HOLOCAUST
CHAPTER SEVEN:
NO MAN LEFT BEHIND
June 3, 2186
1529 hours.
Reception Area, Huerta Memorial Hospital, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard.
Marcus had never really visited Huerta Memorial himself until now, as he hadn't really had a reason to do so; the Normandy's medical facilities were just as good as a hospital's, and the only time he had ever sent someone to the hospital was Jack, and that had been under extreme circumstances.
the reception area of Huerta Memorial was huge; a large rectangular structure with the main entrance at the back, and the entrance to the main medical offices and rooms at the front. There was a medical kiosk at the left of the room, where a large sitting area with two sofas sat, overlooking the Presidium from above through a large, square observation window. The same could be found on the right, but it was more secretive and private, with a large bulkhead seperating people's view from it. Attached to that bulkhead was reception itself; closed off, with three terminals, all manned by three of the hospital's staff.
And because of the war, the hospital was bristling with activity. The reception was packed with many humans and batarians, some with asari or salarian psychologists tending to them, while others had turian nurses seeing to cuts or burns. Others were rushed straight through the doors to triage, their wounds either grevious, or their bodies in need of amputation. Either way, Huerta Memorial was a haven for the dead and dying.
It was the last place he wanted to be, but a friend he cared for deeply was here, and he wanted to see him.
He moved forward, moving towards the reception desk, but just as he moved towards it, he heard a loud grunt, followed by heavy, laboured breathing, that made him stop and turn to the left, facing the sitting area. There, positioned infront of the second sofa, was a man in a dark green, laced with black, jacket and was sparring with himself; fists lashing out every once and a while, letting out grunts of effort as he landed each one. The laboured breaths were heavy, croaky and raspy, attempting to take in as much air as they could.
The man's skin...or should he say, scales, were bright and radioactive green, head crest slightly spiked and prickly. Marcus could only smile as he halted his approach to the desk and instead spun on the spot, heading straight for the man. Suddenly, as if sensing Marcus' approach, the man turned, half-lidded eyes meeting his. Unlike humans, drell eyes blinked horizontally, not vertically, and looked alot like frogs when they did so. His lips were cracked and dry, but his eyes lit up upon seeing Marcus, relaxing his tense body as he smiled.
"Shepard," his drell friend greeted, "A pleasant surprise. Although not so, gathering how I knew you would eventually find yourself here." He held a hand to Marcus, one he willingly took and shook, hand clenching hard around the assassin's, as did the drell's.
Marcus grinned, slapping him on the back, "A pleasant surprise is seeing you here, Thane. First I run into Kelly, and now this? This is beyond coincidence. That or its sheer luck. I thank both equally; my life's become a bit too lonely on the Normandy for me to continue going without the occassional greeting from a friend or two."
Thane nodded in agreement, turning to look down on the Presidium, "All too true. Although I gather you are having a hard fight ahead of you, it is nice to talk. Come, sit. It has been...seven months? Yes, maybe. Either way, it has been a long time since we last talked," he gulped, taking a seat on the sofa, "I would welcome some conversation. My son visits regularly, and Doctor Chakwas has taken care of me adequately. But it has been a while since I have had a conversation with a friend."
Marcus accepted the offered seat, letting himself drop next to Thane, sighing as he let his tense muscles loosen up and allow him to relax. Suddenly, he was turning back to the assassin, eyes widening again, "Chakwas is here too? Damn. I'm hitting the jackpot here."
"And it'll only get better," Thane stated. He noticed Marcus' raised eyebrow, but decided to remain cryptic and did not elaborate further, his eyes telling Shepard that it would be up to him to find out what he meant later. Instead, the captain cleared his throat and draped an arm over the sofa, facing the drell, who had quietly folded his hands in his own lap.
"Well, for starters, what was with that sparring stuff?" Marcus asked, "Need to hit something? I'm willing to be beaten. God knows that a few husks and Cerberus soldiers aren't enough to satisfy my need for a serious beating." He chuckled at his joke, and it seemed to grab a slight smile from the drell, but Thane did not act on it, only replying in a matter-of-fact tone, as was accustom to him.
"Keeping in shape is a necessity if I am to stay in peak physical shape. For someone with Kepral's Syndrome such as us drell, that is difficult, and I do it as regularly as possible, but it does take a toll on my respiratory system," he noticed Marcus' sad expression, and shook his head, "Do not worry for me, for I have accepted the inevitable. I will die, but not before the Reapers are done and gone from our galaxy, I promise you that."
"How...how long?" he asked, "During our mission against the Collectors, you said you didn't have long to live. How long is that now?"
"The last doctor I spoke with, and the one I trusted the most, gave me three months to live," he stated, sighing heavily as he leaned back, shaking his head, "Shepard, that was four months ago. I have asked and asked, and none have given me reliable answers. Suffice to say however, my time is coming, and it will be soon. Already my coughing has become sporadic, and just sprinting enflames my lungs to the point of near suffocation. Eventually, I just could not take normal life anymore, and I have ended up here," he waved at his surroundings, "Kolyat brought me here as soon as he could. Like I said, he visits regularly, and for now and until the end of my life, this is my home. This hospital."
He gulped, not knowing the words to say, or how to voice them. He had encountered many difficulties among his crew; Mordin's short lifespan of 40 years and how he was in his late thirties, Joker's Vrolik syndrome, EDI and Legion's AI status, Jacob and Miranda's relations with Cerberus, Grunt's superkrogan strength, Garrus' problems with the law, Tali's weak immune system, and the list just went on. But none of them had been as close to death as Thane was...at least Mordin had a few more years left in his life. Thane had days. Weeks. And months was the maximum. The drell didn't even know if he'd live long enough to see the war's end. Hell, what if the drell died, believing in victory, and then went to the afterlife, witnessing our defeat? Thane's difficulty was the most confronting of all, and it made Marcus sad to think of the drell's unbareable, but accepted, fate.
"I'm sorry Thane," Marcus stated pitifully, unable to think of anything else to say in that moment, "I'm sorry I can't help you. I'm sorry that none of the Primacy's or Union's scientists could find a cure for your disease, and I'm sorry that noone can save you. This must be hard."
"For Kolyat, it is a foreseeable nightmare turned horrifying reality," Thane answered calculatedly, sighing once more as he turned and met Marcus' eyes, "For me, it is something I've known would always come, and have accepted. Weep no tears for me, for when it comes, I shall embrace Kalahira and Amonkira in the stars."
"So I guess that means you can't join us?" Marcus asked, silently berating himself for being so selfish, but knowing that he really did need as many friends as he could on his crew to back him, "You said seven months ago that you'd join us when I called for it, and that you'd fight the Reapers to your last breath."
Thane nodded, eying Marcus with sadness in his features, something rare for the drell, "I remember what I said, and I remember them with shame. I would not call my words lies, but I would call them misconceptions. I am not flawless Shepard; the future is as untold as the mysteries of the universe, and I, in my stupor, could not see the obvious. That I would not be able to join you, because my Kepral's Syndrome would limit me from doing so. I apologize Shepard, but I cannot join your crew. I would be of no help to you, and only get myself killed, and doubtless many more. Not only would I be a detriment, but I would be limited in combat. I am not as I was; I'm not...what I used to be."
Marcus nodded to each of Thane's words and by the end, had his hand on the drell's shoulder, squeezing it, "I'm sorry Thane, what I requested was selfish. I should have seen the state you were in, and known straight away. Fret not Thane, I do harbor any harsh judgement forwards you or prejudice. Your decision is one based on regret, I understand, and I'm sorry to not have you join us, but at the same time, I understand. Just...I hope you find peace when you finally pass away. And when you feel yourself slipping away, don't just call Kolyat, call me. I'd like to think you as my friend Thane, and so would the rest of the crew. We'll be by your side, till the end. I know you'd do the same for me, or any of us."
"Thank you Shepard. And yes, I would appreciate that. Your personality is eccentric, and I find myself enthralled by your ability to keep on through the toughest of times, Shepard. It is inspiring, even if you do not see it that way," when the drell finished, Marcus merely nodded, a silent agreement being acknowledged between the two. They had fought and bled while fighting the Collectors, and while those had been good times, those times were now over. Thane was on his last breaths of air, and Marcus would not tear him away from his son and family just to have him die on some planet out in the middle of nowhere. That wasn't fair on him.
You think this war is fair, Marcus? You think the Reapers play fair? They haven't yet, but they will take the Citadel eventually. And when they do, they will kill or harvest Thane just like everybody else, and you'll be a fool for not bringing him with you. Marcus shook those vehement thoughts away, disgusted by their contents. How could I even think like that? Thane is my friend. Not a tool to be used. The Blue Suns are a tool. The Eclipse and Blood Pack are a tool. But not Thane. Not my friends. Not my...my family.
Thane broke the silence, speaking with a reserved tone, "I noticed them bringing Staff Commander Alenko through triage many hours ago. He seemed to be in critical condition."
Marcus nodded, happy to have his thoughts brought elsewhere, "Yeah. We ran into a Cerberus infiltration unit; a synthetic AI, on Mars. She was trying to escape with some data on a anti-Reaper superweapon we found, and I gave chase. We thought we'd killed her, it, but then it just came out of nowhere, and before I knew it, he was on the ground in a coma. It beat him with an inch of his life, and I ended its life."
"I see," Thane replied, nodding, "Alenko will recover. He is a strong marine; I saw that, even on the Normandy. What happened to the synthetic?"
Marcus shrugged, "Took it back to the Normandy dumped it in the AI Core; EDI's monitoring it while we figure out what to do with it. I have half a mind to hand it over to Hackett's engineers and see what data we can find on Cerberus, but I'm also tempted to flush it out an airlock. Call it a dilemma."
"You said yourself that the easy decisions are hardly the right ones," Thane returned with a quick nod of his head, as if in self-agreement, "It'd be better to send it to the Alliance. The amount of data that could be obtained from a Cerberus AI could be beneficial to taking them down; although doing so seems hardly important right now."
"Cerberus is not what they were, Thane. They're stronger somehow," he explained, "On Mars, we weren't facing your standard fuckwit of a commando who was paid to fire a gun, but not taught how to aim it. These were assault troopers; heavy armor, cybernetic strength, and group cohesion. Sure, they were still dumb, but they were smarter. They moved faster, were stronger and definitely alot more effective. This synthetic looked and talked like a human, Thane; the hair, the face, the eyes. You would have never thought she was synthetic. Do you remember Cerberus being able to do that? We came across Liara on Mars too, Thane. She says that a Cerberus cruiser, that looked like an Alliance one, attacked and destroyed her base. An alliance cruiser? Since when did Cerberus have a navy? The Illusive Man has been up to some serious shit."
"Cerberus managed to bring a man back from the dead when he was nothing but melted meat. You were scattered over an entire planet, but they found you and they didn't clone you; they rebuilt you, from the personality, to your base memories," Thane stated, simply giving him the facts, "Resurrection is like time travel, Shepard. Scientists have declared both impossible for years. Yes, you humans believe that time travel into the future is possible; but that's years at best. What about pure time travel? Pure time travel is impossible, they say. Resurrection is impossible, they say. You are living proof that they are wrong on the latter. If Cerberus can do that, what's to stop them building a military armada? No, Cerberus' rise to power should have been expected. All the say; focus on the Reapers, not Cerberus. Let others deal with them. Remember what Cerberus brought you back for."
"The Reapers," Marcus agreed, nodding his consent, "You make a good point Thane, but it still strikes me as wrong to just ignore Cerberus. We can't let them do what they want. The Illusive Man wants to control the Reapers, and with his stunt on Mars, I'm not sure we can just pretend he doesn't exist. Hell, if Aria tells true, he has control of Omega. A power that can assume control of a space station like that, and is my avowed enemy? I can't just ignore that."
"Then don't," the drell, for the first time Marcus had known him, made physical contact with him, and placed a hand on his shoulder, squeezing it like he had done to the assassin, "Whether you like it or not, this is now a three-front war. You've got both the Reapers and Cerberus to worry about, and only one of them means total destruction for all of us. We know the Reapers are what matters, but if Cerberus gets in the way? Amonkira knows they must be destroyed, and Kalahira will guide you. I cannot help you do this, but know this; if you believe Cerberus is an enemy incapable of being ignored, then deal with them swiftly, for they will be a thorn in your side later on."
"Thanks Thane. I'll keep that in mind. But right now, I feel like the Untouchables trying to take down bloody Al Capone. Except I know they're the enemy, the entire galaxy knows it, we just can't find the bastards," he sighed, rubbing his face, "But enough about that; I didn't come to discuss strategies against Cerberus."
"You didn't come here to talk to me at all," Thane noted, "You were here for Staff Commander Alenko."
"Its Major now, actually," Marcus corrected, "And how did you know that?"
"I am an assassin. I was an assassin. You learn to notice these things," the drell stated, with what sounded like smugness, but Marcus shrugged it off, "That, and it was obvious. You were unaware that Chakwas or I was here until you arrived and then asked me about the former, which leaves one option; Major Alenko. It is a foregone conclusion."
"Well...guess I deserved that, actually," he grinned, laughing slightly as he rubbed the back of his neck, "Yeah...I'm worried for Kaidan. He took one hell of a beating on Mars, and I just want to check to see that he's alright before we...head out."
"You are leaving. A pity. Although gathering we are at war, it would be foolish to assume you'd stay for the semantics and medials of Citadel life," he nodded, like it was forlorn and defeated, the drell seeming lost almost, "Where do you plan to go?"
"We're basically waiting for the Reapers' next move, really. That, and for Hackett to get back to me on whether this superweapon will get green-lighted or not," Marcus ruffled his hair, something he hadn't really cut for a long time and it had started to grow very long. Hell, even his beard was more puffy than usual, and he was starting to look too much like James Longstreet for his liking, "I guess we'll head out and gather some resources. Hell, if I'm lucky, I might stumble upon the Migrant Fleet, figure out what's taking Tali so long..." he trailed off, shaking his head, "We'll find something to do. The Normandy crew never gets any rest."
"That is true enough. It saddened me to hear the crew parted. But it is one thing to be parted from your crew, and quite another from your spouse," he looked at the back of the captain's head, noticing that he refused to meet his eyes, "You miss her. It is clear in your gesture and positioning. This tells me that finding the Migrant Fleet has less to do with the war effort, and more to do with expelling your seperation anxiety."
"I'm coping Thane. I can't afford to let something as pathetic as loneliness stop me from winning this damn war," he growled, but his voice was not full of malice, merely held back frustration, "But you're right. I'd be asking Liara to devote all her resources to finding her if I could, but that's something Marcus Shepard would do, not Commander Shepard. Not Captain Shepard. No, Captain Shepard is a soldier. A military man. And you know what comes first for military men."
"The ones they love," this caught Marcus' attention, and before he could talk further, Thane continued, "Soldiers do not just fight for their species, or their world, or their governments, or for themselves. Usually, if they are threatened, they fight for their family. Is that not what you fight for? What do you fight for?"
"A future. A house, C-" he choked on the last word, orginally not thinking it possible. But Mordin Solus, the best damn salarian scientist in galactic history, and a man he owed a personal debt, had made it just that, "Children."
"That is what every soldier fights for. What most of them fight for. So don't think that just because you have an enemy to fight that you should not search for Mrs. Shepard," Thane observed, standing up as he moved over to the window, clasping his hands behind his back, "Maybe she will find you, or you'll find her, but you will find each other. Wars have a habit of doing that. Don't make the mistake I did; the ringmen killed my wife, so don't let the Reapers kill yours before you get to hold her one last time. Achieve that future you wish for Shepard. Many won't get it, but the ones who persevere will."
"I don't know what to say Thane," Marcus replied, giving a weak smile, "I'll take that into consideration."
"Nothing is needed to be said," the drell turned back to him, hands still clasped behind his back as he too, gave a weak smile, "As I have said, I do not have much time left. But for Major Alenko, our mutual friend, I shall make time. As we are both in the same hospital, I will make it my personal duty to watch over him, to protect him. I will be his guardian, his sentinel...his bodyguard in the shadows, if you wish."
"You don't have to do that, Thane. You've done more than enough."
"Cerberus and the Reapers would not care. Destruction of their enemy is enough for them, and Alenko still lives," Thane stated sincerely, with danger in his tone, "No, I will protect him from any harm. None will come to him while he is under my protection."
"Thank you Thane. That means alot. I'm sure Alenko appreciates it," Marcus declared, coming to stand up, holding out his hand one more time, "I'm sorry to be the one to say it, but I have to go. The retrofit might be done soon, and I have to leave as soon as it is. Which means I have one chance to speak to Kaidan, and I don't want to miss it."
"I completely understand, and wish you luck on your mission," he took Marcus' hand and shook it firmly, as the drell always did, and then entered a coughing fit, Marcus' eyes widening as he came to the drell's side, easing him onto the sofa gently as he essentially coughed every bit of air he had out of his body. He dry heaved as his body desperately tried to bring in every bit of reserves it had.
"Thane! Thane! Damn it, somebody! We need help over here!" Marcus cried out, ignoring Thane's futile hand gestures for him to quiet down, and that he felt fine. The drell continued to cough and then dry heave, repeating the process until he seemed to be suffocating. In a instant, he heard someone run to join him, and within a single moment, he watched as the grey-haired, aging form of Doctor Karin Chakwas came into view, seemingly ignorant of his presence as she dropped her kit next to Thane, and brought out a breather, sticking it over his mouth while whispering at him to take long, deep breaths. Thane ceased coughing and did as was told, and slowly and gradually, his breathing came under control.
Leaving him like that, Marcus nodded, and turned to Chakwas, who still wasn't looking at him, eyes transfixed on the drell sitting before her, "Karin? Is he going to be alright?"
"Yes, Captain Shepard, he's going to be just fine," she turned to him, smiling, "It is good to see you again, however, Marcus."
"You too, Karin," he smiled warmly, and Chakwas seemed to wrap him in a tight, motherly hug that only herself and Hannah could give him without it being awkward. He grinned as they pulled apart, nodding to her. After a second however, he seemed to catch on to what she had said before, and frowned, "Wait, how did you know I got promoted?"
She chuckled, waving a dismissive hand, "I'm connected over Alliance channels; Admiral Hackett's been keeping me posted on your status the entire time I've been working in this hospital. Which, I must say, is pretty stale. No offense intended towards Administrator Michel, but I'll take a certain stealth frigate's med bay over a hospital any day of the week. Or year. Pah. The semantics. Let's just say ship life loves me more."
"What was it you said to me three years ago when we officially met for the first time?" he chuckled, holding up his hands in air quotes, "'Something about patching up old soldiers appealed to me. Pumping them full of medi-gel, and listening to them spill their young souls.' Yeah, something like that."
"I was a romantic," Chakwas returned, pouting, "I'm surprised you even remembered that. That was a very long time ago."
"What can I say? I listen," Marcus joked, and Chakwas chuckled as well, all the way to Thane's side she did, until she had to stop to ask him a serious question.
"Are you feeling any dizziness? The urge to cough? How does your lungs feel?"
"They burn, Doctor Chakwas. They always burn," Thane noted, looking at her, "But otherwise, I feel fine. My coughing has ceased, and I do not feel dizzy."
"Very well, Mr. Krios," Chakwas replied, pulling off his breather and tossing it into her kit. She pointed at it, her voice full of sternness, "If you ever feel the urge to cough again, you pick up that breather without thinking about it. I will not allow you to die just yet, you hear me? It isn't your time yet."
"Yes, Doctor Chakwas. I adhere to your judgment," he turned to Marcus, nodding with a look of contentment, "Goodbye, Shepard. May Amonkira guide your aim, and Kalahira guide your wife to your side."
"Goodbye Thane. We'll speak again soon," and with that, the captain gave a final nod and turned away, following Chakwas back into the medical center, where she had apparently been heading when she heard Thane's coughing fit. What excellent timing. Seeing that she did not plan on talking anytime soon, he spoke up just as she tapped the interface for the door to open, "So Karin, just what have you been up to these past six months?"
As the door shot open, they were greeted by blue strobes of light that danced over their bodies, the high-tech decontamination beams cleansing them of bacteria and sterilizing their bodies as they moved through the corridor and tapped the door at the end, which glowed green upon them reaching it and opened to omit them. At that point, Chakwas replied, stopping outside and turning to face him, content to just talk with him in the middle of the corridor, "Working here, mostly. It hadn't been busy at all, and then the Reapers hit Khar'Shan. And that's when they started piling in. Next thing you know, Earth is hit, and we start getting our own people too. We have many skilled doctors, but we have far more patients, and they just keep coming."
"Sounds like hell," he stated, and Chakwas simply snorted, moving to the right where she reached a desk, and dumped her kit ontop of it.
"Hell? Hell is what I went through when the Collectors abducted me and the rest of the crew," she shook her head, turning to meet his eyes as she crossed her arms under her breasts, "Hell is what this war will be once it escalates and we both know it will, and then some. Trust me Marcus, this is nothing compared to what some people are going through on Earth and Khar'Shan. I feel safe knowing I'm not one of those people, as selfish as it may sound."
"Everyone feels safer knowing they're not part of the ground zero slaughter house," he stated sorrowfully, shaking his head, "I'm just glad you're okay Chakwas. I was beginning to think you had been left on Earth."
"What did I tell you about my experience on Mars?" she stated, hands on her hips, "I told you I do not like planetary assignments, and Hackett knew this and put in a special case for me. The Citadel isn't exactly a starship, but its as close to one as I was going to get. The only other option was the Normandy, and she wasn't in need of a medical officer at the time she was being retrofitted. And speaking of the Normandy..." she trailed off, sighing heavily, "How is Joker? Has he been taking his medication?"
"I wouldn't know. He never tells me, I never ask," Marcus grinned.
"Men," she exasperated, "But considering him, I'd be surprised if he was. The stubborn bastard never did listen to me, always getting his shins broken, or maybe a little too much force on his palms. I keep telling him it'll hurt or break something, but does he listen? Well, you can answer that one for yourself."
"I'll send you his...scolding, verbally and in quotations," he returned, and Chakwas gave him a stern smile, one he returned in warmer pretenses before both went silent. They knew what question came next, but he hadn't wanted to ask straight off the bat. But it was better to get it out of the way, so he knew what to expect, "Karin...just how is Kaidan doing?"
"He's a marine, so he's holding up pretty good, but most of the critical damage is on his face," she shook her head, sighing, "He's upper lip had been split, and that was the least of it. His face was literally swollen black from the amount of bruises on his face, and one of his eyes was swollen completely shut. He had a few blisters that had expanded and popped, and we had to clean up the blood that was left afterwards. He'll recover, as its not exactly mortal injury, but it will take time. He's bed-ridden for another few weeks, and he won't be combat capable for many more after that. Its all a matter of how he copes, really. But I'm not the one tending to him; I only know the basics of it really. You'd have to ask his overseer. She's not with him now, but she will be soon."
He nodded, happy that his friend's injuries didn't seem to be too life-threatening, "That's great news, Karin," but as he finished, he felt like another question, more desperate, needed to be addressed. Needed to be...answered, "Karin...the Normandy. We...well, let's just say we don't have any medical officers of any kind...kinda why we brought Kaidan here in the first place, and it'd be great to-"
"Consider it done," Chakwas stated without needing further elaboration, and Marcus just stood there with a surprised look on his face. Seeing his dumb expression, she shook her head, sighing exasperatedly, "Joker plus no medication equals no pilot, and we can't have a pilotless Normandy, can we? Besides, I miss the Normandy and that damnable med bay, so why not? Michel won't have trouble getting more staff, so she won't miss one doctor. I'll pack up my stuff and head right there, once I'm done informing Michel, of course. Where is the Normandy docked?"
Managing to break himself out of his stupor, he shook his head nodding, "Oh, its in Docking Bay D24." That was really easy. Although, considering its Karin, I shouldn't be surprised. She really does love the Normandy. Damn, is Joker in for a shock. Chakwas will have him poked full of needle holes before he knows she's even back onboard. That thought caused him to smile, and Chakwas reciprocated it, oblivious to his thoughts.
"I will see you there then," she turned to gather her things but after a second, she turned back around, smiling, "Its good to see you again, Marcus. I thought two years of dealing with your death was bad, but six months of knowing you're alive but locked up is excruciating, especially for a certain someone out there."
Tali. It always comes down to Tali. Why can't I have a simple conversation without her being mentioned? He sighed, nodding, "I know, and I'll find her eventually, but for now, the war comes first. I'll see you later Karin, but right now, I want to see Kaidan while I still have a chance."
She nodded, mouthing her goodbye as she turned to begin packing her things. Without so much as a second glance, he walked away, moving over to the nearest room and looking through the glass walls to find Kaidan. His luck was high, as the first room housed the slumbering marine, naked from the waist up, his broad muscled chest caked with numerous, tiny bruises, but it was his face that looked battered.
He palmed the interface and walked inside, hearing the door close behind him. Seeing a seat nearby, he pulled up the stool and sat it next to the sentinel's bed, plopping down on it and scanning the tired marine's features as he quielty snored, chest rising with every intake of breath. Chakwas hadn't been joking about his injuries either; his left eye was swollen completely shut, while the second had been close to doing so. He had a large bruise crossing his forehead, while another one made it look like a black abomination of an ulcer was growing out of his right cheek. All in all, he looked like the literal definition of shit.
He sighed, leaning back, knowing that staying was pointless. The man was knocked out cold, and was likely pumped full of painkillers and in a chemically induced coma. He wouldn't wake up for days at best, and even then he'd be in mild pain. He wouldn't be up for talking, and Marcus didn't understand what compelled him to stay seated. To remain where he was.
But he did, and simply stared at the man's calm features, how peaceful he looked. It was times like this when Marcus wished he could look that peaceful, that he didn't have to look so cold and calculating and steel-like as he did on the battlefield. Words came bubbling forth from his mouth before he knew what he was saying, and he did not delay their onslaught, "Hey...Kaidan," he began lamely, laughing at how pathetically he had started the conversation. The man remained unmoving; breathing, but not even so much as an eye flickered as he spoke. He was effectively talking to himself, but for some reason he continued, hands clasped on his knees.
"Don't know if you can hear me, but...ah..." he rubbed the back of his neck, taking a quick look outside to make sure noone was rushing to get him arrested for possible insanity, he turned back around to continue speaking, "But since you can't tell me to get the hell out either, I guess you're stuck with me."
He sighed, rubbing his face, "You don't have permission to die Kaidan. You've got to fight. We need you in this. Seeing you in action again it...reminded me that...you're one hell of a soldier. Stay alive, Kaidan. That's a bloody order. You die, and I'll kick your ass."
If Kaidan recognized the joke or even heard his words, he did not acknowledge it, remaining devoid of motion. Marcus finally gave a sigh, realizing how sissy his words sounded. Thank God he isn't awake. He'd probably comment on how gay this entire conversation is. That gave Marcus a moment of laughter, before he dropped it and shook his head, patting the man's soldier, "Stay alive, soldier. Keep up the good fight; inside and outside. The Reapers are here, and I need every one of my friends by my side to see this through," he turned to leave, but halted at the door, glancing at his form one more time, "Hurry up and heal up. I'll need you pretty damn soon."
With that awkward monologue given, Marcus tapped the interface and made to leave, only to bump into someone, followed by a loud, feminine gasp as said person fell backwards slightly.
On instinct he reached a hand out and grabbed the person's wrist, feeling rubber under his grip, and immediately recognizing what looked to be a suit underline. Righting her up, he decided he now had the chance to examine her. However, when his eyes landed on her, he immediately realized she was a quarian, and upon hearing her speak up, knew who she was.
She met his eyes, hand over her heart in relief, "Keelah, its just you Commander. You nearly gave me a...what's that terrible human expression? A heart attack? I think that's what it is."
"Correct," he grinned, shaking his head, "Damn, I'm hitting the jackpot for most convenient encounters. First Thane, then Chakwas, and now you. Lia'Vael nar Ulnay, just what are you doing on the Citadel?"
"Well, I'm working for Administrator Michel in this hospital as a doctor, actually," she stated simply, and it was then that Marcus noticed the doctor's earplugs hanging around the back of her neck, the datapad she had tucked under one arm and the look of professionalism that she could only have gotten during her time working with Mordin. He chuckled lightly.
"So you're a doctor now, are you?" It was then that both Chakwas' and Thane's previous words made him realize something, and his grin only widened, "Wait...Lia, are you Kaidan's overseer?"
"I..." she trailed off, but managed to regain some of her composure, shaking her head, "Yes, yes I am. Doctor Michel appointed me as soon as he arrived, as she apparently recognized him from her past, said he saved her at one point in a old clinic she owned. I was saddened to know he was hurt, but I was more than willing to help."
"That's good to hear Lia," Marcus noted, slapping the quarian on her shoulder as they both stepped away to let Kaidan's door close and lock, "Its really good to see you." God...can I really ask her to join my crew again? After what she went through with the Collectors? Ah, forget them, she's Kaidan's personal doctor! You can't just keep taking Michel's personnel away from her! Wasn't Chakwas enough? Besides, could he really take what was, technically, still a quarian adolescent into a war? Could he hold himself accountable for what happened to her? Yes, I would. And that's what scares me. Losing such a young life to the Reapers. That, and she reminds me so much of Tali when she was still on her pilgrimage.
He had become adept at picking up on quarian emotions behind the mask, and he could tell Lia was smiling from the quint of her eyes, "You too, Commander. I apologize again for my abrupt departure from the Normandy, but I really did need to finish my pilgrimage, and I thought that completing my experience as a doctor would be really beneficial to the fleet. I know the crew of the Ulnay would be proud of me."
If this war continues like this, you won't be returning home. You'll be stuck here, amputating wounded soldiers, and giving mercy-killings for those too far gone. He realized how fucked up those thoughts were and pushed them into the deepest pits of hell he could find, and turned to her, nodding with a smile, "I know they would be Lia; anyone who impresses the great Professor Solus is one asset the quarians can't afford to ignore. Mordin gave you high praise, and he was actually alittle saddened when you decided to leave. Something about 'alittle salarian' in you."
"Had to have been me," she quoted, smiling, "Someone else might have gotten it wrong."
"And now you sound like him. God, now we have a quarian female Mordin," he laughed, and Lia laughed as well, "This is good, Lia. Although, I was wondering-" was he really asking this? Asking her to drop all her things, ignore Kaidan and join his crew again? Sure, the Tech Lab was empty and sorely needing people to man it, but could he ask Lia to do so? This wasn't the Collector campaign anymore; this was a war of extermination, and not all of them would survive it. Could he ask Lia to risk her life based on that?"
Before he could continue, a voice yelled out, another one he recognized, shouting Lia's name. Both of them turned to the source, Lia he noticed turned alittle faster, and he watched the familiar form of a drell, Thane's son who went by the name of Kolyat, run towards them, seemingly not noticing Marcus as he approached Lia with a datapad in hand, almost bumping into a rushing salarian doctor, who looked annoyed at the interruption.
Kolyat arrived by her side, hand on her shoulder as she showed her his datapad, "I won! I think I actually won the jackpot! I did the bet, and I won!"
"You did what?" Lia asked, danger in her tone. Marcus was confused at first, not knowing exactly what was going on. Before he could do anything however, Kolyat looked at her like she was an idiot, but continued nonetheless.
"Come on Lia, don't give me that. I did it for the best," he nodded to the datapad, "I made a bet, and I won. We won. He says the apartment will be ours by tomorrow."
Lia eyed the datapad for one second, Marcus unable to read her features. The next second however took a turn for the surprising. She looked at the drell and then shot her hand out, slapping him across the face, "You IDIOT!" She yelled out, but not loud enough to break the noise of the hospital around them, "You met all of your money, our money, on an apartment!?"
"Did you miss the bit where we won?" he growled back, holding his cheek, which was quickly reddening into a three-fingered hand mark, "Are you crazy, woman? New apartment, hello! My dad wouldn't approve, but..."
"And neither do I! You bet our entire life savings on a possible win! I don't know whether I should love you or hate you right now!" That caught Marcus' attention, and his glance shot between the quiet Kolyat and Lia for a few seconds, before everything clicked into place with one quick revelation. Holy shit...these two are a couple? When the hell did Kolyat and Lia hook up? How long has this been happening? I always thought Lia had a crush on Garrus...
"Maybe a little of both," Kolyat purred, and Marcus found the need to gag from the sound, but the drell continued on smiling like an idiot, and crossed his arms, "Maybe I've gotten my slap of hate, and need a kiss of love."
"If you think I'm taking off my mask...in here of all places...just to kiss you, you're seriously mistaken," she crossed her arms, shaking her head, "Consider yourself exiled to the couch, tonight."
"In the new apartment?"
A loud sigh, followed by a nod, "Yes, in the new apartment."
Kolyat nodded and smiled like a kid getting a new toy, before taking his chances and pulling her into his arms, landing a kiss ontop of her hood. His smile dropped, and his voice took on a more serious, but lighter, tone, "I did this for us, Lia. Us. I want us to be happy, and once this war is over, we'll have a home for ourselves. I promise I'll find myself a job. And maybe, if you want, we can adopt."
"Well, actually..." Lia whispered in his arms, apparently placated by Kolyat's tight embrace, "Mordin made this serum for Shepard and Tali...it um...its for humans and quarians, but I'm sure I can modify it for drell and quarians and um...well it allows for um...conception between species...Keelah, I can't believe we're talking about children already! We've only been together two months!"
"Best to plan ahead, eh?" He joked, squeezing her tightly, "Besides, the way you act in bed, I think we'll be getting children whether we like it or not..."
"Okay, I think I've heard too much already," Marcus finally piped up, and Lia practically leaped from Kolyat's arms, having forgotten he was even there. Kolyat hadn't known to begin with, and fumbled with his clothes, straightening them up and looking at Marcus wide-eyed and gulping. Lia looked embarassed, and Marcus could only smile, laughing. How could I possibly seperate these two? They're adorable together, and I'm sure Tali would agree. She'd probably make me sleep on the couch for the rest of my life if she learnt I'd made Lia join my crew, knowing it'd seperate her from her...boyfriend. I wonder if Thane knows about them. No, silly question. Of course he does. No, looks like Lia won't be joining the Normandy today.
"Commander Shepard!" Kolyat stumbled, "I didn't see you there!" he looked at Lia, gulping like a frightened rabbit, "Look, this is not what it looks like-"
"One, you're a terrible liar Kolyat," he grinned, shaking his head as he clasped his hands behind his back, "Two, I don't care. Lia knows I wouldn't care. My wife is a quarian, Kolyat, and the man I consider to be a brother is a turian. So if you think I have a problem with inter-species relationships, or this relationship in general, you can forget it. Three, you two are perfect. Wouldn't even contemplate seperating you. I think I'll leave you two alone now, actually," he turned to Lia, giving a tip of his hat...well...metaphorically, "Good day to you, Lia'Vael."
She nodded in confusion, one that was quickly cleared up as she nodded back to him, "Yes, I...good day to you too, Shepard. And good luck on your mission."
And with that, Marcus was gone, marching back through decontamination and and out of the hospital. And the entire time? He was smiling. Oh yes, definitely smiling. He had expected alot of things out of this war, but this? This day was the best he had yet.
He hoped nothing would ruin it.
{Loading...}
June 4, 2186
1216 hours.
Flight Deck, Normandy-Class Stealth Frigate SSV Normandy SR-2, Docked with the Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Flight Lieutenant Jeff 'Joker' Moreau.
Marcus stood infront of the airlock, still wearing his casual clothing with the exception of his cap as he stood in parade rest, waiting to greet his new crew members. Chakwas had settled into the med bay ages ago, and was probably probing EDI for the contents of her retrofitted world, while being helped by, surprise surprise, Doctor Michel! The doctor had basically given command of the hospital to one of her subordinates, and practically leapt into the Normandy's airlock. Now the med bay had two doctors instead of one.
Kelly had a decent conversation with Samantha before joining her, and now both of them worked at the same terminal, exchanging thoughts on similiar topics like chatting schoolgirls. Already Kelly was settling in, and he had a feeling the both of them would get along just fine. Note to self: Talk with Samantha, James, Keeling and Cortez when you get the time. New crew members, time to get acquianted. No, he wasn't here to greet those crew members. He was here to greet the ones Hackett had cryptically promised him.
He hadn't been too concrete on the details, but it was definitely something along the lines of providing an actual engineering crew for the ship, as the current state of the frigate meant they had none, someone to man the tech lab, a contingent of marines; at least a full platoon that would be placed under Vega's command, who answered to Keeling, who answered to him...and then the rest of the ship needed to be crewed as well. So as it stood, he could practically hug Hackett. The Normandy was under-staffed as it was, and the man had given him a god's gift.
I'd like the old crew though. I miss Gabby and Ken's bickering in engineering and Tali yelling at them, and Gardner's gruff dismissals of complaints about his food and Garrus' calibrations on the main gun. Those were good times...oh no you don't, Marcus. Head out of the clouds, and in the game! War, you stupid mothefucker, FUCKING WAR. Worry about the good times when the bad times are over.
"Well Shepard," Joker piped up next to him, and Marcus craned his neck towards the cockpit to hear the pilot, "This really is depressing. Its just you, me, EDI, Kelly, Chakwas and Liara. The rest of the crew? Screw 'em. Complete strangers, if you ask me."
He scoffed, turning back to face the airlock, "It ain't all that bad."
"No, its a bloody circus," Joker returned, shaking his head, "How did we end up like this? You know, the Normandy back in Alliance colors, and a bunch of alliance jarheads walkin the halls? What happened to the times before that where we had a crew loyal to you and not to the Alliance. What happened to those days?"
"I blew them up with a relay," Marcus silently replied, and both men went silent for a while.
"You blew them up with a relay," Joker repeated, sighing heavily, but not out of exasperation, "You'd think such a victory would earn you some medals and a pat on the back. Instead they lock you away for six months, only remembering where the keys were because it was bloody convenient."
"I murdered three hundred thousand people Joker," he bluntly replied, "And I did it to give us more time. I gave us all six months, and we did nothing with it. So in the end, I killed them all for nothing."
"Only because you chose to let them lock you up. Might not be the case if you had been active for six months," Joker stated aggressively, and Marcus turned to him, eyes alight.
"And what would you have had me do, eh? Run the galaxy as a fugitive? How the fuck do I negoitate with people who are simultaneously informing the police where I am? How do you suppose I do that? Handing myself over was the smart thing to do."
"Never said it wasn't. Handing yourself over was your call," he held his hands before him defensively, "I'm just saying things might have been different."
"Jeff is correct," EDI piped up, her hologram appearing on the pedestal nearby, "The statistical possibility of mobilization effectiveness is increased by 1.87 percent if not imprisoned. These odds are decreased the longer you were locked up."
"EDI agrees. The AI agrees with me. Shepard: 0. Joker: 1," he grinned like an idiot, trying to lighten the situation, "Point being, don't beat yourself up captain. I'm not blaming you for burning our good times asunder, I'm simply saying that I miss those times. Everyone on this ship now is just so...lifeless. There's no humor, there's no relating. You try to talk to some female crew member, and they'll throw "sorry, anti-fraternization protocols prohibit me from doing this and that and blah blah blah" and I fall asleep at that point. Their just so...so..."
"By the book?" Marcus ended, and seeing the pilot, he gave a slight chuckle, "Now you sound like Garrus."
"Yeah, but Garrus solved those problems with viglante justice, some crazy batman shit, and a sniper rifle," he waved his hands over his body, "This beautiful, masculine, porcelain body would shatter if I tried any of those three, and definitely if I tried all three. Hell, I can barely fire a pistol without dislocating one finger or another. No, I mean these guys walk and talk like robots; hell, they could recite the entire Alliance protocol handbook for toddlers and the retarded and still not be finished when EDI finishes giving me the status report of a neutron star from three million light years away. That's how boring these people are. Except for Samantha, she's alright. And maybe James. But Keeling is all protocol, and Cortez is all about his precious shuttle. Tedious."
"Maybe these people will be to your high standards, your majesty," Marcus mocked, smirking to the point that Joker swore he was turning into the actual Joker.
"Your majesty? You might remember that when you remember who flies this baby," he grinned, wriggling his eyebrows, "EDI and I are the Normandy duo."
"Oh, so you two are a duo, now?" he crossed his arms, frowning suspiciously, "Joker, since when did you accept EDI? You used to hate her with every fibre in your body."
"And you used to kill geth with every bullet in your rifle. Then we met the oh wonderful Legion, the one-eyed terminator who said that the quarian judgment day was a tragic mistake, and all can be forgiven by the Consensus of Skynet. And yes, I realize that reference is dated," he shook his head, "Point being, I got over my prejudice. EDI saved my life and the Normandy, so she's good. Besides she's...a good friend, I guess."
"Thank you Jeff," the AI omnipotently replied, "I think you're a good friend too."
"Ah...thanks, I guess," he rubbed the back of his neck, and then whispered, knowing the AI could hear him, "She's a bit a creepy too."
"I gathered that Joker," Marcus chuckled, but before the pilot could respond, his console beeped, and EDI spoke.
"The new crew members have arrived at the airlock. They are requesting permission to come onboard."
"Open the gates," Marcus ordered, and he was in parade rest once more as he turned back to the airlock, watching its inteface turn from green to blue as the airlock was decontaminated. He inhaled and exhaled, sighing as he went over Joker's words with contempt. He's right. Things would be better with the old crew; they were loyal to me and to their fellow crew. These people? I barely know them. How can I put my faith behind people like that? They have to gain my trust, but luckily for them, this war will allow plenty of time for that.
Eventually, the airlock decon sequence concluded and the icon went from blue to green again, before disappearing altogether as the door shot open. And standing in the airlock was their new crew. Infront were three marines in full armor, who stood out of the airlock and saluted him, a gesture he quickly returned before informing them that the armoury was on the fifth deck, where they quickly stomped off too to report to their commanding officer. The whole platoon followed, and then came a sight that made his jaw drop.
Memories from three years ago came flooding back as he watched the engineer step out onto the deck, his hair still as reserved as it had been back then, and eyes still as calm, jawline firm but not powerfully built. The man's hands were that of an engineer, not a deliverer of death. And he would recognize him anywhere.
"I...Adams?" he asked in confusion, shaking his head to remove himself from his shock, "What...I...how? I knew you survived the original Normandy's destruction, but...how can you even be here?"
The man named Adams, who had originally been the chief engineer of the Normandy SR-1 during the Eden Prime War and their chase after Saren, stood there, arms crossed as he smiled, "Hackett sent me as soon as he learned you needed an engineering team. I practically dropped my things on the McKinley to come join you. That, and I'd love to get my hands on the Tantalus Drive Core again."
"Damn Adams, its been three years," Marcus stated, turning to Joker, who seemed to be giving Adams an unforgiving stare. His smile dropped slightly at seeing that vehement look, and he slowly turned back to Adams, concern on his face, "Where were you? I mean, Karin and Joker were there when I woke up, but you were nowhere. What happened?"
Before the engineer had a chance to speak, Joker replied for him, "Ditching you and spitting on you, that's what."
Adams turned to Joker, shaking his head while holding up his hand to stop the pilot, "Now hold on just a-"
Marcus cut him off as he turned to Joker, "What are you talking about?"
"Cerberus, just like with Chakwas and I, sent him a message, trying to recruit him. Normally, I would have done what Adams did and ignored it, and so would have Chakwas, but when they said they were bringing you back, and were rebuilding the Normandy, they had me sucked in. Karin will tell you the same. But Adams..." he eyed the man with rage, "And you have the balls to step on this ship and act like nothing happened..."
"Joker, what exactly happened?"
"He ignored Cerberus' offer. Basically told them to get fucked," Joker smiled at the memory, but it quickly disappeared as fury entered his eyes, turning to Marcus, lips creased in a flash of anger, "I would have been okay with that; but then Chakwas sent him an offer, and guess what? He called us Cerberus lapdogs, was convinced we were brainwashed, and said you were dead and staying dead. 'Go believe in your delusion,' I believe he said. I gave him a piece of my mind in a reply, but he either didn't read or did, and didn't reply. Either way," he turned to Adams again, "He's not in my, or Chakwas', good books."
Marcus turned to Adams, eyes dangerous, "Is this true, Adams?"
The engineer nodded, looking genuinely regretful, "It is, captain. But what else was I supposed to think? A terrorist organization, an enemy you positively loathed, came and told me that they were bringing you back from the dead, were rebuilding the Normandy, and that they wanted me on his crew? All I saw was an elaborate trap. One I wasn't going to fall into. If there was proof you were being rebuilt, I'd have joined in a heartbeat-"
"Oh fuck you!" Joker growled, bringing both men's attention back onto him, "Don't try and kiss his ass and just tell the damn truth; if you had any once of loyalty and brotherhood with Shepard, you'd have joined regardless. Do you seriously think I'm pathetic enough to believe in a falsehood? Do you think Chakwas in that stupid? No, we're not, because Cerberus gave us hope. A hope you chose to flip off so you could continue to play Alliance patriot. Because in the end, the Alliance always comes first for you assholes, doesn't it? You spat on Shepard, and therefore you spat on me. On Chakwas. On the bloody Normandy."
"I'm sorry," Adams apologized, rubbing at his eyes, "I know what I did was incredibly disloyal and I know I must seem like a total asshole, but I want to make it up to you. I regret not helping you with the Collectors, and hope I can make up for that by helping you battle the Reapers. That's what the whole fight has been about, right?"
"Its okay, Adams. Its forgiven," Marcus declared, and noticing the objection on Joker's face, held up a hand to placate him, "What's in the past is done, Joker. All that matters is that he is here now, and he's going to help us."
"Fine," Joker exasperated, but refused to meet Adams' eyes.
"So you said you were here to head the engineering team?" Marcus asked Adams, turning back to the engineer after settling the short dispute, "Are they here with you?"
Adams smiled, nodding as he turned side to side with the airlock, waving a hand for them to come out, "Hackett said you'd like them. Said they had served with you, and that they 'insisted' on being picked."
Marcus knew who they were before they even exited the airlock.
"Eh, Commander," Kenneth Donnelly greeted, coming out of the airlock with a skip in his manly step, eyes bright with contained excitement, his thick scottish accent always making him chuckle, "Good to be back on this wee' little frigate that Joker insists on overclocking."
"I assure you Mr. Donnelly, I have been limiting Joker's access to the main fuel cells and their power regulation," EDI assured him.
"Gee, thanks mum," Joker mumbled, and Ken flashed a grin. It wasn't his reply that came from his lips though, but from his ginger-haired companion.
"Trust me, Joker's better than Ken," Gabriella Daniels, or simply Gabby, stated from next to him, ample lips spreading in a warm smile as she eyed EDI's holopad, "Ken's a bloody menace when it comes to the coolant manifolds. I think he managed to get his hand flash-freezed while trying to access it this one time; Mordin burnt the guy's hand just trying to unfreeze it with incineration."
"The salarian was crazy!" Ken exclaimed, "He could have burnt me hand off!"
"Don't be such a wuss," Gabby scolded.
"Wait, did that VI just refer to Joker by his first name?" Adams asked, and all eyes landed on him, clearly nervous about that explanation, including Gabby and Ken.
"I'm sure these two can explain that when you've entered the safety of the engineering deck," Marcus smirked, shaking his head as he motioned to the airlock, "Anyone else?"
"If you don't mind, I would like to be welcomed aboard."
Marcus sighed happily at the sound of another familiar voice, this one gravelly but full of age and experience, somewhat, "Yes, Rupert, you can come in."
Mess Sergeant Rupert Gardner, the Normandy's custodian and kitcheneer, emerged from the airlock, carrying a large crate of supplies; likely full of the ingredients he would use to make his horrifying concoctions. Marcus grimaced at the thought, but displaced it as he smiled at the man walking by, "We'll have a reunion later; that crate looks heavy. Kitchen's still where it used to be if you want to get set up," he turned to Adams, Gabby and Ken, "You two better get down to engineering and show Adams around. Don't worry, nothing's changed, its the same as it used to be. I need-"
"Captain," EDI said over him, voice easily louder than his over the PA, "Councilor Udina has just sent a message to your private terminal asking for a meeting in the human embassy. He says it is 'of concern to your mission, and might be just what you're asking for.' He asks that you meet him as soon as possible."
"All politicians do," he sighed, nodding, "Okay, EDI. I'll head over to the human embassy right away. You're not to take off until I'm done here, understood?"
"No, I guess I'll just fly off to Thessia and live out my ideas in an asari strip club."
"Joker?"
"Fine. Jesus, sarcasm man. Sarcasm. Don't say somethin stupid, I don't reply sarcastically. That's the rule."
"I'll keep that in mind. Be back soon."
With that, Marcus walked out through the airlock and towards the skycar he parked nearby.
He hoped this meeting was as important as Udina pinned it to be.
{Loading...}
June 4, 2186
1226 hours.
Councilor Udina's Office, Citadel Embassies, Shalta Ward, The Citadel.
The Reaper War.
Captain Marcus Lee Shepard, Councilor Donnel Udina.
He marched up the steps like a man on a mission, being fairly new to this part of the Embassies. He had only ever accessed the main embassies, but this entire corridor was practically dedicated to the Councilor's offices. Even as he passed, he saw Valern and Tevos' offices, followed by Sparatus'. And on the end, and obviously a fairly new room given the area it was built in, he arrived at Udina's. He hit the green interface, watching the door shoot open as he stepped inside.
He was expecting to see Udina sitting behind his desk, typing at his terminal, and yelling profanities for Marcus just stroding inside his office unannounced.
Instead, Udina was standing, back leaning against his walnut desk and eyes looking down-trodden until he looked up to meet Marcus', no objections in his features. But that wasn't what surprised Marcus; it was Councilor Sparatus standing in the middle of the room, his navy-blue clothed back facing Marcus. Upon hearing the door open, the turian turned around, his mandibles set in a grim outline and eyes looking incredibly defeated.
What the hell does he want?
"Shepard," Udina greeted in a heavily-exhausted voice, eyes showing signs of fatigue and lack of rest, "I'm glad you came. Sparatus has something he wishes to tell you."
"Then why not tell me over the QEC?" He asked, "You know it can't be tracked, and all Councilors have them now," he bobbed his head in the direction of the sizzling blue ring platform to the left of the room, and Udina nodded.
"It is safer knowing we spoke face to face," Sparatus defended, turning to meet Shepard's eyes, "I wanted to talk to you about this...superweapon...and this armada you are apparently building. Reports from C-Sec say you've built a force of Blue Suns, Eclipse and Blood Pack, and that you even have the infamous Aria T'Loak assisting your cause."
And that Tevos smuggled her onto the station. Can't have people knowing that now, can we? Or don't you know? Marcus wanted to break out into a childish grin, but he kept it back, using it for later. For now, he remained professional, nodding to the turian councilor, "That is correct. The Council isn't willing to commit anything, so I've decided to do everything myself. I was planning on heading to either Sur'Kesh or Palaven next to directly appeal to the Union or Hierarchy governments."
"You'll get your chance for both, but right now, you have your chance to appeal to the Hierarchy," Sparatus stated, and his eyes took on that defeated and sorrowful tone once more. Marcus noticed it, and was beginning to actually get a bit worried, "I can't give you the resources you need, but I can tell you how to get it."
"Get to the point Councilor," Marcus growled, having enough of the political games the four councilors loved to play, "I'm sick of tired of batting the bush. Let's get to the thick of why we're here. Why would I need to appeal to the Hierarchy now?"
"You want the point? Very well," Sparatus asked, nodding as he too clasped his hands behind his back, "You were right; the Reapers were coming for one of us, either Sur'Kesh or Palaven, and they've made their move. Palaven is under siege, and it looks like the bulk of the Reaper fleet is there in force. They've done a number on our forces already, and troops have already deployed groundside."
Marcus widened his eyes, his hostile tone taking on a sympathetic tone, "I'm sorry to hear that." Now you bastards know what it feels like. Those aggressive thoughts were then replaced by thoughts of his turian brother-in-arms, and how he was possibly still on Palaven. No. Damn it. Garrus, I hope you're alright buddy. "But there's not much I can do if your government is already dead."
"Not all of them. The Primarch still lives. He currently resides on Palaven's moon, Menae," Sparatus assured him, "Primarch Fedorian was preparing to evac on an escape shuttle when we lost contact with the Trebia System. We believe he is still alive, and that his extraction is vital to the continuation of turian morale and leadership. He was scheduled to appear at the war summit."
Well shit. Marcus knew what the war summit was meant to be; a conglomeration of species from all over Council space to dictate the future of their species and their involvement in the conflict. The asari, salarians, turians, humans and volus were scheduled to be there. If we lose Fedorian...we lose the greatest military power in the galaxy. "Let me guess...you want me to extract Fedorian so that the Hierarchy stays intact."
"Yes, and a grateful Primarch will make a powerful ally when the time comes. He'll decide where our fleets fight, our troops shoot, and where our supplies go," he eyed Marcus with a look of mutual understanding, "Imagine what would happen if he devoted them all to your armada. You would have the Turian Hierarchy, as you so desperately want."
The greatest military power in the galaxy. Only rivalled by the Systems Alliance. The turians have twice the number of ships in their navy, and way more fleets. They have more troops, more discipline, and have fought galactic war since before humans discovered the world was round. To have them as part of the armada...it is just necessity.
Marcus decided in that instant.
He wanted, no, needed the Turian Hierarchy. Cause mercenaries weren't enough.
He needed a proper military.
"Is not about what I desperately want, Councilor," Marcus simply replied, eying him with cold intensity, "Its about what the galaxy desperately needs. The Hierarchy was going to join us, one way or another, its just that this way, you're joining us sooner, rather than later. What's the assessment on the Reaper presence in that system?"
"Catastrophic," Sparatus declared, "Our fleets have been forced onto the defensive instead of the offensive, and even that is weakening. The Reapers are simply ignoring us; they'll occassionally destroy a frigate or cruiser, but apart from that, most of their force deployment has been focused on the homeworld itself. For every Destroyer we kill, they massacre five platoons. Its a fight we're losing, and for the first time in history, Palaven is under attack, and we can't do anything about it but hit them on the back and hope it annoys them enough to draw their attention, and only temporarily."
"I can't save Palaven, Councilor. I'm no miracle worker," the N7 explained, but nodded in sympathy, "But I can extract the Primarch and get him to safety. Once the Normandy is retrofitted, which shouldn't take long, we will head for Palaven immediately. We'll stealth drive it in, stealth drive it out. I just hope the turians can hold Menae long enough for us to do so."
"We are turian, Captain," Sparatus replied, as if offended, "We hold our ground to the last breath. It is how we fight."
I just hope Garrus isn't already dead. Or Fedorian. He nodded and turned to leave, but stopped when Sparatus spoke up again, "The Council has also seen fit to redeem your spectre status," as he turned around, his omni-tool was already beeping with the updated credentials as Sparatus turned his omni-tool off, "All the resources of the Special Tactics and Recon branch will now be made available to you. Good luck, Spectre."
"I don't need luck, Councilor," Marcus responded with empathy, and he turned to leave, not daring to look back, "We need a miracle."
Silence was his answer.
"The Battle for Palaven was lost as soon as the Reapers attacked."
- Tali'Shepard pav Rannoch.
"Just like Earth and Khar'Shan; homeworlds just fell like flies. I remember just how Palaven looked from my view on Menae. It...glowed bright orange. Not even Earth glowed as vibrantly."
- Marcus Shepard.
"What happened next then? I assume you landed on Menae."
- Reia'Inas pav Earth.
"Yeah, and everything went to hell. Well, not everything..."
- Marcus Shepard.
A/N:
Bet you guys weren't expecting a Kolyat/Lia pairing, were you? Hehe.
Updates will be slowing down now (yeah, I know, but now they will update even slower) because its now approaching the end of year exams, and I need to start revising for them. I'll still write when I can, but update time might take longer; it just depends. That, and Destiny comes out soon, so my weekends will be consumed by that game.
Next chapter will be Priority: Palaven. Hope you guys enjoy, as this is the official end to the mercenary arc of Holocaust, and the beginning of the Genophage Arc.
Keelah Se'lai!
