way to dig in out in the Basalt Flats just north of the colony, with its razor-sharp volcanic glass and brittle sinkholes. They had almost lost Marines trying to explore it when the colonists of Hadley's Hope told them it was retarded.
Only a few hours ago, message had been sent that the Geth were in the Theseus System before they had started shooting the shit out of Fourth Fleet.
For the past two hours or so, shuttles and ships of unknown design and manufacture had been landing north of the colony, perhaps ten or so kilometers out. Hadley's Hope possessed exactly one GARDIAN Infrared Anti-Vessel System, with the inclusion of several UA-571-C 'Zeus' Automated Sentry Turrets that had been welded to aim upward as a poor man's anti-aircraft weapons system. Sadly, the Gateway Terminal of Hadley's Hope was as cheap as cheap could be, and was programmed only to defend the airspace above the colony within a ten klick perimeter. The Geth were landing well outside that envelope, and would be approaching by the ground route.
Right into the loving arms of five hundred Marines. And their explosive candy traps.
"Heya, Corporal Double-Dick? I gotta weird question." Corporal Owusu looked to the Lancie as Lance Corporal Alicia Siegel brought something up that had been nagging her for a few minutes, brushing her exposed blonde hair back over her exposed left ear as she used his nickname; it was based upon confirmed anatomical proportions, quality-related, not quantity. She took a deep breath before asking her question.
"Does the air smell… moldy to you?"
Author's Note: Welcome to beautiful Hadley's Hope! The party's mostly at night! …mostly. Be sure to visit the gift shop for its commemorative eggs!
Welcome to the Siege. Loosely based upon my most popular work, Mass Effect vs. Aliens: The Siege of Hadley's Hope. But now it's on Feros. And this will be centered around the town of Hadley's Hope from Aliens. Last time I was there, I nuked it with a nuclear reactor killcode. Only way to be sure, after all.
I never thought I'd ever say this… but thanks to the game Aliens: Colonial Marines for their maps and details about everyone's favorite bug-infested shithole. I guess it did have a redeeming value. Because I plopped the actual dimensions and whatnot of Hadley's Hope right over Zhu's Hope.
The ode of the Kili being the most lethal vessel in history is to the CV-6 USS Enterprise, the most decorated ship in World War Two (twenty battle stars and one of three surviving Aircraft carriers of its Class, several of its sisters taken down by kamikaze and subs). It was present during Pearl Harbor, crewed and defending Hawaii, and present during Okinawa, the last major engagement of WWII. Many vessels in several Navies (US, UK, AUS, CAN, and I believe both the French and German Navies as well) have borne the name Enterprise, and many vessels in a particular Navy has had a vessel bear this name. It is likely the most decorated vessel name in history, as many of its bearers have gone on to fight in some of the deadliest battles in history in World Wars One and Two, as well as being present during the War of 1812 (both for the English and the US), the Napoleonic Era, and the American Revolution. Nine US vessels have sailed under this name, and another ten in Her Majesty's Navy (for the English), three for the Canadians, and two for the Australians. Many were heroic in battle, several pivotal, and when the creators of the original series of Star Trek wanted the name of a ship, they picked the Enterprise due to its multi-national lineage and importance. As Jean-Luc Picard said of the name; for five hundred years, every ship that has born the name Enterprise became a legend.
The Strategic Tactical Armored Response Section (STARS) was the office Marshal Sam Collins (a Clandestine-level Council Agent) was to run in the Peacemaker Series in the third story known as "The Fury Of Our Makers' Hand". Yes, it corresponds with the acronym of SPECTRE, Special Tactics And Reconnaissance, which was the point. It was to have several SPECTREs (Nihlus, Tela, and Jondum) as well as other elite-level officers (Jane Shepard, Stacy Valentino, Royce Mason, Garrus Vakarian, and Zevin Raeka) as well as OC's never introduced.
Lisana T'lesso is the hotshot ice runner from Voeld who claimed to be the Citadel's best pilot.
Galaxy of War is the Call of Duty/Mass Effect game of the MEU, talked about by that one Salarian GameStop employee. I've brought it up on a couple of occasions in A Fox Amongst The Wolves, but it is a first/third-person shooter that also has space battles.
The idea of the Kili tearing itself apart actually comes from Joker, mentioned during the first game when 'Sovereign just pulled a turn that would have sheered a ship in half'. I know that vessels can do more, but generally in an aquatic environment, resistance is greater and can cause structural damage if, say, a Carrier were to do a full turn at full flank speed.
Yes, I am aware that the original NCC-1701 is, in fact, a Constitution-Class Vessel, but that would have made the USS Constitution the Class leader (in Navy Tradition). Instead, the vessels resemble the NCC-1701-D Galaxy-Class of Star Trek: The Next Generation. It would make sense that, if we did end up exploring the stars, someone might end up designing this very ship as both inspiration and pride, which is why I brought it out instead of making a crossover. I'm trying to imagine Jean-Luc fighting the Geth. Would he talk them to death over Earl Gray Tea?
Molk'n Labe? - When an emissary of the Godking Xerxes met King Leonidas I of Lakedaemon (of the Laconia region of Greece), asking him to lay down his arms and submit (and thus sparing himself and his 300), his response had been, in no uncertain terms, come and take them. This is the English equivalent of the Ancient Greek term, as best as I can translate it, since Modern Greek, it is now Molon Labe. Plutarch wrote of this centuries afterwards, as the Spartans themselves did not have a written history, and the Greek writer/philosopher took to a more romantic view of the Spartans. The only true written testament to what is now known as the Battle of Thermopyle exists in two forms; the Epitaph of Simonides ("Dear traveler, tell Lakedaemon that here we lie dead, obedient to their word" inscription upon the site, since lost to time but having been endlessly written about over the millennium), and of course the account written by Simonides himself (survivors who retreated before the slaughter were told to warn Athens) to the Council of Athens, helping the Athenians evacuate their city and giving testament to the Greek retaliation against the Achaemenid (First Persian) Empire. Simonides was probably one of the first ancient war corespondents, though most of what he had written were accounts of, since he himself was not a soldier.
The Four Ships that I used have their place in history. The HMS Victory, Horatio Nelson's flagship, is the oldest surviving ship in the world (and survives today thanks to a woman). The USS Constitution is the oldest serving ship in the world on active duty and, strangely enough, the only vessel in the US Fleet to have ever sank an enemy warship. The INJ Yamoto was the largest ship in WWII and the pride of the Imperial Japanese Navy. The FMF L'Orient was the largest ship in the Napoleonic Era and the pride of the French Fleet.
Yes, Lieutenant Greg Adams is dead.
Without going and saying it, the Systems Alliance doesn't support same-gender relationships (politics!) But Jannie can break the rules.
I bet you're wondering who Monica Negulesco is. And why I'm throwing her on TEAM LION. You'll see. But she is a Canon character.
Captain's Mast is when one gets in trouble and is sent to receive punishment, usually in the form of non-judicial punishment. The term comes from when Sailors use to get flogged, but now it means getting sent to the Captains' office. UCMJ stands for the Uniformed Code of Military Justice (United States Military) and an Article 92 is the proper Article for Dereliction of Duty.
The transfer paperwork (sorry, datawork) I made to look legitimate to the real thing as best I could in format.
Kassa Fabrications' HyperGuardian Armor -the 'C8' Armor from Mass Effect: Andromeda that adds to health and shielding. I have no idea how armor makes you 'healthier' (last time I checked, I didn't come with a red bar floating in my vision every time I strapped on my Hi-Point IBA) so I incorporated power into movement and action to aid in ease of movement, carrying of burdens, and able to cover a short distance quickly, making one less tired in endeavors (so… that's a close 'healthier'), as well as upgrading the shielding. In Andromeda Canon, the HyperGuardian armor was created by Kassa Fabrications, and is modified from the Colossus line of armor you see in Mass Effects 1 and 3.