"I'd harvest your organs first, but we don't have the time." - Detective Garrus Vakarian,
Alexandria Station, Herschel System, Kepler Verge, May ?, 2179
Four years ago…
Light grew slowly from a central point, fading into view as everything began to expand and sharpen, growing clearer by the moment as Sara Elaine Ryder blinked groggy eyes, finding herself looking upon something metallic and gray, feeling as if she had just woken up from a long, groggy nap. She was laying down, and her body felt oh so heavy. Thinking was slow, and it took her a bit to recognize that she was looking at a ceiling, that she was laying down…
…and she was strapped to a table.
Oh God, what's happening!?, Sara thought as her hands tried to move up but were cuffed to something, holding them on the table and by her side. She tried lifting her head next but that too was confined to the table's cool metal surface, a band of some sort going across her forehead to keep her from moving her head or even to turn it.
"H-hello?" Oh God, oh God, oh God… Sara felt panic flood her veins, her bowels turn into water as she struggled to get up, feeling all of her limps confined. NONONO!, the young Human woman tried to remember what was going on, what was happening, what had happened. It was hard to remember, but she remember going to…
"D-Doctor Saelon?" Sara tried out, her voice stuttering a little from fear and nervousness, unable to move her head, She moved her eyes to see around her as best as she could, and all she could see was some sort of room that looked like a laboratory. "H-Hello? C-can anyone hear me?" Fear and sorrow gripped at her heart with an icy, cold claw as she began to cry, so afraid. Mom… oh God who's going to look out for Mom? Sara took care of her daily, saw to her needs. There was a visiting home care specialist who came in three times a week while Sara and Scott were at school or when Sara was doing her shift for PresGen as a CitEMS Paramedic, but Sara, being an Emergency Medical Technician, took it upon herself to care for her ill mother. Mom's going to die! Sara strained against her binds, cutting into flesh as she struggled and strained to loosen herself without avail, grunting in frustrations. Oh God, none of them know I'm here! Dad, Scottie, Mom… Shayla and Alixa, she didn't tell any of them where she was going or what she was doing! She had lied to them to doing something wrong so she could do something right; to save her mother. Sara began to cry as she realized the very painful truth.
She had been used.
"M-Mom… M-Mom I'm so sorry-y…" The young Human woman wept as it hit her, the realization of it all. God, she had practically sold herself to some slaver or worse, had walked right into his clutches like an idiot. The chance of saving Mom… she had been conned, used, and betrayed. And like hundreds of thousands of others throughout the galaxy, she had left no trace or trail of what she had done or where she was going, not wanting to threaten the possibility of saving her mothers' life by risking exposure to the authorities. Just like Danielle, she was forever going to be a missing person.
Is… is that what happened to you, Dani?, Sara thought, thinking of a young woman three years gone, a woman adopted and brought in by the Ryder family when discovered as a stowaway by none other than Master Chief Petty Officer Stacy Michelle Valentino. Did you walk into something and you were taken? Sara remembered the first day she had met a twelve year old girl with no name and no idea how old she was, wracked with nightmares she couldn't remember and a haunted look upon her face she never explained or described. Her mother and father had taken in the obvious orphan, but it had been Sara and Scott that had truly made her a part of the family, made her feel like she belonged. The twins had been almost nine when the girl with no name had been introduced to them, coming up with a name and a birthday for her, calling her 'sister'. For three and a half years, Danielle Jacqueline Ryder had a family, had a home, had a future. The nightmares had faded away, as had the guarded, haunted look upon her face. Sara, Scott, Dani, and Jannie had been thick as thieves when they were kids until the day Jannie left to join the Systems Alliance Military Academy, and even then kept in touch.
And then one day, Dani disappeared without a trace. They never did find her.
"SOMEBODY HELP ME!" Sara screamed, determining not to do that to her family. Mom and Dad would be absolutely devastated. But Scottie? Oh God, Scottie would be so much worse without his twin sister, forever lost without half of his soul. I'm not going to do that to them, Sara determined as she tugged at the straps that held her down to the table. "SOMEONE GET ME OUT OF HERE!"
And much to her surprise, the face of a Turian male came into her view.
TEAM WHITE, "South Spire", Alexandria Station, Herschel System, Kepler Verge, July 25, 2183
Petty Officer (Second Class) Sara Elaine Ryder held her custom-made M-37 Falcon Duel-Purpose Objective Weapon tightly in her hands, staring down a corridor she had hoped to never see again, in a location she had hoped never to visit again. God… here, the Navy Corpsman thought as her eyes flittered through both the visor of her HMWA MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. I Armor as well as the Augmented Reality Overlay displayed by the sensors of the armor, showing details that were being gleaned by her VIOS suite as well as SAM's gentle electronic probing. She was doing her best not to remember last time, but the ghosts of the past haunted her hard as she aimed her M-37 Falcon down the hallway, her heartbeat near triple its normal rate as sweat popped on her forehead despite the environmental conditions inside her armor. Fear had a full grip on her.
"It's okay, kiddo. We're here for you." Federal Marshal Samantha Lynn Collins said through the vox of her own SPECTRE Mk. I Armor, the Level Two Council Agent having taken a position on the opposite side of the hall from her, her hands gripping her HMWSG MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. II Shotgun. "Take it slow and easy. We have your back."
"T-Thanks." Sara replied, meaning it even if the fear didn't leave her. She took a deep breath as she looked upon the doors that were on either side of the corridor, knowing pretty damn well what she would find if she entered any one of them. Their infiltration had gone off without a hitch as herself, Sam Collins, Private First Class Holland 'Lapdance' Hoss, and Niki'Raan nar Tombay secured the corridor and the airlock access that they had breached in time with TEAM RED's entrance. So far, no one had come to investigate the presence of TEAM WHITE. She really didn't want to go into the rooms, to view upon the horrors she had seen once before, but he could be in any one of them. Wrex and his team had already checked one of the labs, confirming what she had feared; the Red Harvest had never stopped. She closed her eyes at the thought.
I wasn't strong enough to stop it before.
But I am now.
"Team? Port-side door." Ryder said through her vox, keeping her voice cool and professional. That little blank spot in her heart that she kept whenever a sapient was injured and needed a professional Paramedic to tell them all was well when they actually weren't was activated as Sara kept her eyes on the door. "Libra, Bootes," those were the callsigns for Lapdance and Niki, "secure corridor while Columbia and I sweep-and-clear." The Marine and the Pilgrim took their positions by the corridor's walls as she and Sam stood to the first door, the both of them taking either side of the closed entrance as Sam switched her shotgun for her Smith and Wesson Model 696 MA Revolver, the Mammothkiller damn near a surgical weapon in the Marshal's hand. Sara flicked her Falcon to her rifle's five-round burst option as she nodded towards the Butcher, indicating for Sam to go first as Collins' helmet nodded, the Marshal elbowing the access panel to open the door and performing a turn-and-breach through the door to begin clearing the room like a professional.
Sara was right on her heels as the Marshal went to the path of least resistance to clear the fatal funnel in front of the door first before turning to one corner to clear that as well as Sara went the opposite direction, using a two-man clearing technique as Sara cleared the near corner while taking a few more steps inside before pivoting to clear the far corner along the wall, and finally scanning across the room to clear the opposite far corner, Sam doing everything she was doing but in the opposite corner so that both women cleared the room quickly and efficiently in a few seconds.
There were people in the room, lying on metal tables with apparatuses attached to them.
"Oh… oh God…" Sam spoke out as her eyes undoubtedly fell upon the closest patient, seeing an Asari strapped to a table, seemingly asleep with several monitors to note her condition. "Are… are they…?"
"Yes." Sara gulped, seeing the closest patient to her, a Human man who was equally asleep. There were several neat surgical scars on his body in various time frames of healing, from old to recent. "They have been put into suspended hibernation for complacency and reduction of necessities." The clinical part of her was doing her best to be detached, to avoid feeling the horror she knew she was looking upon. "Tissue samples are taken from them and attached to species-related stem cells in a packet of pseudo-tissue and injected into their bodies near the site of the organs that are being cloned. The replicated tissue is fed and nurtured by the body as it grows, viable within weeks." Sam was looking at her through her helmet's visor, her blue eyes horrified. "Once the organs reach full maturation, they are surgically removed and attached to a mechanical device to replicate a living body to keep it functional and viable.
"And that's what happens to the healthy ones."
"W-what's the success rate?" The Marshal asked softly as Sara looked to the datapad placed upon the medical tables' inductive charger, noting the patients' current status, readings, and history of the Human man that laid before her.
"For this man… forty percent." Four out of ten organs placed within his body had grown successfully and had been removed expertly. Four… out of ten. Sara looked at the six that hadn't grown properly, feeling her heart shutter at the sight of the listings. The man had a kidney grown right next to his original one, but had turn cancerous and both malformed organ and original were masses of carcinogenic tissue, no longer functioning. He had a malformed gall bladder above his stomach, a colon that was stunted, two malfunctioning pancreases, an a malignant bladder. God… this man will die if I tried to remove him, Sara looked at the patient in question, seeing him asleep. He was older than she was, approximately thirty years of age or so, his face serene and unaware that his body was littered with failed organs and cancer. Without running tests, Ryder assumed that he would likely be dead within a year, his body probably disposed and flushed out of an airlock. Does he have a family that looks for him, that misses him? Sara put the datapad back on the table and found herself smoothing the man's hair back as she looked at his face. Did he come here to save someone or himself, with hope for a future only for it to be so cruelly torn away?
"Saelon isn't here, kiddo." Collins said softly, placing a gentle hand on Sara's shoulder after moving over to do so. "The best thing we can do for them now is to end the threat and bring in the cavalry."
"Yeah, you're right." Ryder replied as she turned away from the patients, remembering when it was she on one of these tables. "Let's clear these rooms quickly and… when we get him, then we can help these people." TEAM WHITE continued on, Sara hearing the update from TEAM BROWN, knowing that Wrex and his team had discovered the same thing that she had but on the opposite end of the station 'north' of their position, another lab that sounded like it was filled with patients much like she had found with Sam. In her heart, Sara knew this wouldn't be the only lab they would find with patients in it.
They weren't looking for patients. They were looking for the monster responsible for them.
The next two rooms that Sara and Sam check were sadly the same sights; a laboratory filled with a dozen or so people of a wide variety of species, mostly the major and minor Citadel races, but there was a member or two of the auxiliary races as well; here a Raloi, there a Thark, and one looked to be a Zen-Whoberis. Each sapient was strapped to a table, induced into a chemical coma, and used to grow organs. The sight was sickening as Sara kept a mental count of how many people she saw and what kind of races. Asari, Turian, Salarian, Human, Batarian, Elcor, Hanar, Quarian… it seemed that Saelon was quite diversified.
The last room was different. It was small and it had only one patient.
Sara entered the laboratory in a room-clearing technique with Sam a step behind her M-37 Falcon up and ready to fire at any hostiles as she found herself in a 'short room'; it was barely four by four meters large. In it was a singular table that wasn't horizontal, parallel to the ground. Instead, it was set up diagonally, the patient facing the door in a half-laying, half-resting position. The patient was a Salarian male based off of the shape of his audio horns, while monitors were attached to the patient to monitor his progress, and straps holding him in place. The difference between the Salarian and the others was that this one was awake.
"Sister." The male croaked as his dark eyes focused on her, Sara standing in her room-clearing position, finding the Salarian alone and restrained as he looked at her. It took Ryder a moment to realize what he had called her and why; she was obviously wearing HMWA MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. I Armor. He had seen the armor, and called her out for what she was or what he assumed her to be.
The Salarian male was a Council Agent.
"Sam!" Sara moved forward to the table, letting the Marshal know that she was about to jump off-script. "I need you and Niki to look over everything that's keeping him here and alive. We're going to evacuate him and anything he needs to keep him breathing immediately." The Marshal nodded as she left the laboratory momentarily to get the Quarian Rifleman. "It's okay, we're going to get you out and stop this, brother. We're going to find that son of a bitch and we're going to set him on fire for what he's done." A set of nicitating membranes blinked as the dark eyes regarded her for a moment as Collins and Raan re-entered the room.
"You're… Human?" The male asked, curious and perplexed. "I apologize. I though you were both Asari." Well, that was actually understandable. Human females and Asari shared a great deal of similar physical traits, and the SPECTRE Armor was generally about the same shape save for the back of their helmets where Humans lacked the crest-tails of Asari likku. To help calm him down, Sara queued up the option and disengaged her helmet, the piece of equipment reverse-telescoping and folding back on itself to retreat back into her neck-gorget at the base of the back of her neck, revealing her Human face to the Salarian male. "I… know you. Recognize you." His voice was weak, unsure, but his eyes studied Ryder's' features. "I didn't know there were Human SPECTREs."
That had Sara look to Sam, Collins' helmeted head looking back at her for a moment while she was looking at the medical equipment along with the Quarian Pilgrim. Collins was a Clandestine-level Council Agent, and not exactly advertised. Even other SPECTREs weren't generally told the identity of Level-Two Council Agents as sometimes they were tasked with following Level-Three Agents for info-nets and sometimes even internal affair ops. That this Salarian didn't know of Sam wasn't unusual. But he didn't seem to know that Sara was a SPECTRE's Second, which was at least all over Human media and should have been fairly known throughout the Office of Special Tactics. But not knowing of the Lion of Elysium being selected as Humanity's First SPECTRE? That was plastered all over the Cit, seen both in positive and negative lights. The male wasn't even aware of Auntie being a Level-Three Agent.
"Oh… oh shit." Sara realized why. When Garrus and she had escaped Alexandria Station before, Detective Vakarian had put the location and the sentient responsible for it for the Office of Special Tactics to deal with… four years ago. They had both wondered why it hadn't been dealt with yet when Garrus had finally pinpointed the location of the station… still in the same damn system, though it had been moved further away from Hershel. Black sites were notoriously hard to find, and moving it a few AU was effective in keeping a black site hidden. It had infuriated Sara before that it hadn't been shut down when they had practically handed to location on a silver platter to the Office of Special Tactics, still active after four years, that no SPECTRE had dealt with it.
No, she was looking at the Council Agent who had.
"Brother… it's Council Year 2749." Sara said, sliding her hand into the Salarian's to hold as she stood by his side, by the table that restrained him. She couldn't risk moving him without knowing what he was connected to and what he needed to keep him alive. "I'm Sara Ryder, the Angel of Illyeria and SPECTRE's Second to Agent Jane Shepard, the Lion of Elysium and Humanity's First SPECTRE. Myself and Detective Garrus Vakarian were the ones that escaped this facility and sent the request to the Office of Special Tactics f-four years ago." Oh God… had he been here this whole time? "Were you the one that responded?" A fat lazy tear came out of her eye as Sara looked into those dark eyes, seeing the Salarian just looking at her, shocked and reeling. Sara placed a gentle hand on his forehead, trying her best to comfort him.
"Y-yes."
Oh God… four years, four years in the hands of a monster.
"I'm getting you out right-the-fuck-now." Ryder said, her tone as hard as diamonds, that old rage and pain building up inside of her. "I'm a former CitEMS Paramedic and a Systems Alliance Navy Corpsman. We're going to assess what we need to evacuate you, and I'm pulling you off of this shithole and onto our vessel for medical intervention. While I do that, the Lion of Elysium and her team are going to hunt that fucking cocksucker down and make sure his sub-atomic particles don't make it." Sara gulped at the thought of not being there to help, not to see the corpse of Doctor Ingree Saelon, but this…
…no, this Salarian was more important. The patients more important.
"It's a hard role, that of a Barber-Surgeon," Barber-Surgeon Alixa Trevalis once told Emergency Medical Technician Sara Ryder, a fifteen-year old Human woman learning under the tutelage of a Turian female who was a former Blackwatch Frontline Barber-Surgeon and Relay 314 Veteran. "You might want to fight, you might want to run, you might want to get involved with whatever disaster is happening right then and there. But you are a healer, little Sara; it is your duty to save lives, to be there when sentients and citizens need you in their most desperate times. Let the likes of C-SEC and the military take care of the threats and the sire-vracking sons of goats who sully our spaces with their greed and their lies. We fight the ultimate enemy.
"We fight Death itself without fear."
"Sam? Niki?" Sara looked up from the Salarian to her teammates.
"I… I think he's going to need everything." Niki'Raan said, looking at the pieces of medical equipment attached to the Council Agent. "I certainly don't want to chance unplugging something that doesn't seem apparent but is vital. I have enough Universal Power Cells to connect everything as a portable power source and we can certainly MetalGel everything to the table and roll it down the corridor and to the extraction point. It's sloppy, but it can be done in a few breaths."
"Okay, start getting it done, Sha'me. Sam? You and Lapdance need to protect our backs while I move our brother out of here." The both of their helmeted head nodded as one as they both went to work, Niki pulling out spare UPC's while Sam queued up her HMOT MasterGear SPECTRE Mk. I OmniTool to selected the Crafting App to use her reserves of MetalGel to adhere the equipment to the (thankfully) mobile table. Had the Salarian been tortured? Sara saw the datapad that was congruent with the table, and picked it up, reading the contents after activating it. She saw the name, and realize she knew this Council Agent! He was a celebrated SPECTRE!
Sur'kesh M'kael Bea'ttie Wi'lam Salyer Mordin Solus.
Sara's eyes flittered through the notes, and saw the dictation of what appeared to be torture, both physical and medical. Like the other patients, Solus had been used as a biological incubator for cloned organ growth. Unlike the others, none of his had been viable on purpose. That bastard had put faulty genetic material into the Council Agent to make him suffer. Oh God, you poor, poor man, Sara thought as she sniffled, placing the datapad back onto the table to take with them; she would need it. More than a dozen shitty organs were in his body, wrecking havoc inside of him, and many of his natural organs were suffering for it. Niki was completely correct; Solus would die without the machines. He might likely die regardless.
"Niki? I'm going to need that machine right there." Sara pointed at a scientifically-oriented station that didn't have wheels. She knew what this small lab was for now; she had once been a visitor. "Craft wheels for it and we're taking it with us. It doesn't need to be hooked up or anything, but Mordin Solus here is going to need it so he can live as long a life as possible."
"It's… a cloning machine, isn't it?" The Quarian asked, her voice soft and slow, knowing exactly what Sara was asking; to break Council Law, to commit a Level Three Infraction. Ryder didn't actually have the authority.
"He has over a dozen faulty organs in him, several tumors and malignant growths, and his natural organs are being destroyed." The SPECTRE's Second replied, looking at Raan's blue-tinted visor. "That monster tortured him by putting shitty genetic material in him and kept him alive for four years to make him suffer. I will not let the Void have this one, and I will not let Saelon win. This one is mine, and I say he lives. And I'll do whatever it takes to make that happen." That feeling that a sixteen-year old Sara Ryder once felt at the thought of saving her mother came back to her, the thought of defying the odds no matter what. Niki'Raan and Sam Collins' helmeted heads just turned to look at each other for the briefest of moments before they both nodded to each other and went to work, the decision made. Mom, I'm going to make the right choice, and I know you would approve, the Angel thought to herself, her eyes wet with tears.
Death's going home empty-handed and disappointed today, cursing my very existence. He WILL NOT have this one.
"His name… isn't Saelon." Mordin Solus said, Sara's attention returning to the brother strapped on the table. "May the Wheel forgive me for my failure, but you must know. You must ensure he isn't to survive."
"That's what we're here to do." Sara replied, watching the Salarian's vital signs spiking. The stress and abuse had him fragile, and his abused body was spiraling out of control. He was slipping away, holding on by sheer willpower and whatever he needed to express.
"No, listen!" the Level-Three Council Agent said, almost pleading. "He isn't Saelon.
"His name… is Harte."
[RED-1, WHITE-1! Requesting a MEDEVAC Emergency!]
Shepard felt her heart jump up right in her throat. The order had been to leave any patients they found alive but behind; like the ACV Horizon, they didn't have the means or the capability to deal with a number of casualties, especially of the surgical kind. Sara knew this, so thus likely the call was for one of her team members…
…or perhaps she found something that went above-and-beyond the normal patient. She hadn't called in a Troops-In-Contact identifier, so likely she had found something.
"Send it, WHITE-1." Jannie braced herself for the unexpected.
[RED-1, located lab with single patient. Male, Salarian, approximately thirty years of age], Sara's voice indicated that she was likely working; slightly excited, but focused and distracted at the same time. [Identity confirmed by WHITE-Columbia and myself,] WHITE-Columbia was Marshal Samantha Collins, [and… oh God, he's been here for years…]
[…it's a Level-Three SPECTRE, RED-1. It's the one that answered our call]
That had a very cold comet of ice grow in Jannie's guts as she realized what Sara meant by that.
Garrus had put this place and Saelon on the SPECTRE Hit List, the N7 thought, knowing that the Special Crimes Unit Detective had turned over the perpetrator for a SPECTRE to capture/kill… four years ago. Jannie, Garrus, and Sara had wondered why it hadn't been stopped, and Sam had looked up the possibility, but found no details nor the request. It had been because the request had been taken up by a SPECTRE.
But the mission hadn't been completed; the SPECTRE was still in the station.
That Agent is going through what Sara went through, Shepard realized as hot, hot anger seeped into her veins and vision, trying to imagine what four years in the grips of that fucking monster would be like. Sara had only suffered days, and it had hurt her badly. Years? Garrus had sent a request to stop the Red Harvest… and they had in fact sent someone.
"Who is it, WHITE-1?"
There was a pause.
[It's the Doomslayer]
"No fucking way…" Ash breathed out, her helmet's vox not able to disguise the surprise in her voice. Jannie was just as shocked as she saw Doctor Liara T'soni look at her with wide eyes of amazement and shock. The Office of Special Tactics hadn't just sent some SPECTRE.
They had sent one of the best; they had sent the Doomslayer himself.
Everyone in the galaxy knew the story from what occurred about a decade prior. Jannie had been in the Systems Alliance Military Academy when the whole fiasco became known, and the redhead remembered how amazed she had been at the thought an acts of a singular individual who had saved both the Chamber of Governance and the Council of Law single-handedly from a biological device delivered by a group of Batarian extremists. The fact that he saved them (and how he had done it) alone put his name amongst the stars as quite possibly one of the toughest beings in the galaxy. But his retaliatory strike against the Fist of the Pillars terrorist organization had been of a level of brutality that frightened the shit of just about anyone with working braincells, having somehow captured a living Thresher Maw and dropping what was considered the most dangerous living organism in the galaxy right onto their main compound. The various news organizations throughout the galaxy hadn't been subtle about the details or aftermath of that particular strike as people realized in awe (and horror) one of the most diabolical sapients in the galaxy, edified as a hero of Citadel Space.
The galaxy knew him as the Doomslayer.
His real name was Sur'kesh M'kael Bea'ttie Wi'lam Salyer Mordin Solus.
"Approved." The Level-Three Council Agent replied, knowing that Sara was right; they had to extract Mordin Solus and give him whatever medical intervention they could provide. This wasn't some normal sapient or even some elected official, influential being, or socialite. Mordin Solus was literally considered one of the smartest, deadliest, most celebrated sapients breathing, and leaving him in place would no doubt bring sanctions and ramifications to the Systems Alliance and to her own mission of stopping Saren and the Geth. Rescuing him would endear her to a damn good many people, not to mention to a vast majority of the Salarian people who saw Solus in the same like that Humanity saw her in; an absolute hero and paragon of their species. Not to mention the weight that Mordin Solus's opinion carried. Helping him could get others to help the Normandy's mission as well as the Systems Alliance. "Nautilus-11," Shepard used the codeword for the SSV Normandy, "this is RED-1, prep for Urgent Surgical MEDEVAC from WHITE-1's position. Level Three Salarian male Council Agent in need of immediate medical and surgical intervention." Jannie winced at the thought that the call would mean that Sara would also have to leave Alexandria Station as well; Commander Karin Chakwas only had the most basic of knowledge on Salarian physiology, and the surgeon generally bowed to Sara's much more in-depth knowledge and experience on Sur'keshians. If Solus needed surgery, it would likely be at the hands of an Academy-educated, CitEMS-trained Navy Corpsman with a surgeon as an assistant. "Whatever he needs, he gets." God, Jannie was not looking forward to that particular call to the Council, though they would no doubt be thrilled that Solus was located and in good hands. She didn't even know he had been missing.
[This is Nautilus-11, understood. Valkyrie reports ETA to site in three mikes], came the voice of Commander Mark Vanderloo, calm but ready.
"WHITE-Columbia," the N7 directed her orders to Sam, "defend and extract patient to Valkyrie, and then Canus Majoris. And be fucking careful."
[Understood, RED-1] Marshal Collins replied, knowing that TEAM WHITE would be down to three people. It was the right call to make, but that still meant that someone was going to have to do without. Jannie saw a private request call come up from Sam pop up on her ARO HUD, and she accepted it. {Red? This is Columbia.}
"Go ahead."
{I've never seen shit like this, and I've stomped on slavers and chopshop Docs before.} Collins said quietly, despite the private chat mode. {I honestly don't know if Solus's going to make it. He's an absolute fucking mess in ways that make me want to regurgitate, and Sara's pulling cloning equipment out of medical necessity. Most of his original organs are down, he's being kept alive through machines, and his body…,} the Marshal stopped her words, and Jannie was pretty sure she heard Sam gag a little, {God, this is sickening. He's got multiple tumors and growths inside of him…, that asshole tortured him by putting shit organs in him to grow and half of them are malignant}
"Sam, hold onto it." Jannie said softly, knowing the Marshal had been hit hard over the past month and a half with the loss of her husband and her last friend from before. Likely in some ways she had likely never truly recovered from the horrors and losses of Torfan, gaging on some of the things she said about her prior team. Jannie knew that pain well, having lost members of her own N-Team in the past. "Both Sara and Karin are damn good at what they do, and likely we're going to keep him alive and in comfort while calling up for an expert team. Focus on the monster who did this to him, and make sure that asshole get sent out the airlock headfirst."
{Yeah, no issues there.} Sam replied softly. {Fuck, how did they survive this?} Jannie knew what Collins was asking.
[RED-1, BLUE-1, this is WHITE-1,] Sara's voice came back, sounding pretty stressed and as if she were pushing something. Her words were going out on everyone's SquadComm. [Be advised, Doomslayer just told me the real identity of Doctor Saelon. He's passed out, so I can't get any confirmation or evidence, but if he's right…] there was a pause, the transmission still going on. This was the Sara that Jannie knew well; the determination, the effort, the will, the one who would tell death to fuck off. [Whatever seriousness we had about hunting Saelon? Triple it. He must not leave this station alive, and we need to thoroughly scrub this locations from crows' nest to Orlop Deck to make sure. We need to scan everyone genetically, and everything genetically. He's a cloner, and it's a very real possibility that he does in fact exist in multiple locations at once]
"Fuck. That's entertaining." Ash grumped, obviously getting the point Sara was trying to make; Saelon might have cloned himself, perhaps even more than once, to escape prosecution.
[It's Tuvoc Harte. Dear God, he's still alive and he's here on this station]
"Oh Goddess…" Liara murmured through her vox, her voice very frightened. "T-that cannot be possible!" Jannie frowned as she looked over to Ash, who merely looked at her through her helmeted visor and shrugged her armored shoulders. Neither one of them recognized the name.
[WHITE-1, this is BLUE-1, is there any evidence or suggestion that he could be incorrect?] Came the voice of Detective Garrus Vakarian, his flanged voice filled with steely determination, even over the communication. Whoever this 'Harte' was, even Vakarian recognized the name.
[This s'kak is right up his alley], Sara replied, still sounding as if she were pushing something, obviously physically escorting whatever apparatus a Level Three Council Agent was connected on. Chances were, Ryder hadn't disconnected anything to increase the chances of survival. [It involves cloning, a black site, and a great deal of blackspace networking. That's practically right at the very door step. We don't even know if these patients are the original patients! For all we know… God, they could have been cloned and the normal people living their lives and these are biological replicants that have been turned into incubators so no one would ever have to look for a missing person]
"Um, what are we talking about here?" Williams asked, still holding her position, but sounding confused. "And who's this Harte guy?"
"He is a monster of the worst kind." Doctor T'soni replied, her helmeted head looking to the colonial Soldier, her tone… of frightened awe. "Over two centuries ago, he was an Attican Warlord who created a clone army of Turians and Krogan to commit atrocities upon planets for conquest and dominance, to rule over the Traverse. He cloned fighters for himself while having business magnets, warlords, and dark lords of the Attican and Terminus come to him to the possibility of organic immortality. They were dark times in which the Council called upon the full wrath of the Hierarchy Navy, the Republican Navy, the Office of Special Tactics, as well as others." The Asari was strangely… nostalgic about that description. "The Matriarch… no, my mother was a veteran of that horrific time, bringing Biotics and blade to the enemy in the defense of the galaxy. It was known as the Clone War in which Turians, Asari, Krogan, Salarians, and Batarians combined their fleets to destroy a Warlord and his armies of several million, cratering planets and glassing cloning sites, even going so far as to sterilize three worlds in which massive reproduction centers were locate to grow and harvest his troops. Harte was known to have been killed no less than six times, but there were always some… replicant of him to continue on until the mass of Citadel Forces struck at every site at once to decimate every possible avenue of escape or additional site he might cure another body from. I… listened to those stories with relish when I was but a Youngling." Jannie thought of the stories she heard of her own father, taught to her by her Poppa Bear. She had eaten those up as well, learning of the hero that Lieutenant Commander John Michal Shepard was. Once, Matriarch Benezia T'soni was a warrior. She filed that one away for later. "I believe Wrex might actually be a veteran of that conflict. He would have been alive for it, and I believe he has suggested one or two things that made me think of the Clone War, sounding similar to what the Matriarch said to me."
[RED-1, this is BROWN-1], Wrex's voice came over the SquadComm, silent but with the weight of lethality behind it. [This has all the trappings. Even suggesting this is Tuvoc Harte is good enough for most anyone to decimate everything in sight with little backtalk. Hunt the kruuv down, blast him to pieces, and do a gene-match test afterwards. Thought this clochea dead and done with] There was a bit of a sinister glee in the Krogans' voice, and Shepard didn't doubt that Wrex was looking forward to adding a notch to his gun or whatever Krogan did when they found something worthy to kill. [I know what to look for, and what to smell for. Permission to hunt down this vnarksucker and eradicate him yesterday]
"Granted." That many Academy Alumni and their oldest warrior telling her the same thing had the redhead's mind made. She already wanted to see Saelon dead for his crimes against Sara (and yes, Garrus, too). And from what her teams were finding in the lab, that was just more justification to see this fuckers' skull split open with a shotgun round. But if this guy was even a quarter of the threat that Liara was suggesting, Jannie could very well be doing the entire galaxy a huge favor.
[RED-1, this is Valkyrie], came the voice of Chief Warrant Officer-2 Patricia Holloway from the UT-47 Kodiak "Rey Kenobi", [ETA to South Spire Access Door is 3-0 seconds. Will we need a deployment umbilical?]
"Affirmative." No doubt that Solus was probably wearing a smock or God knew what else, and probably unable to wear any kind of pressure suit. A deployment umbilical was a simple means for boarding from one pressurized location to another without walking in space or doing an EVA… or when someone didn't have a suit and the means of getting one or wear one wasn't possible. Shepard was really liking the though of a loss of numbers, but in this Sara was correct. VIP's always got special treatment because no one wanted a political backlash at the thought of someone important dying while common men and women suffered, sadly. It was, after all, why Ryder ended up being known as the Angel of Illyeria. "Ash, how long has it been since those droidekas came knocking?"
"Just over ten minutes, Skipper." The Colonial Soldier replied, knowing that an NCO's job was to keep their attention and focus on the immediate surroundings and team while a Commissioned Officer ran things on a larger scope, keeping an eye on such details. "No reinforcements. Not a good sign."
"No." Jannie agreed. Whoever ran this station knew there was at least one actionable force in their midst, and had sent a small unit to investigate and disperse. They had to know that the droids were destroyed, the security system no doubt logging in the loss. So why hadn't they sent in more, yet? Any organic force had plenty of time to armor up and come in. Ten minutes was a long time for a security team to action in on breaching invaders. "Team? Prepare to assault forward into the station proper. With the shuttles down, no one's escaping through this route, but we need to buy the other teams the time and the distraction they need to close the noose on this fucker.
"Bra? Knock on the hanger door, low impact shot."
And the General Dynamics' M-35 MAKO Armored Personnel Vehicle's main cannon fired, blasting the doors open permanently.
Alexandria Station, Herschel System, Kepler Verge, May 14, 2179
Four years ago…
Detective Garrus Vakarian undid the straps and restraints that held Sara Elaine Ryder down to the table, the Special Crimes Detective and Sniper of the Rapid Response Unit unbinding the young female Human hatchling from her confinement as the female Human hatchling looked at him, surprise and shock in her face as he undid her straps.
"D-Detective Vakarian?" The little Human asked, her voice just as shocked as he soft plates of her face indicated, her single-toned voice lacking that harmonizing tone that indicated real emotions, though her flat voice was well enough to indicate that she was shocked to see him. "W-what are you doing here?"
"Returning the favor, little one." A month prior, Garrus had been on a Special Crimes investigation involving a black market network of illegally-cloned organs that had a Volus fencing both the organs in question and the money, laundering the services through a series of off-Cit accounts and shell businesses to muddy any possible investigation. For a regular investigator, that might have worked. For an Academy Alumni who specialized in white-collar, green-collar, and black-collar crime? It didn't even phase him as he encountered the Volus in question, one Pitne For. Vakarian had gone to one of the front businesses that the Volus had been currently inhabiting with the intent to arrest the little gasbag and show the little Irunian just how persuasive he could be in an interrogation. Unfortunately, the Pitne-Clan Volus hadn't been stupid or cheap when it had come to personal security, and had hired members of the Blood Pack Mercenary Company, five very fine specimens to remind everyone why vracking with a Krogan was generally not recommended, and having five even more challenging. Yet he was Garrus vracking Vakarian, and he wasn't going to let the sight of five heavily-armed illegal Krogan going to stop him when he went to pick up the little gasbag for his crimes.
A firefight had ensued that had five dead Krogan, but Garrus resembling a range target, too; he had been shot up pretty damn good. Vakarian had signaled for back-up a minute or two prior, but none had showed up yet. Now he was signaling for medical intervention as he coughed out blood and watched as he bled from half-a-dozen gunshot wounds, one looking to be in an artery. He was bleeding to death.
And of all the things that could have come in his moment of need, it had been an off-the-clock Human Paramedic too young to be carrying a Barber-Surgeons' duty, having heard the gunfire and ran towards the incident instead of away.
That was when he met Humanity's Firstborn on the Citadel, Sara Elaine Ryder.
There he was, bleeding his life away when this too-young female Human hatchling in a CitEMS uniform and what looked to be a Barber-Surgeons' field kit (he later learned it to be a Systems Alliance Navy Corpsman Aid Bag) came to his aid without call or question, taking a knee by his soon-to-be corpse, opening up her kit and started getting to work. She pinched his cut artery with a pair of Human-oriented hemostats, plugged his wounds with fluid-expanding cloth she called Curlex, and even administered plasma volumizing fluids to keep his blood pressure and heart rate up before a Skybulance showed up seven minutes later, flying in as if the Spirit-Eater Himself was after it. Two Asari, two Turians, and a Salarian came to as he breathed through a respirator and had his vitals monitored while little Sara Ryder saved his life, the other CitEMS Barber-Surgeons aiding the Human, but never getting in her way. Garrus ended up with his backplate secured to a contragravity spineboard and set in that Skybulance and rushed to PresGen in a hellacious ride that he'd have a hard time wondering if he had ever had faster or nastier, even in the depths of the First Contact War. Sara was by his side the entire ride, carrying his spineboard into the Presidium General Hospital, getting him admitted into a Sapient Emergency Care Ward for emergency extraction of rounds and surgery. Seven hours later, he was waking up in a Recovery Ward to find a young female Human hatchling asleep in a nearby chair, waking up when he moved about in his recovery nest, putting him at ease as she told him everything that had happened to him.
All details aside, the little Human Barber-Surgeon had saved his life, a veteran of the Relay 314 Incident and a Turian.
Garrus had done his best to return the favor to a member of a species he had no real care or concern for; by politely following her activities and movements like a silent guardian. It certainly didn't help that the 'girl' (as she called herself) had checked up on him during his recovery at home; bringing him food, making sure he was taking his medications, and certainly making sure he wasn't pushing himself too hard or too much until his wounds and plates healed properly. That had gone on for a Cit-week, and Garrus had been… touched by it. Sure, the little hatchling nagged just as good as his mother did, but she spent at least an hour every day making sure that he was recuperating well, and Garrus had found himself looking forward to her visits. So he had returned the favor by watching out for her, learning that she was an Academy student herself (the first Human ever, in fact), a Skybulance 'Emergency Medical Technician' (the Human equivalent of a Barber-Surgeon), the twin sister of the new Captain of the Presidium Toshi Scott 'the Viper' Ryder, and the daughter to the Human Pathfinder (whom Garrus knew all too well) and an ill mother. He owed her a debt he doubted he would ever be able to repay, so he watched over her. Like a silent guardian.
In the previous week, her movements had gotten… erratic.
Garrus helped Sara off the of the medical table, pulling intravenous lines from her arms as the little Human female got up on shaky limbs, her soft-plated skin paler than normal as she immediately began to vomit up some brackish fluids from her gizzard (no, Humans called them stomachs), trying to get herself up but being as weak as a three-day old Hatchling. The Special Crimes Detective aided her as she stood on legs that quaked and shook, the Human moaning as she clutched at her abdomen, walking in a lurching motion as she stood in a hunched fashion. She did not look well at all, but Garrus knew very little but the basics of Sapient Aid for Turians, and less than that for Thessians and Sur'keshians. For Terrans he knew nothing; not their normal breathing rates, their heart rate (and they only had the one!), their blood pressure… he wasn't even sure what organs they were suppose to have or how many! Sara was sick, and he didn't know how to fix it.
"Come on, little one." Garrus said, hoisting the oh-so frail female Hatchling, her weight barely a burden as she wrapped her arms around his cowl, whimpering as her soft plates leaked fluids… sweat, it was called. "I'll carry you to the vessel."
"The… the others." Ryder gasped, passing by other tables with other restrained sapients, all asleep chemically.
"I only have room for one." The Detective replied as he carried her to the the laboratory door, ready to exfill out of this horrifying place that the Spirits dared not go. "We reach the Cit, and we'll call for anything and everything to rescue these people and kill the one responsible. But I don't have the facilities, the care, the knowledge, the equipment, or the capacity to get anyone else out." He looked to her strange round eyes rimmed with blue, seeing the caring singular heart in those strangely spherical eyes. "You saved my life, and I shall save yours in return. Together, we can save these others with my authority and your knowledge. But I cannot care for even you, and you will not be able to care for others if you need to care for yourself. Understand?"
"I-It's triage. I understand." The female replied, her flat voice holding grief and sickness back, but he saw that she did understand. "Garrus?
"Thank you."
And she surprised him with a soft pressing of her soft horizontal mandibles to his cheek plate; it was called a kiss.
TEAM BLUE, "Back Door", Alexandria Station, Herschel System, Kepler Verge, July 25, 2183
Present Day…
Detective Garrus Kaaldor Vakarian stalked through the halls of Alexandria Station with his Rapid Response-issued ERCS M-15 Vindicator Battle Rifle in his talons, the buttstock firm against the cowl of his right shoulder, slightly magnetized to his Rapid Response-issued Armax Arsenal Predator Heavy Armor to keep the recoil down as well as being able to fire it one-pawed if necessary with as little degradation of performance as possible. Behind him was Corporal Jeanette 'Adios' Vasquez toting her Devlon Industries' M-56 Medium Machine Gun with its duel drum-like heat sinks that could either fire in conjunction for maximum time, separately for sustainment fire, or in an overclocked mode for increased rate of fire and impact with a hit to the length the weapon could fire. He had seen the M-56 Marshal at work on Feros and admitted that it was a devastating weapon that could quickly put a Krogan to the ground and probably make an enraged Elcor pause. It's weight and bulk were supplemented by a carrying and stabilizing rig that worked in conjunction with the weapon, keeping its recoil to a minimum while helping the gunner keep rounds on target at a maximum effort. Vasquez really was an artist with the weapon, pivoting and using her body in a way that worked well with the weapon, driving rounds into targets without missing or spraying uselessly when a target was already down. She was a smart inclusion to TEAM LION, and Garrus would be hard-pressed to think of a clear support gunner who could triumph over the female Marine in comparison with some of the heavy assault members of the Blackwatch. In his mind, that was certainly saying something. On the opposite side of the three-meter wide corridor was 1st Lieutenant Kaidan Raphael Alenko carrying his Hahne-Keder Diamondback Assault Rifle with Seaman Monica Valerie Negulesco a meter behind him with her Winchester Arms' M-96 Mattock Auto Assault Rifle, the Hospital Corpsman keeping her spacing well enough while pulling rear security for TEAM BLUE.
This was the third corridor they had checked, along with ten lab-like rooms filled with comatose patients. The sight was now being viewed by numbed, mildly horrified nerves.
There was a sound ahead and around a corridor that TEAM BLUE hadn't reached yet, and Garrus held up his left paw in a Turian hand-signal for halt, two talons raised and pressed together while his thumb talon was tucked into the pad of his paw. Everyone halted, knowing what it meant despite it being different than the Human variant (which Garrus knew was simply a raised fist), Doc Nugee facing the rear while himself, 'Adios', and Kaidan faced forward. Garrus pointed to the side of his fringe to indicate that he had heard something, and then pointed in the direction that he had heard the noise. It had sounded like metal-on-metal, and he knew from a previous transmission that TEAM RED had encountered droideka roller mechs, the Salarian-created security VI-driven robots a rather pain in the plates. They were more expensive than most security bots, and the quality showed. One was generally better armored and protected than a standard Hierarchy Soldier, armed with either two light machine guns or assault rifles connected to the arm analogs, and could roll about as fast as a Turian could run. Vakarian looked to Alenko, getting the Human Lieutenant's attention and mimed something rolling on the ground, and the Combat Engineer nodded back, getting the idea as he switched out his Diamondback Assault Rifle for his Milkor SuperSix M-32 Multi-Purpose Munition Launcher, having its six grenades already loaded with shrapnel-firing 'claymore' rounds as no one wanted a explosives-firing weapon on a space station. The round was great for anti-personnel work, fired in a wide spray, and would likely pass right through a droidekas' kinetic barrier and tear at anything not armored or plated. Electronic guards always had that weakness that a simple cut wire or hose could completely disable a limb or a system, even more-so than a sapient.
Garrus queued up his Cipritine Armories' Nordash OmniTool and brought up his program to queue up a datachip with the software for his Spotter Drone as his OmniTool began to craft an AeroGel shell around the chip, OmniGel being spooled inside the creation as a small contragravity plate was adhered to the bottom of the shell for movement purposes along metallic surfaces while an OmniGel lens was crafted, he chip able to control the lens distance and focus while signaling back what it 'saw' to the Augmented Reality Display of his Kuwashii Visor. The Spotter Drone, once created, floated forward as am expendable Reconnaissance Drone as it hovered forward ten meters to the turn in the corridor to spot what was in the next bend.
The AeroGel-created drone was shot to pieces in a few seconds.
Well, that about confirmed what he had assumed.
Garrus quickly selected another App on his OmniTool, looking at his Tech Mine options as he found one that would work quite well on bots, mechs, and droids; the Overload program. Another datachip was loaded into his OmniTool from his spare supply, the program loading onto it as he plucked a spare Universal Power Cell and stuck the chip onto the UPC as the program finished loading. His right mandible quirked into a smirk inside his helmet as he tossed the Tech Mine forward to bounce around the corner, the program about to detonate a electromagnetic handshake between whatever electronic component happened to be within a few meters of it and its one hundred kiloWatt power supply.
The Tech Mine went off with a thunderous clap as peels of arcing electricity flashed around the corner for but a second.
"Go!"
Garrus led the short rush forward with Kaidan keeping to the interior side of the upcoming turn, stopping just short of the port-side corner as Garrus bolted to the opposite wall to take the far-side wall while Vasquez took the middle of the corridor, putting herself in the most amount of danger while being able to engage fully with her M-56 Marshal at the same time. Garrus scanned with his Vindicator and saw four droidekas, having fallen over onto the deck of the station, obviously overloaded and their personal electronics fried. Garrus found his expended UPC and cooked datachip and pocketed in a spare hardcase on his Predator Armor, as was usually his habit. Snipers left as little evidence as possible, after all.
"Man, gracias for not having to smell cooked droid." The Latina Human said, moving forward while aiming her Marshal at the nearest droideka, giving it an experimental kick to see if it were truly decommissioned. It didn't work that way like it did organics, but Garrus did that from time-to-time too, so didn't stop Jean. "What's that thing do to a man in armor?"
"There's a Human term for it. Barbecue?" That had the Marine Gunner chuckling through the vox of her Aegohr Munitions' Kestrel Heavy Armor. "It might not work against yours; both myself and Sara went through everyone's armor to protect against hacking, sabotage, interference, and dampening. Bu that doesn't mean someone hasn't figured out a trick we haven't seen or encountered yet. But our armor is protected thanks to the insulating ablative paint that Doc Ryder got back on the Cit a few weeks back. Expensive, but worth it."
"Yeah, I'd say." Alenko had already switched back to his Diamondback, his M-32 MPML stored on his back. "Wouldn't want to end up well-done."
"RED-1, this is BLUE-1," Garrus began over his SquadComm after selecting the protocol to notify all the Team Leaders, "four droidekas, aft corridor, main deck, ambush style. Scratch four, no casualties. Someone's getting wise to us."
[Then we up the pressure], came the voice of Captain Shepard, assured. [Continue checking and locking rooms. Deny this asshole any secondary retreat location, and eventually will dig him out from whatever desk he's hiding under]
"Understood." It was really the only way to do something like this with so few people, but more sapients didn't necessarily mean a great chance of success. More people meant more mistakes, more avenues for bribery, more moving parts. Thankfully, Alexandria Station wasn't that large, and a full search would only take a couple hours at most with the way they were doing it. Once they found the control center and had Tali take over whatever ran the security, it would be game over for everything inside; one did not hand over station controls to a Quarian unless someone wanted a revolution or severe clochea-kicking. In Zorah's case, she'd probably find the good Doctor and flush him out the airlock electronically.
No… not Saelon.
Harte.
It's that sire-vracking honorless cur, Tuvoc Harte.
Garrus knew that his grandsire had fought in the Clone War as a Hasti fresh from Basic, deployed to fight the genetically-cloned armies of the Traverse Warlord Tuvoc Harte on the planet of Conrang of the Yakawa System of the Caleston Rift. The fighting had lasted something like five years, incurring millions of losses, over a hundred vessels destroyed, three planets practically raised to the mantle, dozens of sites glassed into oblivion, and repercussions felt throughout the galaxy. Garrus remembered listening at his grandsires' knee as a Hatchling, in awe of the stories that came from the scarred and grizzled veteran. His grandsire had worn those scars and deformed plates with absolute pride, having saved the galaxy from a mad sapient who had defiled the very Spirits themselves, creating monstrosities that were once Turians and Krogan, biological horrors that were subliminally-taught and mnemonically-trained on how to fight, thousands created every day and practically programmed like organic droids to wage endless war against the Warlords' enemies. Millions had deployed to the Traverse to stop Harte and his horrific crimes, and Jarter Vakarian had been a part of that effort, a young Turian Hasti soldier putting down monsters for the sake of Spirits and the galaxy, saving worlds and lives from a monster of the stars.
Grandsire, if ever you could look at me, look at me now, Garrus thought as he stalked down the corridor with his Vindicator at the ready and his talon on the trigger.
I'm going to end this bastard once and for all. Forever.
Author's Notes: You really didn't expect this to go just like Garrus' loyalty mission in ME1 did you? Pretty sure I warned you.
Um, Danielle Ryder? Sara has an adopted sister? This idea has literally been in my head and notes since ARC: FALL OF THE HOUSE OF THERUM, but hasn't been seen since I had to work a way to insert it. As Richard Marcinko would say; remember this one kiddies, there will be a test later.
I'm not sure why BioWare thought making a false identity with the name 'Doctor Heart' as feasible (a Salarian with the name of an organ, really?). Instead, I changed it to something that is a synonym but then made 'Harte' a criminal of the worst magnitude; cloner, warlord, invader, occupier, and cloning more troops. Pretty much what happened to the Grand Army of the Republic when the Galactic Empire (ie, Sith) got their hands on them. This really isn't so different from what the Reapers were doing, an idea I had from the Battle Series five years ago (Battle of Khar'shan) was that the Reapers were using Khar'shan as a re-purposing station by abducting indoctrinated people and cloning them extensively to make more Husks/Cannibals/Marauders/others. The Brute was a conglomeration of Krogan, Turian, and cybernetic parts, after all.
I set the beginning of the Council Era (CE, conveniently also Common Era or AD for those who don't like using Anno Domini, or 'Year of our Lord') as 566 years before 0 BCE/CE. Canon places it as 'exactly' 500 years (sigh) but I have the founding of the Council as 566 prior to that date, meaning that 2183 for the Standard Terran Calender (the Gregorian Calender) is 2749. The discovery of the Citadel itself is approximately fifty years before that (Canon isn't too clear), when the Asari and Salarians both landed on the Shalta/Aroch Arm and First Contact occurred later that year (so… 50 PCE, or Prior to Council Era). Could you imagine the calender based on the founding of the UN, NATO, or the Warsaw Pact? It would be… almost 70 UNE! There are, btw… about 4 major calenders on the planet Earth (Gregorian, Muslim/Hijri, Jewish/Talmaic, and Chinese/Dynastic), and over 40 in total (such as the Julian, the Mayan, and the Astronomical calenders).
In MEDEVAC Calls, there is a line that denotes Special Equipment; Respirator, Extractor (airlift gurney), and Penetrator (jungle/canopy breacher). I added a space-oriented one; the pressurized umbilical for vessel transfers, just like you see in airports.
Well… hello, Professor! As is pretty usual for myself and others, I used the name of the voice actor to come up with Mordin Solus' full name. Now in Salarian tradition, each Salarian have a seven-word name; planet, continent, region, state/nation, city, clan, and then name. So Solus was born on Sur'kesh… and the rest is the two voice actors of our favorite Scientist Salarian; Michael Beattie and William Salyers. The "Scientist Salarian" song came about because of Michael Beattie as he was a former stage actor who indeed did Gilbert and Sullivan's classic The Pirates of Penzance in which "The Major-General Song" from ME2 and "The Pirate King" in ME3 were crafted in ode to this musical play that is now…140 years old?
So Mordin Solus is a Council Agent? Keep reading. But I think most can agree that having Mordin as a SPECTRE would be pretty sweet.
Yes, Mordin's superhero SPECTRE name is after the Doom protagonist. Mordin did make a kill with a farming implement. It might have been a chainsaw ;-) [In Canon, it was a pitchfork]