I was the star player on my high school soccer team. There weren't a lot of iuvenilis running around those days. Still aren't, for that matter. There were even a few parents on opposing teams that complained about how I had an unfair advantage. Said that my implants amounted to me being on steroids and it was like I was cheating. The regional authority that manages high school games eventually ruled in favor of me, pointing out that there was no rule barring people possessing innate advantages from participating, and that excluding me based on my iuvenilis status would have been discriminatory.
I've never really understood parents that had that sort of mentality. Or rather, mentality is a bad word. I suppose insecurity is more accurate. They want their kid to succeed, to achieve things. But the moment their kid runs into an obstacle, some sort of adversity or setback, their immediate reaction is to try and jump in and throw around their own weight to clear a path. As if they have no confidence that their kid is good enough to do it themselves, or even if they fail, that they wouldn't learn something important from it. Something as basic as knowing how to pick yourself back up to try again. I never understood it, and frankly I can't even work up any pity for those parents. The kids, sure, since they're being robbed of chances to grow and improve. The parents? They should damn well know better.
There was actually one other iuvenilis in my age bracket back on Earth that played soccer. She was a goalie though, instead of a forward like me. She was also in a different region, so we only ever met up when our teams ended up going head to head during interregional championships. Not once did I ever manage to score on her. It was always someone else on my team, someone that I helped set up the shot for. And frankly? I'm more proud of enabling my teammates to do that than if I had ever managed to do it myself.
Why do I call the game soccer when I didn't actually live in one of the American provinces that uses football for something else? Well, Vancouver is pretty close to one of those provinces, and also because it twerked the European players so much whenever we went to kick their asses at soccer.
-Evangeline Shepard, Mandatory Counseling Log 008
Chapter 7
Vitai lampada tradunt
The tables lowered into the floor and the lights dimmed as the conference room entered lockdown mode and the QEC was activated. The Quantum Entanglement Communicator was a terran development, one that many humans were more than a bit surprised the earlier spacefaring races had not come up with an equivalent of centuries ago, seeing as its underlying principles were, while somewhat esoteric physics, hardly unknown to the wider galaxy. At a basic level, QECs operated under the principle of using entangled particles to facilitate the distribution of randomly generated secure keys.
These keys were then used to encrypt the actual messages, which were transmitted using standard communications buoys. Security was guaranteed by the brevity of the packets each one-use key was responsible for, and the fact that attempting to eavesdrop on the quantum state that served as keys would alter it, alerting the users to such intrusions. While the entire system was supposed to be capable of providing theoretically secure communications between two endpoints, it did nothing to protect eavesdropping at those endpoints, hence the physical security measures one needed to take when using the system.
The projector at the center of the room lit up and Shepard found herself face-to-face, in a manner of speaking, with the Illusive Man once more. As always, the man had a cigarette in his hand and took a deep puff before speaking.
"Congratulations are in order, Colonel," he began. "Your first deployment and you've already found conclusive evidence of Collector involvement with the colony abductions. It seems my faith in your abilities was not misplaced."
"We've one piece of the puzzle," Shepard responded, "but we're far from actually being able to stop the Collectors."
"Agreed," the Illusive Man said. "And in that vein, we've found a potential lead for you to pursue."
The colonel narrowed her eyes. "Oh?"
Another projection appeared, this one of a krogan.
"Warlord Okeer is a krogan extremist as well as a brilliant geneticist. He is however reviled by his own people, for having traded other krogans to the Collectors for examples of their biotechnology."
"Ah," Shepard said. "So he would have some familiarity with Collector tech, and might be able to figure out some way of counteracting them."
"That is the hope," the Illusive Man said, taking another drag of his cigarette. "Convincing him to cooperate will likely take some doing, but I'm sure that's not beyond your ample means."
"We'll see," Shepard said. "So where is he?"
"He's in the Imir System, in the Eagle Nebula. A planet called Korlus."
"Hmm, the garbage scow world."
"An apt enough label. Our intelligence indicates that Okeer is working with the Blue Suns, on a cloning operation. The Blue Suns seem to have taken a page from Saren's playbook and are trying to create their own army of krogans."
"Pretty ambitious for a bunch of mercs," Shepard remarked. "I take it they haven't had much success seeing as I haven't heard a thing about it through regular channels?"
"Growing a clone is a straightforward enough proposition," the Illusive Man said, in a tone that implied some firsthand awareness of the relative difficulty. "Molding the resulting specimen into something that can be employed, or controlled, is another matter entirely, especially for a species as volatile as the krogans."
"Figures." Shepard then pursed her lips. "The quickest way to the Eagle Nebula would be through Council controlled space. Are there going to be any problems taking the Normandy through there?"
"The Normandy's credentials should be sufficient to grant you unimpeded passage," the Illusive Man stated.
"Then how exactly did the quarians of all people cop onto the fact that Cord-Hislop is used as a cover?"
"A rogue agent, and I very much mean the former, exceeded his orders in an intelligence gathering operation on the Migrant Fleet," the Illusive Man admitted. "He was supposed to gain access to the flotilla's communications protocols, but decided to take it upon himself to also try and gain access to the flotilla's internal security protocols. Needless to say, he failed on both counts, and drew the quarians' attention to Cerberus."
Shepard folded her arms as she met the Illusive Man's gaze. "You know, at a certain point, if the number of rogue operatives outnumbers those that actually obey orders, it might be time to rethink your recruiting standards."
"The risks involved in what Cerberus does are often beyond what the average person can manage," the Illusive man responded. "Anyone that is capable of such daring will always carry with them some risk of eventually overextending themselves. By employing them in the first place, Cerberus also assumes the responsibility of cleaning up after them, as we did in this case."
"And as I'm sure you're also prepared to do if I, overstep?"
"That is a given, Colonel. Or did you think us that naïve?"
"No, just making sure the air is clear between us."
The Illusive Man exhaled. "While it is a certainty that there are things I choose not to reveal to you, Colonel, I also have no reason to not be anything but entirely forthright about things that impact your mission. When it comes to stopping the Collectors, and by extension the Reapers, we are entirely on the same page, that I assure you."
"To the extent that your goal is to stop the Collectors, that I can believe," Shepard said. "But let's not pretend that that's where your goals actually end."
The edge of the Illusive Man's lips quirked upward. "I see that I was also correct in surmising you possess a degree of vision, Colonel. I look forward to seeing how wide that vision is."
The projection disappeared, leaving Shepard alone in the room once more. The colonel stared at the empty space for a moment longer before snorting.
"Yeah, I bet you are."
While Arcturus may not have been where the Normandy SR2 had been birthed, the frigate did not look out of place amongst the many other ships docked in the various berths. Perhaps the only major difference was that the particular berth the frigate now rested in was not in the section reserved for formally commissioned naval vessels, and instead was one nominally for commercially flagged ships. Regardless of how dubious it might be to claim that the Normandy was a civilian vessel, the legal fiction did need to be upheld to some degree lest all plausible deniability get thrown out the airlock.
Still, Arcturus Station was very much within the navy's domain, so even being berthed in a nominally civilian section did not preclude being greeted by a naval party upon disembarking, especially when said party had been explicitly requested. As Shepard carried Angie and was trailed by the other children, the team of corpsmen and nurses came to attention.
"Colonel Shepard," the lead officer greeted. "We're here to take the children into custody."
Shepard nodded, but when she tried to put Angie down the girl resolutely refused to let go.
"Angie, we talked about this," Shepard said gently.
The girl shook her head, giving Shepard a pleading look in the process.
"Sorry kiddo, but that look's not going to work this time," Shepard said even as she ruffled the girl's hair. "I have a job to do out there, and that job includes helping keep all of you safe. It's a job that I can't do if you're there with me."
The plaintive look on Angie's face took on a more hurt one, as if asking if Shepard was saying she was in the way. To that Shepard gave a firm nod, even as she gave the girl a squeeze.
"We can't all get what we want, Angie. And we can't stop the hurt all the time. I'm not going to tell you to be strong, or promise you we'll see each other again to convince you to go. You're too smart for that, and you're already plenty strong for what comes next. But that's still not enough to let you follow in my footsteps, Angie. And those footsteps aren't ones you should be following anyway. So, use that strength and those smarts, to do better like I know you can. Okay?"
Despite the clear effort she made to hold back her tears, eventually a few drops leaked from Angie's eyes. Nonetheless, she gave an answer.
"Okay."
The single word came softly, but to Shepard it rang crystal clear.
"So that's what you sound like," the colonel said with a smile. "Now don't go losing that voice again, alright? I'll want to hear it again when I do come back."
There was a certain strain to it, but Angie did manage a smile as she nodded. Having settled things as best as could be done, Shepard rose and faced the nurse.
"Take care of her for me, alright?"
"My word, Colonel. We'll see that all of them are well cared for."
The other woman leaned forward and extended a hand, and after one last look at Shepard, Angie reluctantly released the colonel's and took it. One by one the other children were either picked up or similarly taken hold of and led off. The Normandy crew remained where they were, watching until they disappeared from the concourse.
"Hope they'll be okay," Rupert murmured.
"They will be," Shepard stated. "I've some personal assurances of it."
Whatever the official disapproval that Shepard might be under, her personal network was still such that she could call in various favors and get special attention paid to on various matters. While the imperial government was certainly not stingy in helping children orphaned by pirate or slaver attacks, there was always ways more could be done if additional resources or effort was allocated.
"Do you think you will drop in later to see them?" Miranda asked.
Shepard tilted her head a bit. "We'll have to see. Maybe after the Collector threat is dealt with."
And they survived the experience, went the unstated qualifier.
"I think she'd like that quite a bit," Miranda said. "And you seem to have a ways with children."
To that the colonel snorted. "A bit wasted on me."
To that Miranda said nothing, though the look she gave Shepard had a tinge of genuine sympathy. The colonel however did not notice, as it was gone by the time she turned about to return to the ship.
"Joker, we ready to head out?"
"Just waiting for everyone to get back aboard, ma'am," the pilot responded.
"Best speed to Korlus then," Shepard ordered as they entered the airlock. "I don't want Okeer getting shanked while we're still in transit."
A chuckle sounded from Rupert. "Would that even do anything to a krogan?"
"Might get him mad enough that they have to break out the heavy weapons," Shepard said. "Besides, with how old he is he might keel over from all the pollution in the air."
The bark of laughter from Rupert only elicited an eyeroll from Miranda.
"I doubt the atmosphere will be too much of an impediment to our operation, Colonel," Miranda said dryly. "Or are you expecting the Blue Suns to be especially vulnerable to wit and hot air?"
"Well if the mercs turn out to be less troublesome than Korlus' government, that won't be the first," Shepard said. "I presume we want to get in and out without the planetary government noticing?"
"That would be preferable," said Miranda as they entered the Normandy's main deck. "Korlus is in the Terminus Systems, and its government can be counted on to be uncooperative regarding anything that touches upon Council or imperial interests."
"We could always just bribe them," Shepard said jokingly.
"Perhaps, but I would leave justifying that particular line item to you, Colonel, seeing as you are the ranking command authority for this operation."
The colonel chuckled. "Fair enough. We'll try the silent, subtle approach first. And if that doesn't work, loud is always any option."
A deeply unamused expression was on Shepard's face as she looked down at the tactical projection.
"Well, so much for silent and subtle," she remarked.
"This is, less than ideal," Miranda agreed.
Displayed on the main projector was an overhead view of the Blue Suns compound where Okeer was supposed to be ensconced with his work. That compound was presently up in flames in several locations, with mercs fighting what looked to be a rampaging horde of krogans. About the only good news was that the planetary authorities were either unaware of the raging battle or had elected to leave well enough alone and let the Blue Suns deal with their little problem themselves.
"EDI, any indication that Okeer is still alive down there?" Shepard asked.
"The Blue Suns commander is still actively calling for his head, so it may be presumed that the warlord yet lives," came the AI's response.
"Fair enough," Shepard said. "What sort of anti-air are we looking at?"
"A standard AA battery tied into the base's sensor grid," EDI answered. "Emissions from the grid have however noticeably decreased, indicating that it is operating at minimal readiness. Insertion by the Kodiak should encounter minimal opposition in the air."
The shuttles carried by the Normandy were equipped with the same stealth technology as the frigate herself, but flight in atmosphere created more telltales than in a vacuum. While they did not provide quite a large enough signature for AA batteries to lock onto, they could still provide sufficient warning to the groundside defenders that they could muster a credible response. With the state that this base was in though, that would probably be too much for the mercs to come up with, busy as they were already.
"Alright, we drop in ten," Shepard said. "I still want that AA battery neutralized before we enter its range though. Joker, plot an attack run to cover our approach."
"Aye ma'am."
The ride down in the shuttle was relatively uneventful, some minor turbulence aside. Shepard spent most of it carefully going over the scans the Normandy had taken of the base.
"The mercs are going to notice a shuttle dropping on their heads even with the current Charlie Foxtrot," Shepard noted. "We'll put down here, outside of their immediate perimeter and where the fighting seems the lightest, then cut our way through to what appears to be the main lab."
"And the only things in our way are an army of desperate mercs and bloodthirsty krogans," Jacob said dryly.
"Any idea why the krogans are attacking the mercenaries?" Miranda inquired.
"The Suns probably couldn't control them in the first place," Shepard said as she watched one of the engagements. "Based off these numbers though, they must've been cranking out a lot of clones."
"They must've dropped a pretty penny bankrolling all this," Jacob said. "Where'd a merc company even come up with that sorta money?"
"The Blue Suns are one of the biggest PMCs in the business," Shepard stated. "They're also supposed to be one of the most professional. That they might have the money isn't that surprising, what is surprising is them taking a gamble like this to begin with. The risks seem way out of line for the supposed gain."
"That is certainly a point," Miranda agreed. "Are you suggesting some third party is backing the Suns?"
"At this point it's just idle speculation," Shepard said. "Maybe there's some data we might recover that'll shed more light, but priority is extracting Okeer."
"What happens if he doesn't want to be extracted?" Jacob asked.
The two women looked over at him.
"Hey, it could happen," the former marine said.
"If the carrot of pulling him out of this fire doesn't work," Shepard responded, "we'll just have to try a really big stick."
Distant explosions sounded and a beep indicated what had been hit.
"Looks like the AA battery is out," Shepard said.
"Ma'am, we're coming up on the LZ," Thomas informed them.
"Right on time too," the colonel said with satisfaction.
The others tightened their grip as the shuttle began shuddering harder. The dampeners might have helped with some of the acceleration and deceleration, but they were still coming in hard and fast enough that some bled through.
"Touchdown!"
The doors slid open and the trio dropped out, guns at the ready in case any surprises popped up. The air above was thick with smoke with a slight orange glow from the fires below. Rather incorrigibly however, a voice was booming from some loudspeakers that were somehow still working.
"There is only one measure of success: kill or be killed! Perfection is your goal!" a feminine voice declared.
"What the hell?" Jacob murmured.
"Broadcasting propaganda over loudspeakers?" Miranda remarked. "Charming."
"Seems a bit wasted," Shepard said. "That or someone is in love with their own voice."
The trio moved along the wreckage of ships and other debris. Bangs and crashes echoed in the distance, but thus far the squad encountered no opposition to their progress.
"Being hired is merely the beginning. You must earn your place in the mighty army we are building."
Aside from the intermittent questionable motivational blurbs being played. As they rounded a corner built from some slab of hull, the first contacts came into view.
"Observation post," Jacob noted. "I make three. They don't see us yet."
"No kinetic barriers," Shepard said. "Jacob, can you pull them out of cover?"
"Not all of them," came the response. "Not standing close enough together."
"Alright, grab target designate alpha on my mark. Miranda, detonate with an overload once he's in the open." Shepard swapped out and unfolded her sniper rifle. "Mark."
The sound of the shot easily masked out the grunt of effort from Jacob, though not the blast that came with the exploding biotic energy from Miranda's follow-up. The body spent another moment or so floating limply in the air before dropping atop the other corpse. The surviving merc stumbled back, clearly shaken by the sudden and near simultaneous kills of his squad mates. He was not given much time to recover however as Shepard shifted her aim and squeezed the trigger. The shot did not kill him outright, the merc's armor just barely saving him from getting his chest blown open. It did however leave him crumpled on the ground with a trail of red leaking.
"Weapons hold," Shepard said, switching back to her assault rifle. "Let's see how talkative this guy is."
The others held their fire, but kept weapons trained on the man just in case.
"Shit, shit, shit!" the merc said, popping off his helmet and gasping for air. "I'm gonna-son of a bitch!"
He rolled over, pressing a hand against the wound to try to keep more blood from spilling, then looked up at the approaching squad.
"I knew it wasn't berserkers," he hissed. "Not at range. You're mercs. Or imperials. Well I'm not telling you shit!"
Shepard crouched down, eyebrow raised, not that the merc could see through her opaque visor. "The way I see it, you're bleeding out in the dirt here and we're the only ones with any medigel close enough to help. Or would you prefer we put an end to your bleeding in a more permanent fashion?"
One could easily be forgiven for thinking the merc couldn't look more scared. Shepard did seem to have that effect on people she didn't like.
"Son of a, alright. Fine, fine! But I don't know anything, I'm just a grunt. I shoot at the overflow like I'm told to. The old krogan up there, he's really been cleaning house lately. Jedore hired him to make her an army, but the krogan he creates are insane, so we use them for live ammo training. It's all crap, I don't get paid enough to goddamn bleed out!"
"If you say so," Shepard said as she administered just enough medigel to stem the bleeding. She was not gentle.
"OWW! Goddamn it, are you trying to kill me!?"
"If I were, that'd at least have solved your bleed-out problem before it began," Shepard stated.
The headset crackled as a voice sounded over the merc's radio.
"Outpost 4, what's your status? Did that krogan pack reach your position?"
The man looked up at Shepard nervously, knowing if he tried to answer he was a dead man. But if he didn't answer, that could draw all sorts of unwanted attention this way anyway.
"Tell them the pack's been taken down and that the area's secure," Shepard instructed.
"Uh, outpost 4 here. We managed to bag the bastards. Put up a hell of a fight, but they're down."
"Thank fuck," came the response. "Alright, hang tight until we can figure out how to deal with the rest of this clusterfuck."
The radio went silent.
"There, you see? I'm helping," the merc said.
"Sure," Shepard said dryly. "So this Jedore is the one in charge?"
"Yeah. Crazy bitch. Loves spouting all that bullshit on the speakers, even during the drills. Half the company would shoot them just to get some peace and quiet, but she'd probably flay anyone that tried."
"Sounds like she's real popular," Jacob quipped.
"You have no idea," the merc agreed.
"And that old krogan would be Okeer?" Shepard continued her questioning.
"Uh, yeah. You guys here for him? Well you can have him, he's the reason behind this whole goddamn mess."
The colonel tilted her head. "How."
"What do you mean how? He's the one turning out all these rabid clones!"
"Which you're using as part of life fire drills," Shepard said. "Did that piss Okeer off or something?"
"What? No, I don't think he even cares. He just kept turning out however many clones Jedore asked for. But she couldn't control them, and she's been getting more and more pissed about it. I think they finally had it with each other. One minute I'm in the mess getting chow, the next the alarms are going off about all of the containment barriers being dropped and the berserkers coming through. Bet it was Okeer that did that."
"So where is he now?"
"Beats me. He could be dead for all I know."
Shepard rolled her eyes. "I could beat you, but there wouldn't be much left of you afterwards."
"Whoa, whoa! C'mon! Uh, okay, he's usually holed up on the main lab. It's just past the gauntlet."
"Defenses?"
"Uh, I mean, there was the AA battery, but that blew-wait, that was you guys, wasn't it?"
"Perceptive. Now show some more of that perception with your answers."
"The barriers were supposed to keep the clones at bay, but they're down," the merc said quickly. "We don't have anything else groundside, we're not equipped to be fighting off goddamn commandos."
"Good to know." Shepard straightened. "The bleeding's stopped for now, but you'll probably still want to find a hole to crawl into in case it starts up again." And began walking away.
"Shit, shit," the merc could be heard cursing behind.
"The scare was a nice touch," Miranda complimented.
"I thought so too," Shepard said. "C'mon, let's get to the lab. If things really have gone sideways between this Jedore and Okeer, we can probably leverage that into getting him out of here with us."
The squad hurried along, passing through more of the broken landscape. With the Normandy stealthily maintaining overwatch, Shepard was able to navigate them around most of the firefights spread across the base. Those that they could not evade, they punched straight through with methodical lethality. The fireteams they encountered were relatively well-trained, but that was only in comparison to other mercenary companies and Terminus Systems militaries. Against the likes of Shepard, Miranda, and even Jacob, they were woefully overmatched.
"AHHHHHHHH!"
As one Blue Suns merc demonstrated by screaming for his life while he was sent flying with a biotic pull. The scream was abruptly terminated by the explosion that engulfed him, Shepard having blasted a fragmentation grenade in his face. Literally, given the bloody pulp that used to be a head. The other mercs scrambled for cover, yelling obscenities while trying to call for help. Only the hiss of static answered them however, as Shepard's suit flooded the air with electromagnetic interference.
"Where the fuck's our backup!?" another merc could be heard screaming.
"I got nothing!" came the response. "The radio's dead air!"
"Fuck! Fall back, fall-"
It might not be considered honorable to shoot someone in the back, but honor was for when the shooting stopped. When the bullets were still flying, you took any chance you got lest they ended up inside of you instead of the enemy.
"Blue Suns comms are lighting up," Shepard said in-between bursts of gunfire. "They've figured out that something besides the krogans are hitting their forces."
"What, losing their AA battery didn't clue them in to that already?" Jacob remarked.
"The krogan are your example and your warning! As ferocious as they are, failures are expendable," Jedore's voice boomed over the speakers again.
"They might have, if their commander wasn't wasting so much time spouting drivel," Shepard said.
"Don't suppose you have a way of shutting those speakers off?" Jacob asked. "She's kinda getting on my nerves."
"Suit doesn't output enough power to overload the entire broadcast system," Shepard answered. "But I won't complain about wasted bullets if you decide to shoot the speakers."
One such device was promptly turned into sparking swiss cheese. The two marines glanced over at the shooter.
"What?" Miranda shrugged.
"Keep up the good work, Ms. Lawson," Shepard said with a slight chuckle.
Whatever new awareness the mercs now possessed about Shepard and company's presence did not see any substantial increase in the resistance in their way at least. Indeed as the trio advanced closer to the lab, they caught sight of the first krogan combatant. He was alone, equipped with only a shotgun, a poor weapon indeed for engaging the Blue Suns at the ranges they hid behind. The dead bodies of several other krogan attested to the advantages such range offered, even as others in blue armor marked the proficiency of these berserkers despite the odds.
"Take out the krogan?" Jacob asked.
"Not yet, he's got their attention, so let's make use of that," Shepard said. "Flank left, get closer, and see if we can drag the bastards out from cover."
"Aye ma'am," Jacob said.
The two biotics moved ahead of Shepard, the colonel keeping a wary eye on the krogan to make sure it did not turn around and charge them instead.
"Ready, Colonel!" Jacob called back.
"Hit 'em!"
Again screams sounded as the mercenaries were pulled out from behind their cover, some desperately grabbing on to try and resist the gravitic pull. So distracted however, they were easy prey for Shepard and the others, and seeing as none were even equipped with kinetic barriers, a few good shots were all that was needed to put them down. When the biotic field gave out, a clutter of corpses tumbled over the ramparts onto the ground. That threat dealt with, Shepard looked over at the lone krogan to see what it would do. The hulking berserker spent a moment or two staring at the bodies, and then slowly turned about to face the three humans.
Reflexively, Jacob and Miranda raised their weapons. Shepard however raised a hand, signaling for them to hold fire.
"Steady," she ordered.
The krogan approached, leaning forward so that its head was at chest level with Shepard. The colonel did not flinch or lean away, standing her ground before the lumbering alien. He was wearing fairly rudimentary armor, with a helmet masking his face. The krogan's posture was not one of aggression, but curiosity instead.
"You," he began speaking, "are different. New. You don't smell like this world."
Shepard said nothing, letting the krogan gather his thoughts. He straightened again, now looking down at the woman.
"Seven night cycles, and I have felt only need to kill. But you, something makes me speak."
"He's only a week old?" Miranda murmured in some wonderment.
"They must breed them full-size, ready to fight and kill," Shepard remarked. "That way they don't need to spend time or effort on rearing and training."
"Bred," the krogan spoke again, drawing their attention back, "to kill. No. I kill because my blood and bone tell me to." A rather typical krogan mentality. "But that is not why I was flushed from glass mother."
Glass mother likely referred to the tank he had been grown in. It was rather interesting, in a twisted sort of way, that the krogan remembered his own birth in that manner.
"Survival is what I hear in my head," he continued. "Against the enemy that threatens all my kind. But I failed even before waking. That is what the voice in the water said. That is why I wait here."
There was a certain abstractness to the krogan's words, but they clearly hinted at something far deeper. Indeed the krogan was rather well-spoken for a supposedly uncontrollable berserker.
"You're rather talkative for someone that's only a week old," Shepard said as much.
"There was a scratching sound in my head," the krogan answered the implicit question, showing it was perceptive enough to even pick up on that, "and it became the voice. It taught things I would need: walking, talking, hitting, shooting. Then the voice said I was not perfect and the teaching stopped. And now I am here."
"Here, getting shot at by Jedore's goons?" Jacob remarked.
Shepard flashed a quick glance at the marine, who promptly clamped his mouth shut.
"Jedore," the krogan said. "I know that name. It causes anger." He then tilted his head quizzically, though with the helmet on there was no way to read his expressions. "But also laughter. It is not a name that will be sung when we march." Another beat passed. "I don't know what that means, but I have heard it many times."
Someone obviously did not think too highly of the Blue Suns commander, but considering what they had seen and heard so far Shepard could hardly blame them.
"That voice you heard, was it Okeer?" Shepard asked.
"I heard the voice, but not like now, not with ears. I heard it inside. I called it 'father.' It liked that, but in the end it was disappointed. I am not what it needs me to be."
"Could Okeer be trying to cure the Genophage, using these clones as test subjects for treatments?" Miranda speculated.
"Cure?" the krogan tilted his head. "Cure was never whispered. Survive. Resist. Ignore."
Shepard frowned. Okeer's motives remained opaque with the limited information the clone could provide. What little she could glean however suggested the warlord was a fanatic of sorts, albeit one capable of greater complexity in execution than others of his ilk.
"Did the voice say why it was disappointed?" she asked, seeing if there was anything else they could learn.
"I was not perfect," the krogan answered, sounding almost forlorn.
That was vague enough to be unhelpful but also insightful in its own way into Okeer's mindset. The warlord was clearly obsessed, striving for something that he thought would allow his people to rise again despite the Genophage. While Shepard was not strictly opposed to a krogan resurgence, she was also not foolhardy enough to believe it to be an unconditional good thing. If the krogan were to regain their former standing, it needed to be done under proper leadership instead of bloodthirsty warmongering. Okeer at least did not seem to be in possession of the former, which added yet another reason to secure the warlord.
"Can you show us where the lab is?" Shepard asked the krogan.
"The glass mother," the krogan murmured, then more loudly. "She is up. Past the broken bits, behind many of you fleshy things. I will show you."
The krogan turned around and walked over to a slab of wreckage. With a grunt of effort, he tossed aside a heavy metal plate to create a hole for passage.
"Impressive," Miranda remarked. "And dangerous."
Shepard had some idea of how strong krogans could get, and her sensors could tell her just how much that hunk of metal weighed. This particular krogan was certainly on the higher end of krogan physique, and yet Okeer still considered him imperfect.
"You fleshy things are slow when big things are in your way," the krogan said matter-of-factly.
"From the look of things, there's nothing actually stopping you from running or even fighting your way back into the labs," Shepard said. "Why stay here?"
"I am waiting," the krogan responded. "The voice told me. If they come, I fight. But I will not run, and I will not return."
As Shepard regarded the krogan, she felt a sense of, not pity, almost disappointment. Disappointment at the wasted potential this krogan obviously had, even if he was grown in a tank. He clearly possessed an insightful mind based on how he had answered their questions, and his prowess as a fighter was undeniable. But someone, Okeer, had decided to stunt that potential because he was supposedly not perfect straight out of the tank. That felt so wasteful, so shortsighted. What was to say this krogan could not have become perfect if given a chance?
"The voice may have told you many things," Shepard thus said. "It may have said you weren't perfect. But whether that matters or not is your choice, not his."
With this parting words, Shepard stepped through the gap. The krogan watched as the three fleshy things took their leave, contemplating what he had been heard. Everything he knew had been told to him by the voice. Now another voice spoke different words, different meaning. This new fleshy one had given him the urge to speak. It was also giving him the urge to think.
On the other side of the barrier, the squad hustled towards the lab.
"I trust your rapport with that particular clone won't make you overly hesitant to shoot any others we encounter," Miranda said.
Shepard snorted. "That one wanted to talk, so we talked. If the others want to fight, they've got a fight."
"Good to know, cause I see some up ahead!" Jacob called out.
Not just krogan, the squad was running headlong into a slugfest between a Blue Suns detachment and more of the cloned berserkers. The krogans were making steady progress tearing apart the Blue Suns perimeter, using a combination of sheer numbers and their innate ferocity to overcome the tactical advantages held by the better equipped mercenaries. As Shepard could personally attest to, stopping a blood range fueled krogan charge was not the easiest thing in the world to do. Of course having the krogans charging away from you turned them from a major threat into a handy distraction.
"Code six! Offworld presence!" a Blue Suns merc cried out.
"There's too many for the jamming to get all of them," Shepard said as they traded fire with the mercs.
"Shift fire from the krogan! Hostiles in the compound!"
"They really don't seem to like us," Jacob said.
A distant scream sounded as Shepard cycled her sniper rifle. "Gee, I wonder why."
"We have guests in the compound," Jedore's voice rang out. "If they're not killed immediately, all bonuses will be denied!"
"She's actually broadcasting this live in the middle of a krogan uprising!?" Miranda said incredulously.
"No wonder her troops are doing so shit," Shepard said. "She's too busy mouthing off to actually command them."
"Not like they'd be doing any better from the sounds of it," Jacob added.
The three-way firefight was heating up, as some of the krogans became aware of the new arrivals. Unlike the one they met before, these were fully immersed in their blood rage and knew no distinction between the mercs and Shepard's squad.
"Shift fire to the krogan," Shepard said, giving the exact opposite order that the Blue Suns officer had.
"What about the mercs?" Jacob asked even as he dutifully obeyed.
"On my mark, I'm going to need a barrier large enough to encompass all three of us," Shepard said instead of directly answering. "Think you two can handle it?"
"Easily, Colonel," Miranda assured her.
The seconds ticked by as they continued hosing down the krogans that had veered towards them. Each took a prodigious amount of fire to bring down, and some that should have gone down suddenly found a second wind to rise and charge again. Once they got close enough, Shepard dispensed with the usual shots at the center of mass and went straight for the head. That was arguably made a bit easier by the way krogans were built, but it was still an impressive sight to see bodies topple over with skulls smashed and brains spilling out. Impressive, and just a bit more stomach churning than the usual bloody and gore.
A distant rumbling grew louder and louder, cause some of the combatants to look about in puzzlement. When it grew loud enough to wash out all other sounds on the battlefield, Shepard rolled over to press close to Miranda.
"Mark!"
The biotic threw up a barrier, just as Jacob dove next to the others. The ground trembled, causing Miranda to nearly topple over had Shepard not grabbed onto the other woman to steady her. A whirlwind of sand and dust washed over the barrier, the inside of which was otherwise calm. Nearly a full minute passed before the sandstorm died down enough to see more than a few inches ahead. The smoke lingered though, and through the haze the addition of yet another crater to the landscape could be made out. One that covered the spot right where the Blue Suns contingent had been hunkering down.
"A little more forewarning that you were calling down a kinetic strike would have been appreciated, Colonel," Miranda remarked as she brushed herself off.
"I'll take that under advisement," Shepard said as she surveyed the destruction.
Not only the mercenaries, but the attacking krogans had also been wiped out by the strike. The structural integrity of the rest of the compound did not appear to have been compromised either, and the path was now clear to get to the lab. The cherry on top was the notable absence of a voice blaring over loudspeakers.
"You think that'll get the mercs to back off?" Jacob asked.
"The way Jedore was behaving, she's more inclined to do something overly reckless and stupid," Shepard surmised. "We better make sure we get to Okeer beforehand."
Despite the colonel's concerns, no more mercs appeared to try to impede their path. From the stray radio chatter she could still pick up, it was becoming apparent that whatever Jedore's foul mood and reputation, her subordinates were not eager to call attention to themselves and invite another kinetic strike on their heads. The fact that no one seemed able to determine what was launching those strikes thanks to the Normandy's stealth system only made them even more paranoid.
"Looks like they're trying to fortify inside of the repurposed hull," Shepard said. "Won't be able to hit them from orbit without bringing the entire place down."
"Guess we gotta do it the hard way," Jacob said.
The twists and turns saw the three begin a steady climb upward, leapfrogging from cover to cover. The caution proved wise as gunfire zipped by. Shepard already had her target in her sights and the quick burst shredded the gunman. There were plenty of others however, and at sufficient distance that Miranda and Jacob switched over to their heavy pistols. Leaning out, Shepard's shields flared from the strain of incoming fire, but the colonel took the time to respond in kind before ducking back. Most of the mercs did not possess similar such advantage, and what protection their armor offered was wholly inadequate against Shepard's Saber. Still, for all its stopping power, there was something to be said about having a weapon with a faster rate of fire.
"Jedore does not pay for failure! Do your jobs, I want them dead!"
The speaker broadcasts were back too, louder than ever with the metal walls enclosing the sound.
"She refers to herself in the third person," Shepard said idly amidst the gunfire.
"That woman's not right in the head," Jacob offered his unofficial assessment.
Even being so engaged, Shepard still had the attention to spare to pay attention to the radio intercepts. From them she knew the krogan were pushing hard, that the Blue Suns were getting slowly chewed through thanks to their attention being divided like this, and that Jedore still had some heavy mechs in reserve that she had yet to get desperate enough to employ. Those mechs could prove a problem, especially since Shepard had brought only the one M-920 with her.
The resistance that they were meeting now was already getting heavier. More mercs equipped with kinetic barriers were showing up, along with others armed with rockets and the like. The shields, a combination of Shepard and Miranda's overloads dealt with easily enough. The rockets, anyone with an ounce of field experience would tell you they were best dealt with by keeping them from being fired in the first place. Barring, that, having something really thick between you and the rocket was a very good idea.
"Fucking hell," Jacob said from behind a particularly heavy bulkhead.
"Those look to be fragmentation warheads," Shepard commented. "If they were proper AP, they wouldn't be having so much trouble punching through."
"I'd almost take AP rockets," Jacob said. "Those at least make much smaller booms when they do blow."
With her sensor suite, Shepard did not need to peek around corners to know when the enemy was ducking back into cover. Granted gunfire still greeted her when she leaned out, but a few hits from regular guns was a worthwhile tradeoff for the grenades she tossed in return. Frantic cries could be heard a moment later before getting cut off by another explosion. The rocket soldiers neutralized, Shepard charged out and opened fire on the remaining mercs. Miranda and Jacob were right behind, watching the colonel's flank and tossing out biotics at her beck and call.
"How many more of these guys do the Suns even have?" Jacob groused. "Feels like we've gone through an entire battalion!"
"Two platoons and counting," Shepard gave a more concrete count, which was still a rather lopsided kill ratio considering none of the three had more than a few bumps and bruises. "From the looks of it Jedore can't pull too much else back here without the rest of the perimeter getting overrun by the krogan. She's still not desperate enough to come at us herself, but that'll probably change if we get to Okeer."
"Considering the quality of her command, should we be worried?" Miranda asked.
"Depends on just how many heavy mechs she actually has," was Shepard's response. "Here we are."
The large doors before them was distinct from the others they had encountered in a variety of manners. One was the much heavier armoring and the other the relatively cleaner surface, even if clean was still a stretch too far, outside at least.
"EDI, if you would," Shepard said as she held her omnitool up to a panel.
A few short seconds passed before the door began creaking open.
"I have infiltrated the internal security system," EDI said. "No indications of Blue Suns personnel inside of the lab proper, but I have located Jedore and her retinue."
"Count?" Shepard asked as they walked into the much cleaner interior.
"Aside from Jedore herself, two YMIR mechs and four Blue Suns troopers equipped with kinetic barriers and assault rifles."
"What does Jedore have?"
"She appears to be in possession of a Revenant light machinegun."
"Really?" Shepard drawled.
"Thinking of doing a little trophy hunting, Colonel?" Jacob said.
"You know what they say, pillage, then burn," was the colonel's response.
Miranda on the other hand rolled her eyes but did not verbally chide either of them.
"What about the lab's databanks?" Shepard continued.
"Those systems appear to have been properly air gapped from the security system," EDI answered.
"Well at least they aren't complete idiots," Shepard said. "And Okeer?"
"In the lab behind the door you now stand behind."
"At least we won't have to go far to find him," the colonel said, then glanced at the others. "Weapons hold, even if he takes a shot at us. Objective is to talk him down, and we resort to weapons on my call. Is that clear?"
"Crystal, ma'am?" Jacob assured her.
Miranda likewise gave a hand, her hand still on her gun but keeping it pointed down. Satisfied, Shepard looked ahead and unlocked the door. To Shepard's satisfaction, the hulking krogan that turned about to face them did not draw a weapon. Indeed he seemed more curious than concerned about their presence.
"Dr. Okeer," the colonel greeted, opening up her visor so her face was visible. "I am here because I require your services. And I'm afraid I won't be taking no for an answer."
End of Chapter 7
One can presume that Shepard and her squad are all wearing helmets out in the field. Those are especially helpful when they don't want to get recognized by the opposition. There will be one mission where this is an exception, which will become evident a bit later in the author notes.
In general a lot of the ME2 missions lacked the sort of multi-stage depth that the ME1 missions had. It was very much land, fight through a bunch of enemies, get to mission endpoint, done. And the sheer number of enemies killed, pretty sure the body count at the end is pushing near on an entire battalion or more, and all by basically three people. The ME1 missions, the mainline story ones at least, tended to be broken up a bit more so that there's genuine breaks in the fighting that I could use to insert dialogue, do some plot development, so on. Because of this, I'm going to be more drastically tweaking some of the other recruitment and main plot missions to fulfill my narrative needs. I left Grunt's recruitment mission mostly intact because I didn't have any needs that required its alteration, but I will be tweaking the dialogue with Okeer that's coming up next chapter.
I actually watched a playthrough on youtube of this mission just to refresh my memory of how it went. The person playing was doing a biotic Shepard. While I understand that everyone has their own preferred playstyle, I couldn't help but wince at just how slow the pace of combat felt when all you've got is a heavy pistol as compared to an assault rifle approach that I'm used to. Raw damage output generally trumped any cleverness you might be able to pull with your own biotics in my experience, and since squad mates dish out less damage than you with their primary weapons, giving up your own damage output seemed a poor tradeoff compared to picking squad mates that had the right set of skills for you to do basically the same thing you could have done but require that you give up your own firepower. To that end, I was completely on board with Andromeda when they just got rid of the class limitations of skills and let you mix and match however you wanted, and it's why I've pretty much been ignoring most class considerations for my story as well, at least for Shepard personally.
One of the reviews from last chapter elicited a raised eyebrow from me, more due to tone than content. Presumptions on the part of a reader is nothing new, and there certainly were some presumptions present, one does not use words like 'art' and 'mistake' without implicitly claiming a standard of judgment that should be adhered to, usually their own, though of the fandoms I write in I've seen it more often in Code Geass than Mass Effect. Generally my response to such tones is to metaphorically shrug and point out that subjective perceptions are by default inherently limited to the originating perspective. To be anything more requires the construction of actual arguments to back a position, or to get someone to actually pay you for holding such an opinion. Either way works.
My response to the actual content is to point out that interest in the Lovecraftian mythos is not universal. To me that entire genre comes off as fairly bland writing, the reasons of which are no more relevant or important as the reasons why someone might enjoy them, a matter of personal taste. That being the case, I have no personal reason to want to place any emphasis on any Lovecraftian themes that might have originally been present in the ME franchise. As far as my own personal tastes go, their exclusion does no detriment to the story that I am trying to craft, and that taste is pretty much the singular overriding authority for what I choose to include or exclude in my take on the ME universe. That there are people whom share my tastes is certainly gratifying. That there are those that emphatically don't, I take it as a given will occur, but it ultimately has little impact on what future direction the story will take.
I am in general quite open to critique or questions, within reason of course. In those instances where a reader is honestly expressing a desire for a story that I'm not writing or that I can't write, about all I can really do is explain why such an outcome is never going to happen and leave it to them to choose whether to continue following my works or not. I don't consider anyone to have an obligation to like what I put out, just as I don't feel any obligation to accommodate feedback that doesn't fit with my own personal vision.
So my inbox went a bit ballistic after the latest chapter I uploaded. Which was not a chapter for this story, incidentally. It was a 3000+ word prologue for a Code Geass concept that I needed out of my head so that I could focus on other things. For whatever it's worth, it does feel like the CG community is a mite more active on this site than the ME community. It also feels like there just aren't as many ME writers. Not clear on why that is the case. But anyway, consider this chapter as evidence that I haven't decided to mothball this story or something to work on others. I have way too many dangling stories as it is.
Also as a little bonus, here's a link to the first page of a little comic I'm having put together to show a rather pivotal scene that's coming I don't even know how many chapters back. I'm pretty sure I'll be withholding the other pages until we get there, so it'll be the only one for a bit. Enjoy.
deviantart dot com slash z98 slash art slash Priority-Horizon-1-837499324